From daniel at sccs.swarthmore.edu Tue Sep 3 22:58:58 2002 Date: Fri, 22 Feb 2002 00:37:10 -0500 (EST) From: BDan Fairchild Reply-To: Presidents To: The SWIL List: ; Subject: SWIL/News #4 "I've been reading your SWILNewsi, Methos," said Harry, brushing the snow from his Hogwarts sweater as he stepped into the amazingly warm and cozy cabin secluded deep within the Forbidden Forest. (Dear, where is this going? -s) (Where do you think it's going? -c) (just remember, i get to hook up with Ruly. -k) ( -r) (some people just don't know how to take a compliment. -k) (Hey! I wanted to hook up with Ruly. -s) (That wasn't _exactly_ where I thought it was going... -c) "What did you think of them?" asked the 5000 year old charmingly cynical immortal. "I've been writing them since writing began, you know." "Well," said Harry, fingering the note from Spike in his pocket while looking extra-pale from the cold that was only gradually seeping out of him, "I was fascinated by the parts where you discussed ***SWILBusiness***" Harry thought back to what Spike had said when he gave him the note: how, in his smug, oddly attractive way, he had proclaimed "The rabble are pathetic, except of course for Jonathan and Nick. It's really a shame I can't visit my charmingly evil incredibly bloody vengeance on them, what with this chip and all. (You can tell I'm in character because I keep mentioning back-story like this.)" His reverie was interrupted by Methos, who said with exasperation "Why don't those stupid, illiterate people (except Qian and Kyla, of course) nominate books?" "Say," asked Methos "isn't some big event at the old Wizards' school coming up soon?" "You mean Schlock nominations and voting?" replied Harry, thinking of the joyous time of year when all gather together to watch really, phenomenally bad movies to take their minds off their alchemy finals, and also of how, if nobody nominates movies next week, we will all be overcome by the despair of our finals and be won over to the Dark Side. "And then there's T-shirt nominations and voting," Harry continued. "In two weeks, it will come time to pick the new SWIL T-shirt, so people should submit designs and slogans before then, or at meeting, and come to meeting so they can vote for the ones they like." "Of course, certain elves look so much better _without_ their SWIL T-shirts..." Methos mused. "That was some Kegger," Harry interjected. "You should've seen Lance talking with Frodo. Sam will kill him if he tries anything, and she was also a devoted DJ who donated her sound system when Rattech failed to show up. Ben Mitchell also volunteered his sound system, and some very nice Engin Frosh helped set up." [Editor's note: for liability reasons, several comments about acid and liquid nitrogen originally appearing in this fanfic have been stricken from the record.] (Speaking of which, why haven't Harry and Draco hooked up yet? What kind of fanfic _is_ this? -s) (but that will complicate the Draco/Gimli thing i had planned for NonSWILBusiness! -r) (absolutely not! Gimli/Legolas! Gimli/Legolas! -k) (Moving on... -c) "Everybody who showed up to help set up for or clean up after the Kegger has my eternal gratitude," proclaimed Methos, winking seductively. "Did they ever select an Official Wood Sprite of SWIL?" asked Harry, thinking of Legolas' err... fondness... for wood sprites. "I think that Qian, Anna Hess, and comma were all nominated, but an official decision has yet to be reached," Methos replied. "They should be able to decide, since there's nothing outside their jurisdiction!" proclaimed Harry, secretly thinking about who he'd like to have in _his_ jurisdiction... (Wait, so who does Harry want to have left in his jurisdiction? -s) (I think that'll be an exercise left to the reader. -c) (ummmm... -k) (Hint: the correct answer is "Draco". -s) --- Harry ran through the forbidden forest, the cold wind doing something visually effective with his hair. Much as he longed to stay with Methos, he realized that if he did not reach SWILMeeting in time, he would not receive a lottery ticket. Suddenly, a great mass loomed up before him among the snow-covered trees. "Lance! JC! Chris! Joey! Justin! What are you doing here?" he shouted. "We're huntin' unicorns," proclaimed Joey, brandishing a twelve-gauge. (No no! There has to be a bad physics joke here, in the form of: "Not a Lorentz gauge?" -s) "Yeah, we'll kill 'em, and then seem more manly." JC added. "...and consequently less gay." Chris elaborated. Harry kept his thoughts on the matter to himself, on account of this being, at least nominally, a family SWILNews. The six of them set out for SWILMeeting, in hopes of winning the lottery, but were dejected when they arrived just in time to discover that Noda had won, and watch him pass up the Magic Loops to take the purple smiley-face bouncing ball instead. --- Far away, Saruman watched *NSYNC leaving SWILMeeting through his Palantir, knowing that they would soon be forced to submit by the trials of ***NonSWILBusiness*** Saruman sensed a disturbance in the bell-tower of Orthanc, and ran down the guano-encrusted stairs just in time to see Kirk, Spock, and seven unusually buff, yet expendable, red-shirted ensigns. (Of course, nobody realized that one of the ensigns was really the young Jean-Luc Picard, who was on special, top-secret assignment for Starfleet Temporal Operations as part of the vast conspiracy detailed in the TNG fanfic "Gods of Confusion, part XIV".) "What the hell are all of you doing here?" asked Saruman, catching they eye of the young Jean-Luc. (we are _not_ doing Saruman/Picard slash! i have my limits! -k) (Come on! Nothing we've done yet has been slash proper, just innuendo. -s) (And we're going to keep it that way! -c) (But then how can Harry and Draco hook up? -s) (oh well, i guess they just won't... what a pity... -k) "We are here to investigate the roundsing, and the allegations that Anna Hess is present," Spock explained. "Personal Log: History records that people should have shown up for the roundsing, and that it was fun," mumbled the young Picard, who hadn't yet figured out the details of when inexplicable log-entry voice-overs can be plot-justified. Just then, all of them noticed a frantic, soaked, Trillian running towards Orthanc from Sharples. "Matt needs napkins!" she shrieked, before collapsing into the arms of one of the unnamed Ensigns, inadvertently slaying two more with her frantic flailing motions as she fell. Another Ensign was trampled by Harry, Methos, and *NSYNC, all rushing frantically by in an effort to get to the Balkan Dance Workshop. "Elliott and Jim have a Balkan rhythm in their soul!" Justin cried out as they passed. "Personal Log: History records that the dance workshop was fun too," muttered Picard, still not grasping the concept. "Come hear the diuretic bagpipe music!" proclaimed one of the few surviving ensigns, who was promptly disintegrated by Spock, Kirk, and Picard, and then banished to the nether world by one of Saruman's more mean-spirited magic spells. -- Legolas, Methos, Spike, Picard, and the surviving unnamed ensigns sat in Elliott's speech spectrogram reading class, the words "come to the class, you stupid speech spectrogram-illiterate people" ringing in their ears. In spite of his eagerness to learn about speech spectrograms, he found his eyes constantly drifting in Spike's direction. When he saw that Spike seemed more interested in two of the other ensigns, he disintegrated both of them, and was shortly thereafter heard muttering "Personal Log: I probably shouldn't have done that, since one of them was due to invent low-fat replicator." to himself. (Is Draco ever going to appear in this fic? Even if he doesn't hook up with Harry, he should hook up with _someone_! -s) (Oh dear. -c) However, Picard's efforts were in vain, as they only caused Spike to focus his attention all the more thoroughly on Draco, who, as it turned out, had been sitting behind the hapless ensigns. Picard disintegrated two more ensigns to work off some stress. (happy? -k) "F.O.Q.S., or, rather, Qian, had a spec," said Spike to Draco, trying to make casual conversation. "Thou shalt not remove the spec from they neighbor's eye before thou removest the beam from thine own eye." said Draco coyly. --- Prime regaled those assembled, including Spike, Draco, Ragnar Danneskjold, Harry, Picard, Legolas, Trillian, Justin, Methos, the young Obi-Wan, Duncan MacLeod, Darth Maul, Capt. Ahab, and the surviving ensigns, with the tale of how she was serenaded by Mixed Company at the Massacre. She told of how, just as she and the other thugtrons had entered the middle room, she had been surrounded, and grabbed about the waist, by Mixed Company, which had serenaded her with "My Little Thugtron" while the other thugtrons brandished their guns menacingly. After the Massacre, several thugtrons assassinated Mixed Company, and five of the nameless red-shirted ensigns were slain by stray bullets. West Side Story was defined as a Documentary, which seemed especially apt, as eight of the red-shirted ensigns were killed during the filming. (Y'all haven't been plotting my assassination again, have you? -c) (No. Absolutely not. -s) Picard time-jumped to the 28th of February, bringing all assembled with him, in order to be there for "Everyone Wears Masks Day" an event organized by DoubleStar in which everybody is supposed to go about his or her normal (or abnormal) life whilst wearing a mask, in acknowledgment of Wesley's prediction in "The Princess Bride" that everybody will be wearing masks in the future. (Hey! We're watching "The Princess Bride" tomorrow (the 22nd) afternoon at about 3:30 in the ML lounge. -c) Picard had wisely already time-jumped to the mask-making tea held on Wednesday the 27th at 7:00pm, almost certainly in the Campus Center at Bryn Mawr. Jean-Luc secretly hoped that his mask would distract Spike from who he was for long enough to turn him on to Jean-Luc's charming personality, although he did somewhat regret the deaths of seventeen of the red-shirted ensigns in the unfortunate glue-spill during mask-making. (Since Draco and Harry haven't hooked up, it looks like nothing important has happened in meeting yet, Kyra. -s) --- "Ahab!" cried Darth Maul across the widening abyss, "You and Arwen seemed so happy together! Why did you throw everything away to come back for me?" "Because Harry told me I had to give you this!" cried Ahab, flinging a crumpled piece of paper at Maul. Darth Maul opened the piece of paper, Spike's note, very carefully to reveal The Attendance List Written in Green Ink on Green Paper John "@spirals are fun" Finkbiner Abby "Worthwhile Person" Friedman Rebecca "Proud owner of data" Paul (You can't own Data. They said so in "The Measure of a Man". -c) Amy' "I don't have to render John's quote in ASCII!" Marinello (Lucky. -c) Robert "Not changing my name to Rebeca" McFarland (Writo, not typo. -c) ~Sam "The obfuscatory reign of jubilant cniderians will subvert the matriarch's eternal shoebox" Crane (That's the Dada spirit! -r) Matt "planning an obfuscated sig" Fowles Sony "after weeks of incompetence, my cybernetic systems have been repaired" Clie Michael "after weeks of incompetence, my work shall be completed through continued incompetence" Noda Adam "Theoretically, could 2 octopi be referred to as a hexadecipus?" Oleksa (I like octopodes. -c) Rebecca "The green ink is the same color as the paper" Jones Josh "incorrigible screensavers are distracting" Burdick Qian "The presidents are so docile" Qian MARK "RED BLUE ORANGE WHITE BLACK ... GREEN!" HANDLER Rachel "Late, as usual" Sapiro Rebecca "rich witches wear wrist watches" Kuipers Jim "SWIL is one supersaturated solution of references" Moskowitz Elliott "_Is_ this a rhetorical question?" Moreton Ben "No, it WAS supersaturated; it crystalized out last Thursday" Mitchell JONATHAN "PRESIDENT OF F.O.Q.S" SCHNEIDER* JC "Athelstane of Coningsburgh" Ravage ("Wise Stone"? -c) benjamin 'Review the multiplicity of language games.' r, george Callicles 'But how many kinds of sentences are there?' the Moose Magic "No one loves me!" Loops ~Elliot "Ok, maybe 16 credits..." Reed Ben "Kegger?" Bagley and Ludwig "Austrian schoolchildren!" Wittgenstein *WACKO, WHAT MAKES TODAY'S FOOTNOTE EXTRA SPECIAL? I'M NOT WEARING ANY PANTS! BDan "last laugh" Fairchild Brought to you by Ruly, Kempt, Sheveled, and Couth.