Subject: [OT] If you don't hear from me again... Date: Fri, 11 Apr 2003 19:24:52 -0500 From: "Chuck" Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars ... tonight may be my last night. Tomorrow is April 12, 2003, a day I've lived in mortal fear of since time immemorial. Tomorrow I turn 30. I know exactly what's going to happen too. Even as the clock stops striking midnight CDT (Chuck Daylight Time), I'll undergo a transformation akin to the one suffered by Julian Glover at the end of Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom (an interesting scene that shows the effects of the wrong goblet as well as the final fate of General Veers). It could be worse, I suppose; there could be a mix-up and I'll undergo the kind of change experienced by Danny Glover, and I'll wind up shaving my beard off, saying "I'm too old for this shit!" and spend the rest of my life trying to get people to switch their long distance to a phone company with yellow and green houses. Shit, I'm old enough to run for the Senate now. That thought alone should frighten everyone. Plus I worry about how much stress I have in my life (there's a feedback loop). I could wind up having a heartache at age fifty because my wife's trying to remember where she put my pills. That means I've missed the chance for a mid-life crisis! Damn, another perk gone... So, anyway, 30 years. So much has changed. Who knew ten years ago I'd be discussing the power of a Borg cube with someone who might very well be in a country my nation is blowing the shit out of, or that I'd be fighting disgruntled Farscape fanatics who are trying to get Tremors cancelled out of some weird attempt at revenge. Okay, another decade, another time to take an inventory. Legs, check. Arms, check. Ass, we may need a ruling on this one. I don't know, I think my ass may have disappeared, 'cause whenever I have to take a leak my pants fall down in the back. Ears, still working. Eyes, think they're doing okay. Hair, as unmanageable as ever (I theorize my hair may actually be a seperate lifeform hoping to colonize my body with its young). Back, functioning within expected parameters, which is good considering the only males in my family with a properly functioning back are me and the twins. Plumbing, well, let's say that when the spriit is willing, it doesn't just stop there, so thank God for that. Well, time to close out. If I'm back tomorrow you know I survived the transformation. And if I don't, well, then let me tell you, if you don't think Burt Gummer can take out the Borg singlehandedly, I've got a Minuteman with your name on it. Chuck, "I don't want to go on the cart...."