It Just Keeps Coming
The Checkered Demon
Joe Tabler, at surfbooks.com. He has a mailing
list for collectors of surf-related printed matter,
like books, mags, etc.
Anyway.....
The second item in the 'newsletter' was:
<QUOTE>
"Jenn Diamond reports finding a new book called Riptionary, with
surf terms from around the globe.....http://www.riptionary.com/ available
thru amazon from the site."
</QUOTE>
Sheesh. Let's all send Joe a message, and let him know
how bad that book, and it's pimps, are.
tablerbooks(at)k-online.com
-------------
Chexter
Turby
<check...@yahoo.com> wrote:
>So, I open my inbox, and there's a message from
>Joe Tabler, at surfbooks.com. He has a mailing
>list for collectors of surf-related printed matter,
>like books, mags, etc.
>Anyway.....
>The second item in the 'newsletter' was:
>
><QUOTE>
>"Jenn Diamond reports finding a new book called Riptionary, with
>surf terms from around the globe.....http://www.riptionary.com/ available
>thru amazon from the site."
></QUOTE>
>
>Sheesh. Let's all send Joe a message,
Nah. Joe's a good guy. I'll just kick his ass the next time I see him.
Turby the Turbosurfer
The Checkered Demon
> Nah. Joe's a good guy. I'll just kick his ass the next time I see him.
>
I wasn't suggesting that we bust balls, or anything.
More of a 'heads up' message, to let him know he's
helping to promote a lame publication, and the tactics
employed by Jenn and her pals.
ie:"Jenn Diamond reports *finding* a new book called Riptionary"
-------------------------------
Chexter
Awe F'shore
"The Checkered Demon" <check...@yahoo.com> wrote:
> ie:"Jenn Diamond reports *finding* a new book called Riptionary"
The new 2004 AS novel:
"Jenn Diamond Finds AS"
Could be a bestseller!
Awe
doc
"Awe F'shore" <a...@yternalywayvah.net> wrote in message
news:Qfcgc.23547$bQ6....@newssvr27.news.prodigy.com...
Sounds like a new group project, similar to 'Naked came the surfer'.
Say, possibly, 'Naked Came The Huckster'
thatmoody
goes...
....
Installment #1 of "Naked Came the Huckster"
He had heard about these newsgroups, and an idea occured to him - that
might be the perfect place to generate some enthusiasm for his new
book, which, strangely enough, had not been selling all that well.
All his friends had assured him that he was really onto an idea, but
so far, interest had been lackluster. Then his friend Krusty happened
to mention to him that there might be a newsgroup dedicated to
surfing...After all, there were newsgroups for EVERYTHING these days.
But how to approach them?
Turby
Sex. Sex _always_ sells.
Installment #2 of "Naked Came the Huckster"
Ever since he was a boy watching the killer whales cavorting in the
waters off the Olympic Penninsula, he'd dreamed of communicating with
them. Little did he know what a bizarre and stimulating experience
that would give him.
Turby the Turbosurfer
Awe F'shore
"Turby" <turbo...@beach.comber> wrote in message
news:edc3801v83eq004u1...@4ax.com...
Installment #3 of "Naked Came the Huckster"
It came to him in the midst of a dream. A dream of humming a killer whale's
knob the size of a railroad tie. A wet dream. A voice whispered softly
through the dreamscape, "Jenn. Jenn is the answer. Jenn the proofreader. C
o n t a c t J e n n."
"Damn phone!" Jenn exclaimed, as the shrill stacatto of the ringer shattered
her concentration. She was deep into "Internet Guerilla Marketing", an
intriguing book she had recently aquired with the strange premonition that
its contents would soon change her life.
...
Awe
Mike Sullivan
Awe F'shore wrote:
Numero #4
"Jenn betty, this is the Scottilcious,.... 'sup dudette??... Like I got this
kewl ....
-The anticipaton that blossomed in her head wilted as the sing song voice
rattled on a cacaphony of half-understood surf phrases gleaned from bad
surf movies and good Gidget TV episodes.
."...gnarly idea freight trained into my hat rack, it was like droppin.......
- Jenn found things to do with her toes and wondered if she could get away with
that call waiting trick again, or if she should start that retching sound...
.... bodacious and slick, tubular but a bit goofyfooted........
A really bad song popped into her head, a counterpoint to the drone in the
phone.
'in the year twenty five twenty five, if man is still alive... ' where the f***
had she
hear this song?
Foon
>
>Numero #4
>
>"Jenn betty, this is the Scottilcious,.... 'sup dudette??... Like I got this
>kewl ....
>
>-The anticipaton that blossomed in her head wilted as the sing song voice
>rattled on a cacaphony of half-understood surf phrases gleaned from bad
>surf movies and good Gidget TV episodes.
>
>."...gnarly idea freight trained into my hat rack, it was like droppin.......
>
>- Jenn found things to do with her toes and wondered if she could get away with
>
>that call waiting trick again, or if she should start that retching sound...
>
>.... bodacious and slick, tubular but a bit goofyfooted........
>
>A really bad song popped into her head, a counterpoint to the drone in the
>phone.
>'in the year twenty five twenty five, if man is still alive... ' where the f***
>had she
>hear this song?
#5
Eventually Scott's voice became the proverbial nails on the chalkboard with his
incessant babbling............
"Shackin and Mackin so huge, floatin an air would require filing a flight plan
and carrying an oxygen mask."
Like the oxygen mask the paramedics used on Jenn the night she went to a rave
with her best friend Melanie and took three tabs of X. After hours of dancing
to poorly synced Drum & Bass, House and Techno she remember following some
slippery looking eurotrasher (who claimed he was a marketing VP for Hugo Boss)
out to his pimped out Scion. Uri had offered her some blow to freshen up the X.
When she leaned over to take her first hit off the antique handmirror he held in
front of her face, she noticed the Metallica ring on his hand. It was the same
ring that had gotten caught in the strings of her thong that peeked out above
her Donna Versace ultralows as he cupped her ass while they danced among
hundreds of other blissed out ravers. Jenn sensed the evening was going badly
when Uri (who in the lights of the parking lot looked 10 years older than his
claim of 25) turned on the radio which exploded in the vile music and insipid
lyrics she remembered. THAT'S where she heard that song! Suddenly Jenn's left
sinus cramped and went on fire. She launched herself out the car door cursing
and screaming at Uri for dosing her with trisodium phosphate, a common cleaner.
The last thing she remembered before she passed out was Uri accelerating away,
the light of his license holder weakly illuminating his vanity plate "LUVHAMR."
When would Jenn learn to avoid these losers?
"Jenn? Jenn, are you there?"
"Yes Scott, I'm here."
"So whadjathink?"
Jenn pondered blowing off Scott but she did owe him something for finding her
in the parking lot that night and calling the paramedics.
"Call me tomorrow Scott. I have a book that tells me how to market on the
internet?"
"Do you think there are many surfers on the internet?"
"Can't say now. I'll let you know. Bye."
Jenn turned to her computer and typed in S-U-R-F-I-N-G, angry at herself for
still humming that goddamn song.
Her browser listed thousands of sites to explore. Where to start?
-Foon
Surfer Bob
> #5...
> ..."Jenn? Jenn, are you there?"
>
> "Yes Scott, I'm here."
>
> "So whadjathink?"
>
> Jenn pondered blowing off Scott but she did owe him something for finding her
> in the parking lot that night and calling the paramedics.
>
> "Call me tomorrow Scott. I have a book that tells me how to market on the
> internet?"
>
> "Do you think there are many surfers on the internet?"
>
> "Can't say now. I'll let you know. Bye."
>
> Jenn turned to her computer and typed in S-U-R-F-I-N-G, angry at herself for
> still humming that goddamn song.
> Her browser listed thousands of sites to explore. Where to start?
>
> -Foon
Installment #6 of "Naked Came the Huckster"
Rainwater drips from the bumper of a very rusty ancient pickup truck
with a flat tire. A badly chipped and misshapen axe blade is attached
to a broken handle, protruding from a knotty piece of old growth cedar
next to an empty 12 pack of Schaefer beer cans and a few hand split
shingles. A rat scurries by and hides in the woodpile outside a two
storey wooden shack in a clearing in the woods. The wall is half
shingled. A sodden piece of rain-soaked particle board from the
unprotected portion of the wall peels away and falls with a thud. The
rat emits a startled squeak and leaps through a broken window pane
beyond which movement can be seen.
Through the broken pane voices can be heard. A low light illuminates a
small table with a laptop computer. A man hunches over it. He is bare
to the waist and sweaty, his face hidden in shadow behind twisted
shanks of dark stringy hair. He looks very tired, but not yet utterly
defeated. A tall, well groomed man stands beside him holding a
clipboard. "I've got good news and bad news, chief. Which do you want
first?"
"Give me the bad news."
"Ratings are at an all time low. The board of directors called your
rosy profit projections an insult to their intelligence and is
demanding an immediate new business plan that generates real traffic
and real ratings. I think the Man's exact words were, "You tell that
rodent we want REAL results REAL FAST or his ass is in the STREET!"
Your last check to the power company bounced. The only reason the
lights are still on up here is that I poured some REAL sugar in the
utility guy's truck while he was stopped at the market in town. He was
on his way up here to turn you off. I just saw your girlfriend driving
the other way in a shiny new pickup truck, sitting very close to a
much younger man. You really need a shower and a shave. And your
daughter has become a sponger."
The hairy man looks up from his laptop as the news soaks in. "Man! It
doesn't rain but it pours, eh Sully? OK, what's the good news?"
"The Starbucks beans are still holding out, and likewise your
homegrown sustenance. I degunked your coffee bong with the last of the
Drano and loaded you up a fresh blast. Salud!"
The hairy man takes a long, grateful drink and sets an arcane
contraption of glass tubes and bowls, smoking, on the table. He wipes
his mouth on a greasy rag. "All right, it's time to pull a rabbit out
of the hat and save our bacon. I used to be full of good ideas. What
are our assets?"
The tall man shakes his head sadly. "Well, you have pretty much burned
through all your political capital. All the savvy players have been
burned too many times to step up for you now. Thurston is not due to
pass this way again until next winter. Your various creditors are
about to have your ass hauled into court. You could eat crow and throw
yourself on the mercy of your AS colleagues to..."
"NEVER!!! What the fugg do you take me for, Sully? Some kind of
sensitive, quiche-eating new age man? I should shoot you where you
stand!"
The tall man finds himself staring down the business end of a tiny 22
caliber handgun. Trembling slightly, he continues. Sweat beads on his
forehead. "Be cool, Lem! Hear me out! You can't keep writing WHO CARES
and ignoring the problems any longer! We've GOT to get some content
flowing on AS or we'll lose everything. A proposal to turn AS into a
website for a new Orange County surf lifestyle marketing firm failed
to pass by ONE VOTE yesterday."
The hairy man's crazy eyes soften behind his shaggy bangs. For a
moment he looks thoughtful. "So it's come to that at last, has it?" he
sighed ruefully, holstering the petite weapon. There is a Hello Kitty
sticker on the handle. "Well, we've still got 36 hours until the end.
Maybe something juicy will just fall from the sky. It was about his
time last year that No9 came out of nowhere with his shot in the dark,
right?"
"We can always hope. But the night is still young, chief. Maybe we can
brainstorm up a winning plot line before morning." The hairy man
stretched and moved to the stove to reload the coffee bong. The tall
man turned to a blank page on his clipboard. Another piece of
composition board peels off the wall and falls outside with a wet
thud. Rain begins to patter on the plywood floor in a far corner of
the room. The rat scurries into a dark corner.
Surfer Bob
Mike Sullivan
"Surfer Bob" <surfe...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:d5579a18.04041...@posting.google.com...
snip
> defeated. A tall, well groomed man stands beside him holding a
LOL. ANYbody who's ever met me (on AS or otherwise) would cringe
at the above description of Sully. Keener does not think I'm tall, and
nobody has ever seen me 'well groomed.' guffaw.
http://www.clearlakescullers.org/pages/miketheman.htm
Mike
Foon
>LOL. ANYbody who's ever met me (on AS or otherwise) would cringe
>at the above description of Sully. Keener does not think I'm tall, and
>nobody has ever seen me 'well groomed.' guffaw.
the Wizard of Oz was not what he was perceived to be either.
-Foon (Was shorthaired my first day with the Feds in 1975, next haircut was 3
years later)
doc
"Mike Sullivan" <s...@SNIPslac.stanford.edu> wrote in message
news:c61ndl$sve$1...@news.Stanford.EDU...
And that's after he shaved.......
Awe F'shore
"Foon" <fo...@newsguy.com> wrote in message
news:c61qh...@drn.newsguy.com...
Almost cut my hair
It happened just the other day
It's gettin kinda long
I coulda said it wasn't in my way
But I didn't and I wonder why
I feel like letting my freak flag fly
Cause I feel like I owe it to someone
Must be because I had the flu' for Christmas
And I'm not feeling up to par
It increases my paranoia
Like looking at my mirror and seeing a scar
But I'm not giving in an inch to fear
Cause I missed myself this year
I feel like I owe it to someone
When I finally get myself together
I'm going to get down in that sunny southern weather
And I find a place inside to laugh
Separate the wheat from the chaff
I feel like I owe it to someone
-c-s-n-
carry on album
Foon
>
>When I finally get myself together
>I'm going to get down in that sunny southern weather
>And I find a place inside to laugh
>Separate the wheat from the chaff
>I feel like I owe it to someone
Yeah that and I was informed by people I respect a ponytail was not my look ;)
-Foon
shaft®
> Yeah that and I was informed by people I respect a ponytail was not my
look ;)
Don't listen to them, sparky.
A ponytail would look good with your skin tight shorts and your boogie
board with deeeeeeemon eyes on the bottom.
You are never too old to look like a clown.
Foon
>You are never too old to look like a clown.
Spoken with authority by someone who obviously knows.
-Foon
SurffOhio
>Almost cut my hair
>It happened just the other day
>It's gettin kinda long
>I coulda said it wasn't in my way
Quit it, Awe. I sat and stared at
our tree for
three hours after I read that!
Surff
Awe F'shore
"SurffOhio" <surf...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:20040424215028...@mb-m02.aol.com...
Hmmm. I fucked a chick inside of a redwood tree once.
Awe