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Hitch Hikers Guide To The Net
Episode 8 - The Flamers Return
(The crew of the Infinity are proceeding to where the TTY directed them. A place where they would find out more about the answer to Life, the Net, and Everything.)
Arnold Lint:This is sure a long trip.
Martin: Why even bother to travel through the Net. All that happens
is that you are bombarded with countless meaningless
messages from Singularans about how they feel, and how they
feel they should feel, and how others feel they should feel.
You just get over that and some droning Flamer gets on about
how drunk drivers should be allowed to retain their licenses
only if they have oral sex with a diseased Yak, and they go
on, and on, and on, not even realizing that no one is really
paying attention. Just when you finally get up nerve to post
something, some jello-brained fanatic gets on your case
about how you should spell things correctly and "we always
do things proper where I work", and then someone else gets
on trying to correlate the right to spell terribly with the
constitution. And you never know how people will take
things, either they're offended when they shouldn't be, or
they take insults as just good conversation. And if you try
to keep personalities out of what you post, some half wit
from a fabled crappy state on the eastern sea-board comes
along and starts getting personal with the insults, not
realizing what he is really getting into. And then some
emaciated loony starts posting 150 line complaints about
people posting 150 line articles, which they don't have to
read anyway, but feel obliged to comment on simply because
their minute egos need the boost of ragging on someone
they've never met. And then some deranged cat-molester
starts some boring discussion about the role of
contraception in the development of the ball point pen,
which goes on, and on, and you find that before long your
'n' key has lost the printing on it from over use. And then
people start sending endless messages about stopping the
endless messages of the ongoing debate. And then your brain
bursts from frustration and even if you try to contribute
something worthwhile to the Net, someone's always getting
his rear out of joint about something . . .
Xaphod: Will you shut the @#$% up!
Martin: Sure, why not, you weren't really interested anyway.
Rod: You're bloody right about that.
(All of a sudden, the hall they are travelling darkens. Twenty-two Flamers beam into view. They are noticably ticked off.)
Commander: Look you, we told you to take your mindless drivel off the
Net.
Number 1: Yah!
Number 2: Yah!
Rod: Yah! . . . yah, yah, yah.
Xaphod: Since when.
Commander: Well, it was in a different time, we boarded your vessel,
acted like the mindless, malodorous, sodomistic necrophiles
that we are, did a lot of shouting, and told you to forever
leave the Net.
Xaphod: Oh yeah, you must be the Flamers from Kekraphoon, you're the
ones with the delusions of representing the consciousness of
the Net.
Rod: What a pack of twits, don't you know that the HHGttN has
received almost overwhelming support from all over Netland?
Number 1: We'll have to blast you.
Xaphod: You had your chance torch-head. You should have spoken up
when we started. But now we have a loyal following.
Number 2: But you are taking up valuable space.
Rod: You must be kidding, with the vast quantities of stuff that
are considerably longer than HHGttN that go out on the Net,
and ignored totally, you have the narrow mindedness to use
such a worn out argument.
Commander: What do you expect!
Gillian: Haven't you noticed people asking for missed episodes?
Number 1: Well . . . we choose to ignore that.
Commander: Now hold it, we want you OFF. You're upsetting the balance.
Time was when we Flamers had the run of the Net. Those were
the good old days, pouncing on innocent people posting
messages for no reason at all. People cowering in their
offices, wondering if we would cut them to ribbons for
spelling errors. Now you've ruined it. We just can't deal
with . . . satire (Dinsdale?). Our weak attempts to
counterattack fade quickly. No, you've got to GO, so we can
retain our purity of essence and have no contamination of
our precious bodily fluids.
Xaphod: PUSH OFF you stiff! You aren't the bloody consciousness of
the Net, you aren't even conscious. If you don't like the
stuff, nobody is forcing you to read it. What are you, one
of those Moral Majority types. Yah, that's it, you don't
like what people say, so you try to make sure that nobody
hears it. That's censorship, mate. Just because you don't
appreciate or understand something, doesn't make everyone
who does wrong.
Commander: Uh, uh . . .
Rod: Why don't we start throwing insults at the guy who sent the
Flamers. We could kick around his childhood and stuff like
that.
Xaphod: No, let's not go down to that level.
Gillian: Yah, lets keep our values.
[The editors of "The Hitch Hikers Guide To The Net" point out that every attempt is made NOT to name names or point fingers. The HHGttN is a compendium of commentary intended to help understand what goes on in Netland, a place often billed as a "wheatfield of mental disorders". The editors also point out that all episodes are intended purely in the spirit of comedic-satire. Any insults to any individual's religion, political views, or anything like that is either purely accidental, or definitely intentional. The HHGttN complaints department is open at all hours, but has so far only received one (well intended) complaint, which was kindly accepted and acknowledged to the sender. The editors remind all Netlanders that there is no evil spell forcing them to read HHGttN (even though it makes perfectly good sense to do so)!!! ]
(In a fit of frustration, the Flamers depart, muttering something about "We shall return".)
Arnold Lint:Well, that was exciting.
Xaphod: Now let's get going and find the answer.
Rod: Yah, and the dirty books.
Gillian: (Looking at a huge mural on what could be considered the
wall) Look over there, it looks like a whole new Net!
Martin: Oh no, not another.
- * End Of Part 8 **
Will the crew of the Infinity ever find the answer, or will they get interrupted again, to find out . . . Tune in next time . . . same Net-time . . . same Net-channel.
danielle