A Mischief Of Magpies

If the Sun were the size of a beach ball then Jupiter would be the size of a golf ball and a Mischief of Magpies would be as small as a pea.

Saturday, December 17, 2005


The fact that I have the ability to publish something on a whim and express myself here, in the internet ether, the collective unconscious, the release it brings, shooting my verbal semen between the heaving breast of the blogosphere, it makes me happy.

Part @ of a short tale

Uptown, Tim potter watching a virus in the companies mainframe and carefully watched it as it gobbled up data, munch, munch, munch, munch. The virus would replicate and be at all 5000 terminals within a matter of seconds. He could just about count down the seconds before the phone would ring. 4,3,2,1,.....ring.

" Tim, there's something wrong with the database I can't pull up anything other than naked pictures of Roseanne Barr ! What the hell is going on !!!!"

Tim immediately recognized the voice as one of the underwriters from the fifth floor. This was the prick who spent all day playing scrabble and flash games that clog up the system with spyware.

" I need you to turn off your computer and unhook it from the hub and bring it in for service...."

" We'll isn't there...."

" Just do it now and I might be able to save some of your files, but you have to hurry, this is the new bar virus you need to act fast"

Tim worked as the head of Information Technology and pulled down an enormous salary. The board of directors was so happy to have him aboard and valued his forceful direct form of leadership that was the hallmark of his department. Since his arrival he had sequestered all the computer activity to one wing of the building where only he and his staff were allowed. Tim had a staff of 10 high trained and quality personal. The hours Tim had them work were long and varied. Pegasus Ins. had hired him just in time as the # of viruses and computer problems they were having doubled in the five years he had been at the company. Tim ruled his department with an iron fist and security was top priority. He had never met a virus or computer glitch that he couldn't concur.

Security was top priority, because Tim, was taking the company for a ride. He actually only had one employee and he was an old roommate from college that was helpful when it came to things like going to the deli for a sub, scoring some weed, and finding the hidden levels on Grand Theft Auto. The rest of the companies employees were fakes. Social security numbers of recently deceased and long dead people, bank accounts, IRA's, medical histories all concocted by Timmer. Tim would make 3.5 million this year in cold hard cash. Next year he would make over four when he convinced the board that he needed more resources to battle the evil computer demons that were knocking at the door.

They would make their demands and he would scare them with urgent e-mails and articles of fried servers and anarchist hackers lying in wait to take advantage of the company that puts down there guard. The elder states man of the board were throwing money at Tim and his crack IT department. When Tim requested a enormous clean room with state of the art venting technology and 10 new servers to " hyperconnect Pegasus into the technological forefront of the insurance business " The old codgers couldn't write the check quick enough. After the retinal scan security system was installed Tim felt like he had created a masterpiece and everyone that followed his lead agreed.

There was a matter of having Orc set up an automated aero-marijuana garden in the clean room. Orc grew up with hippy parents on the south facing slope of Mt. Washington. His parents were old hippies and homeschooled Orc ( or osirus rastus coning ) in all things important. Making cloths, bread, fishing, sewing, quantum physics and most usefull to Tim, farming Marijuana. Orc had some of the last remaing seeds for Super silver Haze, a brand of smoke that was said to have calmed James Brown down enough to get the keys away from him while he was smoking angel dust. However, that's a story for another time.

Tim and Orc made their home in the basement of Pegasus insurance for years. They liked to think of it as there own private country. They would often blinfold acquaintances ( usually female ) and take them to their lair for day's on end. As long as Pegasus received protection from the dreaded evil virus ( Tim made sure of that ) and their emloyees had a way to play spider solitaire while pretending to look busy they never even approached Tim. Tim really didn't know much about computers per se, If HR had bothered to double check his bogus transcripts or references they might have found out. If he had any serious problems he farmed the work out to a local independent computer guru who billed him in Ounces of marijuana, the arrangement worked out magnificently.

Tim cut an imposing figure you see. He was born without a certain RNA messenger that would inhibit his muscle growth. Tim looked like Mr. Universe his biceps were huge, his legs looked to be from a horse, his head bald as Kojack, He felt tense all the time like his muscles twitched in opposition to one another a thousand times a second. Marijuana at first amplified these cycles then harmonized them ( at least that what he told himself ) and allowed him a reasonable facsimile of relaxation. When he wasn't sedated Tim was a tense beast, barking orders and ruling over his kingdom with despotic terror.


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