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From: pHant <[email protected]>
Newsgroups: alt.hackers.malicious
Subject: Sn1ffed Chat Log 8
Followup-To: alt.hackers.malicious,alt.jedi-of-ro0t
Date: Mon, 26 Feb 2001 09:47:45 +1000
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Xref: dp-news.maxwell.syr.edu alt.hackers.malicious:179677
M: Damn. I fuckin crawl on glass in public for her - not quite good
enough.
R: Yo, yoo still be trippin 'bout Vampz?
M: It's a witchhunt. A disinformation campaign.
R: Bro, j00 wanna trans0late that shit?
M: I'll dumb it down for you, sure. She kno.. er believes I'm Ossifer.
There is NO PROOF!!
R: But yoo tole her to axe about yoo bein' in Florida and the millions
of calls. An' yer plastic, muhahahahaha!
M: Which is good - IF the cod hole keeps her trap shut and doesn't
yell PROOF on account of she never said I was in Florida. I said it.
Fuck, I mean the Ossifer said it. And hundreds of phone calls - I just
pulled that out of my ass, too.
R: So yoo tryin' to get over with her but you be cryin cos you don't
quit lyin'????
M: Monk---Ray, you stick to your crackers and leave the SEing to the
master.
R: <snicker> Baiter.
M: What?!
R: Nuthin'. Hey, man, look, it's the BuZZ.
B: 'S up, dudeZ?
M: BuZZard! You believe me, don't you? You like me, don't you? Huh?
Well? Don't you? Huh? Well?
B: <leans on poop-stick for balance> Like the BuZZard seZ, it was a
hard core troll BUT I gueZZ joo might oughtta pick one story and stay
wit it cause yo aZZ is all over the place 'bout it.
R: Yo, yoo been in the pills awready?
M: Ray, here's a dollar. Go find the fucking Good Humor man. Now
what's this, BuZZard, you think my story's not consistent?
B: I gueZZ its conZiZtent but the problem iZZ, it changeZ all the
time.
M: Fuck. Words on a screen, that's all it is.
R: Yo, joo be serenadin' Vampz, tryin' to SE her and fucking CRYING
over her, then muhahahahaha, you say it just be words on a screen.
Bwahahaha!
M: Goatblower, if I want your opinion, I'll fart.
B: Whoa! Time for the BuZZ to put that poop-stick in action!
R: L8r, man.
B: But wait - don't joo got a poop-stick? Don't EVERYBODY got one?
R: I ain't got no poop-stick, homes. But my man Martin here got a
Texas dicksock and its name is--
M: Timmay! I mean - shut up, Raymond!
B: So, later, dudes. The BuZZard got to go NOW. <dances> I really do
got to go, ain't no lie.
M: So go already. Come back later.
B: <squirming> Time iZ money, man.
M: Oh fuck this - e me your account numbers, dude, I'll wire transfer
the money. Thank you for talking to me. Now go have a nice crap. At my
expense.
B: <running> pHanks!!!
R: Yo, I gotz to go too.
M: Yeah, now you mention it, I could stand to go myself. We meet back
here at 2000 hours for an important strategy conference.
R: What dat be?
M: Planning. My SE isn't working as planned, but I'll find another
way. I always do.
R: Maybe yoo should try a new SE.
M: Raymond, you've been bought and sold. I want you back here at 2000
hours and available for the rest of the night.
R: Yo, what time is that on a clock?
M: Eight in the P.M. And just remember: All your base are belong to
us! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! PUD_RADAR will save us. The trolls and stalkers
will be mine. And so will my little chix0rita Vampi . . . .you can bet
on that.
<evil laughter, toxic fumes>
R: <gag>
--
pH1