M. Otis Beard is dead.
I just talked on the phone to his brother Erik, who lives down here in
SF and he told me that Otis committed suicide about a month ago,
in his apartment up North, around September 25th or 26th. They
weren't certain about the exact date of the death b/c the body
wasn't found for over a week. There was a note, but Erik doesn't
know what it said because the police took it for some reason. I
didn't want to press him about it. So we're not sure why Otis did
this. Erik had talked to Olga and Otis' mom was around (she flew
out to ID the body), but I'm not sure that anyone knows why except
Otis and maybe the cops. We do know that Otis bled to death in his
bathtub.
There was no funeral. Otis' ashes will be divided between Olga and
his mother.
I'm not sure what to do, but it seems to me like we should do
something. I guess Joe Bay and I know Otis the best, having
hung out with him in person a couple of times. Joe and I will
figure something out, maybe get his brother's mailing address
as a place to send flowers or something. Olga is back in Russia
and will probably stay there.
-Teg
From: "M. Otis Beard" <movin...@geocities.com>
Subject: SYNOPSIS: The last ten years of Usenet
Date: 08 Jan 1999 00:00:00 GMT
Message-ID: <775i3o$e22$1...@remarQ.com>
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Discussions start here!
Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology
I know this guy whose neighbor, an expert in how the Y1K
problem caused
the Dark Ages, was at home recovering from having been served a
rat in his
bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. So anyway, one day he went to
sleep and
when he awoke he was in his bathtub and it was full of ice and he
was sore
all over and there were a bunch of polaroids scattered around the
floor
showing two guys doing weird stuff with his toothbrush . When he
got out of
the tub he realized that HIS KIDNEYS HAD BEEN STOLEN and he saw a
note on
his mirror that said "Call 911!" But he was afraid to use his
phone because
it was connected to his computer, and there was a virus on his
computer that
would destroy his hard drive if he opened an e-mail entitled
"Join the krewe
for GOOD TIMES!" He knew it wasn't a hoax because he himself was
a computer
programmer who was working on software to save us from Armageddon
when the
year 2000 rolls around. His program will prevent a global
disaster in which
all the computers get together under the leadership of Bill Gates
and
distribute the $600 Nieman-Marcus green golfball joke.
(It's true-I read it all last week in a mass e-mail from BILL
GATES HIMSELF,
who was also promising a free Disneyworld vacation and $5,000
if I would forward the e-mail to everyone I know.) Anyway, the
poor man
then tried to call 911 from a pay phone to report his missing
kidneys, but
when he reached into the coin-return slot he got jabbed with a
used syringe
wrapped in a note that said, "Welcome to the world of AIDS."
Luckily he was
only a few blocks from the hospital -- the same hospital, in
fact, where
that Craig Shergold kid is dying of cancer. Craig's last wish is
for
everyone in the world to send him an e-mail and the American
Cancer Society
has agreed to pay him a nickel for every e-mail he receives. I
sent him two
e-mails, and one of them was a bunch of x's and o's in the shape
of an angel
(if you get it and forward it to twenty people you will have good
luck, but
if you forward it to ten people you will only have OK luck and if
you send
it to less than ten people you will have BAD LUCK FOR SEVEN
YEARS). So
anyway, the poor guy tried to drive himself to the hospital, but
on the way
he noticed another car
driving along without its lights on. To be helpful, he flashed
his lights at
the other car and was promptly shot as part of a gang initiation.
-M. Otis Beard
From: "M. Otis Beard" <ot...@teleport.com>
Subject: WORM TURKYSH OF THE SMALL SHYP (an Otisian adventure)
Date: 17 May 1998 00:00:00 GMT
Message-ID: <355D94...@teleport.com>
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
MIME-Version: 1.0
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 17 May 1998 02:41:32 PDT
Reply-To: ot...@teleport.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1
Organization: Disgraceland, USA
Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology
So here I am, attempting to alleviate my insomnia with a little
Usenet, when something comes in over the ICQ. I just activated
my
'available for random chat' option earlier this evening in the
hopes
that something entertaining would happen, and lo and behold. . .
I get a
chat request from someone in Turkey calling himself INTELLECT.
During
the course of the conversation I managed to save the chat buffer
several
times, and (lucky me) managed to get the entire exchange onto my
hard
drive before my brand new Turkish friend signed off.
Here's the whole thing, just as it occurred MOMENTS AGO:
-------------------------------------
ICQ Chat Save file
Started on Sun May 17 01:01:43 1998
--------------------------------------
<INTELLECT> hii
<Otis> Gallo?
<INTELLECT> how r u?
<Otis> Eye yam phine. Hao r u?
<INTELLECT> do u know english?
<Otis> Eye haf herd off himm.
<INTELLECT> ingilizce bilmiyon mu yoksa
<Otis> OH, ENGLISH!
<Otis>
<Otis> Yes, I am speak Engllish.
<INTELLECT> am turkuy
<INTELLECT> ok
<Otis> Ok OK
<Otis> what time is he in Turkey?
<INTELLECT> country?it ,s 12 o'clock in TURKEY
<Otis> noon or midnight?
<INTELLECT> noon,
<Otis> Is the night of middle here in Otisia.
<INTELLECT> otisia? where is it?
<Otis> Yes, in the south part.
<INTELLECT> southt part?
<Otis> Paccificc occeam. Micronesai.
<INTELLECT> okey
<INTELLECT> ı understoood
<INTELLECT> are you a student?
<Otis> I work wwith SPECTRE.
<INTELLECT> how old are you?
<Otis> I am 33 years.
<Otis> You?
<INTELLECT> okey
<INTELLECT> ı am 29 , master student (industrial engineer),
<Otis> Ah. Industrial engineering.
<Otis> very good.
<INTELLECT> thanks a lot. you are?
<Otis> I am specialist in hyperbozotic frobnication physics.
<INTELLECT>
<INTELLECT> ooo very nice..
<INTELLECT> male or female?
<Otis> male.
<INTELLECT> ı am a male.
<Otis> too bad.
<INTELLECT> okey
<INTELLECT> bad?
<Otis> you are looking for a girl?
<INTELLECT> no. it is not treu..
<Otis> You like man?
<INTELLECT>
<INTELLECT>
<INTELLECT>
<INTELLECT> no.
<Otis> Ah. very good.
<INTELLECT> ı l e to chat foreifner person in the world.
<Otis> I am very foreifner person.
<Otis> what is your for hobby?
<INTELLECT> ı lıke to play basketball and football
<INTELLECT> and you?
<Otis> we have no room for footballl, and too windy for
basketball i
think.
<Otis> I like to fish.
<INTELLECT> ooooo it is very very good subject.
<Otis> Hard to get good bait here.
<INTELLECT> why?
<Otis> ground is very aklalenoi.
<INTELLECT> okey
<Otis> many people are eat all worms here.
<INTELLECT> do you like to eat fish?
<Otis> Yes, fish is more okey better with worms.
<Otis> I think.
<INTELLECT> okey ı like
<Otis> Do you eat a fish?
<INTELLECT> ı want to eat everytime
<Otis> what bait are you?
<INTELLECT> bait? ı dont know mean.
<Otis> On hook.
<Otis> To catch fish.
<Otis> worms?
<INTELLECT> okey, with shyp
<INTELLECT> small shyp.ıp
<Otis> Shyp? You fish with net?
<INTELLECT> okey
<Otis> I have not net in Otisia.
<Otis> bait is hard.
<INTELLECT> otis, ı must leave because ı will go to lunch
<Otis> I use piece of my leg for bait.
<INTELLECT> okey?
<Otis> You eat for lunch?
<INTELLECT> ı am very hungry now
<Otis> Maybe you are send worm turkysh for me?
<INTELLECT> okey yes see you again
<Otis> OK, ssee youu.
<INTELLECT> okey
<INTELLECT> bye bye
-M. Otis Beard
From: "M. Otis Beard" <ot...@teleport.com>
Subject: NICK BENSEMA: TRANSVESTITE!
Date: 01 Jul 1998 00:00:00 GMT
Message-ID: <3599D3...@teleport.com>
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
References: <7laf6vt...@torstai.hit.fi>
<kibo-30069...@ppp0a025.std.com>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii
Organization: S.P.E.C.T.R.E.
MIME-Version: 1.0
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 30 Jun 1998 23:13:57 PDT
Reply-To: ot...@teleport.com
Newsgroups: sci.math,alt.religion.kibology
James Kibo Parry wrote:
>
> Oh, come on, normal numbers don't join cults. Norm numbers
hang around
> in church, go bowling, and on weekends they go to the
roller-skating rink.
> (With normal skates, not "inline" skates.) Only weak-willed
numbers
> would join a destructive cult. Unless, of course, the cult
were
> spectacularly awesome and offered A FREE TOASTER TO ALL NEW
MEMBERS.
Ha! Only a half-assed cult with no regard for the safety of
its new
heirodules would give away dangerous toasters. My cult, the
International Church of You Obvious, offers free toast to all new
members! "Welcome to our church," says the friendly priest when
you
enter the temple. ". . .YOU OBVIOUS LOSER! Have some free
toast."
This approach ensures that only the select elect elite few who
don't
mind a little public humiliation and are willing to live on
nothing but
dry toast will be joining our ranks. We also offer a special
Scientologist conversion bonus: *twice* the public humiliation,
and FREE
free toast! Scientologist converts also get preffered seating on
holy
days, right up there in the front on the super-elite seats of the
holy
Exercise Bicycles Attached to Generators which we use to power
our
sacred toasters. . . toasters which no mere secular being will
ever be
allowed to even SEE.
Toasters are dangerous, Kibo. Dangerous to the human body,
dangerous
to the human mind, dangerous to the human soul. Only scientists
(note:
NOT Scientologists!) and priests whose union dues are paid up
should
even CONTEMPLATE messing around with a toaster, or electricity,
or
science. Someday, we hope to suppress all knowledge of these
things
outside the clergy, that we may duly impress the faithful with
demonstrations of the MIRACLE of singed bread.
> > If you have ever received email from Kibo, your official Kibo
number
> > starts out as 1; if you have not received email from anyone
whose Kibo
> > number is < n, but have received email from someone whose
Kibo # is n,
> > then yours is n+1. Fractional Kibo numbers are imposters
(i.e., ted
> > frank (q.v.)); Kibo's own Kibo number is 0. Posts don't count
for Kibo
> > number purposes, only email. (A few others have had Kibo
number zero as
> > well, earned in various ways; Kibo can also assign a number
to you, and
> > came in 2nd in the "most evil net.personalities" vote, so
watch it.)
Let me see if I've got this michaelstraight: Greeks bearing
fractional
Kibo numbers are imposters; Kibo may assign Kibo numbers to
Greeks;
therefore, if Euripedes' Kibo number is one, and Kibo says that
Nick
Bensema is half the man that Euripedes is, then Nick the Greek is
pretending to be Homer! Since everybody knows that the real
Homer was
actually a chyk, we must conclude that Nick Bensema is pretending
to be
a transvestite.
NICK BENSEMA: STOP WEARING MEN'S CLOTHING! QUIT LIVING A LIE!
-M. Otis Beard
From: "M. Otis Beard" <movin...@NOSPAMgeocities.com>
Subject: Stop the newsgroup, I think I'm gonna HURL!
Date: 21 Jul 1997 00:00:00 GMT
Message-ID: <5qvq91$op7$1...@gte1.gte.net>
Organization: The Very Large Corporation of America
X-Auth: D910801556DF84CF50978491
Reply-To: movin...@NOSPAMgeocities.com
Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology,alt.society.neutopia
Ooooooggghhhh. . . I think I may spew.
I just opened a can of tuna to make myself a nize sangwich. As
I was
pressing down on the lid to squeeze the excess tuna juice into
the sink,
the can made a weird drawn-out noise that sounded EXACTLY LIKE A
DOLPHIN
PLEADING DESPERATELY FOR HELP. Now, I have this aversion to
eating
anything with a big brain (sorry, Ms. vos Savant, not in *this*
lifetime). Even pork gives me the creeps just a LITTLE bit. . .
so I
looked at the label, and there was a little emblem that said
'DOLPHIN
SAFE' with a picture of a happy-looking leapin' dolphin, so I
went ahead
and ate my sangwich, secure in the knowledge that my gustatory
habits
were still ecologically, politically and morally sound (unless
you're a
tuna, that is, but who cares about them?).
Then it struck me.
Could 'DOLPHIN SAFE' be semantically equivalent to 'CETACEAN
VAULT'?!?
AAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!1
From: "M. Otis Beard"
<m*o*v*i*n*g*h*a*n*d*@*g*e*o*c*i*t*i*e*s*.*c*o*m>
Subject: Re: PHIL in "The Whitespace"
Date: 11 Sep 1997 00:00:00 GMT
Message-ID: <5v7kei$4jk$1...@gte2.gte.net>
References: <5ui8pp$dud$1...@fddinewz.oit.unc.edu>
<19970903034...@ladder01.news.aol.com>
<bangEFx...@netcom.com> <5uj3ki$ras$1...@gte2.gte.net>
<5uvvve$2vl$1...@quasar.dimensional.com> <5v0kjc$n66$1...@gte2.gte.net>
<5v6u7v$634$2...@quasar.dimensional.com>
Organization: Law Offices of Cohen, Cohen and Hitler
X-Auth: d997c10f0a078494cacb0411
Reply-To: m*o*v*i*n*g*h*a*n*d*@*g*e*o*c*i*t*i*e*s*.*c*o*m
Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology
Lisa Rea wrote:
>
> I knew John Hinckley. You think I'm making this up. You think
I'm just
> saying this.
I made sandwiches for Richard Ramirez. You think I'm just
making fun
of you. You think I'm just typing this. YOU'RE WRONG. I
believe
everything you say even when I know that you're not telling the
truth.
I believe you because you can't stop me. I believe you because I
believe no one. I believe you because only love can prevent
forest
fires.
> Go ahead. Think whatever you need to in order to sleep at
night. Or
> else maybe you could ask Johnboy about Lisa from the Little
Bear.
I never sleep at night if I can help it, and even when I do,
the only
thoughts that prevent me from sleeping are thoughts of the
Goddess that
got away. I pine. Love me or destroy me, but don't toy with me
unless
you're willing to pay.
> Remember in Citizen Kane when the reporter's talking to the
first wife
> in the bar? That bar's not where you think it is, and I'm not
who you
> think I am.
I don't think you're who you think I think you are. Hinckley
wasn't
even aiming for the First Wife, and Jodi can keep her clothes ON
for all
*I* care.
> Tread lightly. Your true colors are showing, and they're
looking
> pretty jaundiced.
I'm sorry. My liver keeps trying to make me drink more, but I
can't
because I already drink more. You've accused me of the crime
that Jack
built, but I'm only guilty of being less common than the law
allows.
> (My hands are yellow from the job that I do.)
You should never have to work for money. Other people need to
give
you some of their money so you can be pure and turn the other
kind of
yellow all over again.
> I'm a pretty bad actor, and I was never very good at the
subtleties of
> Romance languages.
Just keep moving your mouth and waving your hands, and if
anybody
tries to interrupt, talk louder and faster and sweat and swear
more.
Become hugely angry at the slightest provocation, then quickly
calm down
again for no good reason. Want to kiss me always.
> Go out and buy something today. Take it home. Cut your fingers
to
> shreds on the plastic bubble wrap. Tear open the box with your
teeth.
> Claw away at the cardboard until you choke and sputter in a
cloud of
> brown desire.
> There's your German disco, pretty boy. The trick now is getting
rid of
> it. Keep your head above the surface, try not to struggle, and
don't
> think about an elephant.
My desire is Tyrean purple, so maybe this is rotting shellfish
Phoenician disco. I'm trying to fill my mind with your cloos so
the
******** can't get in, and the box is just getting in the way.
Somehow
I manage.
> When are you going to realize that the only real way to give
death is
> to give life? You're a letter opener. You're a blunt object.
You're a
> candlestick in the study.
I study you. You're a letter. Sealed with hot wax. Begging
to be
bludgeoned.
> I am at large. And I do mean LARGE.
I am at <PHONE NUMBER DELETED>.
Teg Pipes wrote:
> M. Otis Beard is dead.
*sigh*
He wrote me a poem. A good one, too:
>a) The airplane had a little card depicting the things you were, and
>were not allowed to do. We are allowed to look out the windows, but we
>are not allowed to see clouds, fire, or crashing airplanes.
The airplane had a little card
Depicting the things you were
A friend, a foe, an evil star
Hitler's brain in a leyden jar
Seeking a path to earth.
-M. Otis Beard
>M. Otis Beard is dead.
>
>I just talked on the phone to his brother Erik, who lives down here in
>SF and he told me that Otis committed suicide about a month ago,
>in his apartment up North, around September 25th or 26th. They
>weren't certain about the exact date of the death b/c the body
>wasn't found for over a week. There was a note, but Erik doesn't
>know what it said because the police took it for some reason. I
>didn't want to press him about it. So we're not sure why Otis did
>this. Erik had talked to Olga and Otis' mom was around (she flew
>out to ID the body), but I'm not sure that anyone knows why except
>Otis and maybe the cops. We do know that Otis bled to death in his
>bathtub.
Otis's very last post to a.r.k seems significant in retrospect.
I'd rather not repost it.
He'd been publicly despondent here before, but recently he seemed to be
happier than he had been in a long time.
It doesn't make sense, but such things never do.
--
Matt McIrvin http://world.std.com/~mmcirvin/
Truly tragic, especially in that nobody knows or could imagine /why/ he
might have done such a thing. I would like to convey my sincerest
condolences to those who knew him better than I did, and also to add
that I, for one, will not soon forget the joy and wit that he brought to
A.R.K. Sleep well, Otis.
--
"Don't call me 'boy,' motherfucker"
-- M. Otis Beard
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.
>
>
>M. Otis Beard is dead.
It's funny how some people reach out to the others around them, but
often their hands fall, empty. Strange the emptiness one feels when
news of this magnitude slams into them. Strange the empty hole that's
left when one parts from this world, how one life affects --
indirectly or directly -- so many others, and it's only when they're
gone that we realize it with our blinded, jaded minds. Strange the
bitter taste of bile in our mouth and the rattle of high heels on the
stairway, and outside the traffic breathes somewhere miles away,
flickering line of lights on the freeway disappearing into the
mountains in the distance. Strange how one's death poisons our own
existences, and we howl like the coyotes, and we try desperately to
make sense of something that makes no sense. Strange how one's death
diminishes us, even if we only knew that person from the words they
wrote and never saw their face.
Strange how quiet it is tonight, not even the chorus of crickets and
the sky is clouded and orange from the city lights far below where I
sit. And listen. And think.
===========================================================
Pope Emperor FrogMaN the Zermacroyd Guavahead, XXXQ,
the vile illegitimate spawn of competence.
Get your sorry ass over to http://home.earthlink.net/~rtoad
Do it now.
Read the Bathroom Wall! Write for the Bathroom Wall!
http://home.earthlink.net/~rtoad/zine.html
BW email -- bath...@lart.com
COO Stormtrooper
===========================================================
>On 27 Oct 1999 18:35:51 -0700, in alt.religion.kibology Teg Pipes
><t...@fruitfly.berkeley.edu> spelled out in toothpicks:
>>M. Otis Beard is dead.
>It's funny
YEAH, IT SURE IS! HAW HAW!
>how some people reach out to the others around them, but
>often their hands fall, empty.
Oops, I mean it's not funny at all.
Um, yeah, so Otis was pretty cool and all, and it's sad when
anyone dies, but his connection to most of us was no more than
the connection between Kurt Cobain and a 14 year-old Nirvana fan.
We read his stuff, we laughed or thought or were moved, and that's
all there really is to it. We know more about him than about some
celebrity, but not really enough that any of us can say we *knew*
him. So that's about all I have to say, anyway.
J. Michael Bay
--
Joseph M. Bay
Department of Molecular Pharmacology
Stanford University
Age 7 (ret.)