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WOSSNAME -- AUGUST 2007 -- part 4 of 7

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  • Not A Granny
    WOSSNAME - AUGUST 2007 -- PART 4 OF 7 (continued) ... oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ====Part 4 -- MAKING MONEY, B.U. NEWS AND WEIRD
    Message 1 of 1 , Aug 23 2:11 AM
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      WOSSNAME - AUGUST 2007 -- PART 4 OF 7 (continued)
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      oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

      ====Part 4 -- MAKING MONEY, B.U. NEWS AND WEIRD ALICE

      16) MAKING MONEY: A SILLY REVIEW
      17) BUGARUP UNIVERSITY CAMPUS NEWSROUND
      18) THE CLACKS LOG OF WEIRD ALICE LANCREVIC

      oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

      16) MAKING MONEY: ONE WHOLE LOTTA GOLD

      Money! Intrigue! Murder! Family feuds! Politics! Economics! Romance!
      Cookery! Interest rates! Wobbly bits! This one's got 'em all!

      See what goes on behind closed doors at Mrs Cake's boarding house!
      View the future in a rather twisty glass of water! Learn the
      ancestral secrets of the Igors[1] and discover why Discly fandom can
      be a dangerous hobby! Marvel at the results of Consciousness Raising
      101 for Golems! Discover the strange connection between finance and
      fetishwear! See how the high and low businessmen of Ankh-Morpork
      react to modern bank loans! Calculate the size of Adora Belle
      Dearheart's tobacco bill!

      MAKING MONEY! A story of true love, animal magic, shiny hats,
      cottage-industry coinage, nepotism, despotism, Omnianism,
      Differently Normalism, and the power of a well-placed woof! In
      living colour, especially the gold![2] This is a novel NOT TO BE
      MISSED!

      Go on, pre-order it now! You know you want to!

      MAKING MONEY! A heartwarming tale of a boy and his Mint! Out soon!


      [1] The secrets of the Igor clan, that is. Not the actual secrets of
      Igoring. We can't just tell, like, everyone how to reanimate
      leftover bits of people, because it might destabilise the very
      fabric of society[3]

      [2] Although the Quirm Cabbage Greens are rather a nice colour

      [3] A fairly tatty gingham and probably not up to much, from the
      look of it

      %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

      17) AROUND THE BUGARUP UNIVERSITY CAMPUS

      A roundup from WOSSNAME's sister Yahoogroup, ozdw

      SOUNDS FAMILIAR: AN INCONSIDERED TRIFLE

      Libwolf the BU Librarian quoted the following in his sig-line:
      "The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that
      the English language is as pure as a crib-house whore. It not only
      borrows words from other languages; it has on occasion chased other
      languages down dark alley-ways, clubbed them unconscious and rifled
      their pockets for new vocabulary."~ James Nicoll, 1846-1918

      Jase of the Faculty of Technomancy replied:
      Had you not attributed that I would have assumed it was Pterry. Sure
      sounds like his style of personification

      Mrs Peculiar mused:
      Now we have to wonder if Pterry, being a picker-up of inconsidered
      trifles (and the occasional toasted figgin), was well aware of
      Nicoll's bon mot :-)

      ----

      PTERRY'S WORK RATE: SHOULD WE BE TOLD?

      SuperDan:
      The other day my SO was grumbling about the distinct lack of a DW
      book in recent memory and that Pterry was getting "slack". I
      responded that we should forgive him since he is nearly 103 (okay,
      okay he's approaching 60). This was not accepted as an argument of
      merit according to her as he used to put at least two out a year. So
      I pose this to you, the faithful: Should we consider that Mr
      Pratchett may become a little less prolific in the coming years?
      And, if so, should we accept that or kidnap him and have monkeys
      with whips in the deepest Amazon forest force him to write more?

      Keeper of the Wombat: This very subject was discussed on the a.b.p
      newsgroup not so long ago. It seems Mr P is getting on a bit and
      slowing down a bit too. So he's cut back to one book a year instead
      of the two he's produced up until now. He's also cutting back on all
      the signing tours and conventions and stuff he's been doing.

      I'd say we are going to have to accept it. Forcing him to write more
      will kill him quicker and thus we get less books than if we just
      adopt the patience of Lu Tze and await the one book per year. For
      does not Mrs Cosmopilite say:- "Penny wise, dollar foolish."?

      Mrs Peculiar:
      Awww, give the man a chance to rest! There's only just so much sand
      in every lifetimer, after all...

      SuperDan:
      And quite fairly, I think he's done tremendous work giving us as
      many good quality and highly amusing books already.

      Mrs Peculiar:
      We also have to keep a close eye on Mogg. Every time she reads *all*
      published novels by an author, the author is suddenly visited by
      someone WHO SPEAKS LIKE THIS.

      SuperDan:
      Right, tie her up. NOW!

      The conversation then turned to areas over which it's best to draw a
      veil. Seven of them, in fact.

      ----

      And finally, it looks like the Smoking Gnu is lurking on campus,
      according to the scuttlebutt in room 3b:

      Jase: Loopy is running spam out of the university Hex hehe www
      .hexmail-direct.com
      Libwolf: "Your Sta33 not big en0ugh? "
      Jase: W4NT L0NG3R L45T1NG CUST4RD?
      Libwolf: "4r a b1gg3r bR00mst1ck, cl13k h3r3"

      %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

      18) THE CLACKS LOG OF WEIRD ALICE LANCREVIC

      Post 6. THIS GREAT SOUTHERN SAND

      First Clog: "When you came in here, didn't you have a plan for
      getting out?"

      So we crashed. In the desert. I imagine that counts as a breakdown.

      But first we got blown off course going over the Hublands by a
      random storm of raw magic somewhere on the Circle Sea side, which
      meant we didn't make it as far as Al-Khali, or even anywhere near
      Al-Khali. I suppose this is partly my fault, but hey, it takes two
      to horizontally tango (and I have to say that you haven't lived
      until you've horizontally tango'd on a flying carpet; just make sure
      you have somewhere safe to land), and how was I to know it was
      really true about wizards and the not tangoing thing? Or that when a
      wizard loses his magic it sucks out all the other magic in the
      immediate area? So we crashed. The effect is only temporary (luckily
      for us), but this explains why wizards get their oats as students,
      and why wizards daren't marry. Cert says you can always tell the
      students who *aren't* getting their oats; apart from doing better on
      exams, they're the ones with hairy palms and a permanent aura of
      maddened frustration.

      Klatch is big. Really big. You just wouldn't believe how vastly
      hugely mindbogglingly big it is. And sandy. So much sand. And dry.
      Big and sandy and dry and so very, very empty, except for us and a
      patch of less sandy-coloured sand that may have been a lizard...oh,
      and D'regs. According to my guidebook, the D'regs are a noble desert
      tribe, a "warlike, fierce and honourable" people who take pride in
      their ancient traditions. Since my time in Uberwald taught me that
      "noble" is often as not another word for "arrogant, unsympathetic
      and bloodthirsty, sometimes literally", you can imagine my dread
      when they rose up out of the sand around us like lizard-coloured
      patches. But our luck was in that day, because they neither killed
      us nor treated us badly. All right, we were captured, but once again
      my lute got us out of serious trouble. Instead of killing us out of
      hand, they invited us to a party! The chieftain, whose name is al-
      Rhaiva, spoke a little trade patois, and with my smatterings of Year
      6 Klatchian, we were able to communicate well enough. They loaded us
      onto a spare camel in exchange for our carpet (I am so very not
      getting up in one of those again, ever), gave us a good long drink
      of stale water (best drink I ever tasted in my life), and off we
      went to...well...another stretch of featureless sand, but they
      seemed to know where they were going...

      ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

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      End of Part 4, continued on Part 5 of 7.
      If you did not get all seven parts, write: interact@...
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      Copyright (c) 2007 by Klatchian Foreign Legion
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