ZIP Beep #9
BOYS OF SUMMER WILL BE BOYS
by Steve Anderson
In my book, spring means baseball. Years ago we would eagerly
await the coming of a new season -- fresh air, sunshine, and
tailgating. To pass the time during the week or so before
operning day we would conjure up dream teams. One of my
favorites was the all color team featuring Lenny Green, Gates
Brown, Roy White, Vida Blue, etc. Kind of corny but fun. But
times have changed.
These days they put roofs on ballparks and build them without
The ballplayers are different, too. This year we've been
picking All Ripoff teams -- Steve Rogers with 1.2 million dollars
last year and six wins, John Castino with 400,000 dollars and 12
hits, etc. But with the busting of Joe Pepitone and conviction
of Denny McLein on drug related incidents, we have decided that
the time had come to pick an All Chemical team.
At first base Daryl Sconiers of the Angels gets the nod. This
youngster managed to miss the first week of spring training
without telling anyone where he was, and then turned up in the
hospital with a "substance" problem.
Second baseman Juan Bonilla
is currently looking for a job. It seems that last year he was
quoted as saying "of course he uses pot and cocaine, doesn't
everyone?" Rumor has it that shortstop Andre Robertson of the
Yankees was not drinking sodas or eating placebos before rolling
his car at three o'clock in the morning. Andre is still trying
to overcome the injuries he suffered in that accident and win a
spot on the Yanks' roster.
To round out this "dream" infield I'm
going to have to reach a bit and include a local boy, Paul
Molitor. Molitor's name came up along with former Milwaukee
teammate Len Barker in conjunction with a drug trafficking ring
but nothing was ever proven. Maybe the reason third basemen are
clean is the fact they get to play 90 feet away from batters like
Mike Schmidt, Dave Kingman, and Eddie Murray.
The outfield contains three players who have been bona fide All
Stars during their careers. Cesar Cedeno is famous for his off
field antics but his performance this past winter takes the cake.
After wrapping his car around a tree in the middle of the night,
Cesar went after the police officer who was trying to help the
staggering Cincinnati star.
Willie Wilson spent last spring training in the slammer for
distributing cocaine. He was allowed to join the team after
serving his time and, as a matter of fact, Willie has been
offered a lifetime contract by Royals owner, Ewing Kauffman.
Claudell Washington of the Atlanta Braves completes our outfield.
Last year Claudell tearfully admitted he had played the previous
year and that he would never do that again. Last month he was
stopped after midnight weaving down the street and lo and behold
there were three grams of coke in his glove box. Since the
Braves are dieing for outfielders they bought the story that
Claudell had lent his car to a pal the day before and he had no
knwledge of any drugs.
Picking pitchers is almost as easy as picking outfielders. Our
righthanded selection is Pascual Perez of Atlanta. Pascual was
busted in his home country, the Dominican Republic. He was
initially charged with possession of cocaine with intent to
distribute but was convicted on mere possession. After serving a
month in jail he was released in time for the second month of the
season and ended up leading Braves in victories. Pascual stayed
in Atlanta this past winter as owner Ted Turner was taking no
Our lefthander is the Dodgers' Steve Howe.
Howe is responsible for Los Angeles trying to add a clause in
their standard player contract allowing for spot urine testing.
Howe has been in treatment three times in the past two years but
he is back on the roster this year because the kid does have
talent and the Dodgers, after all, did finish fourth in the N.L.
West last season.
Finally Darrell Porter is our catcher.
Darrell came clean about his bouts with booze and amphetamines
three years ago and is still straight at this time but we did
need a catcher.
Of course there are many more who could qualify for the All
Chemical team, however time and space are limited for most of us.
ZIP Beep #9
HOT MICRO INTERFACEOFFS
by Gary Finseth
You've probably all see ads or even attended "hot rod tractor
pulls." Now we have the electronic equivalent: "hot rod
A hot rod interface blow involves connecting the input/output
ports of two computers back to back with something similar to
ordinary automotive jumper cables, but able to carry much more
current. The computers are fired up and the first interface to
"blow" loses the match. Spectators are treated to some
spectacular displays when "the bit hits the fan." There are
three divsions: RS-232, Centronic-Type parallel and Unlimited.
The RS-232 Division is the mildest division, although the
"current limiting" found in stock machines is prohibited. The
real winners in this category rely not on power, but on
stategically designed imcompatibilities so the standard RS-232
cable used in competition can't possibly transmit data but
instead will offer the opponent the most crushing handshake
The Centronics-Type Parallel Division, by contrast, is a power
class. You've heard the TV ads-- "Power! Power! Power!" Huge
amounts of current are used-- boards outputing 1000 amps are not
uncommon. Although the voltage must not exceed 50 VDC for safety
reasons, these machines still put on quite a show while each is
trying to disipate a whopping 50,000 watts of current. Most
systems are water-cooled and the hiss of an overheated radiator
expelling steam is an early warning sign of trouble.
In the Unlimited Division, anything goes and usually does.
Local Area Network activity is popular, as is RGB color graphic
output and even microwave links. You may want to wear reflective
clothing and remain at least 1000 yards back during microwave
The U.S. Hot Micro Association will be staging the second annual
Hot Board Interface Blow at the Met Sports center Friday at
7:00PM. Admission is $8.50.
ZIP Beep #9
THE TREE FROM MY YARD
A friendly fauna fantasy from
Timothy J. Murray
From a lingering dream
Comes the tree from my yard
Giving a wink
For a game of cards.
A friendly game of gin with a tree
Seemed like a very different thing to me;
But so was the doorbell on my phone...
So I dialed the door to my home.
Such a polite perennial to shake his roots
As he entered giving my cat a cracker.
We played the thirteen of all the suits.
I drank liquor and he drank lacquer.
We proceeded to a game of craps
In which rolling "boxcars"
The tree was quite prolific.
Of course, his family ties span the map
On the rails of the Union Pacific.
"I'm going to leave!", he said with might
Smashing a tree-mendous hole in my ceiling!
Then I raked my carpet all night...
While the tree from my yard practiced dealing.
ZIP Beep #9
The Tag Team Match of the Century
Wrestling isn't just another sport. It's as much a
manifestation of the 80's as the Stray Cats.
I remember watching Pro Wrestling from Omaha when I was a kid.
Mom and I had a great time with it. The only 50's wrestler I
remember now is Dr. X, who was said to have left veternary
medicine for the squared circle. Then there was Joe Zwaibeck for
Vern Gagne's Gerraspeed (or was it Vern Gagne for Joe Zwaibeck's
Gerraspeed?). I suspect those names aren't spelled properly. No
matter. Wrestling is a TV sport, not a literary one.
So what has brought pro wrestling into the open now -- and in
such a big way?
Promotion. Oh, sure. The "Pro" in Pro wrestling may as well
mean promotion. But it's been that way since day one. Now,
there's a special type of promotion. It's a more sophisticated
approach to head bashing and knee dropping. There's even a
wrestling talkshow on USA Network (Tuesday Night Titans -- Rogers
cable has it, I suspect the other cable organizations do, too).
Very soon, the promoters will see the need to expand even
farther into the public arena. ZIP Beep, the periodical that
first told you about Gerry Ferraro's pro wrestling plans, has
learned of another similar project. This one promises even more
Sometime late this year, we can expect to see a tag team match
of astounding proportions. All of the bodyguards working for
Prince, plus all bodyguards in the employ of Frank Sinatra, are
slated to take on a huge group of press photographers.
In a recent ZIP Beep interview, Stud Jefferson and Bugsy
Carloni, bodyguards for Prince and Frank Sinatra (respectively)
outlined some of their plans.
"Everybody knows what we think of those whimpy little dudes,"
says Jefferson. "We'll pound them to purple pulps."
"Just let one of 'em get near Ol' Blue Eyes and we'll turn them
black and blue," Carloni added.
"Me and my men have seen all the flashbulbs we ever want to
see," says Jefferson. "I know more ways to stuff a camera down
a man's throat than you can print."
"The Paperazzi!" Carloni interjected. "Those guys make my
stomach roll. And let me tell you, I've got a strong stomach!
Go ahead. Hit me. Hit me really hard! Put your weight into
I declined, and Jefferson picked up the conversation. "Have you
ever seen a man bleed through his nostrils, Mister?" There was a
pause. "Have you?" he insisted. I allowed as how I hadn't
actually seen such a thing, although I do remember Mom loaning a
handkerchief to my cousin Dougie when his nosebleed threatened to
ruin a family outing. Somehow, I didn't think that was what
"I have, I have!" Carloni volunteered. "I've seen men bleed
through both nostrils and out one ear."
Jefferson was not to be outdone. "I've MADE men bleed out both
nostrils, both ears, both eyes, and every hair on their heads!"
"I've taken perfectly good human beings," Carloni interjected,
"and crunched them into piles of writhing, steaming hamburger.
I've taken bright, youthful, living flesh and stretched it until
it snapped in two! I've jumped into the air real, real high and
come down with more noise than a 747!"
I decided it was time to go and made my excuses. Neither
bodyguard was happy to accept the fact that the interview had
ended. Since ZIP Beep is one of the few periodicals totally
unassociated with any photographic or videographic entity, there
were no other reporters at the press conference.
It was a tense moment. The bodyguards seemed ready to tear into
me, but I was able to avoid the confrontation when I tossed a raw
sirloin to each of them and slowly backed toward the door.
No further information about the upcoming match is available
now. This is one time the promoters may have overdone it.
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