From: Ari Asikainen Newsgroups: alt.alien.vampire.flonk.flonk.flonk,alt.aol-sucks,alt.fan.karl-malden.nose,alt.flame,alt.romath,alt.usenet.kooks Subject: Little Flamer Boy - A Cautionary Tale for the New Millenium X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 1.7/16.534 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Lines: 102 Message-ID: Date: Tue, 28 Dec 1999 06:29:30 GMT NNTP-Posting-Host: 194.111.183.15 X-Trace: read2.inet.fi 946362570 194.111.183.15 (Tue, 28 Dec 1999 08:29:30 EET) NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 28 Dec 1999 08:29:30 EET Organization: Sonera corp Internet services It was awfully cold, snowing and getting dark; it was the last evening of the millennium, new year's eve. In the dark and cold, a little boy wandered on Usenet, without any clues. He had had clues when he left home, but they hadn't done him much good. The clues, an inheritance from his mother, were just too big and clumsy to fit in his head. And then, when crossing from one newsgroup to another, the little boy had dropped both of his clues. The other one he couldn't find, the other was snapped up by another boy who said he'd have more use for them. Now the little boy was wandering around with his mind hurting from all the cold, cold information. In his cardboard box he had a set of flames, one of which he was holding in his hand. He hadn't flamed a single person, no one had said a compliment to him. Hungry and shivering the poor boy trod, and very depressed he was too. Cascades dropped on his hair and formed beautiful triangles, but he couldn't think of their beauty. Merriment and friendship shone from all the newsgroups, with joking and laughter echoing through the streets of Usenet; after all it was the new year's eve, that's all the boy could think. He crouched in a corner between two newsgroups, the other one being a little busier than the other. He bent his little feet underneath him, but still he was getting evermore colder. He didn't dare to log off, because he knew reality would hit him. He hadn't become a net.personality, he hadn't even flamed a single soul. And it was cold off-line, too, with no one to talk to, or play with. The boy's tiny hands had almost frozen to ice. Oh, how a flame would do good now! If only he dared to take one flame, type it in and press 'Send'! He wrote one - click! How it propagated! It had a warm and bright light, when he looked at it on his screen. It was a marvelous little light. It shone on the screen and the little boy read a smallish but friendly newsgroup, with people asking his opinion and even emailing him. His jokes were funny, his nickname c00l. It was very sweet. The boy was just about to tell personal facts about himself, when the light suddenly vanished - all he had on his screen was a fag lame. He posted a second flame. It burned and shined, and all the groups in the Newsgroups list were sure to be amazed, for his flame seemed very insightful. He could see his own alt.fan.* group, with indigenous traffic. There were people there, people who wanted to discuss things with the little boy, people who wanted to talk about the boy himself. And to top it all, a FAQ about him was posted to the group at regular intervals! But there and then the flame fizzled and all he could see were the words "Stu(pid) Copeland" on his screen. He posted yet another flame. Now he was reading his own alt.religion.* group. It was a busy newsgroup, with well over 100 posts a day. His fans even registered his name as a domain, and placed lots of info about him on websites. He was featured in Wired. Yahoo's Usenet section had a page dedicated just to him. The net.legends FAQ mentioned his name, as one of the good guys! He could do as he pleased online. His flames where sharp, vicious and witty. He placed his hand on the mouse, and - the flame was gone. He had told all of Usenet that his rage was lethal. For the fourth time he sparked a flame. A girl appeared. She was interested in him, and proposed that they meet. The girl emailed him her picture. She was beautiful. But the boy was worried: - I'm 19 and have nearly enough of the right stuff to sweep a woman off her feet. Will you take me with you? I know you'll be gone when the flame fizzles out, gone like the vanity groups, the FAQ and the Wired interview. And the boy quickly lit all of his remaining flames, for he wanted to keep the girl with him. The flames shone brighter than the brightest of days. The girl had never looked so beautiful and scantily dressed, she took the boy's hand and together they rose, rose higher, higher. And there was no more pain, no suffering, no loneliness. They had gone to HappyNet. But the next morning a little boy was seen sitting in a corner of a newsgroup, with a smile forever staying on his thin lips - others had seen his flames AND VERBALLY KICKED THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF THE LITTLE CLUELESS NEWBIE PRICK. -- Ari +;. VMMV; tMBMi