Part 6

Okay. I have a bone to pick. I wish to categorically state that I do not support sleazy sexual activities. Certain unnamed people decided the boring idea of reading a few choice words from my last scribblings (notably "paedophile" and "innocent") and stringing them together in a context that allowed them to rant and rave.
Now, maybe just maybe if you unnamed people sit down and read every single word (in order), then you might realise that what I was saying was not what you were accusing me of saying.
Do that again and I'll send your email address to a spambot. <wicked grin>

Okay, onto more serious matters. Sopowitz. Is restricting the college internet access. He doesn't seem to get the idea that students are supposed to download pictures of Jennifer Aniston and Mars and the Teletubbies. Neither does he understand who or what any of them are - with the possible exception of his home planet.

The internet isn't a place where everybody lamely wanders from college server to college server. I mean, if the point is to access the server in the basement, why is our data send to Docklands and back? God knows the network is slow enough without that.

NO! We pop over to "Yahoo!" and enter choice phrases to see what pops up. I'd estimate that 80% of net time is spent on irrelevant things. You go looking for the latest on AppleSeed, and get sidetracked by an expose on Masamune Shirow which leads to something else and something else and eventually ten windows are open and either you or your PC suffer a General Protection Failure...

Talking of General Protection Failures, the maths teacher has engaged the chemistry teacher. Oh boy, can you imagine being at the wedding?

C: "Jane dear, to show my undying love I have specially created this rendition of the Debye equation by etching a silver plate with acids."
P: <image of Debye equation not available>
M: "Honey dear, it's 3kT, not 2..."
Of course, they'll get married and have kids. They'll hate each other and divorce, the kids will hate them, they'll sue each other for everything and twenty years down the line they'll (separately) attempt to sell their stories to the gutter press and with the proceeds they'll stock up on whiskey. Not to mention that in their life stories, they will be innocent and sweet and the partner will be living hell.

Hmmm... Me? Cynical? Nah.

I'm just annoyed at this restriction on the network. Time for some serious grief-causing. Let's see, we could always fire Sopowitz again. Or promote Sanawuse to really rub it in.

Instead I settle for the old hacker favourite. I call up every pizza parlour in the book and get them to send three pizzas cash-on-delivery. Good old Sopowitz must, by now, have about twenty eight cheese and pepperoni pizzas with heavy garlic. He could have had more, but some delivery kids chickened out. I bought one pizza off a guy who refused to knock down the price. I got a full three for next to nothing from a girl that was sobbing over something Sopowitz had said. Hint - don't deliver the 17th, 18th and 19th unwanted pizzas to your Principal!

Needless to say I skipped the next day. It wouldn't do to turn up smelling of garlic. Being a tad paranoid I figured Sopowitz would try to hunt me down. But hey - not attending is as bad as saying "I did it". So I had to figure out a way to get everybody else to cut.

Friend with the model helicopter - remember him? Well, we hadn't spoken for a while and when I called he suggested a bomb scare. I was unsure about how to play that so I passed it up.

Next day my hack-buddy picks the front door lock, comes into my bedroom and drags me out of bed. We sneak down to college (after I had got dressed of course) and I see a large lump of modelling clay with wires sticking out of it. Sitting on that in two large glass bottles is some kind of liquid.

I pretend interest and put on my "college newspaper" guise. A friendly cop informs me that, to the best of his knowledge, he is looking at several kilos of C4 plastic explosive with two bottles of home-brew nitro-gycerine sitting on top. Beside it is a roadsign with the letters arranged to read "THIS IS A BOMB, STUPID!".

I leave the scene quickly and laugh until it hurts. Oh yeah, that's the way to do it. And all because I didn't want to get caught for pizza-overload. Or maybe my good friend has his own seriously seriously like totally serious grievance?

Question? What do a hundred students do when they can't go to college?

Answer: Get ratted. Students are notorious for three things:

  1. Being poor.
  2. Being anarchic.
  3. Being able to consume large quantities of booze.
  4. Thinking they are good at kareoke.
Oh, that's four. So sue me. Anyhow, the town centre is soon full of students holding hands and screaming:
I'm a barbie doll in my barbie wooooorld!
over and over... And when that's done they frighten the grannies with something loud and temperamental:
I get knocked down, but I get up again.
Nothing's gonna keep me down!
I get knocked down...
Those still with enough wits/soberness to keep up with the song line up a whiskey drink, a vodka drink, a lager drink and a cider drink. When the right parts of the song comes they drink. Usually they get stuck trying to down a pint in a matter of seconds...

So with several brandies and burgers under my belt, I roll off home. The cold winter nights are causing me grief, but hey - I woudn't have missed today for the world!

Disclaimer for the seriously cheesy:
This article is not meant to represent typical student behaviour or smart things to do to your college and/or principal. Neither does this article reflect the typical life of a student - including the students it is based upon.
This article is not intended to reflect any actual occurrences (including those it is based upon) and any similarity is coincidental. If you have a good lawyer we'll plead accidental. Either way, too damn bad.
Free William Stickers. Free the Indy 500. Free Louise!

Reading this disclaimer means you accept it and are happy to be bound to it.

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Copyright © 1998 Richard Murray
Diary Copyright © 1997 Richard Murray