"If buttered toast always lands butter side down and a cat
always lands on its feet, what would happen if you tied a piece
of buttered toast to the back of a cat and dropped it?"
"Unplastic News", the Ugly Issue
A CONCISE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE
Part Two - Chapters 6 to 8
by Zac Bishrey
God™ started off by creating students, idiots, young people, and
public domain punters for practice, and for a bit of a lark, and
also to make Him go to sleep with boredom, but that did not work,
so after seven days (six actually, but remember that Babylonian
Bull), He decided to start all over again.
He created humans in His own image, but when He saw how awful
they turned out to be, He was sore displeased with His latest
handiwork and said unto them "Doth any of you mindeth awfully
being given silly names that twisteth thine tongues thereof ?"
They said that they couldn't care a damn, so He named them homo-
erectus and cro-magnons and neanderthals.
Many theologists, lots of hell and damnation attendants, masses
of lay members of many synods throughout the world, and other
experts of that ilk, took the utterings of these ancient
creatures as hallowed truths, after adding to them lots of choice
words and phrases of their own, here and there.
They picked the words of these ancients separately, and
juxtaposed each one with other words and phrases invented and
written on scrolls, parchments and tablets of stone over the
centuries, then took other words and phrases uttered in
connection with some totally unrelated subjects, to prove
conclusively to the faithful among us, that they were in fact
clear predictions of a future global warming, prophecies about
the depletion of the ozone layer over antarctica, the comings and
goings of heavenly kingdoms, or anything else which, from time to
time, came into their heads, according to current vogues, needs
of power-politics, territorial expansion (for legitimate self
defence) and other such viable circumstance.
It is sad to relate that after the first three experiments,
God's™ fourth prototype model, the homo-sapien, was a bit of a
flop, at the first attempt, and not much of an improvement,
because He was tired from lack of sleep, due to the fact that He
had not yet created a Sunday in the week, when nobody must
indulge in any work of any kind, not even creating humans.
Not too pleased with His latest handiwork He had a cup of tea,
then created mechanical engineers, but He broke the mould
immediately afterwards, because many gurus, astrologers, lay
members of synods, ministers of set-aside agriculture, hell and
damnation experts, and professors of theology (to name the same),
insisted with an overdose of vehemence and a dash of holy water,
that these idle sods were a retrograde step.
They said they were ever so surprised that He should ever have
contemplated such monstrosities, and they hissed and gnashed
their teeth, then threw handfuls of polluted Windscale dust over
their nightshirts and said unto Him "Thou hath caused thy
iniquity to pass from thine hands unto thine holy universe
roundabout by creating these idle loafers, such that the heart
turneth within us, and the eye runneth with water abundantly with
sore and very great lamentations from this affliction, and we
sore beseech thee therefore to desist".
Have you noticed how supplicants never say PLEASE when they talk
to Him to ask Him for all sorts of favour?
GIVE us this day our daily bread.
SEND your angels to protect me.
TAKE this affliction from me.
SHOWER me with your mercy.
PLACE me in your hands.
PROTECT me from evil.
Thy WILL be done !
WALK beside me.
etc etc etc.
But God™ wouldst not listen to them, or perhaps He listened but
His answer was NO, as they say on thought-for-the-day ! morning,
afternoon and night on Radio 4; nor would He give up further
research and development into making humans, despite the
catastrophe with those mechanical (diesel) engineers; instead, He
decided it was time to have a break and a cup of tea, to work out
some means of feeding the new improved version of humans, and to
create expensive slimming pills, so these humans can take off the
extra weight, after they have just put it on with take-away meals
from the local chippie.
It occurred to Him that it would be sensible to cover His
creatures with chlorophyll, so these creatures could stretch out
on a sunny beach for an hour or two whenever they fancied a heavy
meal, or to go for a short stroll in the garden when they felt
the need for a quick snack; but most of the available supply of
chlorophyll was already used up for making the garden of eden
(and the single bisexual apple tree in the garden), all ruined by
He finally came to the logical conclusion that since brass paper
weights and door stops were cast from melted down brand-new Swiss
watches, as was the custom in those days, He decided to give all
His creatures dominion over the rest of all His other creatures,
so they would hunt each other down, and munch their fantastically
intricate mechanism, for a meal. Yum Yum.
To tell you the truth, God™ was getting very depressed by this
time, so He decided to cheer Himself up with a joke...
He took His thinking cap off, had another cup of tea (He was
tea-total) and created Uncle Dave.
Everybody now agrees that that was not so much a joke, as an
unmitigated disaster, because Uncle Dave turned out to be the
genius responsible for inventing a device, which he wanted to
call a pedal car (assisted by a small electric motor powered by a
torch battery), but decided against it, because he could not
peddle it to anyone; and the Honda agent would not allow this
contraption to be parked outside his premises in Whittlesey,
because he said it would frighten the motor-bikers away, and
because his estate agent had advised him (wisely) that it would
bring down the value of the property.
That is precisely why millions of people are paying more for
their homes in mortgages than their houses are worth, and has
nothing whatever to do with economic miracles, ERM, or prudent
government policies. It is all down to Uncle Dave's pedal car,
which is now out of production, and that, for home buyers, is
very good news indeed.
In strict comparison with other people who were hanging about at
the time of creation, Uncle Dave was a clever man indeed, and was
competent at inventing useless (but fun) contraptions, which are
capable of travelling at the speed of light.
Uncle Dave did not have too much difficulty in designing a
contraption in the form of a huge lenticular disk (or mother-ship
as some people would insist on calling it), nor did he have
difficulty in developing a neutron-drive motor, to propel his
machine at enormous speed in the space between the stars.
The reason for the ease of movement of Uncle Dave's machine
between the planets and stars and galaxies, is because God™ did
not bother to fill interstellar space with gravity; but Uncle
Dave had a big headache in trying to design a double-sided,
lenticular disk drive unit which would stop his contraption from
being pulled towards planets and stars and black-holes (should he
come too close to them), into which God™ had poured enormous
amounts of gravity, to keep people from drifting away into empty
space and getting lost.
Uncle Dave borrowed a book on the theory and application of
gravito-magnetism from the public library, just before it was
privatised and turned into a bingo hall, and the books pulped to
make high quality gutter tabloids.
He collected bits of copper wire, some sheets of magnesium, an
old plastic canopy from a MiG-15 which was shot down over Korea,
a small pedal-driven nuclear reactor, and the freezer from his
partner's kitchen, then shut himself up in his huge garage, with
Uncle Dave wound the wire inside a huge circular tube, made of
pure magnesium; put the reactor inside a magnesium sphere in the
centre of the circle; connected the sphere to the circular tube
with a piece of magnesium pipe, set at a slight angle.
He plugged the freezer into the mains socket, using a long
extension cable, then covered the contraption with magnesium
sheets, which he pop-riveted together in the form of a high
density double sided disk, or two saucers stuck together with
their hollow sides facing each other; because (as if you needed
to be told) that was the logical, and physically, the most
economical shape for housing the coil of copper wire.
He then put his sun-glasses on (to look cool), and fixed the
MiG-15 canopy (to see where he was going, for a change) on top of
this "saucer" (for want of a better word for Uncle Dave's
contraption), and attached a set of flashing hazard lights (for
effect), taken from his wife's brand new Skoda, which she won as
a runner-up prize in a WI raffle the previous evening.
The book was very clear in describing a gravitational device,
based on the theory and principles of gravito-magnetic fields.
The clarity of the book is hardly surprising, because it was
published by the same firm who printed the full instructions for
assembling another of Uncle Dave's inventions, an LED watch he
called "Dark Night", which could tell you a lot about the
inventor, but could not tell you the time of day to save its
life, no matter how often or how hard you punched the flimsy
little plastic switch cover, which had printed on the inside of
it, so you can't see it, in the same colour as the plastic cover
(black of course), the very helpful instruction of "Do Not Stand
Here" in small user-friendly letters.
Uncle Dave settled himself comfortably on a seat which he
nicknamed Knumbum, borrowed from an old tricycle which belonged
to his young daughter.
He switched on the freezer and let it run at full chat with the
door wide open, to keep the copper coil nice and cool, then
pedalled the reactor with all his strength, nourished by gallons
of tea with a dash of milk and two lumps of sugar.
A strange thing happened, when, thanks to Uncle Dave's hard
pedalling, the reactor reached critical mass.
No the contraption did not blow up.
As the billions of neutrons came flying out of the reactor, they
shot through the connecting pipe into the huge circular tube,
whizzing round and round over the copper wire, which made the
contraption glow a little, giving it a pearly aura.
With God's™ universe oscillating between a positive state and a
negative state (or left and right, or plus and minus, or up and
down, or call it what you will, since these terms are merely
conventions for opposite states), Uncle Dave adjusted the
magneto-gravitational force, by controlling the speed of
pedalling, until his contraption and everything inside it were
ever so slightly out of phase with the rest of God's™ universe,
and pushing hard against the gravitational force of the nearest
planet which was around at the time, and which by pure
coincidence, just happened to be the planet earth, where Uncle
Dave lived, but it could have been any other.
The gravitational field of the earth found itself being pushed
by the magneto-gravitational force of Uncle Dave's contraption;
but since the earth is much bigger and stronger than the machine,
she was not going to be pushed around by a little upstart like
that; therefore, it was Uncle Dave's contraption which had to
give way; so they shot away at a truly phenomenal speed, without
feeling any ill effects whatsoever, because the magneto-
gravitational ring affected every particle inside the contraption
with exactly the same force and in equal measure.
It was rather fortunate that as a consequence of the neutrons
whizzing round the copper wire, while the reactor was at critical
mass, a tough gravito-magnetic field was induced over the outer
skin of Uncle Dave's contraption. This proved to be a life-saver,
because it was totally resistant to damage from stones being
flung at it by hooligans, and air-to-air missiles fired at it by
over-enthusiastic P51-D Mustang pilots.
Uncle Dave was delighted with his little toy, so he started to
pedal faster and faster, to satisfy his noseyness and just to see
what would happen; when another funny thing happened.
No the contraption did not blow up.
Increasing magneto-gravitational force, put the contraption
further and further out of phase with God's™ universe.
Despite the enormous acceleration which the contraption was
demonstrating with consummate ease, neither Uncle Dave nor the
contraption suffered any ill effects (as explained earlier, so
there is no need to go over it again), and those nosey parkers
standing on the ground watching, were treated to some very
As they watched the contraption whiz around in circles, and
swoop over their heads at enormous speed, then stand still in
mid-air (and other juvenile antics like that), they swore blind
that up there was the contraption one moment, but in the next
instant it vanished into thin air; so they went home and wrote
letters to newspaper editors, to tell them all about it; padded
and fortified with a considerable amount of properly controlled
and carefully measured exaggeration, of course, as all good
The Daily Postage, The Moon, and The Onlooker dismissed the
sightings out of hand immediately and without any hesitation,
because their journalists were not quick enough to be the first
to invent the truth about them, and they were adamant in pointing
out (with instant government approval), even before they finished
reading the letters, that what the silly observers on the ground
were hallucinating about, was no such thing as Uncle Dave's
contraption, but the planet Venus.
We know of course that Uncle Dave and his contraption did not
actually vanish; they were slightly out of phase with the rest of
God's™ universe, and that is why they seemed to disappear.
If you have ever wondered about poltergeists and ghosties and
elfs and other weirdies that go bump in the night, and shadowy
things that appear to be on the verge of visibility, or seem to
walk with ease through solid brick walls, and other similar
pranks like that; wonder no more, because you now have the
These ghosts and poltergeists and phantoms are nothing more than
manifestations of real people and objects which are in varying
degrees a little out of phase with the rest of God's™ universe.
That is all there is to it really and there is absolutely nothing
to worry about, but if I were you I would make sure that I have
everything in order, and my will witnessed and signed before the
time comes for me to go completely out-of-phase with the rest of
Uncle Dave rather enjoyed these pranks, so he went on for a
while longer repeating them here and there all over the planet,
scaring poor farmers in Kentucky one day, and a young mechanical
engineering student visiting his girl-friend in Warminster the
next, until he got fed up with it for a while, but being the
curious person that Uncle Dave was, he wanted to know what would
happen if he pedalled even faster.
He stopped for a minute or two to have another cup of tea, then
settled himself on Knumbum again, and pedalled like fury, harder
and faster than he had ever done before.
A very strange thing happened, which made him think that he had
cooked his goose this time.
No the contraption did not blow up.
As Dave pedalled faster and faster, the contraption was going
further and further out-of-phase with the rest of God's™
universe, until he was at 90 degrees relative to it.
In other words, if he was, say, on the zero line; then the rest
of God's™ universe was at a maximum in the oscillation cycle, on
one side of the zero line or the other.
It just so happened that it was on the other, because Uncle Dave
was sitting back-to-front on Knumbum and pedalling in an anti-
clockwise direction; but this is totally irrelevant and I am
telling you here and now that you must forget I ever mentioned
it, in the same manner as a circuit judge in a court of law might
tell the jury to take an inadmissible comment (carefully inserted
by a clever barrister) out of their minds completely, as though
it was never uttered.
Uncle Dave noticed that the cows in the fields were becoming
heifers, and the trees shrinking to saplings, then into seed,
which these in turn disappeared altogether into the flowers of a
previous tree generation.
He also observed that the sky-scrapers were being replaced by
small brick buildings, and these into shacks, then grass huts,
which disappeared altogether, leaving nothing behind but empty
caves with gaping wide entrances and a green piece of land round
about, dotted by people with scruffy beards, wearing sandals and
CND badges, and drinking real-ale.
Great, thought Uncle Dave, he was now out of phase, not only in
three dimensions, but in the rather unfamiliar fourth dimension
also (otherwise known as time).
He was delighted, because until he actually managed to achieve
this remarkable feat, no one ever believed that it was possible,
and all the scientists who were working on the subject, dropped
it like a hot brick when our clever cleric from Dublin University
pronounced that he was in tune with God's™ mind, Who told him
that it was totally against His wishes to play about with time,
because, in the first place, it was impossible to run against the
flow of time, just as it is impossible for a three-masted
schooner to sail against the wind; and because He thought if
people started monkeying about with time, then some of them might
be tempted to go back and shoot their grandparents dead, before
their mums and dads were born, which wouldn't be nice at all.
Uncle Dave knew better of course, because he was a dab hand at
sailing his small punt against the wind, by tacking, and didn't
have any worries at all about his grandparents.
He also came to the conclusion that he could in fact travel
backwards in time, without being in a position to mess up
history, by using the (imperfect) analogy of time, and life in
general, being like a film running forwards and showing events on
the screen. Therefore, chopping up or burning clips of the film
after it has been projected, could not in any way alter any of
the events that have already been shown on the screen.
He wasn't absolutely certain that this analogy was perfectly
valid, so he kept repeating it to himself, just as they do in
detergent advertisements, until he convinced himself that his
theory did actually wash whiter than any other product that was
available on the open market; and promptly headed in space and
time for the Gulf end of the Euphrates; where all the really
interesting things originated.
(If you have any doubt about the last parcel of real-truth, then
read Samuel Noah Kramer's book "History begins at Sumer" and
Seton Lloyd's book "The Archaeology of Mesopotamia", for a spot
of instant education)...
Strangely, and much to Uncle Dave's surprise, he noticed that
there was not a single oil well in sight at that end of the Gulf,
not even a single solitary Sports Jaguar costing a cool 220,000
pounds (honest) or even a bargain-basement Ferrari, Merc, or BMW;
instead, there were lots and lots of Sumerian scribes with shaven
heads, wearing lambskin kilts, sitting on wooden stools, and
writing holy (and original) stories on clay tablets, with wooden
They were writing (in cuniform of course - what else) about
Ziusudra, the hero of a devastating local flood which ruined a
dozen or so towns and villages, submerging many thousands of
hectares of grain and set-asides. They were also writing about
gods making universes and creating men in their own image, and
visiting them from outer space in strange circular glories, which
shine with a pearly aura.
Not having any idea that it was only Uncle Dave pratting about
in his machine, they wrote about a god in his glory in heaven,
prevailing upon them to provide free milk for children in school
(honest), which the blessed Maggie, in defiance of the gods,
snatched away from the kids, forty three centuries later, and
about making wheels, chariots of fire, hardening bronze weapons,
making simple batteries for electro-plating, drawing maps, and
about an astonishing number of other inventions, though (thank
heaven) not about making LED watches which do not tell the time.
Whether it was out of the kindness of Uncle Dave's heart, or
because he wanted to show off a little bit, we don't know; at any
rate, he invited one of the Sumerian kings, a chap called Etana
(the thirteenth king of the first dynasty of Kish after the
Flood), for a ride in the contraption.
Uncle Dave took his majesty nearly as far away as the moon; so
when king Etana came back to earth, he never stopped telling his
subjects about the form of the earth and the shape of cloud
formations, and the rain-forests (whatever these were), as seen
from a very great altitude.
King Etana gave his cartographer sufficient detail to allow him
to draw a surprisingly accurate map of Etana's part of the world
(on a half-cubit square clay tablet), and ordered his chief
scribe to write the details of the Royal joy-ride into space (in
cuniform of course - what else) on a clay cylinder, which the
scribe baked afterwards, as was the custom in those days for all
important documents, to make them last for many centuries; then
posted the map and the cylinder to the British Museum in London,
where they reside to this day in a glazed cabinet in the Western
Asiatic Section (Room 62), thus joining their brother cylinders
and sister tablets and other mementos like that, in glazed
cabinets, on the floor, and in the ample basement of the Museum
Those ancient Sumerians took Uncle Dave and his contraption so
seriously, that the silly fools went and built stepped and
truncated pyramids (or Ziggurats, as they called them), and
finished the top with an empty room, where they placed roast beef
and boiled potatoes, and gallons and gallons of sweet tea (Uncle
Dave's favourite nourishment), in gratitude for all the secondary
school science that he taught them, and for the sagas which he
read to them from a small pocket encyclopaedia, which he happened
to have with him at the time.
Uncle Dave enjoyed their attentions for a time, but soon got
worried about missing his tea back home, so he reversed the
pedals, re-adjusted Knumbum, then pedalled (clockwise) until he
arrived back in his proper time, without saying goodbye to his
The Sumerians, and the Akkadians after them, went on building
Ziggurats for many centuries afterwards, and kept leaving the
food and drink on a holy table in the little rooms on top of the
Ziggurats (or holy-of-holies, as they called these little rooms,
because they thought Uncle Dave was Big-G Himself), even though
they never saw hide nor heel of Uncle Dave or his contraption
ever again, though they knew of others who did.
On his return home, Uncle Dave was greeted by his partner, who
opened the door of the huge garage to tell him off (in no
uncertain terms); and to point out to him that it did not escape
her notice just how convenient it was for him to disappear into
the garage, pretending to be busy copying disk magazines for
ungrateful punters, whenever it was his turn to do the washing
The following day when Uncle Dave returned home from the job
centre in Peterborough, where he had his daily counselling, which
was administered by a serious looking young person, on how to
spend his permanent leisure time (since leaving school), whilst
at one and the same time being available for work (or a placement
on a youth training course), when a suitable vacancy occurs in a
car-wash on a planet nearby; he found that his missus had given
his contraption away to a rich rag-and-bone man in exchange for a
new washing up bowl.
God™, who never interferes in the domestic affairs of any of His
creatures was, nevertheless, very cross with Uncle Dave (because
he wouldn't do the washing up), so He declared the silly episode
of creating Uncle Dave, a humourless joke.
Despite all the discouraging flops that God™ suffered, He would
not go back on what He had perpetrated, though He did improve His
method of assembly and quality control procedures during His
Sumerian, Akkadian, Chaldean, Amorite and Assyrian periods, where
He achieved some very remarkable results, which was very good
news for the human race indeed.
(Remind me to tell you something about them later).
Unfortunately, those periods did not last very long, and He soon
reverted to using second-hand bits, that kept falling off brand
new green Skodas, for creating the rest of humanity.
God™ did not have any problems with making arms and legs and
lungs and kidneys and other simple bits and pieces like that.
The difficulty was in producing brains of a useful size that
would fit into the billions of the rather small bone boxes, that
He had already mass-produced in Taiwan, and did not want to throw
them all away and start all over again from scratch, for where
was the money to come from dear ?
So He crammed the soggy stuff into the bone boxes, and that is
why it looks all wrinkled when you take it out of the box, but I
wouldn't do that if I were you, because it is the devil of a job
trying to squeeze it all back in again.
God™ wanted the brains to have some kind of an operating
procedure, but this wasn't easy because He made the brains out of
Mire Soft - Dirty Old Seaweed, but after four and a half attempts
He managed a workable system which He promptly dubbed MS-DOS 4.5
(for very obvious reasons).
This creation remained unsurpassed until a fresh supply of
MOSFETs, EPROMs, 486 Putrid Cheeses (or PC for short) and, best
of all, 68,030 Tiny-Tot boxes of turkish delight came on the
market, which He named TT because He was tea-total.
God™ organised the brain into tracks and sectors with little
bits and pieces, and nibbles and bytes for extra confusion, and
decided to make 1 and 0 equal 16 to baffle the decimal and binary
experts, and created what He jokingly called PAGE-6 into which
the memory drifts (to make a mess of things) then crash-lands and
absolutely refuses to drift out again, unless the reset button is
pressed, which can be very painful on a cold winter morning.
He made the brain work by having a little foul-mouthed scanner
(that is why He called it a cursor) to flit across the memory
cells backwards and forwards non stop.
During waking hours, and in the absence of gin, dioxin, or the
Financial Times, the cursor is more or less under effective
control of the brain.
The brain may, from time to time, instruct the cursor to search
for small parcels of memory that it had stored in small cells,
and on chips preserved in salt and vinegar, when it wants to have
another look at these parcels; even if it is often not a very
Some of these memory cells are in constant demand, so the cursor
knows them like the back of its hand, and has no difficulty at
all in locating and recognising; such as the smell of bad feet,
the last set of exam results, or being reminded of a thoughtless
remark you made to your partner, on a dark Tuesday afternoon,
twelve years ago last April.
Another example of continuous usage, is the complicated set of
instructions for the articulation of the muscles of the right arm
to lift a cup of tea from the saucer to the mouth and vice versa;
as well as other vital operations like that.
There are also some standing orders for certain procedures,
which the cursor can perform without any prompting, such as
making all sorts of chemical substances for the body to use; with
or without official approval.
There are a number of other standing order mandates for the
cursor to obey without further instructions. These are necessary
to control the opening and closing of certain valves in the body
of its rightful owner; otherwise the function of the heart,
kidneys, lungs and bladder for example, would be tricky and very
erratic, and therefore eating and drinking would have very messy
This mode of operation is also useful for automatically standing
up when a lady enters the room, or politely giving up your seat
when an age-challenged person enters the bus or the train in
which you are travelling (though this reaction can easily be
suppressed with practice), and for co-ordinating the leg muscles
when riding a bicycle half-asleep on the pavement (as most
cyclists do), and for members of Parliament who, after years of
practice, can make speeches, cry 'ear 'ear and cast their
carefully considered votes for their party, even though they are
fast asleep on the benches.
The most fascinating aspect of the cursor, however, is when it
is not under full control of the brain; such as when the brain
had put its pyjamas on and gone to bed, or if it should come
under the influence of anti-freeze or Austrian white wine (to
name but one - allegedly).
In these circumstances, the cursor prowls around in all the dark
corners and narrow alleyways of the brain, moving from one tucked
away parcel of memory to another, without any restriction, and
being the cursed sod that it is, it projects these images in any
sequence it fancies, into the sleepy head of the rightful owner
of the brain.
These take the form of all sorts of fantasies, which some people
call manic hallucinations and others call them economic miracles
and prudent government policies.
Sometimes, these images occur even when the brain isn't asleep
in bed, but apparently sitting bolt upright and fully awake.
Indeed, some of these images can be so real, that many people
swear blind that they have seen Omar il Khayyam in a top-hat,
stabbing Volvo drivers with a loaded Kalashnikov, from the saddle
of a Honda VFR-750 cruising at 152 miles an hour, on the Salzburg
to Vienna Autobahn, whilst cracking walnuts with his toes,
blowing an E-flat major french horn (without valves), and at the
same time reading one of his Rubaiyats.
Many licensed and unlicensed experts have been making huge
fortunes from interpreting these real-life occurrences, in
lunatic asylums and in the Ministry of One Arm Bandits.
God™ decided to call the licensed variety psychiatrists; and the
unlicensed ones, who threaten you with a curse if you don't cross
their palms with silver, He called tax collectors.
This Epistle should convince you that God™ went to a great deal
of trouble in creating this neat and tidy Universe, so the least
you can do is to go down on your knees, or touch the ground with
your forehead, or put your palms together and nod in respect, or
take time to write the history of the universe (His best known
work) and send it to your favourite diskzine.
Happy re-incarnation and a prosperous 4004 BC ZB
The text of the articles is identical to the originals like they appeared in old ST NEWS issues. Please take into consideration that the author(s) was (were) a lot younger and less responsible back then. So bad jokes, bad English, youthful arrogance, insults, bravura, over-crediting and tastelessness should be taken with at least a grain of salt. Any contact and/or payment information, as well as deadlines/release dates of any kind should be regarded as outdated. Due to the fact that these pages are not actually contained in an Atari executable here, references to scroll texts, featured demo screens and hidden articles may also be irrelevant.