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Evening with Poetsrouteinfo:
From: Bob Vance
To: Victor Thorneton, Editor, Metropolis magazine
Subj: Interview with R. Emerson and H. Thoreau
Datetime: August 7, 1840; 10:47 PM Pacific time
Note: The following is an interview I conducted with our resident poets, Mr. Emerson and Mr. Thoreau. Seeing as our magazine is directed towards the middle-to-upper class city segment, I thought our readers would find it interesting to see the direction our country's intellectuals are going. The results I have found are both interesting and a little chilling. See the attached transcript of our interview.
*CLICK* [tape recorder hiss]
I have just arrived at the restaurant, Joe's Diner, in preparation for my interview with Mr. Thoreau and Mr. Emerson. The date is August 7, the time is 5:58 PM, and here comes Mr. Emerson.
[Background noise: restaurant activity. Conversations can be heard in the background, waiters moving around
ResurrectionIt is now three days since everything that was good in the world died. We eleven are sitting together, moping, and wondering what to do next. We have had much time to consider with a new perspective some of what Jesus said. So many of Jesus' teachings were metaphorical, it was often difficult to figure out when He was serious. Who would have guessed He was prophesying His own death, and who would have guessed it would happen so soon? He was with us for so short a time. Now, looking over the few, precious notes we took during His life, we see several references to "rise on the third day". He couldn't mean that, though, not literally—how is that possible? No, Jesus is dead—as dead as He can ever be, as long as we remember Him. The question, though, remains: What next?
And then two ladies come around the bend, yelling two words that forever change the purpose of the universe:
Paul"All right, Mr. Myronger, impress me. What is it you want me to spend eleven and a half million dollars on?"
The scientist cleared his throat, then paused and looked directly at the speaker. "Mr. Thornton. Have you ever wanted to meet someone who lived hundreds, even thousands of years ago?" He paused a moment to let that sink in, then continued, "Now you can."
Silence reigned in the conference room. Myronger continued, "My project, which I've code-named Archimedes, has been built and proven in the past. We were able to successfully bring to the modern age an important historical figure. Unfortunately, my machine was destroyed soon after, and I haven't the funds to build another one out of my own pocket. That's what I need from you. In return, I will give you indisputable proof of which New Testament theological doctrines are true and which are not."
There was another pause, then Thornton
The VirusOnce upon a Sunday sunny, I step inside, my nose all runny
To fight a foul beast that I have often seen before--
My friend's comp has a virus nasty; I must eradicate infections ghastly
So we can play a game we loved in forgotten days of yore.
I sit down in the chair so squeaky, and view the desktop with icons neatly
Arranged in rows and columns which the Virus lurks behind.
CD-ROM popped into drive, I sit back and prepare to dive
Into battle with this product of demented mind.
A Virus scanner I install—Sure enough, ten files all
Bear the ugly signature of virus' infection.
The ones I can, I quickly save; the rest to their digital grave
I now will send, quelling their insurrection.
But what's this? Cannot files move! Each locked into his special groove
Refuses Quarantinement or deletion.
Time for the second level. I "No more Mr. Nice Guy" cry
Like Atrus trying to reclaim Releeshan.
I shut down and quickly reboot in Safe Mode where the Virus, sooth,
Noah and the ArkIt was a hot, sunny day in Peewee Grove. All of Noah's neighbors were hanging out in the air-conditioned comfort of The Jump, the most popular casino/video arcade in town. Only Noah insisted on staying home and having his devotionals.
The moment he finished, there was a beep from the room computer and "KNOCK KNOCK" appeared on the display above the door, followed by a shot of Japheth, his youngest son, waiting at the door.
"Come in!" he cried. The door slid open. Japheth walked into the room. "Sorry to interrupt your devotionals, Dad, but I just checked the voice-mail and there's a message from God for you marked URGENT and OPEN IMMEDIATELY."
"You didn't interrupt me, son, I just finished. A message from God, you say? I'll have to check on it. Computer, display inbox on room monitor."
One wall lit up and displayed a list of messages. "There-- that one" pointed Japheth. "Compute
Christian Meets the KlingonFurther, as Christian progressed along his way, he was confronted by a Klingon by the name of Honor, holding a gleaming, curved bat'elh in one hand and a shining dk'tagh dagger in the other.
Hon. "Halt, pilgrim!" roared the Klingon in its gravelly voice. "I am Honor, of the house of Dignity! Of what house are you?"
Chr. "I am of the house of the Lord, and I am on my way to the Celestial City," peeped Christian, never having seen a warrior quite like this one.
Hon. "Ah, I have met many such humans. They have great honor, and they do battle fiercely. Allow me to walk with you." Honor sheathed the dk'tagh, and dropped the bat'elh to his side.
Chr. "With great gladness, sir (gulp). I would love the company of a warrior such as yourself."
The pair walked on for some distance, discoursing of their journeys, until they spotted an inn near the side of the road.
Hon. "The night is la
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