같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같�August�1993같� 같 / / ���� / / / / / / / / ���� / / / / / /같 같/ / / 賞��/ / / / / / / / / ��幡 / / / / 같 같 / / ���� / / / Sunlight Through / / ���/ / / / / / 같 같 / / / 賞�� / / / /The Shadows(tm) / ���� / / / /같 같/ / / / 賞�� / / / / / / / / ��幡 / / / / / / 같 같 / / / 蔔�白� / / / / / / ���� / / / / / 같 같 / / / ��複�� / / / �栢�� / / ��幡/ / / / / 같 같 / / ��栢�賽白 / / �栢栢�� / / / ��白 / / / / / / / 같 같/ / / ���幡����� / 栢栢栢栢� / 蔔��� / / / / 같 같 / /���� ��白� / �栢栢�� / / ��複複�� / / / / 같 같 / / ���� 賞��� / / �栢�� / ��� ���� / / / / / 같 같 / / / ��� / ��� / / / / ��� / ��� / / / / / 같 같/ / ���� / / / ��� / / / / / / ��� / /���� / / / / / 같 같 / / ��幡 / /����/ / / / / ��� / / 賞�� / / / 같 같 / ����/ / 賞�� / / / / / ��� / / ��� / / / / 같 같 / / ��幡 / / ���� / / / / ���� / / ���� / / / / 같 같 / ����/ / /賞��� / / / / / ��幡 / / 賞�� / / / / 같 같 / ��幡 / / 賞�� / / ��� / / / ���� / / 같 같 / ���� / / ���� / / / / ���� / / 賞�� / / / / 같 같/ / ��幡 / / /賞��� / / / /��幡 / / /���� / / / / 같 같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같JD�'93같�  Welcome Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved Welcome to Sunlight Through The Shadows magazine! In this issue, as well as in the future, STTS will strive to bring you the best in fiction, poetry, reviews, article, and other assorted reading material. STTS wouldn't have been possible without the aid, support, and guidance of three women: Inez Harrison, publisher of Poetry In Motion newsletter. Her's was the first electronic magazine I ever laid eyes upon, and also the first such magazine to publish my work. She's given me advice, and, more importantly, inspiration. Lucia Chambers, publisher of Smoke & Mirrors Elec. Magazine and head of Pen & Brush Network. She gave me advice on running a magazine, encouragement, and hints as to the kind of people to look for in writers. Heather DeRouen, my wife. Listed last here, but always first in my heart. She's proofread manuscripts, inspired me, listened to me, and, most importantly, loved me. Never could I find a better woman to live life by my side, nor a better friend. Now that that's said and done... Again, welcome to Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine! I hope you enjoy it.  Joe DeRouen STTS Editorial Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved Arrgh. I've been to school and learned all about grammar and rules, and I know that "Arrgh" isn't generally the best way to start an editorial. Nevertheless, for this one, it's most fitting. It's 3 in the morning on July 31st and I have exactly 21 hours to get this, the second issue of Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine, finished. There's been some serious developments for the magazine since last I wrote this editorial. We're now being carried "officially" by nearly 25 BBS's around the country. I say "officially" because I know it's lingering upon literally thousands of BBS's hard drive across the US and in Canada, but the SysOps of those systems haven't requested to be included in the distribution list. In addition to Pen & Brush Net, RIME, and the Internet, we're now available via FREQ (file request) through FIDO. See DISTRIBUTION VIA NETWORKS for more information. This issue welcome Gage Steele to the staff with the beginning of a series of articles on her induction and progression through the world of BBSing. (FROM THE JOURNALS OF.. (pt.1) in the Feature Articles section) Gage is a great new writer and I've enjoyed working with her. You'll be seeing more from her in these digital pages in the months to come. We've also been getting submissions! Yes, those golden little nuggets of words have finally found their way to my doorstep. Keep those cards and letters coming, folks! We're getting a lot now, but can always use more. In addition to fiction and poetry, we're also looking for music and book reviews, as well as general interest articles about pretty much anything. If it's well-written and interesting, we want it. I want to thank everyone who sent notes to say that they enjoyed the first issue, as well as those of you who made suggestions for changes and alterations. You were listening to, even if I didn't always agree with you. Let me know what you think of this, the August issue of STTS Magazine! It's been a struggle to get out on time, but I think it was worth it. Struggles usually are. Just to say that this editorial has come full circle, I think I'll end it with a resounding... Arrgh. Joe DeRouen, July 31st 1993  The Staff and Contributing Writers of Sunlight Through The Shadows ------------------------------------------------------------------ The Staff --------- Joe DeRouen............................Publisher, Editor, Fiction Heather DeRouen........................Book Reviews Bruce Diamond..........................Movie Reviews, feature article Jason Malandro.........................Book Reviews Russell Mirabelli......................Shareware Reviews Randy Shipp............................Movie Reviews Gage Steele............................Feature Article Joe DeRouen publishes, edits, and writes for STTS magazine. He's had poetry and fiction published in several on-line magazines and a few paper publications as well. He's written exactly 1.5 novels, none of which, alas, have seen the light of publication. He attends college part-time in search of that always-elusive english degree. In his spare time, he enjoys reading, running his BBS, collecting music, playing with his five cats, singing opera, hunting pseudopods, and most importantly spending time with his beautiful wife Heather. Heather DeRouen writes software for the healthcare industry, CoSysOps Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS, enjoys playing with her five cats, cross-stitching, and reading. Most of all, she enjoys spending time with her dapper, charming, witty, and handsome (not to mention modest) husband Joe. Heather's help towards editing and proofreading this magazine has been immeasurable. Bruce Diamond, part-time pseudopod and ruler of a small island chain off the coast of Chil�, spends his time imitating desk lamps when he isn't watching and critiquing movies for LIGHTS OUT, his BBS movie review publication (now syndicated to over 15 boards). Bruce started reviewing movies for profit in 1978, as part of a science fiction opinion column he authored for THE BUYER'S GUIDE FOR COMICS FANDOM (now called THE COMICS BUYER'S GUIDE). LIGHTS OUT, now a year old, is available through Bruce's distributor, Jay Gaines' BBS AMERICA (214-994-0093). Bruce is a freelance writer and video producer in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. Russell Mirabelli is currently pursuing his Master of Science degree in Information Systems at the University of Texas at Arlington. He works for an educational software company as a multimedia programmer. He enjoys playing bass, cycling and rollerblading. He lives in Arlington, Texas, with his wife and two cats. Jason Malandro resides in Dallas, Texas, and has for most of his 24 years on Earth. He enjoys reading, writing, bowling, fencing, and several other unrelated activities. Jason works in the publishing industry and runs a successful florist business part-time. Single, he shares his apartment with Ralphie, his pet iguana. Randy Shipp is a sometimes-writer who specializes in half-finished works, an idea he decided was chic and the sign of genius after hearing about some unfinished symphony. The generous offer from Bruce Diamond to join him in publishing (plus free movie passes!) led Randy to take up movie criticism. When he's not picking movies apart, he's showing conservative political thinkers the error of their ways, reading, or playing bass or the guitar (depending on the day of the week) He occasionally works selling computers, too. When he grows up, he expects to teach high school history. Gage Steele, illegitimate love child of Elvis Presley and Madonna, has been calling BBS's since the early seventies. Having aspired to write for an electronic magazine all her life, Gage is now living the American dream. Aged somewhere between 21 and 43, she plans to eventually get an english degree and teach foreign children not to dangle their participles. Contributing Writers -------------------- John Chambers..........................Fiction Lucia Chambers.........................Poetry Ed Davis...............................Fiction Robert McKay...........................Fiction Tamara.................................Poetry John Chambers, forty-something, shares SysOp duties of Pen & Brush BBS with his wife Lucia. John is the information Systems Director for the association which accredits psychotherapists in the United States. He also runs ABEnet, a BBS devoted exclusively to the psychotherapy community. Lucia Chambers, thirty-something, shares SysOp duties of Pen & Brush BBS with her husband John. Aside from running a BBS and a network of the same name, Lucia publishes Smoke & Mirrors, an on-line/elec. magazine which features fiction, poetry, and recipes. She works as a consultant in the Washington D.C. area and also writes for a living. Ed Davis has been scribbling seriously or has at least enjoyed the electronic equivalent, since 1981. Prior to that, his literary efforts were confined to whatever scrap paper he could find on a work bench at break or lunch time, since he was spending his working hours making chips and money in the guise of a Journeyman Machinist. Married to the same lady for 26 years and with two children still hovering uncomfortably close to the nest, Ed continues to write down his thoughts electronically. Check out the file NEWBOOK.ZIP, available from STTS BBS, for more of his work. Born in Hawthorne, Ca., (but currently residing in Oklahoma) Robert McKay's been writing since he was a teenager. Only recently, however, did he began to seriously try to sell his stories. Robert recently signed the contracts to have his first two science fiction novels published on disk. Hopefully, this is merely the prelude to bigger and better things. (of course it is, Robert. You got published here, didn't you? -Ed.) There is very little known about Tamara, and she prefers to let it remain that way. She's a woman of mystery and prefers to remain hidden in the shadows of the BBS world. (Actually, I still haven't gotten her profile. 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Now, on to a few letters... ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Dear Joe, I really enjoyed the first issue of Sunlight Through The Shadows. It seems to contain just the right balance of reviews and stories. I particulary enjoyed your fiction piece THE ROGER AND THE DRAGON. I wonder how many people caught the play on the title "The Dragon and the George?" (a Philip K. Dick novel - ED) The reviews were excellent as well, particulary the music reviews. Now I only wish I could find the CD! Keep up the good work! Sincerely, Rebecca Quill Rebecca Quill Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Dear STTS, The first issue of Sunlight Through The Shadows was, on a scale of 1 to 10, a solid 9. I really enjoyed it! Kudos to both the shareware reviews (Russell Mirabelli) and the movie reviews (Bruce Diamond and Randy Shipp) Both were well done and informative. I enjoyed the book and music reviews as well, though my personal interest lies more in the movies and software. Thanks, John Anderson John Anderson Channel 1 BBS ------------------------------------------------------------------------  Sunlight Through The Shadows Monthly Contest Giveaway Each month, STTS magazine will be giving away two prizes. The prizes will range from registered versions of popular shareware packages to Compact Discs, to a year subscription (via a disk mailed to you) to STTS On-Line! In other words, you never know what we'll be giving away next! If the prize is shareware/software, unless otherwise noted, the versions available will be IBM compatible only. If another version is available, we'll make a note of that and ask you to let us know what system you have. To enter, please send me a note containing the following information: 1. Full name 2. Street/P.O. Address 3. City, state, zip 4. Country (if not USA) 5. Prize choice (first entry drawn gets their choice, second entry gets the other prize) 6. Disk size (1.2 or 1.44, high density or low density) 7. Where you obtained your copy of STTS (if on a BBS, name and phone number of BBS) 8. The current date (Mm/Dd/Yy) This information can be sent to me via several different avenues. All of the following should reach me. PCRelay/RIME ->SUNLIGHT (in the Common conference) InterNet: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org Pen & Brush Network ->SUNLIGHT (in any conference) FIDO 1:124/8010 WME Network - Net Chat, Poetry & Prose If nothing else, send a postcard to.. Joe DeRouen 14232 Marsh Ln. # 51 Dallas, Tx. 75234 To be eligible for the contest every month, you have to register every month. Try to send me your entry as soon as possible. If I receive it after the 25th day of the month, I'll put it in with the following month's entries. WINNERS FOR JULY Larry Reynolds of Dallas, Texas won the registered version of Book-E text-to-executable program. He registered on STTS BBS via E-Mail. Anna Newburg of Toronto, Ontario, Canada won the registered version of Quote! random quote generator. She registered via a postcard. PRIZE FOR AUGUST August's prize (to be sent out sometime shortly after Sept. 1st) is Cineplay's VGA/Soundblaster commercial game FREE DC! FREE DC! In this Cineplay adventure, you'll battle dangerous robots, laugh at the antics of your sidekick Wattson and comb the jungle for a mysterious gadget that holds the key to the survival of the last eight humans on Earth. 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(Part 1) Copyright (c) 1993, Gage Steele All rights reserved [ The following is a true story. Names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and to avoid any lawsuits that might decide to rear their ugly heads ] It's funny how you look back on things you've done or been or said, and realise you're trying not to laugh at yourself and how silly you used to be. Maybe it's just me. I didn't used to smirk about my past, but... I don't know. It seems the more years that go by, the more often I catch myself doing it. And, the years are going by so much more quickly than they once did. I wasn't quite 17 when Mom brought home that bulky PS/2 25. She said I had to have it for all those term papers I'd be writing when I began college in the fall, just a few months away. Besides, she told me, it was practically top-of-the-line, even if I did think it looked like a sick joke on MacIntosh. I have to tell you, though, that Mom and I are very different, not just as far as computing goes, but in many ways. Strictly speaking in techie terms, well, I'd been the guinea pig for all of those early 80s "computer lab" classes in the elementary and junior highschools; Mom, on the other hand, could take shorthand and xerox like a whirligig, but the offices she worked in hadn't caught the silicon wave yet, so to speak. So, after she helped me (maybe that should read "I helped her") plug it in and set it up on my desk, she swiftly exited the back bedroom, telling me I'd have to "show her the neat tricks" to my new toy, someday. It wasn't a horrid machine, but I still think the salesman buttered her up a good bit. Hey, that isn't to say my mom's a moron! Consider the time period. Big business guys were wetting their BVDs over Display Write 4 and anyone whose resume' purported proficiency in it. I think Mom really did mean what she said about showing her the ins and outs. Something about teaching old dogs... I'm sure she didn't want the embarrassment of attending one of those job skill courses, either. Come on, can you imagine my mom, at early 40something, sitting in a night class with 20 clones of me, just to get a $.50 raise because she mastered that DW4 thingy? Better to stick with just one version of me (the one that broke the mold!) and learn it quietly. THEN, get the raise. At first, the PS/2 did little but weight papers and hold the desk firmly to the floor. I wrote some journal entries into First Choice, futzed with Larry 1, but that was about it. Most of my time was spent at the dance club downtown. I was, afterall, still a kid. Soon, though, my friends started in with the "oooh's" over the machine. That was fun, almost like having a Corvette presented to you on your 16th birthday, I guess. Okay, maybe that was exaggerated. Still, it's true. I was (practically) the only one on my block with a real, live computer. That's what got my fingers back on the keyboard. Ahh, impressionable teen years, how I do NOT miss you and the overwhelming desire to be "hip" that is intrinsically a part of you. Basically, that's all it was. My friends thought it was just "too intellectual" of me, therefor I was cool. In August, I gingerly stepped into the college scene as your plain vanilla "undeclared, but I'm an English Major." I think, in that first semestre, I managed to add at least $5.00 per month to the electric bill, writing and rewriting those fateful terms her maternal and all- knowingness had warned me about. Yes, the IBeeMer was humming full force. I even managed to pound the DOS (v3.3) basics into Mom's skull, between classes and essay edits (She faked it through the entry exam, by the way, but got the promotion). I soon found I hadn't the time to play in the club or meander through the mall anymore. Somehow, I didn't miss it much. A good lot of my highschool crowd hadn't gone on to college. The ones that did, as well as the new people I met in my classes, were under the same time pressures I was. Although I didn't realise it then, slowly, whatever free time I did have was being spent doing computer stuff. Christmas brought a 2400 baud modem and a starter kit to Paragon (I suppose you could say that this is where the real meat of this story begins). I'd had the PS/2 for 8 months and (don't you dare laugh) dubbed her "Gertrude." I knew ol' Gertie, much like a 50s Greaser knew his prized hotrod, claiming he was the only one she'd kick over for. In some respect, I was bored within the confines of my 20 meg harddrive. Let's face it, even hotrods have their limits. This modem thing, though, intrigued me. To use the computer to dial the phone so that I could read and post memos to people across the country seemed unfathomable. I wasn't interested, yet, in the how's of it all. I just wanted to be there and do that. I was the brat at the sleepover parties that didn't want to go to sleep for fear of missing something. I think I was always like that. It wasn't nosiness, exactly, just a wanting to know "it" (whatever it was) before anyone else. As with the novelty of being the first in the crowd to have a computer, this modem and Paragon again offered me the chance to experience and experiment with something way before my buddies would. Now, before you go into that "you power hungry beastling" squall, you have to know that I like to teach people, too. It's that "helper/fixer" personality at work. So, along with that dose of power (I'll admit it), came the opportunity to tutor others. Armed with a bag of Doritos, a can of Pepsi, the startup disk and a New York exchange telephone number (to the Paragon Tech line, just in case), I began my descent into the telecommunications world. Back then, Paragon was laughably small as compared to the mega systems we have now, but in perspective, it was the monster of its genre. After entering my account id and password, the modem hooted and hollered, and BAM!, there was a full MCGA colour welcome screen. My eyes would have drooled, were they able. I didn't bother with the "new user tour." I never was one to read docs or do the demonstration thing. Sometimes, I'm just a pighead. Instead, I poked every button (froze the system twice!) and found myself face-to-monitor with 158 notes about "Proper Parenting Practises." People were everywhere and they all seemed so friendly. Sure, none of it was "live," but I didn't care; I'd never called anywhere else, so I didn't know what I was "missing." Every time I turned around, there was another note just added to some subject I was interested in. To heck with buying magazines and reading books, I thought to myself, I'll just login to Paragon for a quickie email answer from my pal in Iowa. Sadly, in a few months' time I was bored with the big P. Having already found the "walls" of my own system, it didn't take me long to bump into those of another. Something else was happening, too. These people weren't as nice as they seemed. Because we couldn't see each other, words and emotion verifiers (like smiley faces) were very important. Sometimes, horrific wars sprang up between users (and consorts of each) over misinterpreted tone. And, let me tell you, things could get so blown out of proportion! Take, for example, my encounter with a girl called Cindy. She was 15 and adored the music message bases, posting slews of notes about Depeche Mode. She was sweet, in her own way, but I thought she was more than a little immature and more than a lot obsessed. The whole thing went something like this: ----- From: Cindy To: All Subject: DM RULES if anyone sez DM sux i'll bash them so good they'll wish they were never born. DM is the greatest band that ever lived and i'd do anything for them especially defend them from idit posers that don't have taist. love cindy From: Gage To: Cindy Subject: DM RULES Wow. You really must like them. You sort of remind me of myself a few years ago. I loved [some band], but now, I wouldn't listen to them if you payed me. Just remember that people change and just because they don't like the same thing you do doesn't mean they're dumb. Who knows, five years from now, you might loathe Depeche. Stranger things have happened. I'm not saying you're wrong. It's just that nothing ever stays the same. You know? From: Cindy To: Gage Subject: DM RULES your a b*tch i bet you like new kids on the block and wet the bed. at least now me and my freinds no what a loser you are and we won't have to listen to anything you say and none of us will talk to you. go ahed and reply to this so we can laugh some more at you. your anti DM and i hope you go to he** for offending them. ----- Maybe I should have stayed out of it, but that chick was really getting on my nerves. Now, I hadn't said anything rude, at least, I didn't think so, but I ran right into unfamiliar territory I now call "lost reality." Because, while you're online, you can be whatever you wish you really were, I think people forget what the real world is really like. Online, Cindy was DM Queen and she had to defend that title. Cindy came back at me like a whip already cracked. For a while, I even had my own message subject, lovingly entitled (by Cindy) "GAGE IS FAKE." It was there that she managed to post no less than 67 notes describing my faults and lack of intelligence, before Paragon big wigs pulled the plug on her account. They say it was for "abusive behavior." I say it was for a reality cheque that bounced. And, yes, Cindy really did write that way. It wasn't a slur on my part. The whole thing has been in the back of my mind all these years. Sometimes, I wonder if Cindy still defends Depeche Mode's honor with the vigour we saw from her on the bb's. Other times, I simply shake my head. I've heard people speak about the world of telecommunications as though it were a physical place. Maybe it is. I don't know. Or, maybe, just a little maybe, it's a good bit more like a drug with a nastier addiction rate than any grade of Cocaine imaginable. Perhaps that's what keeps the memoury of Cindy so fresh and puzzling. It was then that Paragon announced they would be charging us for email usage. A lady called Rose, whom I will never forget, emailed me details of the Paragon boycott after I poked my nose into a discussion about the new billing. She also described to me, very carefully, how to signup and login to JEannie. It was the first great exodus and I was a part of it, at the ripe old age of 18.  Movie to the Max! Copyright (c) 1993, Bruce Diamond All rights reserved MOVIES TO THE MAX! or How To See Tina, Seattle, The 7 Dwarfs, And Raptors All On The Same Day Without Paying Full Price (And Without Getting Arrested) You've got twenty bucks in your pocket. And you've got a free afternoon. What to do? It ain't enough for a good time in the red-light district, and a twenty-dollar meal means you gotta dress up. Phooey. Well, if you're a movie nut like me (and if you aren't, why not?), you may be ready for the Movies To The Max! challenge. Say four new films have just opened, and you're dying to see all of them. Can you see them in one afternoon, all before matinee prices expire at 6:00? I say you can, and I'm going to show you how. There are, of course, a couple of catches. The major catch is you have to live in a major metropolitan area with several movie theaters. As much as some critics and movie buffs have decried the growth of the shoebox multiplex theaters from the mid-'70s through today, the expansion of such centers of celluloid sensationalism has allowed more people to see a wider variety of movies than ever before. It's a trade-off I've learned to live with. The advent of THX stereo, better reflective surfaces on screens, re-releases of 70mm epics (such as LAWRENCE OF ARABIA), the creation of new 70mm films, along with the latest developments of DTS (Digital Theater Sound) and ultra-realistic computer animation have helped mollify me somewhat. But the best use of the shoebox theaters is to maximize my movie-going experience! The second catch is the limited season. The *only* time you can maximize your movie-going experience is during the summer (outside of the week and a half between Christmas and New Year's), for only during this time do movie theaters open early enough to allow you to see four movies in one afternoon. Some pleasure palaces open as early as 11:00 during the summer, allowing you to while away the afternoon munching popcorn and hissing villains. Becoming a Movies To The Max! member requires some judicious planning, provided you're even game for such an insane enterprise. Herewith, I've provided a checklist to get you through the day, with some dos and don'ts thrown in. MOVIES TO THE MAX! CHECKLIST 1. Go alone, or with someone who's just as crazy and speedy as you are. Don't be surprised if you take someone along and find that person dragging you down so you miss the opening of one of the films. Of course, if you're late for one, you're late for every one after that. 2. Make sure you have a full tank of gas. Stopping for gas along the way ruins your timing. 3. Plan your afternoon carefully, with the aid of the movie section of the weekend paper. Make sure you have the right weekend (I've made this mistake before). If you haven't bought the Saturday or Sunday paper that day, don't panic. You don't have to make an extra trip, because the Friday edition of most papers carries a weekend entertainment guide that lists the theater times. 4. Need I say it? Make sure your car's fluids are topped off and the tires are in good condition so you don't have to stop for anything. 5. Want to save money on concessions? Start the day with an icechest packed with a lunch, snacks and drinks. Eat on your way to the next movie. Make sure to pack safe foods, like sandwiches, so you're not digging in bags for chips or whatever. Safety first, which also means avoiding packing complicated sandwiches that have stuff falling out of them (like olives, onions, pickles, etc.). Cut the sandwiches in half for better handling. 6. Drive the speed limit. Getting stopped for a ticket also ruins your timing. 7. Gotta pee? If it isn't *that* pressing (don't risk bladder problems, in other words), try to hold it and use the restroom at the next theater. It'll be less crowded than the restroom in the theater you're leaving. No lines, no waiting, better for the schedule. 8. Try to schedule the short movies first, like any animated flick (SNOW WHITE, for example) or comedies (like WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S 2, not that I'd recommend you see it). Save the heavy dramas (like THE FIRM) for the end of your movie-going day. Most movies fall into a two hour and twenty minute showing schedule, so if you choose a film that pushes the two hour envelope, you crowd your chances of four movies in one afternoon. Don't know how long a movie runs? Well, after you've made your choices, call the theater and ask when the movie ends. Or check the next beginning time for your movie. If the beginning times are three hours apart, you can bet the film is over two hours long. 9. The twenty minute envelope of opportunity between showings is your travel time (and eating time, if you prefer that option). Select theaters that are no farther than 10 miles apart and you should accomplish your mission. If you choose theaters that are farther apart, you risk a cop-induced delay. 10. Going to the dollar theaters is cheating. Any mook can see four movies in one day without paying full admission prices by going to second-run houses. Yours is a higher calling. Live up to the Movies To The Max! challenge. 11. Something that won't save you any gas, but might save you time on viewing day, is to buy your tickets in advance. Most theaters will sell advance tickets at the box office, even for a next day's showing. In the Dallas/Fort Worth area, the General Cinema chain even sells tickets by phone, as does the 444-3456 (444-FILM) film listing service. 12. To save on travel time and wear and tear on your nerves, try to see as many movies at one location as you can, schedule permitting. If you can see all four movies at the same theater, more's the better. 13. Obviously, be sure of where you're going. Movie-seeing day is *not* the time to buy a map. Movies To The Max! isn't for the faint of heart. I developed this system out of a need to catch up on the week's releases for LIGHTS OUT's early days. If you're up to the Movies To The Max! challenge, take it, and share your stories with me through Joe DeRouen. I have to live vicariously through other people's Movies To The Max! experiences now since I began attending press screenings and don't have to catch every release of the week in one day. Some life, eh? [ Bruce Diamond (along with Randy Shipp) reviews movies each month in THROUGH THE MAGIC LANTERN, brought to you in every issue of this magazine. He also writes and publishes a (usually) monthly electronic magazine of his own, LIGHTS OUT. ] 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께 께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께 Reviews 께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께 께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Through The Magic Lantern Copyright (c) 1993, Diamond & Shipp All rights reserved -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 靈爐� � � 靈爐� � � 퓐 囹 囹 렁 囹 퓐 � 퓐 囹 � 幢 � 擔 擔 澾 幢 � 幢 聃 擔 靈爐� � 爐 � � � 米 囹 � 靈 � 米 囹 崙 囹 囹 囹 � � � 읽 澾 � 聃 懃켸 읽 幢 擔 聃 � 幢 擔 WITH BRUCE DIAMOND AND RANDY SHIPP -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 旼컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴커 쿟HE FIRM: Sydney Pollack, director. Screenplay by David � 쿝abe, Robert Towne & David Rayfiel. Based on the book by � 쿕ohn Grisham. Stars Tom Cruise, Jeanne Tripplehorn, Gene � 쿓ackman, Ed Harris, Holly Hunter, Hal Holbrook, David � 쿞trathairn, Gary Busey, and Wilford Brimley. Paramount � 쿛ictures. Rated R. � 읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴켸 RANDY SHIPP: Welcome back to another edition of THROUGH THE MAGIC LANTERN with Randy Shipp and Bruce Diamond! I'm Shipp... DIAMOND: ...and I'm Diamond. SHIPP: In this issue, Bruce and I will be reviewing the new thriller, THE FIRM, based on the book of the same name by John Grisham. DIAMOND: Have you ever dreamed of having it all? All of us have, from time to time, but for third-year Harvard law student Mitch McDeere, the dream comes true. For Mitch, the dream comes packaged in an incredible offer from a small, but wealthy law firm located in Memphis, Tennessee. SHIPP: Not as high-profile as the big New York or Chicago firms, Bendini, Lambert & Locke still manage to make McDeere an offer he can scarcely refuse. Complete with a new Mercedes and a furnished home in relaxed Memphis, the firm's offer brings Mitch (Tom Cruise) and his wife Abby (Jeanne Tripplehorn) to a quick decision, and Mitch becomes a new associate. DIAMOND: Suspicious statements at first cause them concern... the firm encourages children, the firm will allow Abby to take a job, the firm likes stability...but the offer still sounds too good to be true. And, as Mitch finds out, the golden opportunity quickly turns to brass. SHIPP: From there, the audience is drawn into the sinister side of Bendini, Lambert & Locke, where no associate has ever divorced, no associate has ever failed the bar exam, and no associate has ever left the firm. DIAMOND: When Mitch discovers this sinister side, he's caught between his ideals and his ambition. How can he succeed in this shady firm without tarnishing his ethics, and how can he help the FBI to bring the firm down without violating the lawyer/client privilege and becoming disbarred? SHIPP: Tom Cruise turns in a downright respectable performance as McDeere, who is forced to live with his mistakes and his misjudgements about the firm. Mitch is a man who feels honor-bound by his oath, but who knows he has no choice but to risk everything. DIAMOND: The character of Mitch McDeere intrigues me, but I don't think director Sidney Pollack and the screen- writers (David Rabe, Robert Towne & David Rayfiel) have given us enough character depth. While we see Mitch torn between what boils down to, simplistically, "right and wrong," I don't see enough of his "ambition and greed" (as the Paramount PR calls it) to really believe he's tempted to remain on the sinister path. SHIPP: You're right. In many places, we're almost led to believe that any "ambition and greed" Mitch might have is really an act, the result of a poor childhood. He really does come across as pretty much a good guy. DIAMOND: I haven't had the privilege of reading Grisham's book, but I'm given to understand that this "dark side" of Mitch's personality is given more attention. Even without this needed depth of character, Mitch does come across as believably motivated, and, let's face it, the movie is already well over two hours long. The studio might have balked at more. SHIPP: Once the pace does pick up, around an hour into it, the movie does rush along nicely, full of urgency and suspense. Once Mitch makes the decision to fight the firm, shadowed as he is by FBI agent Wayne Tarrance (the brooding and barely recognizable Ed Harris) the film really starts up. The first hour, though, seemed a bit slow. DIAMOND: Slow? The first hour was moderately paced, yes, but the character interaction between Mitch and his mentor Avery Tolar (Gene Hackman) absolutely fascinated me. Tolar seems to be Mitch's mirror image -- we see the young Tolar in Mitch's idealism, just as we see Gene Hackman himself mirrored by Tom Cruise. SHIPP: And, as we later find out, Tolar represents what Mitch could become, if he falls too deeply into the firm's web. Hackman's character had a lot more depth, especially as the story played out, and Hackman does a great job of making Tolar a kind of tragic anti-hero. Tolar is a playboy, brash and cocky, and it's only through time, and Hackman's capable acting, that we find out what a lonely, ruined man Tolar really is. DIAMOND: Here's where the triumph of casting comes to play in THE FIRM. Hackman and Cruise are perfect foils for each other. Each has been typified by wise ass roles in the past, the square peg that doesn't want to fit into the round hole. Hackman never had Cruise's obvious leading leading-man looks, and Cruise may never develop Hackman's urbane sophistication, but the personalities and on-screen styles are remarkably close. Most especially now that Cruise has matured as an actor. SHIPP: Matured a lot. Even through the first half of A FEW GOOD MEN, I found myself dreading the thought of another hour of Cruise's TOP GUN routine. It wasn't until that movie was over that I started to see how Cruise might've grown up a little. Regardless of how well Mitch's part was written, I think Cruise has finally shown that he can do the serious stuff. DIAMOND: Cruise impressed me with how he was able to hold his own against Nicholson in A FEW GOOD MEN. Ever since BORN ON THE FOURTH OF JULY, Cruise has shown a little more maturity and a little more talent (despite gaffes like DAYS OF THUNDER and FAR AND AWAY). I'm not on the Cruise bandwagon yet, but I could be if he continues like this. SHIPP: And it's not just Cruise and Hackman who work well in THE FIRM. Wilford Brimley turns in a surprisingly caustic performance as the head of security for the firm. William Devasher is responsible for most of the terror and paranoia in the film. DIAMOND: As well he should. Devasher reports directly to the Mafia mob that Bendini, Lambert & Locke front for. Therefore, all of the firm's lawyers ultimately report to him, which makes for a strange power situation. It's a delicious twist that leaves us guessing sometimes as to who's really in charge. SHIPP: Devasher's a serious guy, and there are some good moments when he and Tolar clash. Avery's carefree, playboy attitude runs very counter to Devasher's sinister seriousness. In a way, I think the verbal sparring which Tolar and Devasher engage in is intended to prepare us for the fact that Tolar's heart really isn't in the dirty business of the firm. It kind of sets Tolar up as a rival of the "evil" part of the firm. DIAMOND: The scene you're thinking of, if I'm right, is when Devasher tells the senior partners about the link between Mitch and the FBI. At first, the verbal sparring, as you referred to it, seemed mere artifice, just two actors engaging in make believe name-calling. But by the time it's finished, I could have sworn Hackman and Brimley would have killed each other. SHIPP: It's interesting, all this talk of relationships between characters -- Mitch and Avery, Avery and Devasher, Mitch and Abby -- I think it cuts to the chase about what I liked in THE FIRM. A lot of it can be attributed to great casting but the fact is, the interactions between all these characters winds up being a heck of a lot more interesting than any of them would've been on their own. DIAMOND: And, in a way, it winds up being a bit more interesting than the actual mystery of how Mitch stings the firm while preserving his own integrity. I guessed what evidence he had planned for the FBI in the same scene that he realizes it, but the final scene with the mob representatives kinda took me by surprise. Good work all around, and that includes a juicy feature cameo by Garry Busey as a private investigator and Holly Hunter as his secretary, who later becomes Mitch's partner in gathering evidence against the firm. I'm giving THE FIRM 7 out of 10 points. SHIPP: Don't forget the cameo by David Strathairn as Mitch's convict brother, the loose end that finally sets Devasher onto Mitch's trail. Great job in such a small role. Anyway, as I was about to say, the mystery in THE FIRM almost seems like a backdrop for the character drama which is really going on. In places the movie is predictable, in places poorly fleshed-out, but for the most part, we're given some great on screen pair-ups, and see a different side of some actors we've not seen before. Not my pick for Best Picture, but I'll rally behind you in giving THE FIRM 7 of 10 points. DIAMOND: Y'know, Randy, we really need to find something to disagree about next time. How about we dust off the old ALIENS as entertainment vs. ALIENS as big guns in space argument? SHIPP: Nah, that'd be too easy. Maybe we'll have a chance to disagree on ROBIN HOOD: MEN IN TIGHTS, as I know you didn't care much for SPACEBALLS, and I loved it. That might work...but anyway, we hope all of you will join us for the next installment of THROUGH THE MAGIC LANTERN. DIAMOND: Be with us next time when we discuss another summer blockbuster. Until then, we'll meet YOU at the matinee. I'm Starsky. SHIPP: hahaha...and I'm the Sundance Kid. See you then.  Reprinted by permission from Lights Out magazine Copyright (c) 1993, Bruce Diamond All rights reserved -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 旼컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� � WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT: Brian Gibson, director. � � Kate Lanier, screenplay. Based on I, TINA by Tina Tur- � � ner and Kurt Loder. Stars Angela Bassett, Laurence � � Fishburne, Vanessa Bell Calloway, Jenifer Lewis, Phyl- � � lis Yvonne Stickney and Khandi Alexander. Touchstone � � Pictures. Rated R. � 읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� ** Reviewed by Bruce Diamond ** (from the June issue of LIGHTS OUT) Biopics taken from autobiographies always start from a faulty premise -- namely, we're supposedly getting the "true story," but all we're really getting is one side of the situa- tion. The other person/side is usually not afforded the luxury of even a token defense, with no chance to refute or substantiate any of the allegations that are made. Hey, nobody said life was fair, so I'm not naive enough to think that both sides are re- ceiving equal time in WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT, the life story of Tina Turner. Now, don't get me wrong -- I don't want to diminish what Ike Turner did to Tina. The beatings, the cocaine, the jealousy over Tina's rising popularity, it all happened. But you do have to realize that all we're seeing here is Tina's side of the story. The film portrays her as a saint, taking the abuse and never, ever stepping across any moral or ethical lines herself. To watch this movie, you'd have to believe that Tina was perfect her entire life, never sassing her mother and standing by her man even when he was blacking her eyes and bloodying her nose. Tina Turner has had more than her fair share of problems, this is true. I wouldn't wish this life on anybody, not even my worst enemies. But credibility is destroyed when she's painted as someone who has done no wrong. Admittedly, despite the lengths I've gone to here, this seeming saintliness doesn't get in the way of the story. This film is a powerful statement on Tina's life, and further testa- ment to her comeback in the early '80s. She practically had to go through the fire to prove to us, and to herself, that she deserved her fame on her own merits, and that she didn't deserve the beatings she received at Ike's hands. The real scars, though, the ones that matter, are the emotional ones. Those are the ones Tina will have to carry the rest of her life. Ike's fury is loosely linked to feelings of inadequacy and a growing dependency on cocaine throughout the late '60s and into the '70s. When it explodes on-screen, though, it's rather unex- pected, even if you are familiar with what happened. The build- up, at least for me, is unsatisfactory and simplistic. Larry Fishburne (from BOYZ IN THE HOOD, 1991, and DEEP COVER, 1992) is convincing as Ike Turner, but Angela Bassett is the true power behind the success of this film. She has Tina's energy, stage presence, gestures, shimmies, and even her snarl down perfect, although sometimes she seemed too choreographed. (And I don't mean just her dancing.) Brian Gibson's direction is rather ordinary, but the sheer power of the story will inspire you and have you applauding for Tina when she appears on-screen in actual concert footage. Anna Mae Bullock (Tina's real name) has come a long way to become the recording superstar she is today. RATING: $$$ (out of $$$$$)  The Best on the Boards Copyright (c) 1993, Russell Mirabelli All rights reserved Many bulletin boards across the nation have a huge amount of software to choose from for download. Most have so many titles that determining which ones might be worth the download time is difficult. In this column, I will attempt to help you sort through the huge morass of shareware available and let you know which titles I feel are worth your evaluation. All the software reviewed in this column is available on many bulletin boards throughout the country. If you have difficulty locating a particular title, I recommend that you contact its author at the address listed. CASTLE OF THE WINDS, an Epic MegaGames release, is an ultima-style adventure game that runs within Windows. Being a big fan of this genre of games, and being a Windows programmer by trade, I felt obligated to give it a try. The first time that I looked at CotW, I was impressed by its miserable user interface. That was in version 1.0, however, and this interface problem has been cleaned up considerably in version 1.1. The interface makes excellent use of multiple open windows, a button bar, an extensive help system,and customizable menus and icons. For game play, the first task is to name your character. After doing so, you are allowed to modify the character's statistics somewhat. It seemed to me that this was a somewhat trivial task, as these statistics don't come into obvious play at any point during the game. Don't waste too much time with this step. After doing so , you are allowed to use a custom icon to represent your character during the game. No editor is included, and that fact is never spelled out. After you have a character created, you must go out and adventure in a smallish dungeon to the north of the town in which you live. Your godparent's farm was burned, and clues lead you there. After four levels of killing monsters, you return to the village to find it entirely razed. You travel to another village to the west, and enter a much larger dungeon. All of this is well and good, and follows the steady reliable plot of many adventure games. The important question is, does it work this time? For me, the answer was a resounding yes. I felt compelled to complete the game, and it held my interest the entire time that I was playing (approximately 12 hours). The help system is one of the nicest features of the game. Rather than provide a textfile manual, there is a large, well- written hypertext help system covering all the important game aspects. This allows easy access to the information without having to print out a small novel. Another very nice feature of the game is an automapping function. While looking around for the next set of stairs down, all that is needed is to press ALT-M and a full level map appears on the screen. Very helpful. CotW is not without its problems, however. Some of the spells and magic items do not seem to have a real use, and towards the end some of the monsters are nearly undefeatable without a very concentrated magic/weapons alternating attack. The reason that this is so discomforting is that the dungeons are pretty much a piece of cake until this point, and then suddenly you have to think about what you're doing. Not very friendly, in my eyes. All in all, CotW is a very worthwhile download. Its easy-to-use interface, the fact that it is in a unique genre for shareware, and the way in which it grasps the player's attention all make it a good choice- and worth registering. Registration gets you the follow-up episode LOFTHANSIR'S BANE, and is a very reasonable $25.00. Value 9 Usability 8 Performance 7 -------------- Overall Castle of the Winds Epic MegaGames 10406 Holbrook Dr. Potomac, MD 20854 If you are a shareware author and would like to see your product reviewed in this column, please contact me either via e-mail at the STTS bulletin board, through RIME, WME, or P&BNET, or via conventional mail. My conventional mail address is: Russell Mirabelli 1216 Lamar Blvd E #508 Arlington, TX 76011  The Best on the Boards Copyright (c) 1993, Russell Mirabelli All rights reserved Many bulletin boards across the nation have a huge amount of software to choose from for download. Most have so many titles that determining which ones might be worth the download time is difficult. In this column, I will attempt to help you sort through the huge morass of shareware available and let you know which titles I feel are worth your evaluation. All the software reviewed in this column is available on many bulletin boards throughout the country. If you have difficulty locating a particular title, I recommend that you contact its author at the address listed. DRAG AND ZIP is a Windows shell for PKZIP and PKUNZIP. In that brief description, it may not sound like much, but it is so very easy to use that it falls into the category of "can't live without" software. Most of my days are spent entirely within Windows, and I often am bringing compressed files form one computer to another. Until I met DNZ, I had to exit Windows, change directories, run PKZIP from the command line, and then bring Windows back up. NO MORE! now, I simply double-click on a .ZIP file in the file viewer, and DNZ will take care of making sure that the files all reach the directories I want. Zipping files up is equally easy. DNZ's zipping program sits, minimized as an icon, and all that the user needs to do is drag the files from the file manager and drop them on top of the DNZ icon. A dialog box will ask for a file name and options, and then it's taken care of. Another nice feature of DNZ is that it allows the user to get use of all the obscure command-line parameters that PKZIP offers. Without DNZ, I would never use fast memcopy, EMS, 386 protection, or any of the other two dozen options I now use regularly. DNZ does require that you already have a copy of PKZIP, and it will support the latest version (as of this writing:2.1g). This may sound like a rave, and it is. I simply could not get much of my work done as quickly as I do if it were not for Drag and Zip. Its $25 registration fee is a pittance for the heavy-duty functionality that it provides. If you haven't downloaded this one yet, DO IT NOW!!! Value 10 Usability 9 Performance 7 -------------- Overall 9 Dan Baumbach Canyon Software 1527 Fourth St. Ste 131 San Rafael, CA 94901 If you are a shareware author and would like to see your product reviewed in this column, please contact me either via e-mail at the STTS bulletin board, through RIME, WME, or P&BNET, or via conventional mail. My conventional mail address is: Russell Mirabelli 1216 Lamar Blvd E #508 Arlington, TX 76011  Lyrical Leanings Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved LEGACY II - A COLLECTION OF SINGER SONGWRITERS Various Artists High Street Records Four years ago, High Street Records (a division of Windham Hill Records) released LEGACY - A COLLECTION OF SINGER SONGWRITERS to a multitude of critical praise. Unfortunately, the sales of the album didn't match the artistic success afforded it. LEGACY II seems to be following much the same route. Both albums are firmly rooted in modern folk, and, sadly, folk doesn't sell well. Nevertheless, LEGACY II follows it's predecessor in it's introduction of mostly-unknown singer/songwriters who are the cream of the collective folk crop. The album opens with Patty Larkin's TANGO, a highly energetic excursion into the art of celebration. (Kind of like a birthday/kind of like a freeway/kind of like violins/ kind of like a tango/me and you again) the moves almost effortlessly into Ellis Paul's haunting ASHES TO DUST. (And here I sit bewildered/staring through this pane; the glass, it is still shattered/and everything remains unchanged.") As the album progresses, you find yourself immersed in a world of stories. Sad stories, stories that make you laugh, stories that make you cry, stories that make you angry. Stories that stay with you (even haunt you!) long after the CD has hummed into silence. In it's very essence, LEGACY II holds true to the "legacy" of folk music, managing to both be modern but yet hold true to the spirit of the ballad. Arguably the best of the bunch is Cheryl Wheeler's ARROW, a song that's been released before on two of her three solo albums. The song is at once beautiful and sad, cutting to the very heart of all of our wishes for love, no matter what pain we've known before. (I wish I could fall in love/though I know it only leads to trouble, oh I know it does/ still I'd fool myself and gladly,just to feel I was/in love, in love) Due to limited space, I haven't mentioned every song on LEGACY II. However, every song IS worth mentioning. On the entire album, there isn't one *bad* song. Everything is well-written and sung with practiced precision. If you enjoy folk music, The album ends with Nick Berry's beautiful THE GOOD LITTLE CHILDREN. (When I die take me to the garden/Hide me in the morning air/Wrap me up in the sheets of forgiveness/I believe I'll soon be there) A haunting, wistful tune leaving you with the hint that there's more to come. While you're hunting out LEGACY II (I found my copy at BORDER BOOKS AND RECORDS; it should be available at your better music outlets) pick up a copy of the original LEGACY. Hard as it might be to imagine after this review, I liked that one even better. My rating, on a scale of 1-10: 10  Book Reviews Copyright (c) 1993, Jason Malandro All rights reserved THE THREAD THAT BINDS THE BONES Nina Kiriki Hoffman AvoNova Fantasy $4.99 US, $5.99 Canada Tom Renfield, a janitor nearly in his thirties, had been running all his life. As a child pushed around from home to home, he'd discovered that he had the ability to see and communicate with ghosts. Terrified of what he didn't understand, Tom had managed to stifle his abilities for most of his life. Living in Portland, Oregon, his life was mostly normal. (except for the rare encounter with a wandering spirit) When forced to save the lives of two suicidal teenagers - by literally pulling down the sky to catch them as they flung their bodies from atop a school building - Tom flees the publicity and goes into hiding once again. Getting a job driving a taxi in the small rural oregon town of Arcadia, he learns that he can't escape just who and what he is. His final fare in the town is Laura Bolte, a fashion model returning to her home for her brother's wedding. As with Tom, Laura's much more than at first she appears to be. Laura is the rebellious child of a much-feared family with great powers. She and her kin can control the minds of normal humans, fly, levitate, and manipulate the very fabric of reality. The family has been around for many hundreds of years, but suddenly their numbers are decreasing. Their home, Chapel Hollow, is not a happy place when Tom suddenly finds himself hijacked there. Then things start to get really strange. The Bolte's powers don't seem to work on Tom as easily as they do most humans, and it's quickly revealed why: Tom also possesses supernatural powers. Within the course of the first third of the book, Tom finds himself communing with the dead (the ancient ancestors - The Powers and Presences - of the Boltes) and, when picked by the spirits during Laura's brother Michael's wedding, finds himself quickly wed to Laura. THE THREAD THAT BINDS THE BONES, Nina Kiriki Hoffman's first full length novel, is at once a romance, a modern faerie tale, and a fable. Hoffman populates her book with a cast as varied as any novel could hope to include, yet manages to make each their own distinct and different character. Tom is unknowledgable in the powers that he possesses, yet seems to have the power to overcome all others. In much the same way as a pauper might discover that he's a prince, Tom slowly but surely learns to don the mantle of the powers he possesses. As the forces of good and evil take side - take note that all is not always as it would appear - the novel builds to a crescendo that unfortunately never quite gets adequately resolved. In the end, though, it doesn't really matter. As the rich, vibrant characters grow and interact with one another - as Tom and Laura truly learn to love each other, and understand the responsibility that comes with the powers that they've been gifted with - the plot almost becomes secondary. THE THREAD THAT BINDS THE BONES isn't a perfect novel, but it is a sign of things to come. If Hoffman could so entrance and entice the reader with her first novel.. Imagine what she could do in her second or third. My Rating: (out of 10 points) 9 Book Reviews Copyright (c) 1993, Heather DeRouen All rights reserved  Practical Demon Keeping - A Comedy of Horrors Christopher Moore St. Martin's Press, 1992 In his first published novel, Christopher Moore introduces us to a motley cast of characters. Among them is Catch the Destroyer, a demon who was inadvertently summoned by Solomon and who has been roaming the earth trying to satisfy his seemingly insatiable appetite for human flesh ever since. Catch's master is Travis, a compassionate man who unwittingly had the responsibility of trying to control Catch thrust upon him while studying for priesthood, and who has been trying to dispose of Catch since that time. And then there is the King of the Djinns (for more on Djinns, see the short fiction piece authored by my talented and wonderful husband elsewhere in this issue *smile*). Travis and the King of the Djinns are joined by a group of mortals in the quest for the scepter of Solomon, which possesses the power to send Catch back to the minions of Hell. Unfortunately. the scepter has since been melted down and made into a set of candlesticks. The characters are at once endearing, terrifying, charming, and repulsive, and Moore's sense of humor is sick, perverted, and dark (my favorite kind of humor). I found myself laughing out loud, which I rarely do while reading, several times during this book. It was a tad too short, in my opinion, but otherwise an excellent book, well worth the afternoon it takes to read it. 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"Which she, Fred. We have a rather large selection of shes around here. And what did she do?" "The Imp, sir. She snuck out again, with that last group." "Good Lord!" "He's here, sir. In Emergency Receiving. A bus load of Seventh Day Adventist's missed a curve. Seems there were several decks of playing cards, two very raunchy books and a fifth of scotch whiskey in the luggage. Some of the folks wanted assurance that they had passed through the correct gates." The tall man ran his fingers through his wavy blonde hair and smiled. "Boys will be boys. At least they weren't Church of God. They would have insisted on sending the poor man elsewhere." "It seems the luggage belonged to one of the women, sir." "Well... I hope he's not too rough on her. He's begun to let all the things people say about him go to his head. But then, he's young. Maybe I'll send him back again. He could stand a bit more humility. Do we have an opening in Watts, or Iran, or Lebanon?" "Certainly, sir. New born or fully developed?" "Neither, right now. But if he keeps getting a big head..." "Yes, sir." "In a woman's bag, you say?" "Yes, sir." The amused smile faded and was replaced with a more pensive look. Fred could see that The Boss, as everyone called Him, was still thinking about the Imp. She had done this sort of thing before and had generated all sorts of disruptions. She had caused friction between a king and his most trusted knight, led an army into battle, and generally raised hob with carefully laid plans for thousands of years. Now, in her fully actualized state, there was no telling what trouble she would get into. Fred sat quietly, fully expecting one of the rages that make oceans dry up and continents vanish. The Boss frowned once and turned to leave. "She certainly is living up to her name. This must be her ninth or tenth trip this millennia." The frown evaporated and the world was spared. "Did anyone get wind of her intentions before she left?" "Her roommate said she was talking about kicking butts and taking names, what ever that means." "She's been reading those shoot-em-up police stories again. Well... Don't we have a group who need a strong lesson in morality?" "Yes, sir. We have what is called The United States of America. They have slipped a little, here lately." "Well, let her get settled, and remind me in a while. Maybe I can nudge her in their direction. She takes instructions rather poorly." "How long, before I remind you, sir?" "Oh... a year will do. She'll be acclimated by then. What does she look like, this time?" "Her roommate said she was a twenty year old female, and what they presently call a fox. In my day it was a flapper. Strange isn't it sir, how they use such unusual names to signify beauty?" "Just a phase, Fred. Just a phase. You certainly didn't look like anything that flapped." Fred flushed slightly, recalling his last trip. He had always thought he had been a Hot Mama or at least a Tootsie. Oh well, if he just hadn't gotten involved with that bunch of ruffians he might still be there. Not to worry, he chided himself. You can go back, someday. Fred ended his remembrances when The Boss turned again to leave. He stopped at the entrance to the Dispatch and Acceptance area and addressed the chief dispatcher again. "Keep me posted, Fred. We don't need her shot full of holes like you were." Fred blushed furiously. "Only one hole, sir." He was very sensitive about the way he had returned. "Yes, Fred. But what good is a beautiful young woman with a big bullet hole in her tit? You really need to be more careful." Fred nodded. He had been so ashamed of his wounded body he had asked for and received a complete change. The other body had been left behind. Ashes to ashes... Fred mused. He watched as The Boss left the area, but failed to see the transition from handsome blonde man to rotund, dark skinned man with a nose to rival Jimmy Durante's. The Boss took the corridor leading to the Jewish pavilion. He didn't mind changing forms, and thankfully these were not Orthodox Jews. Then, He would have had to put up with an itchy beard and one of those scratchy black suits. The many faces... and all that. Fred was amazed as usual with The Boss's ability to juggle thousands of problems at the same time. He had a feeling, however, that this most recent expedition of the Imp's would try even His patience. He returned to his work, managing the incoming and outgoing souls. The pages of the thick book of records turned easily at his mental command. Fred smiled his pleasure with the new system. Turning pages by hand became a real strain after two or three hundred years. The only thing better would require occasional service, and IBM was still only world wide. Something for the future. Darkness greeted The Imp. The sliver of moon did nothing to brighten the velvet blackness of the western Maryland forest. She knew she was standing less than a hundred yards from a major highway but was hidden from any passing motorists. Wouldn't do, she grinned, to drop in on these folks suddenly. They tended to group such arrivals under the broad umbrella of Visitors From Outer Space. She smiled and brushed a few autumn leaves from her short, auburn hair. She was impatient to begin and strode purposefully toward the highway. Baltimore was waiting, two hundred miles to the east. Ronald Hall, one of the few remaining independent truckers after the most recent round of fuel cost increases, eased his big Kenworth into a lower gear and sat back in his seat for the slow descent of the long grade. He didn't mind complying with the Maryland law requiring slow speeds on mountain slopes. He had no urge to ride a sixty thousand pound roller coaster down an eight mile plunge to disaster. He liked living too much. His constant concern was the rising cost of fuel. He was slowly being forced out of the trucking business. His wife, Jennette, held a steady job and they made ends meet. They both enjoyed the times they had together, but both wished they could travel together all the time. Their children were grown and they had planned a life of contented wandering wherever the loads took them. His frustration grew with each passing month, as the cost of fuel crept ever higher. "Be thankful we're healthy and the kids are doing well. Our time will come." Jennette would say. Her words soothed him, but each time he refueled he cursed the circumstances that kept them apart. The high beams probed the darkness and suddenly illuminated the form of a young woman standing alongside the road. She was waving, as if she knew his truck. "Where did you come from, little lady?" Ron asked the distant figure, as he applied his air brakes and eased onto the shoulder of the road. The Imp climbed onto the big truck and smiled through the open window. "Thanks for stopping. I got dropped a little way back and need a lift." "Come on in. I'm goin' to Hagerstown. Where you headed?" "Baltimore, but I can catch a bus out of Hagerstown." Conversation flowed easily, as miles slid under the truck. The Imp learned first hand that Ron Hall was a good man. He had not ignored the fact that her jump suit fit like a second skin, or that she was a well developed woman. Her good looks and deeply exposed cleavage simply did not tempt him. The thought crossed his mind and The Imp almost blushed when she read his thoughts. He decided that he wouldn't risk hurting Jennette over a quickie on a Maryland mountainside. She sure looked good, though. Hagerstown, nearly as dark at two in the morning as the forest she had left three hours before, marked their reluctant parting. He shook her hand and wished her well. "Thanks for the lift, Ron. And for the good wishes. I'm sure you'll find a way to start traveling with your wife, real soon." "Well, that's real sweet. You just be careful in Baltimore. There are some mighty ugly people there." "I'll be fine. My Father taught me some special tricks." The young woman smiled and stepped down from the truck. The middle aged man felt his smile lingering longer than he expected. She was that kind of person, made people want to smile. From his driver's seat, Ron could not see the tiny trickle coming from the passenger side fuel tank. The Imp had been a little careless when she ordered the tank to keep itself full from now on. It was her first effort at interference in many years. The Kenworth seemed to sparkle, as it passed under a street lamp and two small dents in the left fender popped out. The Imp smiled at her handiwork and waved to the man and his air horn. She knew he would accept her gift and begin to travel with his wife. She was glad. They would only have three years. The Boss had plans for them. They had discussed the idea of giving the two good people a short period of mortal pleasure, when they had planned her trip. Everyone knew He worked in many mysterious ways, they just did not know how well planned the mysteries were. A teenager, cruising the darkened streets way beyond what should have been his bed time, honked his horn at the image of feminine abundance. His horn relay fused and within minutes a police officer had him pulled over and answering some very pointed questions about his breath and the late hour. The Imp walked the three blocks to the small Greyhound station and bought a ticket. She rested on one of the wooden benches and feigned sleep, hoping to snare a mugger or purse snatcher. Her efforts were wasted. Hagerstown was too small for a full-time mugger. Baltimore, like all large cities, was both modern and aged. The wealthy lived in the new and shining parts, while the poor eked out their existences in the battered sections. There was a common ground, however, based on a white powder, pills of various colors, and a green weed like substance. Vincent Cararro, one time supplicant to J. Edgar Hoover's organization, was the pivot point around which the major sales of certain substances were hinged. He had decided years earlier that being on one side of the law was the only way to live. He had simply changed sides. He gave up his quest to be an agent for the F.B.I., when he discovered the wealth waiting in the sale of certain powders, tablets, and grasses. His beginnings were humble but he soon became another American success story. Vinny worked the streets for two years while building his customer list and the staff he needed to feed their demands. He risked everything on one gigantic purchase, betting on the greed of his suppliers. His demand to meet The Man was eased by the size of the purchase. Besides, The Man liked to see youngsters with the courage to improve themselves. The initial meeting led to more encounters and eventually to Vinny meeting The Man's family. Marriage into the Family was almost predetermined. Margerete was attractive and undemanding. Vinny still had the freedom to visit his girls. He stayed away from the house her father had given them, for days at a time. Life was good. Vinny bought his drugs at a fraction of the street price and sold them to local businessmen for thousands of dollars. The quality of the women he visited improved and his clothes reflected the latest fashion. He never missed a Sunday in church. He and Margerete were front row Catholics, she constantly and he at least on Sundays and holidays. Vinny was content. Outside the Greyhound station, a pimp, black of skin and slow of wit, invited The Imp to "See Baltimore with Me, Baby." She agreed, needing time to get accustomed to the streets and the feel of the city after having just arrived. The glossy Cadillac, its chrome sparkling in overabundance, moved through the streets like a well fed lion. The Imp listened to the ages old pitch the pimp was making and nodded at the appropriate places. He was practically beaming at his good fortune. With this one he moved out of the twenty dollar a toss bracket, into the world of three or four hundred dollar tricks. She was a smooth piece of material and looked green as grass. She was speechless with all the big city wonders he was flashing on her. Now all he needed was a good meal inside her belly and him in her drawers. Tomorrow or the next day she would be anxious to help him. His fantasy knew no limits. "How about if we eat, Baby?" "Certainly." "You gonna' need a place to stay, got enough bread?" The Imp nodded. The pimp flinched. He liked the ones who showed up broke. They were easier. This one might be tougher, but she was worth the effort. "Why not save your cash, Baby, and spend the night with me?" "I wouldn't want to put you out. You might not have room for the two of us." "No Baby. I got lots of room. You can have your own room, even. I got anything else you might need, too." "Well...O.K. But, only if your sure you are ready for what might happen." "Baby, you won't be no problem at all and what ever you wanna' do is fine with me." The Cadillac swerved into the left hand lane and the pimp rushed toward his apartment. He would eat after he had a chance to get this one in bed. She seemed more than ready. The screech of tires signaled their arrival. The apartment was small and contained one bedroom. "Where is the room you promised me?" "Right there, with me to keep away the cold." The air in the shabby room seemed to crackle for an instant and the pimp wondered what was going on. He could smell the ozone in the air, as he moved his hands to his ears, against the sudden noise. He felt much more hair than he should have. He looked into the cracked mirror over the mantle and nearly fainted. The face of a woman looked back, an unbelievably ugly woman. The face followed all the moves he made. That ugly broad in the mirror was him. He jerked his head back toward the woman he was planning to seduce and found the room empty. He searched the apartment. He was alone. He stripped, having difficulty with the unfamiliar buttons and snaps. He looked down toward his toes and saw breasts, if anything that baggy and small could count as breasts. The belly below the first discovery was fully rounded, in fact looked uncomfortably pregnant. But pregnancy bulged a woman's belly and this mass of wrinkles was far from smooth. The legs holding the hideous mass erect were like black pipe cleaners. The pimp rushed to the bath room to view the entire mess in the full length mirror. He recognized the lunch he had eaten earlier, as he flushed the results of his sudden sickness. He was still himself, inside. Whatever the hell that meant. Except now he looked like a fifty cent chippy from the Grey Panther gatherings in the park. "Oh God, what did I do?" "It wasn't me. Ask The Imp." The pimp didn't hear the reply, she was busy being sick again. The Imp walked down the street smiling and singing a line from Peace In The Valley. "...and I'll be changed, changed from this fool that I am." Monday dawned soft and warm. Vincent Cararro drive his burgundy Lincoln Continental carefully and headed for his office. He nodded and waved to his neighbors and friends in the plush suburb where his wife and children lived. He still preferred the spicier flavor of the streets. He disliked the tiny tit and tight ass attitude of the people who lived behind the stone walls of their palatial estates. He slowed for the light at the corner of Barthalemew and Walden and watched with mild interest as the sleek looking woman walked across Walden. Her full figure was accentuated by the plunging neckline of her shimmering jumpsuit. No tiny tits there. Her full breasts moved with a sensuousness that turned his mild interest into the beginnings of an erection. He was startled, when the car behind him honked with impatience. He jerked forward awkwardly and raced down Walden to the first turnaround. Tires screeched and several people wondered why Mr. Cararro would behave in such an uncouth manner. The Lincoln dashed back to the intersection to find the startling vision of femininity walking down Walden. Vinny muttered a silent prayer that no one else would pick her up, and waited impatiently for the light to allow him access to the road he had just traversed. "Need a ride, Miss?" The Imp looked him over, she wanted to be sure she had the right man. Lots of people in the area drove maroon Lincolns. He looked like the images she had seen yesterday and his sleek smile looked like he needed a lesson even if he were the wrong one. She was not, after all, on a strict schedule. She smiled and leaned down, affording Vinny an even better view of her unzipped cleavage. "I wouldn't want to put you out of your way." "No problem, where are you headed?" "Downtown. I'm looking for work." "Climb in, I'll have you there in no time." The Imp opened the door and slid into the plush interior. Her arm touched his on the armrest and neither of them moved to break the contact. "What sort of work do you do?" "Model. At least that's what I did back in Omaha." "You been in town long?" "Just got in. Haven't even found a place to stay yet." Vinny smiled like an undertaker who was witnessing a seventeen car pile up. He knew this was going to be a good day. "I might be able to help you with both problems. I have friends in the modeling world and my company manages a lot of apartments. Why don't you come along with me and let me see what I can do?" "That sounds like a lot of bother for you. I don't want to put you to all the trouble." "No trouble. In fact, I insist. You can rent one of the apartments we manage and if you find a job, we can celebrate together. Unless, of course, you have friends in town." "No. No friends here. In fact, you are only the second person I've met in this big place. The first was not the best experience for me. I hope you're more sincere and more of a gentleman then he was." "My intentions are nothing but honorable. An apartment and a job and you can go your own way. Unless, of course, you decide to let me help you celebrate." Traffic built and driving took Vinny out of the conversation mood. He despised the traffic and would have worked at home, if his wife hadn't been there. He went into the office only to keep up a front for neighbors and the Internal Revenue Service. He also had three secretaries who helped distract him when he was bored. Like a roller coaster, the streamlined Lincoln dove into the darkness that signaled a parking garage. The narrow passageway led to a stall marked V. Cararro. Vinny pulled smoothly into the parking place and switched off the engine. He turned to the young woman and smiled. "Shall we go up?" "I suppose so, I really don't want you to be put out." "That is silly. I'm glad to help a stranger to town." Three hours later, with only a small nudge from Vinny, two modeling agencies wanted to use her and one apartment house had a new resident. The Cararro's approval was enough to get her started. The apartment manager had taken Vinny's word for a deposit and she was ready to move into a furnished apartment. Suddenly, Vincent was the focus of her life. Lunch time became a celebration that he promised was only the beginning. They ate and drank and laughed. They were both pleased with the way things were moving. The Imp, Madeline Warren to the apartment manager, looked down on the bed and the boxes she had just dropped there. Vinny had insisted that she buy some clothes so they could dress in style for their up coming evening. He escorted her to several very posh shops and helped her select a red dress that looked like spray paint on her full figured body. The underthings and the shoes were quite ordinary, expensive but normal. She would be dressed in the height of fashion and be escorted by a man who was as handsome as he was rotten. The Imp walked out of the bathroom and was confronted by a huge bottle of champagne and Vinny. Wrapped in a towel, she was a vision of feminine abundance. The small sprinkling of freckles across her shoulders and the tops of her full breasts were frosting on the delicate paleness of her skin. Unflustered, she continued drying her hair with one corner of her towel. "Well, this is a surprise, Mr. Cararro. We had a date for eight and it can't be later than six thirty. As you can see, I'm not ready to leave." Vincent smiled. "I was hoping we were beyond Mr. Cararro. My friends call me Vinny. I wish you would." "Perhaps later. Right now I want to get dressed and fix my hair. You will have to leave." "I could wait out there," Vinny nodded toward the living room. The Imp shook her head. Vinny left, the apartment door slamming. The evening was a whirl of pleasant sensations. Excellent food and drink, followed by three nightclubs with animated dancers, breath stealing comedy, and a sensuous stage show to close the evening. The stage show would have been pornographic in Omaha, but in Baltimore it was only stimulating. The Imp knew Vinny was much more stimulated than she, despite his hope that the opposite would be true. The Imp accepted a kiss at her door and would allow no further imprecations from the aroused man. She wanted him thinking about nothing but his passion. With two weeks of modeling in daylight and fending off Vinny's advances during the dark hours, The Imp brought Vincent Cararro to a full boil. She knew that this was the night. She dressed with special care and waited for his distinctive knock. A soft smile marked her face. She was enjoying the tenseness she had watched growing along with the passion. On the mark of eight, Vinny rapped his knuckles on the white painted panel of her door. He stood admiring the new manicure he had just gotten and waiting for her to answer. Tonight, he promised to himself. Tonight you loose those fancy drawers, Babe. Better get ready to enjoy. His visions of the evening's pleasures brought a sinister smile to his lips. The Imp opened the door and smiled to her ardent suitor. "Good to see you, Vinny." Vincent stalked into the apartment, deciding in that instant to try the strong man routine since his gentle approach had failed. He fitted a look of restrained fury on his face and turned to the wonderfully sexy creature before him. "You've driven me to a difficult situation. I have been patient and waited for you. Tonight we will be together, or I'll be obliged to make some phone calls and withdraw my support for your modeling work and this apartment." Vinny waited for her reply. He knew she liked the good life they had been sampling so fully for the last weeks. Wordlessly, The Imp reached behind her and slowly unzipped her dress. The hiss of the zipper erased the lines of ferocity from the angry man's face and magically replaced them with a smile. Vinny began removing his jacket and never took his eyes from the fantastic form being revealed before him. His excitement swelled the front of his trousers. That reaction seemed to stimulate him even more. The Imp had indeed dressed with special care. She stood before the man clad only in a skimpy pair of panties, a pair of almost transparent hose and a garter belt that matched her panties. Her swelling breasts were the focus of the now perspiring man before her. "Is this what you want, Vincent Cararro?" "Yes. Dear God, yes. I want you more than anything in the world." "Well, at least get out of that ruffled shirt." Vinny peeled the shirt from his sweating body so swiftly that several buttons popped off onto the floor and rolled under a chair. "I've waited for you, ever since I met you." "Well, before you get me I want something too." "What? What do you want, money?" "Of course not. I want the list of people you sell drugs to." Vincent felt his erection stop growing, he felt his slacks relax back down to their normal drape. This was a bizarre situation, one that should have no place between a woman who was nearly naked and a man who was swelling with desire. What the hell did she need with a list of his customers? Forget her list, what she needed was a few hours in a big bed. "Why don't we talk about that later?" Vinny felt himself leave the floor. He hadn't jumped, the floor had simply moved out from under his feet. The woman was still on the floor. He was several feet above the carpeting, in a room that smelled faintly like there had been a rainstorm inside the apartment. "What the hell... What's going on?" "When I get the list you can come back down." "Why?" "My business. Are you ready to give me the list.?" "Not this life time." The words were the last thing to pass through his lips, going out or coming in. He grasped his throat and began writhing almost instantly. Within a minute his actions were frantic. His supply of oxygen was gone and what little he had held in his lungs was nearly used up. The Imp waited patiently. Frantically, Vinny nodded his wordless willingness. The Imp allowed him to breathe and restated her demand. "There is a book, in my jacket pocket. The names are there. But they are all untouchable." "Not from me. You'll descend in ten minutes. Do not endeavor to follow me or find me. If you do I'll make you the most miserable man since Job. I would advise you to find a more respectable occupation, Mr. Cararro. I'll be watching." Speechless, Vinny watched while the sultry looking woman slipped into the skin tight jumpsuit she had been wearing when he first met her. She left the front zipper enticingly low and left the room. Vinny watched the clock on the mantle click off the minutes and was waiting as his feet gently returned to the floor. He dashed to the telephone and began calling his drug customers. After the third call, Vinny realized his mistake. He had told the people that someone, possibly connected with the law, had the names of all his customers. Two of the customers were suddenly terse in their replies and hung up. The third one promised to get Vinny and left the phone off the hook. Vincent Cararro died in a fiery explosion two weeks later. The police bomb experts said that there must have been twenty sticks of dynamite planted in the car. They were confused, however; they could not figure why the second and third bomb had not detonated. The investigation was narrowing the list of suspects and they expected an arrest shortly. None of the reporters believed a thing about the press release, except the part about the other bombs. Nearly two hundred doctors, lawyers and prominent business men left Baltimore, committed suicide, or died from natural causes in the weeks following Vinny's death. Life insurance company computers discarded the data of these deaths, they all seemed unnatural, despite the police reports. Claims went unpaid and unchallenged in the courts. Drug addicts in Baltimore are still having difficulty getting drugs. Many moved away, some reformed, and some died from the agonies of withdrawal. White powder, other than Domino sugar, was very scarce at the parties of the affluent. The only person who noticed The Imp when she left was a trucker who picked up a beautiful woman on The Beltway. She needed a lift to Washington. He carried her to the outskirts of the capital city and continued toward Virginia and the son whom he discovered was suddenly cured of the leukemia that had been eating him alive. The trucker was already one of the faithful at his small church and credited the recovery with his prayers. He may have been right. The Imp was last seen walking into Washington, D.C. smiling and humming. She was obviously looking forward to her next tasks. Fred looked up from his book and noticed that The Boss seemed happier than usual. He was pleased that The Boss derived joy from the few glimmers of hope coming from Earth. There seemed to be a few more souls returning as well. No matter, Fred mused. There's room for everyone.  The Late Mr. Wilson Copyright (c) 1992, John Chambers All rights reserved Fred Wilson brought the car to a screeching halt in front of the hospital. He jumped out of the driver's side door and ran around to help Mrs. Wilson out of the car. While doing all of this running, he was also waving his arms toward an attendant with a wheel chair. "Over here!", Fred called to the hospital attendant. The man with the wheel chair came rushing over toward the Wilson's car. "Geez Fred," said Louise Wilson, "I'm not even having labor pains yet. They're going to have to induce labor. There's no rush." Fred beamed at Louise and helped her into the wheel chair. "I know," he said, "but the situation calls for it. This is our first child, even if it is 3 weeks late." Fred was right. The doctors said that she should have given birth in mid-December, and today was January 6th. The doctor was going to induce labor today to speed along the birth of their first child. Arthur Wilson, a happy and healthy baby boy, came into the world on January 7th. He had a minor respiratory problem at birth and had to stay an extra day in the hospital, but otherwise he was just fine. Everyone who saw Arthur said that he was a delightful child. He never got into trouble, didn't cry very often, and was a well behaved and happy baby. This proved to be true as Arthur grew older, started to walk, and started talking. He reached these childhood milestones a bit later than others, but he was such a wonderful child that it didn't matter. The only problem that Fred and Louise ever noticed was little Arthur's tardiness; he could never get anywhere on time. Something always came up just as the Wilsons were ready to leave in the car, have dinner, or go for a walk. Arthur would always forget his teddy bear and have to go back for it, or have to go potty, or change his shirt. It was an annoying little problem, but since Arthur was such a wonderful child, it was easily overlooked. Arthur Wilson was late for his first day of school. He had forgotten the crayons his mother bought for him and had to go back into the house to get them. Once in the house, he had to go to the bathroom. On his second day of school, Arthur forgot his lunch money and had to run back home to retrieve it, so he was late again. Although Fred and Louise Wilson didn't know it at the time, this was to be a lifelong problem for Arthur. He was late to school almost every day. He was late both going to recess and returning to class. He was late for lunch, late for dinner, and late to go play outside. When he was going to the playground for a baseball game with his friends, he would forget his glove. "Hey, wait up guys!" he would yell. The next day he would forget to wear a belt. His friends would see Arthur turning for home and tugging at his pants while screaming, "Hey, wait up guys!" He was known as "Wait Up" Wilson to all of the boys and girls in the neighborhood, and whenever the children would go off to play, one would hear little laughs and giggles and one little voice saying, "Hey, wait up!" Arthur's problem was never a bother to most people. He was such a likeable person that almost everyone overlooked this little quirk. He was very intelligent and made good grades in school, he was always available to help others, and he always had a beautiful smile. It was really difficult to get mad at Arthur. The Army was one of the exceptions to this rule. They didn't like Arthur being late for things. Arthur was drafted into the Army in 1966, but reported late because he had gotten lost in Oakland. Though Arthur was always late for things, he did excellent work. His superiors liked the way he performed, and his attitude. Most of the time they just put Arthur on K.P. as punishment, so Arthur spent much of his time peeling potatoes. Being late was not always bad for Arthur. While his squad was on patrol in Vietnam, Arthur fell behind to lace his boot. In this instance, Arthur decided not to yell his usual, "Wait up, guys!" As it so happened, a North Vietnamese patrol was just ahead. The entire squad unknowingly walked into an ambush while Arthur was lacing his boot. Arthur, late as usual, came up behind the enemy soldiers and rescued his squad. He was later awarded the Bronze Star medal for his actions. Much later in life, Arthur missed a plane to an important meeting in Dallas. Lady Luck once again shed her light on Arthur - the plane crashed upon landing, killing all those aboard. Arthur married Joyce Bentner when he was twenty-eight. He was, of course, a bit late for the wedding. Joyce tried for years to get Arthur where he needed to be at the correct time, but was always foiled in her attempts. She and Arthur got along very well together, and loved each other very much. Throughout his lifetime, Arthur remained a very popular fellow. He was successful in business ventures most of the time, and earned a good living as an inventor and businessman. He missed several opportunities to make large amounts of money in the stock market because the stock would be over-priced by the time he got ready to make his move. On the other hand, Arthur would often fail to buy a "hot" new stock when everyone else was buying, and would be safe when it came crashing down. When the hula-hoop craze hit the country Arthur decided to jump in and make a profit. He was late as usual, and ended up with 2 warehouses filled with useless toys when the craze abruptly ended. Arthur made his mark on the world when he was in his fifties. After many years of research, he patented a new type of shoe sole for use on running and athletic shoes. Arthur was always running to catch up, so it was only fitting that he invented this particular item. The invention caught on quickly, and he constantly received royalty checks for the use of his patent. Arthur was finally financially secure enough to take a long awaited two-week cruise. Arthur and Joyce enjoyed their cruise very much. The relaxation of the open sea, the fancy dinners, and the joyous atmosphere was a wonderful break for them both. For ten days they cruised the Caribbean, visiting many wonderful ports and having a great time. On the eleventh day they were heading to port in Saint Thomas when the skies became very dark. A tropical storm was rapidly approaching, and the Captain of the ship immediately began to head for a safe port. Unfortunately, the cruise ship ran aground while trying to make port, and a large hole opened in her side. With the ship quickly filling with water, the Captain ordered all hands to the lifeboats. The passengers had been through several of these drills, and the rescue was proceeding smoothly - except for Arthur. Once again, Arthur was late. A deck hand finally forced Joyce into a life boat, and she saw poor Arthur stumbling around the decks of the cruise ship yelling, "Wait up!" Just at that moment, a huge wave swallowed the decks of the ship. The life boats were shoved out into the sea, and Arthur Wilson was taken prisoner by the ocean. They located his body two days later. Joyce Wilson was distraught and tearful at the loss of Arthur, but bravely headed back home to make the proper arrangements. She left complete instructions for shipping Arthur's remains back home, and set the funeral for the following Wednesday. On Tuesday, the day before the funeral, Joyce discovered that the body had been delayed in shipping. Arthur's remains would not arrive until Wednesday morning, and this would not allow enough time for the funeral personnel to prepare the body. Joyce re-scheduled the funeral for Thursday. Thursday morning services were held in the funeral home, and many of Arthur's friends gave him glowing testimony. It was a very tender and moving service, and everyone was very sad. When the service was over, the funeral party climbed into long black limousines and began the slow, somber journey to the grave site. Along the way to the cemetery, the hearse which carried Arthur's body suffered from an untimely flat tire. The driver immediately jumped from the hearse and waved the other cars on toward the cemetery, then began to busily replace the flat tire. At the grave site, the local reverend gave Arthur his final rites, and said a few carefully selected last words about the late Mr. Wilson. Joyce Wilson peered sadly into the open and empty grave, then tilted her head up just in time to spot the rapidly approaching hearse which carried Arthur. "Damn. Wouldn't you know it," she said. "He's late for his own funeral."  Memoirs of a Reluctant Vampire Copyright (c) 1993, Robert McKay All rights reserved You've seen Dracula, right? Or at least you've picked up something loosely based on the movie - white skin, pointed hairline, funny accent, red-lined cape. I mean, the movie came out in 1931, and only the late-night TV junkies ever actually see it any more. At any rate, you think you know about vampires. You know, they bite beautiful women in the neck, they stalk around with dry ice fog swirling through their legs, they talk funny, they stand out in a crowd of normal people the way a nine-foot glob of purple from the Foobaw galaxy would. Uh- huh. Well, just sit still and learn better. You see, I'm a vampire. Yeah, me, with the weak chin and Coke- bottle glasses and flannel shirt. I've never even been to Europe, and for sure I'm not from Transylvania. And I don't go around leaving neat little punctures in he necks of Miss America contestants. You think they'd ever let me get near that kind of lady? Hardly. I've been vamping about 10 years now. I was kind of getting through college when I got into it. I wasn't that good at college, but I was even worse at getting any kind of job that I liked, so why not be a professional student. At least that way I could keep up with all the trendy things to be for and against. I mean, who wants to protest against something that nobody hates. It just doesn't do much for the ego to be the only one out there with a picket. Anyway, I was out late one night at the Pizza Pan. I used to like the stuff, you know, with a lot of cheese and everything thrown on. The deep pan pizza. No thin crust for me - give me something to chew on. Anyway, I was headed back to the dorm that night, and out of the alley comes this - well, this raggedy guy. I don't know how else to put it. He just kind of ambled out of the alley like he was out for a midnight stroll or something. I didn't pay him any particular attention. I mean, this is a college town, for pete's sake. There's worse things running around all the time. You ought to see the kind of human debris that's left behind by a keg party. Well, I crossed in front of him, and he grabbed me. His arm came around my neck, and believe me, there's one part of the vampire myth that's true - we're awfully strong. I couldn't get any air, and though I struggled as hard as I could this guy just lifted me up with his arm under my chin and carried me into the alley as easy as you please. He took me back in the bushes, bopped me on the head with something - a rock, I guess - and while I lay their woozy and not quite sure what day of the week it was, he hauled out this Swiss Army knife, for pete's sake, and gashed me on the neck. Brother it hurt. And he leaned down, holding my shoulders on the damp ground, and sucked on my neck. Yeah, the mother of all hickies, right? I passed out along in there somewhere, and when I came to he was gone. My neck felt like it'd been drug over a barb wire fence, but I sure was surprised when instead of the cut I should have had there was nothing but a scar. It's gone now; I guess a vampire bite that turns you heals pretty good. Anyway, that one isn't there any more. I managed to get under way again, and muddled through the semester, but by the time spring break came I knew I couldn't get through any more. I was getting real sensitive to light, especially sunlight. I couldn't sleep at night or stay awake during the day, and my appetite was falling off something awful. By the time the semester was over, I had gotten down to a meal a day, and sometimes even that slipped by without any notice from me. I couldn't figure it out. Until one day I cut my finger, and without thinking I slipped it into my mouth - and that's something that would have turned my stomach any other time. Ten minutes later I realized that I was curled on the bathroom floor, my finger jammed into my mouth, and craving blood like I'd never craved anything in my life. Somewhere in that semester I'd turned - I'd went from human to vampire. Well, it's not any kind of heaven. Oh, I don't mind the hours so much, and while the food may not appeal to you it's all I want. But the trouble of getting something to eat is like nothing you've ever seen. Not many people will just sit still while you make like the Red Cross and take a pint. Generally I'm stuck with the dregs - you know, winos (and you can get drunk off of a wino, believe me), hookers, addicts (and that's a bad trip if you're not careful), bums, that kind of thing. No beautiful ladies here, mate. Miss America doesn't come around me, and as for counts and the other aristocracy, I guess they'll never invite me to a fancy party with lots of necks just waiting to be bitten. I've got some fangs, if you want to call 'em that. Here, have a look. Not so much, are they? They'll nick the skin some, but I'm no vampire bat - I can't live on blood that just kind of oozes out and lays there. I need something that flows, you know? So I carry a pocket knife - yeah, just like the guy that got me - and when I need a drink, and I can find someone to tap, I use that to open 'em up. Real elegant, ain't it? Well, I suppose you've got to be going. I guess I've bored you. You sure don't look like someone who plans to spend the night. In fact, you color's not so hot. Are you sure you feel all right? Hey, stay a bit. In fact, I think I'd like some supper, if it's all right with you.  Djiin! I Win! Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved Only a few years ago, in a land not that unlike the one we live in now, there dwelled a djiini. He wasn't a particularly powerful Djiini, nor was he particularly clever. Admitting that he wasn't very handsome either shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Nevertheless, for all the Djiini's shortcomings, it is with him that our tale begins. . . . and ultimately ends. "So. You like to play games do you, Wesley?" Asked the prime Djiin, as Wesley stood, shackled in chains, before a jury of his peers. "Offering a thousand wishes where one would do, simply to cause the bearer of your 'good tidings' mischief." Intoned the Master Djiin, legs crossed, dressed in the finest Arabian costuming, floating above the proceedings. "I.." Began Wesley, already knowing it was of no use to deny any of the charges. He was being brought up on fraud, libel, and misrepresentation of goods. Not to mention that speeding ticket.. "And how do you plead?" Bellowed the judge, breaking Wesley's thought pattern. (which, looking at it objectively, wasn't that hard of a thing to do..) "Er.. Well.. I didn't MEAN.." "We all know exactly what you did and didn't MEAN to do, Wesley. Your penchant for practical jokes has gone a bit too far this time. We overlooked it when you changed that storekeeper into a dictator. We managed to change the mess that you created when you gave the three wishes to the 'touched' child. We even let that girl's wish of 'a dozen of everything' squeak by. But granting that Quayle kid's wish for a 'really, really, really important job'.... that.. is... it!!" Wesley seemed to shrink in on himself, as he studied the jeering faces of his peers. They had never liked him anyway. So what if he wasn't all that powerful? So what if he wasn't all that bright, either? At least he was handsome, he told himself, though, upon later reflection (namely, a nearby mirror) he had to admit that even that wasn't true. Wesley sighed to himself, breathing deep. He was a failure. Period. The only bright spot on his otherwise flawed career as a Djiini was his creativity. And he had turned that into a 쟢xcuse � for practical jokes. "Wesley.." Sighed the judge, getting impatient. "We haven't all day. Plead, and let's get on with it." Seeing his cue, Wesley fell to his knees, hands clutched in seeming prayer before his chest, "Please, please, master. Spare me!" "Wesley! Plead, as in your case!!" Looking sheepishly at the judge, he rose to his feet, dusting himself off. Humor wouldn't work. Not this time. If he had just played the wishes straight with that Quayle fellow.. Sighing yet again, Wesley steeled himself for the worse. It was now or never, he thought. He'd play this one straight. He'd admit to his lack of ethics, apologize to the council, take his punishment, and be on with it. "Wesley?" "I.... Well, to be perfectly honest your Royal Exalted Supreme Highness Sir.. It really wasn't my fault. You see, it all started when..." "GUILTY!" * * * And thus the verdict was announced, and the sentence laid upon the quivering bulk of mass that called itself Wesley the Djiini. His sentence was this; he would continue to receive assignments to various bottles, lamps, and accordions around the universe. He would continue to grant three wishes to a customer, and he would continue to have full privileges and benefits (including membership to Sal's All-You-Can-Eat Indian Beef Bar-B-Q) befitting his status in the Guild of the Djiin. And where was the punishment in all of this, you may ask? The punishment lay not in what Wesley could no longer do (for, as stated above, none of his privileges were stripped) but in the penalty of assigned duties. Yes, Wesley could (and would) continue to grant three wishes to a customer. However, for the next 1,000 years, the wishes that he could grant now had certain guidelines and rules. He had to inform the wishers implicitly of the limits and guidelines thereof, BEFORE granting the wishes. Those three wishes were structured just so: FIRST WISH * This wish can be used for anything, with the exception of wishing for more wishes SECOND WISH * This wish must be made for someone else, not benefiting himself, and must not harm the other person in any known way THIRD WISH * The third wish is rather limited. If the participant is happy with his results, he may wish for Wesley to be rewarded for his good deeds. (and indeed he will - with one day taken off his sentence) If, however, the receiver of the wishes is dissatisfied in any way, shape, or form, the recipient can wish that all of what he wished for was instead bestowed upon Wesley Through the wisdom and understanding of the ancient Master Djiin, peace was restored to the universe at large. Wesley slowly learned to curb his practical joking. All was right with the world again. At least for awhile. You see, even Master Djiin's make the occasional mistake. When one wishes for the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Samson, and the rugged beauty of Mel Gibson (and, yes, that can be all one wish, worded correctly) and wishes for his girlfriend to get that job promotion that she'd been wanting (and, unlikely as it all may seem, his girlfriend is secretly a Djiini running against the Master Djiin for office of His Royal Majesty Highness Djiin)... Well, that can cause trouble. Especially when, after breaking up with her, he wishes he had never wished for any of it and decides to wish that all the wishes had happened to poor Wesley instead... Poor Wesley, indeed.  Shareware / Software / Accessories / Peripherals / Services   THE place for all your computer needs! Call or write for product list.   RSI Shareware  Sodtware & Peripherals  Personal Possessions v1.02 Audio,MS-DOS 6 Up $49 Windows 3.1 Up $49 Avery Video, & Home Inventory in 1. 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Town East Blvd. #138 � � mentioning this ad will receive �� Mesquite, Texas 75150 � � a FREE box of TDK 5.25" DD Disks. �� (214) 681-8131 � 읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴�읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Add $3 sh/hdl each order (except shareware only orders) Texas res. add 7.25% tax 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께 께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께 Poetry 께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께 께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Strength Copyright (c) 1992, Tamara All rights reserved In the Temple darkness lies the shadow of a smile Dreaming my world into existance with the existance of his dreams belief, hope, trust and care weaves a fabric true and whole to know, to will, to dare to be naked before all reveals a strength of character by nature within, the courage to be wild and joyful, confident and free Spontaneous revelation empowers the lion-hearted to know the god within himself and above all to love. Written 12/21/92 by Tamara (c) 1992 for bear Strength has many facets.....as do you.  A Sunny Afternoon in the Garden Copyright (c) 1992, Lucia Chambers All rights reserved The hops snore a tranquil fragrance unmindful of the bees slowing, to sleep while queen clematis tucks her tendrils round that sleeping giant's knees. Beetles clamber rosebud newts and chew, intoxicating tea! their jaws slacken; a slow climb from below, the preying mantis plots careful maneuvers through thorny bracken. Butterflies delight in cosmos' open arms, that daisy beckons neurotic fluttering to stop to drink nectar and rest warmly on polleny pillows while wings bask proudly on pink petal-tops. While the gardener sleeps beyond the fountain (charming watery noises lulling her to doze) the squirrels raid the birdseed, but her dreams exclude garden disasters: she is thinking of a rose.  께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께� 께�旼 T A L K D A L L A S B B S 컴컴컴컴컴컴�께께 께��16-Lines (214) 739-8370 �같께 께���같께 께�� Clubhouse & Private Chat/Unlimited Time �같께 께�� Online Games/Gigs of Files/Matchmaking �같께 께�� *Internet Mail*/Over 100 Message Areas �같께 께���같께 ~\_o께�� SPECIAL E-MAIL FEATURES!:�같께o_/~ ()\ 께�� Full Screen Msg Edit/Return Msg Receipt �같께 /() \\ ~ 께�� Enclose Files In E-Mail/Kubby-Hole Msgs �같께 ~// / \ 께�� Unlimited E-Mail/Forwarding of Msgs�같께 / \ ~ ~ 께�읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴켸같께 ~ ~ 께께�같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같같께 께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께께�  컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께 께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께 Information 께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께 께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚�昉굅껑� 갚�昉굅昉굅昉께께께께께께께께께께께께께께꾼갚꾼갚꾼껑� 갚꾼갚꾼껑� 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴�  There are several different ways to get STTS magazine. SysOps: Contact me via any of the addresses listed in CONTACT POINTS listed elsewhere in this issue. Just drop me a note telling me your name, city, state, your BBS's name, it's phone number and it's baud rate, and where you'll be getting STTS from each month. If your BBS carries RIME, Pen & Brush Network, or you have access to the InterNet, I can put you on the STTS mailing list to receive the magazine free of charge each month. If you have access to FIDO, you can file request the magazine. If you don't have access to any of these services - or do but don't wish to use this option - you can call any of the BBS's listed in DISTRIBUTION SITES and download the new issue each month. In either case contact me so that I can put your BBS in the dist. site list for the next issue of the magazine. (Refer to DISTRIBUTION VIA NETWORKS for more detailed information about the nets) Users: You can download STTS each month from any of the BBS's mentioned in DISTRIBUTION SITES elsewhere in this issue. If your local BBS isn't listed, pester and cajole your SysOp to "subscribe" to STTS for you. If you haven't any other way of receiving the magazine each month, a monthly disk subscription (sent out via US Mail) is available for $ 20.00 per year. Foreign subscriptions are $ 25.00 (american dollars). Subscriptions should be mailed to: Joe DeRouen 14232 Marsh Ln. # 51 Addison, Tx. 75234  Submission Information ---------------------- We're looking for a few good writers. Actually, we're looking for as many good writers as we can find. We're interested in fiction, poetry, reviews, feature articles (about most anything, as long as it's well-written), and even good ANSI art. The only payment we can offer for your articles, stories, and poems is that of exposure. As STTS grows, we expect it to reach markets through- out the USA, Canada, Europe, Japan, and parts of ASIA. Through the distribution system we're using, the possibilities are practically limitless. The copyright of said material, of course, remains the sole property of the author. STTS has the right to present it once in a "showcase" format and in an annual "best of" issue. (a paper version as well as the elec. version) Acceptance of submitted material does NOT necessarily mean that it will appear in STTS. Submissions should be in 100% pure ASCII format. There are no limitations in terms of lengths of articles, but keep in mind it's a magazine, not a novel. Fiction and poetry will be handled on a pure submission basis, except in the case of any round-robin stories or continuing stories that might develop. Reviews will also be handled on a submission basis. If you're interested in doing a particular review medium (ie: books) on a full-time basis, let me know and we'll talk. ANSI art should be under 10k and can be about any subject as long as it's not pornographic. We'll feature ANSI art from time to time, as well as featuring a different ANSI "cover" for our magazine each month. In terms of articles, we're looking for just about anything that's of fairly general interest to the BBSing world at large. An article comparing several new high-speed modems would be appropriate, for example, whereas an article describing in detail how to build your own such modem really wouldn't be. Articles needn't be contained to the world of computing, either. Movies, politics, ecology, literature, entertainment, fiction, non-fiction, reviews - it's all fair game for STTS. Articles, again, will be handled on a submission basis. If anyone has an idea or two for a regular column, let me know. If it works, we'll incorporate it into STTS. Writers interested in contributing to Sunlight Through The Shadows can reach me through any of the following methods:  Contact Points -------------- The Internet - My E_Mail address is: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org FIDO - Send me a private message containing your submission to node 1:124/8010 RIME - My NODE ID is SUNLIGHT or 5320. Send all files to this address. (you'll have to ask your SysOp who's carrying RIME to send it for you) Alternately, you can simply post it in either the Common, Writers, or Poetry Corner conference to: Joe Derouen. If you put a ->5320 or ->SUNLIGHT in the top-most upper left-hand corner, it'll be routed directly to my BBS. Pen & Brush Net - Leave me a note or submission in either the STTS Conference, Poetry Corner conference, or the Writers Conference. If your P&BNet contact is using PostLink, you can route the message to me automatically via the same way as described above for RIME. In either case, address all correspondence to: Joe derouen. WME Net - Leave me a note or submission in the Net Chat conference. Address all correspondence to: Joe Derouen. My BBS - Sunlight Through The Shadows. 12/24/96/14.4k baud. (214) 620-8793. You can upload submissions to the STTS Magazine file area, comment to the SysOp, or just about any other method you choose. Address all correspondence to: Joe Derouen. US Mail - Send disks (any size, IBM format ONLY) containing submissions to: Joe DeRouen 14232 Marsh Ln. # 51 Dallas, Tx. 75234  Advertising ----------- We're accepting business advertisements in STTS. If you're interested in advertising in STTS, a full-page (ASCII or ASCII and ANSI) is $ 20.00/issue. Those interested can contact me by any of the means listed under Contact Points, elsewhere in this issue. Currently, STTS Mag is being "officially" carried by over 25 BBS's across the nation. It's also available via Internet, FIDO, RIME, and Pen & Brush Networks. If you or your company want to expose your product to a variety of people all across the world, this is your opportunity! We're not really out to make money with STTS, and thus will be willing to "deal" with you. If you're a shareware author or provide some sort of service that STTS or myself might find of use, I'm willing to trade advertising space for a registered version of your product of service.  Contact Points -------------- You can contact me through any of the following addresses. Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS (214) 620-8793 12/24/96/14,400 Baud InterNet: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org Pen & Brush Net: ->SUNLIGHT P&BNet Conferences: Any WME Net: Net Chat conference PcRelay/RIME: ->SUNLIGHT RIME Conferences: Common, Writers, or Poetry Corner FIDO: Joe DeRouen at 1:124/8010 US Mail: Joe DeRouen 14232 Marsh Ln. # 51 Dallas, Tx. 75244 U.S.A.  You can always find STTS Magazine on the following BBS's. BBS's have STTS available for both on-line viewing and downloading unless otherwise marked. * = On-Line Only # = Download Only BBS Name ........... Sunlight Through The Shadows Location ........... Addison, Texas (in the Dallas area) SysOp(s) ........... Joe and Heather DeRouen Phone ........... (214) 620-8793 (14.4k baud) (Sorted by area code, then alphabetically) BBS Name ........... ModemNews Location ........... Stamford, Connecticut SysOp(s) ........... Jeff Green Phone ........... (203) 359-2299 (14.4k baud) # BBS Name ........... Lobster Buoy Location ........... Bangor, Maine SysOp(s) ........... Mark Goodwin Phone ........... (207) 941-0805 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (207) 945-9346 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Poetry In Motion Location ........... New York, New York SysOp(s) ........... Inez Harrison Phone ........... (212) 666-6927 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Archives On-line Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... David Pellecchia Phone ........... (214) 247-6512 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (214) 486-8394 (14.4k baud) # BBS Name ........... BBS America Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Jay Gaines Phone ........... (214) 680-3406 (9600 baud) Phone ........... (214) 680-1451 (9600 baud) # BBS Name ........... Chrysalis BBS Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Garry Grosse Phone ........... (214) 690-9295 (2400 baud) Phone ........... (214) 783-5477 (9600 baud) BBS Name ........... Old Poop's World Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Sonny Grissom Phone ........... (214) 613-6900 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Opa's Mini-BBS (open 11pm-7am CST) Location ........... Plano, Texas SysOp(s) ........... David Marshall Phone ........... (214) 424-0153 (2400 baud) # BBS Name ........... User-2-User Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... William Pendergast and Kevin Carr Phone ........... (214) 492-6565 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (214) 492-5695 (2400 baud) BBS Name ........... Ruby's Joint Location ........... Miami, Florida SysOp(s) ........... David and Del Freeman Phone ........... (305) 856-4897 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Pegasus BBS Location ........... Owensboro, Kentucky SysOp(s) ........... Raymond Clements Phone ........... (317) 651-0234 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Aries Knowledge Systems Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland SysOp(s) ........... Waddell Robey Phone ........... (410) 625-0109 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Robin's Nest BBS Location ........... Glen Burnie, Maryland SysOp(s) ........... Robin Kirkey Phone ........... (410) 766-9756 (2400 baud) BBS Name ........... Exec-PC Location ........... Elm Grove, Wisconsin [Note: Exec-PC has SysOp(s) ........... Bob Mahoney over 250 lines. Phone ........... (414) 789-4210 (2400 baud) It's the biggest Phone ........... (414) 789-4315 (9600 baud) BBS in the world!] Phone ........... (414) 789-4360 (14.4k baud) # BBS Name ........... SoftWare Creations Location ........... Clinton, Mass. SysOp(s) ........... Dan Linton Phone ........... (508) 368-7036 (14.4k baud) # BBS Name ........... Arts Place BBS, The Location ........... Arlington, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... Ron Fitzherbert Phone ........... (703) 528-8467 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Pen and Brush BBS Location ........... Burke, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... Lucia and John Chambers Phone ........... (703) 644-6730 (300-12.0k baud) Phone ........... (703) 644-5196 (14.4k baud) # BBS Name ........... Sidewayz BBS Location ........... Fairfax, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... Paul Cutrona Phone ........... (703) 352-5412 (2400 baud) BBS Name ........... Anathama Downs Location ........... Sonoma County, California SysOp(s) ........... Sadie Jane Phone ........... (707) 792-1555 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... InfoMat BBS Location ........... San Clemente, California SysOp(s) ........... Michael Gibbs Phone ........... (714) 492-8727 (14.4k baud) # BBS Name ........... Renaissance BBS Location ........... Arlington, Texas SysOp(s) ........... David Pollard Phone ........... (817) 467-7322 (9600 baud) # BBS Name ........... Second Sanctum Location ........... Arlington, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Mark Robbins Phone ........... (817) 784-1178 (2400 baud) Phone ........... (817) 784-1179 (14.4k baud)  STTS Net Report Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available through FIDO, INTERNET, RIME, and PEN & BRUSH NET. Check below for information on how to request the current issue of the magazine or be put on the monthly mailing list. FIDO To get the newest issue of the magazine via FIDO, you'd do a file request from Fido Node 1:124/8010 using the "magic" name of SUNLIGHT. INTERNET To get the newest issue via the internet, send a message to FTPMAIL@CHRYSALIS.ORG and include as the first line in your message (or second, if the system you're using forces you to use the first for the address like) GET SUNyymm.ZIP where yymm is the current year and month. Example: This issue is SUN9308.ZIP. After Sept. 1st, the current issue will be SUN9309.ZIP, and so on. Easier than that would be to request being put on the monthly mailing list. To do so, simply send a note to Joe.Derouen@Chrysalis.org asking to be put on the STTS mailing list. If you're a SysOp be sure to tell me your BBS's name, your name, your state and city, the BBS's phone number(s) and it's baud rate(s) so I can include you in the list issue's distribution list. RIME To request the magazine via RIME, ask your RIME SysOp to do a file request from node # 5320 for the current issue (eg: SUN9308.ZIP, or whatever month you happen to be in) Better yet, ask your SysOp to request to be put on the monthly mailing list and receive STTS automatically. PEN & BRUSH NET To request via P&BNet, follow the instructions for RIME above. They're both ran on Postlink and operate exactly the same way in terms of file requests and transfers. I'd like to thank Garry Gross of Chrysalis BBS and David Pellecchia of Archives On-line for allowing me to access the Internet and Fido (respectively) from their systems. If you're interested in donating prizes for the STTS monthly contest, you can contact me via any of the addresses listed in CONTACT POINTS elsewhere in this issue. We'll accept most any prizes. If you're a shareware author, a great way to get some free publicity would be to donate a registered version of your program(s). Examples of prizes you might donate would be registered shareware, CD's, access to pay Bulletin Board Systems, magazine subscriptions, etc. Depending upon available space in the magazine and what you're donating, we may be willing to provide advertising space in STTS free of charge or for a reduced charge.  End Notes Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved The second issue of STTS Magazine draws to a close. I think that all involved did a great job in bringing it together, and my thanks go out to them one and all. My thanks also goes out to all the SysOps who're carrying the magazine. The more BBS's that feature STTS, the more readers we get. The more readers we get, the more submissions we get and the better the magazine gets. The chain is only as strong as it's weakest link, after all. And every link of this "chain" - from the readers to the SysOps to the networks to the writers and to myself, the publisher - is an important one. Going with that analogy, one surefire way to keep a chain from rusting is to move it about from time to time and even oil it. I want STTS to be flexible and to get a steady infusion of new ideas and concepts. Things I have in mind for future issues include a round-robin continuing story, a story-writing contest, interviews with people important to the telecommunications industry, and more! What ideas do *you* have that would help STTS to keep growing and evolving, becoming the best that it can be? I want to hear them. I may or may not agree with them or implement them, but every idea is important to me and to the evolution of the magazine. On that note, I'll end this and start the distribution process. I hope you enjoyed this issue of Sunlight Through The Shadows magazine. Keep reading! --Joe DeRouen, 11:55pm 07/31/93