HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: bob1@cos.com (Bob Blackshaw)
Subject: Re: I HAD NO CHOICE ( was: Biological reasons etc...
Organization: Corporation for Open Systems
Distribution: na 
Date: Tue, 22 Dec 1992 19:44:10 GMT

In <1992Dec21.103017.6832@news.cs.indiana.edu> "Amy Young Leith" <alyoung@kiwi.ucs.indiana.edu> writes:

>In article <BzAB27.1uL@ddsw1.mcs.com> karl@ddsw1.mcs.com (Karl Denninger) writes:
>>THIS kind of story is the exact reason that I feel that all men should get
>>their butts off their chairs and make certain that our legal system is
>>reformed in this area.  DO IT RIGHT NOW.
>>
>>If you are involved with any woman, married or not, you could be the next
>>gentleman in this position.  IT CAN HAPPEN TO YOU GENTS.  

>And I knew a woman who was sexually, mentally, and physically abused
>by her husband.  If you are involved with a man, married or not, you
>could be the next woman in this position.  IT CAN HAPPEN TO YOU,
>LADIES. 

>So, what's your point??? 

>amy

Sadly enough, Amy, the point seems to be that there is one hell of a lot
of mutual distrust abroad. Seems that trusting folks has gone out of style.
And I mean trust, not naivete. Life was a hell of a lot simpler once.

>-- 
>alyoung@kiwi.ucs.indiana.edu for personal mail
>			    All business mail to alyoung@silver.ucs.indiana.edu
>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>**Dislcaimer:I only speak for myself.  Anyone who thinks differently is a fool.
>			(This means NOT my employer!!)
REB
No one ever admits to my speaking for them.
From: bobk@dogear.spk.wa.us (Bob Kirkpatrick)
Newsgroups: alt.child-support
Subject: Re: Itemized accounting of child support
Date: 24 Dec 92 17:39:05 GMT
Organization: Dog Ear'd Systems of Spokane, WA

laszlo@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Laszlo Nobi) writes:

> The income shares (bullsh*t) model used with the tables in Colorado assumes
> that *all* the child's expenses are included.  This means that the tables
> *already* include gifts, vacations, and all that other "extra" stuff that
> the ncp still has to pay for. The only expenditures that aren't included
> are health insurance, daycare, and "extraordinary" expenses.  These are
> added on to the basic amount after proportioning by incomes.    In effect,
> I pay for all my kids' birthday and christmas gifts, and vacations TWICE!!!!

A very lucid and *accurate* statement, Laszlo. 

Rather than an argument for accounting --which is something I would like to,
but can't buy into-- I think it would be a Good Idea for states to discard
the income shares base, and go with a 'localized' need approach. This would
be an average for what it costs to raise a child, specific to their age, and
would include all of the general needs. By general, I mean beyond just roof,
clothes and food --it would include some recreational things, average health
maintenance, that sort of thing. Then the resulting figure is clipped in
half --with NO 'fudge' margin. This would be what each parent was required
to contribute. Anyhing beyond this would be discretionary.

--- 
Bob Kirkpatrick <bobk@dogear.spk.wa.us>
Dog Ear'd Systems of Spokane, WA 
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: fogelinc@nmr1.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin)
Subject: Small test -- what was that
Reply-To: fogelinc@nmr1.Cyanamid.COM
Organization: American Cyanamid Company
Date: Wed, 23 Dec 1992 18:29:21 GMT

The quiet that ensued after the rambunctious youth was broken by a smattering
of clapping and cheers for the tall troll.  Quig, truly impressed with this
fellow called from across the bar "Whatever you're drinking, the next one is
on me!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Carl Fogelin (fogelincc@cyanamid.com)     "All opinions are strictly mine" 
   "Sushi!   That's what my ex-wife called me.  Cold fish." -- Blade Runner

   Up the long ladder and down the short rope,
   To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional

Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: strake@coos.dartmouth.edu (strake)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: yikes!
Date: 31 Dec 92 03:15:43 GMT
Organization: Dartmouth College, Hanover, NH

Kyna bolted upright in her seat. She had apparently fallen asleep after her
first full meal in weeks, and had just had a terrible dream. In her dream
she had stared in horror as the people in the bar slowly disappeared. It was
kind of like a fadeout from the holos. One minute they were there and full
and substantial and doing things like eating and drinking and talking with
each other. Then their edges started to look a little fuzzy as if the holo
was getting bad reception. It got worse from there. They kept getting more
and more insubstantial. She had tried to get there attention, but they
couldn't hear her. She had jumped from her chair and tried to grab them, but
her hands kept going right through them. Once they had started going hazy
she couldn't even touch them. She could see them standing right there in front
of her, but of course they couldn't hear her, no matter how many times she
opened her mouth to scream. No sound had ever emerged from her mouth not even
in her dreams. If only she could touch them. She even tried her power to move
their arms or pull at their clothing. They just weren't there, and they
continued to get less and less visible. The musicians finally just plain
disappeared, their music drifting off into silence as their images finally
wavered away into nothing. They had all gone, and there had been nothing
she could do. They hadn't even noticed they were leaving.
	Now she was afraid to open her eyes. Afraid that if she opened them,
the dream might be true.


--
strake@dartmouth.edu
'Sex is the game, but the fans are often more of a threat than the other teams.'
From: metlay@netcom.com (metlay)
Subject: [Red Rain][Anthony] A Request.....
Summary: ...and an answer.
Organization: Atomic City
Date: Mon, 21 Dec 1992 20:17:35 GMT

In article <1992Dec18.154012.4279@ultb.isc.rit.edu> sri4495@ritvax.isc.rit.edu writes:
>
>He turns to the other members of the band.  "Innocence, skill, and beauty are
>rare things.  To find them combined in one person is even rarer.  Such people
>are guiding lights for people like me... and targets for others.  Protect
>her.  Guide her. Cherish her."

"What else can we do, mi amigo?" Lita shrugs. "She's our daughter."

"Not for much longer, girlfriend," Nona whispers, looking over at Elly sitting
with Malachi.

Ree has already walked briskly away, her face hidden from view.

-- 
metlay            |
atomic city       | "If he talks to you, punch him. I'll catch the baby."
                  | 
metlay@netcom.com |                                           (k. geisel)
From: st1pn@jane.uh.edu (R@)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Re: Fizzle returns
Date: 29 Dec 1992 19:22 CST
Organization: University of Houston
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: jane.uh.edu
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41    

In article <silk.725478770@mcl>, silk@mcl.ucsb.edu (ken mencher) writes...
>As thunder booms outside the Inn, a few patrons look out into the cloudless
>sky, shrug, and return to their drinks, thinking, "showy mages."
> 
>After a minute or two, a very scorched looking old man walks into the Inn.
>Flapping behind him is a small bronze dragon (very small).  He waves to a
>waitress, and asks for a large mug of elven wine, and a comfy chair by the
>fire.

Fleck, having been standing around outside lost in thought for eight times
longer than was good for him, realized that someone had just entered the Inn
proper, and, wonder of wonders, left the door ajar.

Which was interesting.  So Fleck stared at the door.  A little.  Before he
threw all his negligible weight against the door and shoved it open a few more
inches.  He squeezed in, maneuvering his little bug wings through the narrow
opening scant seconds before someone poked the door shut.  He narrowly
avoided a good squishing.

>After having brought the items, Fizzle settles himself down, and turns to
>the sleeping patrons around him.  "Darn....No-one is willing to listen to
>my old war stories...hmmm...anyone interested, or should i just talk to the
>wall??"

Fleck peered out from inside his parka.  The inside of the Inn was rather
more interesting the outside.  A roaring inferno in a cavernous fireplace,
chairs and table legs like a forest, and a lack of anyone any smaller than
twice his height.  He caught the old man's question, thought a moment, then 
said blankly:  "What?"

>Fizzle

[Note:  Fleck is a bit distracted, and rightly so.  He's been struck with the
'stremely sobering thought that his time here, or anywhere, is limited.  This
not being his fault, but the universities', or, rather, actually, mine....]


R@:  "I'll be eligible for readmission whe WHAT freezes over--?"
--
"I simply ignored an axiom."
--Albert Einstein, on relativity
From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [NL] Medor squeezes through
Date: 23 Dec 1992 05:40:07 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu


  There were no windows he could reach, but his feet were
beginning to feel tingly, like he was actively healing again.
He jumped over to the door again and pressed up against it,
trying to get some warmth.  It too was cold, so he backed off
just a little, now trying to get as close to the door as possible
without actually touching it.

   He bumped it again and jerked away suddenly.  Keeping only two
feet on the ground at a time was hard enough...

   Suddenly the door opened, and Medor shot through the gap,
just missing Arienne's feet.  He located the fireplace quickly
and crawled into it.  He went through the same dance as outside,
switching feet and trying to stay close to the fire without
touching it.  The stone floor of the fireplace was considerably
hotter than the road was cold, but Medor didn't have to worry
about bumping into the fire as much as he did the door.

   Besides, he was feeling better already.  Soon he would look
for that friendly mage again...


Grin - Medor the Night Lizard
From: silk@mcl.ucsb.edu (ken mencher)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Fizzle returns
Date: 27 Dec 92 17:52:50 GMT

As thunder booms outside the Inn, a few patrons look out into the cloudless
sky, shrug, and return to their drinks, thinking, "showy mages."

After a minute or two, a very scorched looking old man walks into the Inn.
Flapping behind him is a small bronze dragon (very small).  He waves to a
waitress, and asks for a large mug of elven wine, and a comfy chair by the
fire.

After having brought the items, Fizzle settles himself down, and turns to
the sleeping patrons around him.  "Darn....No-one is willing to listen to
my old war stories...hmmm...anyone interested, or should i just talk to the
wall??"

Fizzle
Organization: Central Michigan University
Date: Tuesday, 22 Dec 1992 11:46:17 EST
From: JILL <34EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU>
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: another new character

Arienne ducked quickly in through the large wooden door before it could slam
shut on her tiny frame.  She was dressed in green voluminous robes and thigh
high, black patent leather boots, with a golden headpiece around her forehead,
a tri-color parrot armband encircling her left upper arm.
   Striking amber eyes measured up new surroundings, appearing quite at ease,
despite the fact that her right hand wandered unconsciously closer to the
hilt of the bejeweled dagger strapped securely to the inside of her boot.
   She had heard that this place was safer than most, also that the food was
quite palatable as well, but it was not in her nature to be terribly trusting.
   Certain skills which she possessed made her even more self-conscious of her
otherwise minimal weaknesses...namely, she was an adept thief and con-artist,
but had a terrible time keeping track of her own money.  She was well known in
some areas for her gift with cards and dice, but the fact that she was a cheap
drunk and an easy score for a persistent suitor further kept her fortune from
increasing.
   In an attempt to escape the name she had made for herself, and also to be
rid of her stinking orc of a husband, Arienne had acquired transportation to
Generica, and to the Dragon's Inn.


  *   JILLIAN MAREE THOMAS   *
*  34EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU *
*      @>->--->-----------     *
  *                          *
From: jcp@trident.usacs.rutgers.edu (Jonathan Petersen)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Re: [Ga] As the crow flies...
Date: 21 Dec 92 18:41:09 GMT
Organization: Rutgers Univ., New Brunswick, N.J.

jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com (Joe Carl Jr.) writes:

>Mathew hand was still on his sword when it occured to him, "This is some kind
>of test isn't it?  I did a bad job at jumping to conclusions back at the inn,
>and this is some kind of test.  Well I'm not falling for it!"

>Mathew extended his hand too "Well met, Zebron, I'm Mathew Dawnstrider." 
>he shook Zebron's hand vigorously.  He looked at the raven and seeing
>the watchful gaze of intelligence "Well met, Dusk."

>Mathew, thinking he had passed the test, smiled at the others.

>"So where are we headed to Zebron the Drow?" he winked at him in a
>conspiratorially fashion.

"Drow is what I am, not who I am, Dawnstrider," the dark elf stated.  Unsure of
why the lad was winking at him, then thinking that it must be the opposition of
their surnames; Mathew was obviously from a family who passed Dawnstrider down
through the generations, while Zebron had chosen the name Twilight when he was
exiled from his home.

"As for our destination, the goal is Hawksholme.  The route is being mapped out
by Alaric and Kyleen, our rangers.  Ask one of them where the next camp sight
is.  Speaking of which, I'll never be able to stand watch if I can't get some
sleep.  Wake me up if we run into trouble, won't you?"

Handing his reigns to Mathew, partly to give him something to do, partly to let
him know he was trusted, partly to keep him out of trouble, Zebron closed his
eyes and was soon fast asleep.

-jak
jcp@trident.usacs.rutgers.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: mrhyde@netcom.com (Mr. Hyde)
Subject: ADMIN: Directory of Generica delayed...
Organization: Netcom - Online Communication Services  (408 241-9760 guest) 
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 1992 05:12:40 GMT

Due to various administative problems, I have been unable to compile
and post this weeks Directory. I hope to have everything straightened
out by Friday, and will post it then. I plan on posting the Directory
on Fridays from now on.

Just in case anyone missed me :)

--
Zenith, Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica
-- 
 __  __   ____      _    _  __   __  ____    ____  
|  \/  | |  _ \    | |  | | \ \./ / |  _ \  |  __|  Mike D. Bavister (RL)
| |\/| | | |_| |   | |__| |  \   /  | | \ \ | |__   VFR Pilot (Weekends)
| |  | | |    /    |  __  |   | |   | |_/ / | |__   Zenith (.Dragons-Inn)
|_|  |_| |_|\_\ [] |_|  |_|   |_|   |____/  |____|  Mr_Hyde (IRC)
mrhyde@netcom.com	bj689@cleveland.freenet.edu
From: jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com (Joe Carl Jr.)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Re: [Ga] As the crow flies...
Date: 22 Dec 92 14:42:53 GMT
Organization: Harris Corporation - ISD


>"Drow is what I am, not who I am, Dawnstrider," the dark elf stated.  Unsure of
>why the lad was winking at him, then thinking that it must be the opposition of
>their surnames; Mathew was obviously from a family who passed Dawnstrider down
>through the generations, while Zebron had chosen the name Twilight when he was
>exiled from his home.

"This guy is _good_," Mathew thought. "He never cracked a smile.  He's so
good he could probably pass for a real drow."

>"As for our destination, the goal is Hawksholme.  The route is being mapped out
>by Alaric and Kyleen, our rangers.  Ask one of them where the next camp sight
>is.  Speaking of which, I'll never be able to stand watch if I can't get some
>sleep.  Wake me up if we run into trouble, won't you?"

Mathew took the reins from Zebron and moved a head of his horse to lead.
A while later he slowed the pass a bit to fall beside Garriot and said softly
"How long can he keep that up?" he nodded his head over towards Zebron
who was dozing in the saddle.

"Zebron tells me we are headed towards Hawksholme, could you tell me what
we seek there?"
--
Joe Carl Jr.               "It ain't what a man don't know that makes him a
jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com   fool, but what he does know that ain't so."
                                                           -- Josh Billings
From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [KQ][TGMOAB 7.y(a)] Noble poses (get off your horse)
Date: 22 Dec 92 16:29:07 GMT
Organization: Trinity College, Dublin


   Silken stood there, nothing less than an air of tragedy upon him.

  "Ah, fair Generica, my sweet love, farewell and forever my -"
 
  He paused, a dramatic pause no less.
 What the-
  Certain persons were looking at him with expressions of bemusement.

 He recalled being very tragic about something or other only moments
ago, and having an argument with the blonde guy. 'Raelf, that was his
name. Something about a 65% chance of world doom.

  Silken felt oddly light headed, and leaned sat down for a moment.
He felt ill, and confused. That man, in his vision. They were arguing
about him or something, and Silken had been in denial mode, or tragic
mode, or something like that.
   'Raelf had done confusing things, like turning into a ... thing while
telling him that life the universe and so on were not locked up in a 
time something or other. The jist appeared to be that he didn't have 
to take on a doom and gloom approach.
   Confusing chap, this 'Raelf, never met anybody like him before.

   He stood up rather groggily, holding his stomach, with a slight
grimace on his face of discomfort.

  "I'm sorry, 'Raelf, how would we uh stop uh him?"

  
--
 Haggis: Haggis is a black pudding eaten by the Scots and considered not
only a delicacy, but fit for human consumtion.The minced heart, liver
and lungs of a sheep are mixed with oatmeal and boiled in the sheep's
stomach before ...Excuse me a minute... [Mithrandir/tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie]
From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Re: [KQ][TGMOAB 7.y] Interrogation
Date: 21 Dec 92 14:29:36 GMT
Organization: Trinity College, Dublin

In <BzHzH2.IBq@ibeam.intel.com> hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) writes:

ADMIN: Steve, please don't write for my character again, 'kay?


><<Silken, pay attention, I'm still here, I just changed shape.  Open
>  up . your . mind . . . See the future branching, there before us.
>  See, time knots and twists here, loops on itself, but it sorts out.
>  There, your demon.  Let's look back.  Good.  You see what to do.
>  Act at this juncture.  Go.  Do it.>>

>The bird-lizard looked at 'Rhoan.  "Set him free.  He has something
>very important to do."  The voice was a bell-clear alto warble.

>The ranger stared.  "'Raelf?  Is that you?"

>"Yes.  Go ahead, let him go."  FLICK - the surfer was back.

>"Silken, get a move on dude, surf's up!"  He grabbed the staff and
>snapped off the restraint field.

  Silken just stopped and looked at the blonde surfer in his stride.
 He threw his head back and laughed sardonically, mocking the mage.

   "You just don't understand 'Raelf, do you. You haven't a clue. Things
aren't that simple at all."
  The elf stood up, looking around. There were a lot of people sitting,
standing, taking care of Kron. He looked to be getting a bit better so
that he could move a bit. Silken turned and looked out onto the night,
the city that now seemed so peaceful.
   "There is no juncture, 'Raelf. This man, whoever he is, I don't know
his name, but I know he's far more able than any of us ever were, or are
likely to be. You've seen the vision I had. You felt his power
protecting Kron from detection while I pummelled him into the ground.
You felt that 17th order whatsit, didn't you?"
   Silken had accidentally picked from among 'Raelf's wandering
thoughts the 17th order thing.
   "But what I do know is that whoever he is, he's consorting with
demons, on an even keel. That is BAD news, 'Raelf, no matter which way
you look at it. 65% chance, you say? That one I scorn. What about the
other 35%. What does that entail? There are others of Power in this
world, right? I'd wager the other 35% entails world shattering battles
between HIM and others, like that blob you ran away from. Face it, this
poor world of ours is on the 99.999% doom track."
  Silken turned away again.
 "All it required was Kron's love for his sister. He never should have
gone there, none of you should. You would have seen, surfer, that was
the only clear way..."



--
 Haggis: Haggis is a black pudding eaten by the Scots and considered not
only a delicacy, but fit for human consumtion.The minced heart, liver
and lungs of a sheep are mixed with oatmeal and boiled in the sheep's
stomach before ...Excuse me a minute... [Mithrandir/tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie]
Newsgroups: alt.pub.cloven-shield,alt.dragons-inn
From: sbeitzel@netcom.com (Stephen Beitzel)
Subject: [Jester/Meriden]:fly in the ointment
Organization: Netcom Online Communications Services
Date: Wed, 30 Dec 1992 07:00:38 GMT

Jester smiled happily, to no one in particular. His parlor tricks
may not be enough to impress the world, or win his fortune, but
they sufficed to keep himself amused.

"Meriden," he began, looking into a reality that no one else 
could quite see, (and little did Meriden know yet, but this was rather
a common look for the trickster, when he intended to make a toast,
or a long winded thought of 'wisdom') "it just doesn't get any better
than new friends, free drinks, lovely ladies, and a bit of excitement."

As Jester held his hand aloft, in his typical "my, I'm witty"
pose, a tiny, ceramic ballerina danced gently from finger tip to finger
tip.

"Indeed", Meriden responded, not quite sure what to make of
the jester's constant antics.  He fingered one of the mystical little 
knots in his array of woven attire, but he really didn't know why.
He didn't tend to be a nervous person. Yes, something was definitely
awry here.

Like the flash of a flame, Jester's nimble little fingers flicked
around the ballerina, and she instantly became a soft, white dove, nestled,
and cooing in the rogue's thin hand. "A question if I may, Meriden," Jester
began again.

"Please do," Meriden obliged, more than happy to see what new antics the 
traveling sideshow would perform.

"The gentlemen that were dispatched outside..."

"Hm, yes, quite a mess. I wonder who's going to clean it up." 

Jester sat for a moment.  Thinking.  Contemplating. 

"... didn't they look surprisingly like..." 

At once, Jester flipped his terribly quick wrist, and the downy dove leapt 
from it. But no longer a dove, but a dart. Not anything like you'd normally 
see in a barroom, mind you.  Not so streamlined, and "adult" looking. More of 
a bulky, off balance, brightly colored child's toy.  The dart sped across the 
room quickly and struck the wall next to the stairs. Upon impact, the odd 
looking dart split into multiple pieces, and fell toward the stairs. 

The fragments, however, did not make it to the hard wooden steps. 
Instead, they landed atop a vicious looking man, who was ascending the 
wooden giant. But as could be seen when the fragments came to rest, they
were by no means portions of a dart, but instead, round silver bells,
like those that ended the tassels of a Jester's comical headress.  And they
were now attached to the clothing of their receiver. 

As the stealthy, solid built, would-be assassin went to take his
next, deathly quiet step up the stairs, the bells jingled noisily.

"Well," Jester continued, "like him."