Okay, onto more serious matters. Sopowitz. Is restricting the college internet access. He doesn't seem to get the idea that students are supposed to download pictures of Jennifer Aniston and Mars and the Teletubbies. Neither does he understand who or what any of them are - with the possible exception of his home planet.
The internet isn't a place where everybody lamely wanders from college server to college server. I mean, if the point is to access the server in the basement, why is our data send to Docklands and back? God knows the network is slow enough without that.
NO! We pop over to "Yahoo!" and enter choice phrases to see what pops up. I'd estimate that 80% of net time is spent on irrelevant things. You go looking for the latest on AppleSeed, and get sidetracked by an expose on Masamune Shirow which leads to something else and something else and eventually ten windows are open and either you or your PC suffer a General Protection Failure...
Talking of General Protection Failures, the maths teacher has engaged the chemistry teacher. Oh boy, can you imagine being at the wedding?
Hmmm... Me? Cynical? Nah.
I'm just annoyed at this restriction on the network. Time for some serious grief-causing. Let's see, we could always fire Sopowitz again. Or promote Sanawuse to really rub it in.
Instead I settle for the old hacker favourite. I call up every pizza parlour
in the book and get them to send three pizzas cash-on-delivery. Good old
Sopowitz must, by now, have about twenty eight cheese and pepperoni pizzas
with heavy garlic. He could have had more, but some delivery kids
chickened out. I bought one pizza off a guy who refused to knock down the
price. I got a full three for next to nothing from a girl that was sobbing
over something Sopowitz had said. Hint - don't deliver the 17th, 18th and
19th unwanted pizzas to your Principal!
Needless to say I skipped the next day. It wouldn't do to turn up smelling of garlic. Being a tad paranoid I figured Sopowitz would try to hunt me down. But hey - not attending is as bad as saying "I did it". So I had to figure out a way to get everybody else to cut.
Friend with the model helicopter - remember him? Well, we hadn't spoken for a while and when I called he suggested a bomb scare. I was unsure about how to play that so I passed it up.
Next day my hack-buddy picks the front door lock, comes into my bedroom and drags me out of bed. We sneak down to college (after I had got dressed of course) and I see a large lump of modelling clay with wires sticking out of it. Sitting on that in two large glass bottles is some kind of liquid.
I pretend interest and put on my "college newspaper" guise. A friendly cop informs me that, to the best of his knowledge, he is looking at several kilos of C4 plastic explosive with two bottles of home-brew nitro-gycerine sitting on top. Beside it is a roadsign with the letters arranged to read "THIS IS A BOMB, STUPID!".
I leave the scene quickly and laugh until it hurts. Oh yeah, that's the
way to do it. And all because I didn't want to get caught for
pizza-overload. Or maybe my good friend has his own seriously seriously like
totally serious grievance?
Question? What do a hundred students do when they can't go to college?
Answer: Get ratted. Students are notorious for three things:
So with several brandies and burgers under my belt, I roll off home. The cold winter nights are causing me grief, but hey - I woudn't have missed today for the world!
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