Contents
-----------
1) "The Conspiracy of Mead" by Kevin Jones
2) "The Long Arm Of The Man" by Seth Ward
-----------

1) The Conspiracy of Mead

This may very well be my last contribution to The Sardine.  I fear that my
life is on the verge of ending.  I may not even have time to finish this,
so forgive me if I seem rushed.  With death breathing its wretched
smelling
breath down my neck, my perspective of life has dramatically changed.  I
fear nothing, not even telling you this shocking story.
 
It started simply, as all good dramatic stories do.  I was sitting through
my various classes debating on whether I wanted to buy fresh notebooks for
all of them.  This would mean wasting paper and valuable natural
resources,
by not finishing off the notebooks I had already acquired.

I decided to go with a binder, so I could use loose-leaf paper and only
have as much as I would need.  The owls and other wildlife can thank me in
the afterlife.  I went to one of those money sucking stores like K-Mart
and
found a binder that I thought would best suit my needs.  After a mere four
hours of deliberation, I found a binder that would be my verdict, and I
was
sentenced to death.

Little did I know, I failed to notice the most important part that could
have saved my life.  I brought my new binder home and kissed it gently, to
welcome it into my life, and began placing my papers into it.  I had left
the cardboard piece giving all the product information on until the end.

When I removed it, I started reading it for the first time.  My heartbeat
almost stopped as I read the words "This article marked for electronic
surveillance."  I knew that I was finished.  I could almost hear the
helicopters flying above my home already, waiting for me to come out into
the open.  Waiting to maybe drop the bombs onto me if I try to escape.  If
this were the moon, I would be a crater.

It's not going to happen.

I have sequestered myself in my own room.  I will not come out until they
drag me out -- dead.  They will not get their binder back, as I actually
purchased it legally (we all make mistakes once in awhile).  I am my own
hostage, and I'm beginning to think David Koresh had it easy.

Go ahead and break the windows to my home, the noise will tell me you're
here.  Bring on the tear gas, I'm already crying.  Destroy my closed and
locked door, I won't be going through it alive anyhow.  Go ahead and take
my binder and try to sell it to the next victim, because I'm warning them
now.

Mead, with my death you mark your own.  The world will know of my
disappearance.  They will know of that little device you placed in the
binder to track me into my home.  They will know that you are punishing
those who are trying to help the environment and save money (that was my
sympathy plug).

Mead may just be the cause of the next world war.  It will begin as a
civil
war between large corporations and the people, and will expand until
everyone is involved.  There is no hiding, as the binders are being traced
(and we all know who has the binders in this house).  They know where you
live.  They know your favorite color.  They may even know if you have
non-Mead items in their binder.

That will be the death of me.

Kevin

2)  The Long Arm Of The Man

I have to start this week by apologizing.  My input this week will be
neither funny, witty, or ironic in it's content.  I'm too dimayed with
society and the lawyers who represent it to think of anything creative to
say.  You see, this morning I (a mildly successful young man, fresh into
my twenties) had my first run in with the man.  Before coffee, no less.

I woke up early, so as to be to work on time and set a good example for
those who look up to me, and cranked up the ol' Mac to see what the
morning email had in store for me. Instead of the scathing letter I
expected from Kevin, telling me how disappointed he  was in me for not
getting this list out on time, I got only a quick note from my ISP.  This
was not your ordinary service update notice, kids.  This mailing was sent
to let me know that I was being spanked by the man.

Now, I've been pulled over by the police, given warnings from my
superiors, and the like; but none of those forces are really the man.  You
know who I mean.  It was that mysterious guy who runs the show with
everything we do, even, it would seem, the internet.  You see, the letter
I got told me that access to my web pages is being blocked in response to
a letter my ISP recieved from a law firm stating that my site contains
someone else's copyrighted material.

Understand, the entirety of my web presence takes up about 2 Megs, and
that's on a good day.  I'm not a major player in anyone's eyes, and to top
it off, the "stolen" material refers to the use of the phrase
"eleventeen."  This is a nonsense word that was the title for a Daisy
Chainsaw record about ten years ago, and has been used on a movie or two.
I used it for my web page because I thought it sounded funny.  Four months
later, some graphic design people think the same thing, but have the
resources to copyright it.  No matter that it wasn't their idea or that my
site was up a good two months before theirs;  they're now legal and I'm a
criminal.

Get real.  I don't mind so much their taking the initiative to grab on to
an idea, but a little warning would've been nice.  Instead of letting me
know, their LAWYERS sent a note threatening my ISP if I didn't cease and
desist. I can imagine that all of the rest of the 120 or so people that
pop up when you search the word 'eleventeen' got a similar wake up call.
So here I am.  No web pages, blacklisted by my ISP, and spanked by the
man.  All in the name of money.  Not all that much money either.  Just my
luck.

So that's it. No wit, no punchline, just dismay.  Sorry.  I guess at best
I can give you a moral.  Here goes:  If you do web publishing, or any
music, art, or print work, try not to be too creative.  Use generic words
and ideas that no one can lay claim to.  Talk about dogs if you like,
that's common enough. Just don't name any specific breed, or the man mught
be at your e-door tomorrow morning with his lawyers at the end of the
leash.
Play it safe, kids.  Maybe the best thing we can do is keep all of our
ideas inside.  Better yet, we can just move to China and forego the free
thought process all together

--------------------------------------------
The Sardine.  Copyright 4/10/98.
To sign up and other such stuff, visit the web page:
http://visitweb.com/thesardine

Questions?  Comments?  Looking for a
date?  Can't sign up on the web page?
Send e-mail to:
thesardine@antisocial.com

Previous Next