HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
Newsgroups: alt.child-support
Subject: Re: FEMINISTS ARE UGLY!
From: sgast+@pitt.edu (Susan Garvin)
Date: 5 Jan 93 03:08:31 GMT
Organization: University of Pittsburgh

In article <1993Jan4.155702.17044@hemlock.cray.com> sga@cray.com writes:
#Sue:
#
#What Jon is saying is that child-support has become de facto alimony. 

[rest deleted]

I think what Jon is saying is that he hates women.  (Since he also hates
gay men, it makes me wonder if his incoherent posts are caused by
sexual frustration, but that's neither here nor there.)

I have a great deal of sympathy for NCP's who are asked to pay
support while being denied visitation, and for NCP's who are
being asked to pay amounts they cannot afford.  I have no sympathy
for those who want their children to grow up in poverty because
they're angry at their exes.  People who argue against support
because they fear that their ex will be in any way better off
because of it fit into the latter category.

Btw, NCP's did not start refusing to pay child support in the '80's
because of the recession.  It's been going on a lot longer than
that.  

Susan
From: BLL102@psuvm.psu.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: Harry returns
Date: 11 Jan 93 18:55:13 GMT
Organization: Penn State University

The small door under the bar slid back, revealing a ladder leading down
into...well, we really don't know, do we, because it's so dark down there.
At any rate, any one standing nearby could discern some strange noises
coming from the hole that appeared to be human speech.  With a grunt and a
groan, Harry, the regular bartender at the Haven's Rest emerged from the
hole.  He brushed the cobwebs from his face and forearms, and turned to
close the entrance to the tunnels.  Standing upright, he turned to peruse
the bar and its patrons.  He saw nothing which aroused his interest, so he
turned to go find Mas.

------- [ADMIN] - Harry and Aylfa have been out of play while I was gone
over break.  Both are back, and may be used.  I certainly don't mind casual
conversation between Harry and any bar patrons, but would prefer to be
notified prior to anyone's using him for extended purposes.  Thanks.
From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan)
Subject: ENTRY: The arrival of Mr. Aloysius
Reply-To: djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago
Date: Wed, 6 Jan 1993 23:12:45 GMT

Emerging through the oft-noted portal of the establishment, Mr. Aloysius
straighened his waistcoat and took a moment to adjust his three-cornered 
hat.  The diminutive captain glanced from side to side, noting the 
variety of people assembled.  Clearing his throat, he approached the bar.

"A little white wine.  Dry, if you please, my good man."

Mounting the barstool with a rather comical leap, Mr. Aloysius once again
paused to reposition his hat.  "Well, here I am," he mused silently to himself.



-- 
Dennis Brennan
djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan)
Subject: Mr. Aloysius inspects the pub
Reply-To: djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago
Date: Sat, 9 Jan 1993 00:57:25 GMT

Brushing a bit of lint from his coat, Mr. Aloysius removed a small 
disc from his pocket.  Sliding off the barstool he strode purposefully
to the jukebox.  He stood on the tips of his toes to be able to reach the
coin slot, into which he dropped some money.  Mr. Aloysius then inserted the
disc into a panel in the side of the jukebox and leaned against it,
studying the clientele of the _Haven's_ Rest.  Most of the present thirsty
had ignored his activities until this point, but looked his way when the 
jukebox (which towered over the diminutive Mr. Aloysius by at least two
feet) began to blare,

"Good day, gentlemen and mesdames.  I, Cornelius Aloysius, late of
Titan, hereby open passenger service to and from the planet..."

There was a brief pause, during which Mr. Aloysius whispered a question 
to one of the patrons, had a reply murmured to him, and loudly vocalized,
"Serendoopity."  As the tape continued, the scowls of a number of locals
indicated their displeasure with his mispronouncement.  

"...in splendour and luxury aboard the _Marple_, the most renowned 
passenger vessel between Wolf 359 and the Cygni Cluster.  Applications
will now be accepted for..."

A blaster burst interrupted the message, by way of passing through the
hem of Mr. Aloysius's rather expensive coat and striking the power conduit
for the jukebox.  After picking up his tricorn hat from the floor, brushing
the cinders from it and replacing it on his head, he took a seat in the
relative safety of the corner, muttering and murmuring.

-- 
Dennis Brennan
djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: fogelinc@nmr1.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin)
Subject: [Quig]Sparse bar
Reply-To: fogelinc@nmr1.Cyanamid.COM
Organization: American Cyanamid Company
Date: Tue, 5 Jan 1993 00:01:22 GMT

Now that the excitement had been eliminated, Quig noticed that the bar was kind
of empty.  Thinking to himself about the "adventure" he was soon embarking on,
he figured he had some things to get in order.

He grabbed a napkin and scribbled:

    MM,
       Have gone to do some initial ore exploratory on the area
    you're interested in.  Should have a clearer understanding on
    what's needed soon.   Be back in 2 cycles.

                                            - Quig

With that, he ambled over to the message wall and tacked the napkin up near the
notice that MaryMary had posted.

"Hope she sees it" muttered Quig, as he went to pick up Betsy, and left the bar. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@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
From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: Boom!!
Date: 6 Jan 93 12:56:43 GMT
Organization: Trinity College, Dublin


   Three O'clock in the afternoon, the businesses in the starport were
prospering well, and the guard were usually more lenient here than in
other places.
    It might have resembled a village square from medieval times.
   Here in Barothians Square, traders traded morning, noon and late into
the night, selling all manner of goods that one could healthily imagine.
They could get you a gun, if you needed it. They could get you a bottle
of Kzintine brandy, the addictive alcholic psychadelic drink that was
banned on most planets. Information was often worth a lot.
    The Square was most certainly one of the most prosperous areas on
this asteroid.

    Vimes was one such merchant. He didn't hold with selling anything
too far above the law.
    Drugs and slaves were risky business. No, Vimes sold odds and ends
off the backs of star freighters, and had a good few contacts. Vimes was
a well connected man, mean in appearance like any other good merchant.
  Vimes also managed one of the most profitable one-hour hotels in the
city, but it was said that he treated his girls well enough, ensuring
their medical health.

    Booom!!

   An explosion rocked the Square and people dived for cover. Guards
suddenly got good firing positions, ready to "deal" with any any
trouble. There was no trouble, only smoke.
   The trade stand of Vimes had exploded.
   Vimes himself was quite dead on the ground in front of his stall.
 In his hand was a small card, with the words Order of the Cobra on it.

   High above, an assassin named Belios looked down from a rooftop. He
was dressed in Camoflage gear from the Ar'kthan system. Belios turned
away.

--
 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.havens-rest
From: fogelinc@nmr1.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: [Quig] TANSTAFL
Date: 11 Jan 1993 19:09:09 GMT
Organization: American Cyanamid Company
Distribution: world
Reply-To: fogelinc@nmr1.Cyanamid.COM
NNTP-Posting-Host: nmr1.pt.cyanamid.com

It was morning when Quig got back from his "ore exploratory" trip and Quig
was tired.  There was a limit to how long someone could stay awake by drinking
Mountain Dew, and the last 34 hours had pushed it.

"Well, first a little shut eye" muttered Quig "and then I'll pop into the 'Rest"

Directing his (now squealing) skimmer to go to the boarding house where he was
renting a room, Quig set the auto-pilot and then sat back.  Reflecting on his
recent trip, he figured that this upcoming "adventure" was going to be more 
dangerous than he had initially thought it would be.

First there was the increased amount of moisture in tunnel 339-Oh-7 and the
subsequent TiMarks he encountered.  Wherever you saw TiMarks, there were likely
to be Dracturons, or something worse.  Then he found a partial collapse at Seller's Junction, beneath Mount Euphrosyne.  It had taken him awhile to clear a path through there.  And then those electronic "thingy's".  Whatever they were, they were
probably trouble. And then...  And then... Sigh...

While he was musing, the skimmer had arrived at an old run down establishment.  
A gaudy sign read "Bernie's house of pleasure: Ask, we got it!"  In smaller
letters were written "Boarders welcomed, cash up front".  The place was quiet,
except for the occasional clientele seen leaving.  Quig wandered through the
front door, ignoring the garrish decor, the half naked professionals, and climbed
up the stairs.  Down one hall, then another, finally coming to a door marked 
"Private.  Keep out".  Pressing his hand on the palm lock, he opened the door
and entered his room.

"First some sleep, then the 'Haven"...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
ADMIN: TiMarks are small reptilian creatures.  About 2 feet long, they look
like a small stegosaur, though their skin is mottled black and green.  They
are herbivores.  Commonly found underground, in swampy areas.

ADMIN: Dracturons are large (up to 12 feet long), winged, carnivorous animals
which prey on animals up to half their size.  Loosely described as a cross be-
tween a bat and a winged tyrannosaur, they are vicious, easily agitated, and
always voracious.

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

   So come, all you weavers, you Calton weavers;
   Come all you weavers, where e'er you be.
   Beware of Whiskey, Nancy Whiskey;
   She'll ruin you like she ruined me. -- Nancy Whiskey, traditional
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: mba@controls.ccd.harris.com (Belinda Asbell)
Subject: Re: [Ga] Settling down for the night(?)
Organization: Harris Controls and Composition
Date: Thu, 7 Jan 1993 18:03:16 GMT


Khisanth had watched carefully as Zebron unveiled himself.  Mathew seemed
to be unfased by the change, and Khisanth took that as a good sign.  The
lad had promise.  Marran'helarr  alighted on Mathew's shoulder, and he 
scratched behind her ears.  Marra purred, then returned to Khisanth.

Night fell, and they had to stop to sleep.  Brent and Zebron took first
watch.  Khisanth noted that Brent seemed alert, showing no signs of his
earlier disorientation.  

All seemed well, for now.  Alaric was already asleep, having volunteered
for second watch.  Khisanth snuggled beside him, and soon joined him in
sleep.
-- 
=============================================================================
Belinda Asbell        +  System Administrator, Harris Controls Division
mba@ccd.harris.com    +      Any opinions presented are mine alone.
  Good judgment comes from experience.  Experience comes from bad judgment.
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: chavis@thumper..bellcore.com (Dennis Chavis)
Subject: Re: ADMIN: Character Summaries List Part 2 (L-Z)
Reply-To: chavis@thumper.UUCP (Dennis Chavis)
Organization: Bellcore MRE
Date: Wed, 6 Jan 93 17:32:57 GMT

Hi Guys,

I am new to the network, what are all those characters about, I mean, 
what's going on?



dennis
From: st1pn@jane.uh.edu (Tan hat, gray coat, black Converse....)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Re: Fizzle returns
Date: 11 Jan 1993 01:09 CST
Organization: University of Houston
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: jane.uh.edu
Object: oggle oggle oggle
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41    

In article <silk.726172301@mcl>, silk@mcl.ucsb.edu (ken mencher) writes...
>In <29DEC199219223263@jane.uh.edu> st1pn@jane.uh.edu (R@) writes: 
>>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 looks about him at the strange buzzing..."Hmm...Interesting...Come
>here, little one...I won't hurt you...Oh...oh yes, size...that might be a
>problem..."
> 
>He mutters for a few seconds, and then watches as Fleck begins to enlarge,
>ending up being about 4' long.

Fleck feels extremely dizzy, suddenly, and stares vacuously at the mumbling
human, when suddenly--the room begins to shrink!  Not very surprising to
him, stranger things than this have unwittingly spilled coffee on him, but
suddenly having your surroundings warp a bit might could give you a turn.
This is a seperate subject.

>"Now then, you said something??"

"Erm, well, er," says Fleck.  He looks at the ceiling, then at the walls.
Seeing that things are not quite getting Very Bad, he starts looking for
something suitable for sitting on.  Keeping in mind that his bug wings call
for something lacking a back rest.  This process of looking for something
to sit on looks like it might take a while, as his little gray cells are
already pressed for processor time, what with the many many Idle Thoughts
that pixies ponder on.

So he decides to sit on the floor next to the table.  Which works rather well,
except for the fact that now he can only see the underside of the table....


>Fizzle.

R@:  "
--
"Why not nip into McDonalds just to use the
toilet?  It's a good symbolic gesture."
     --Deadline
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Organization: Central Michigan University
Date: Monday, 11 Jan 1993 20:34:50 EST
From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU>
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Re: [Ga] At Camp, Mathew disturbs Brent

Mathew hat entered the tent without a word of warning, issuing a cry of
"What in the name of Tyr are you doing?" at what might lightly be considered
an inappropriate time.

A wave of surpise splashed over Brent, but it was quickly washed away by the
tsunami of pain that was caused by the arrow in his skin. He immediately
pulled it out, and reached for the antidote, almost fumbling the vial as he
did so. The irony of his dexterity failing him now crossed the back of his
mind, while the rest concentrated on visual input: the left one viewing his
hand firmly grasp the vial with nary a drop spilled: the right eye watching
the poison slowly work its way up the arm.

But as Brent brought the liquid closer to his lips, he saw the poison stop,
and then actually start to recede -- his body had finally gained the needed
defense. "Perhaps Mathew's appearance wasn't so inappropriate after all." he
tells himself as a means of eliminating a spark of anger that had welled
inside him. The LAST thing he wanted was a conflict.

"What I WAS doing, was making myself immune to the poison that..."Brent
paused, not wanting to mention the farmers again "... er, our enemies used."

Mathew gave no response, obviously needing further explanation.

"Come on, it's not THAT bad of a thing!" Brent said in retort. "Not compared
to a number of events that occur in the world."

Mathew still seemed to carry a disparaging look.

'Obviously he's not familiar with most of those things' the half-elf
mentally decided.

"But I can see you're not interested in it. Not that I would suggest that
YOU do it. So let's change the subject -- you MUST have some more
'important' questions than those involved my finished activity.

"So, while we're both still awake, how about asking those questions that have
been nagging you, or maybe telling me what YOU know about the ... 'unforunate
indicident' as you said, such as how you found us?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: silk@mcl.ucsb.edu (ken mencher)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Re: Fizzle returns
Date: 4 Jan 93 18:31:41 GMT

In <29DEC199219223263@jane.uh.edu> st1pn@jane.uh.edu (R@) writes:

>In article <silk.725478770@mcl>, silk@mcl.ucsb.edu (ken mencher) writes...

>>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 looks about him at the strange buzzing..."Hmm...Interesting...Come
here, little one...I won't hurt you...Oh...oh yes, size...that might be a
problem..."

He mutters for a few seconds, and then watches as Fleck begins to enlarge,
ending up being about 4' long.

"Now then, you said something??"

Fizzle.

Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan)
Subject: Karl: [inn]  Many happy returns...
Reply-To: djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago
Date: Sat, 9 Jan 1993 20:32:50 GMT

If Littlefair had kept track of such things, he might have felt no small flush
of success as the door of the Dragon's Inn opened for exactly the two hundred
thousandth time to admit a stout, balding, one-legged man.

"Karl!"  called some of the regulars in greeting.

Grinning like a youth who had caught the eye of a pretty lass, Karl knew
that once again he was among his own.  Removing his heavy cloak (for the
wind had been still chilly outside, and the snowstorm showed no signs of 
letting up), he folded it to make a cushion and placed it on his usual
chair before settling down on it.

"Gentlemen," he began, "and ladies," as he scanned the clientele without
avail in the hope of locating Serene and ordering a spot of hot tea, "it's
good to be back among civilised people."  With this preface he launched
into a colorful and animated account of the adventures that he and his 
companions shared in Rameshan. 

-- 
Dennis Brennan
djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [ST] Redlin:  Still Sore.
Date: 12 Jan 93 13:03:19 CST
Organization: Western Kentucky University, Bowling Green, KY


   *Blackness*

The blackness was somehow comforting, but he did not understand what that
meant.

The coolness was somehow a relief, but that concept was beyond him.

The quiet was somehow a pleasure, but that was alien to him.

But somehow, he was dissatisfied.  

'There must be more than this.'  But the words echoed back unheeded, their
very existance anathema to this place.

Time passed, but that is meaningless here.

   *A huge stone fist flies toward me*

'What?'

The quiet is broken, a steady thumping sound intrudes on this place.

   *A beautiful young lady lies on a bed, her leg nearly destroyed*

What is this feeling?  What is feeling?  Why does she *Mel* look familiar?

   *A cage rises out of the ground and closes in on me*

NO!  GET AWAY!!  I HAVE TO GET AWAY!!

   *A pale man on a dark cape stands implaled on a sword*

Who?

   {*  Just me, Master.  You must awaken, your wounds are healed, but your
body will waste away with lack of use.  You loyal servant Adami wishes to
feed, also.  Awaken, retreat from this place, embrace your memories... *}

   *A shattered hand*
   *A huge pillar of fire*
   *A whirlwind**The ground rising up around me*
   *A pretty young elf*A strange broadsword*Men in white suits and masks*
   *Myself*

The memory train abrubtly ends, the blackness dissolves into sparkling
motes of light and color.  Redlin opens his eyes and sees the room that he
collapsed into after the battle.  He felt heavy and awkward, but was in no
pain.

/* Medcom: Report *\

\*  %No damage%
    %Muscle fatigue, minor body overstress%
    %Suggested action:  Consume protien and carbohydrates%  */

/* Yes, Mother... *\

\*  %Don't you take that tone of voice with me young man...

/* End program *\

    %program terminated%% */

With great effort, Redlin pulled himself to a sitting position, even such a
small effort tiring him.  He sat there for quite some time, trying to
regain enough energy to stand.  Finally, giving it up as a lost cause, he
rolled back onto the bed and went to sleep again.

-----
Master Hawk
OverMaster of the Invaders

   ...and so ends your tyranny.  Such is the price one pays when they
consort with the lords of law, now feel the power of the lords of chaos...
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Organization: Central Michigan University
Date: Tuesday, 5 Jan 1993 14:39:15 EST
From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU>
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [Ga] Settling down for the night(?)

[ADMIN: Awfully quiet out there -- hopefully this return to action for the [Ga]
 thread will spark some others into posting again...]

The sun slowly disappeared into the horizon, and the riders likewise moderated
their horses. The ride had been a relatively fierce ne, with all feeling the
need for speed, to both put distance away from the memory and deed of the
farmers' wrongful deaths, and to head towards Hawksholme and the answers that
would lie there.

It had also been a quiet trip, save for Zebron's unveiling of his true
heritage. But Mathew had not only restrainted from an attack that might have
been expected but also had accepted Zebron's identity with an unusual...
cheeriness.

But now thoughts turned to making camp, as tents were set up and a guard was
posted. Things quickly quieted down as most were content to sleep, resting
off the ride and preparing for tomorrow. "Most" was the key word though, as
Brent was still awake, finishing off the process he had started the night
before.

He had the antidote within easy reach and the poisoned arrows readied. A
lantern was set up -- since he couldn't afford to trust his infravision on
such a delicate procedure -- but it was facing away from the campsite. That
plus the fact that he was closer to the horses than the fire made Brent feel
secure that no one would find out about what he was doing.

However, if the truth be told, Zebron -- who was on guard at the time -- knew
all too well what was occurring in Brent's tent. In fact, it was because of
that understanding that he hadn't brought up the subject. The drow quietly
consigned himself to his duties, knowing that he and Dusk, would have to be
extra alert for an attack, as the fellow "part-time" thief would likely not
be able to participate in such an altercation.

Brent plunged the arrow into the skin of his right arm. 'Just a few more and
the process will be complete.' he consoled himself. Then, although he may or
may not be particularly useful to this group, at least they wouldn't have to
worry about him. Regardless of his value as an asset -- and he assured himself
that that value would be high if the opportunity provided itself -- he
DEFINITELY wasn't going to be a liability.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu