From: tlode@nyx.cs.du.edu (trygve lode)
Subject: Re: Open letter to Edward V. Wright
Organization: Nyx, Public Access Unix @ U. of Denver Math/CS dept.
Date: Wed, 30 Sep 92 21:49:29 GMT

In article <1acqocINNm9c@uwm.edu> markh@csd4.csd.uwm.edu (Mark) writes:
>In article <1992Sep30.170701.1568@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> tlode@nyx.cs.du.edu (trygve lode) writes:
>>I'm not going to try to argue your concepts of the value (or lack
>>thereof) of physical fitness or of your claims of the odds against your
>>ever finding a suitable mate; I'm sure that no matter what I said, you
>>could come up with some grammatical foible, some out-of-context quote,
>>some assertion unrelated to anything I'd ever said, that you could focus
>>on and defeat in your own mind, convincing yourself once again through
>>volume and repetition that you are 100% right, reassuringly blinded from
>>any alternate viewpoints or evidence that doesn't fit your set-in-stone
>>absolute and unchanging view of the world.
>
>Yes!  I don't believe it!  You actually did it.
>
>We've just witnessed the very first 100 word sentence in the history of
>computer networking.
>
>This is truly incredible.  Folks, I though I'd never see the day the 100
>barrier would be broken.  What stamina this must require!

Ah, Mark, Mark, Mark, Mark--you just haven't been reading my posts long
enough; I break the 100-word "barrier" more often than most people break
wind.  Why, just consider this, the first sentence from my unfinished
novel, "Operation Apathy--or How I Found Life's Meaning While Trying to
Figure Out the Gas Pump":

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
      "Whoa!" I cried, surprised at the sudden and quite unexpected
appearance of the splattered blancmange whose nacreous, almost
luminescent sheen conjured within me an image of a brilliant, gibbous
moon, somehow split asunder by a great bolt of lightning (providing, of
course, that the moon was made of cream cheese or perhaps tapioca and
was somewhat lower in altitude than is its habit) and deposited, by some
twist of fate engineered by the cruel gods of an uncaring universe, and
spattered upon my table--the kind with the little hinged segments on
either side so that it could be connected with the other tables in the
vicinity, a prospect I was loathe to imagine, largely because of the
obvious overbite and distinctly unshaven appearance of the patron to my
left, whom I could imagine to have all the erudition of a pure-bred
guernsey, an impression entirely corroborated by his distinctly bovine
mastication of a side order of hash browns which currently, together
with a bottle of ketchup, seemed to consume the whole of his attention
even as he was consuming them--in the pancake house where I softly
savored the delicacy of my metaphor, decided that it would be less
outre' to pretend not to have noticed the waiter's manifest incompetence
and instead take a slow sip from the cup of coffee that the management
was kind enough to have refilled whenever I ran out; "a pretty good
deal, for forty cents," I thought.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Or even this more streamlined example from another great, unfinished,
American novel....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Why I had accepted my frat brothers' dare to sign up with an
inter-species computer dating service I'd never understand--oh, I know
as well as anybody that the decendants of the plethora of ambitious
genetic experiments of the past century were as intelligent as anybody
else and sometimes surprisingly compatible with humans, but I had never
imagined actually dating one of them--or how I came to be matched to
something (I hesitate to call her a girl) whose grandfather had been an
insect in a particularly zealous experimenter's garden, but after
downing all but the cork of a rather large bottle of distilled spirits I
hardly noticed the huge segmented eyes and extra legs and, somehow, we
ended up in bed together that night; and, as she wrapped her powerful
anterior arms around me and drew me to her chitinous green torso, one
thought only kept racing through what little consciousness was left to
me--what was it that my freshman biology teacher had said about the
mating habits of praying mantises?
 
(From "Dial-a-Prayer, the story of an insect call girl and what bugs her.")
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway, if I were to really try for length, I'm sure I could manage to
crash through the 1000-word barrier without difficulty--and then, who
knows?  Can the 10,000-word barrier be far off?  The 100,000-word barrier?

Trygve   (However, I refuse to type in the 100,000-word record-breaking
          sentence with my tongue this time.) 
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