Path: pubnews.netcom.net.uk!diablo.netcom.net.uk!netcom.net.uk!feed.textport.net!newsfeed.stanford.edu!sn-xit-01!supernews.com!news.alt.net!!link.net!under.com!brisac.net.news!brisac.net!not-for-news
From: pHant <[email protected]>
Newsgroups: alt.hackers.malicious
Subject: Sn1ffed Chat Log 27
Followup-To: alt.hackers.malicious,alt.jedi-of-ro0t
Date: Thu, 01 Mar 2001 13:26:04 +1000
Organization: EHAC
Lines: 167
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
Reply-To: [email protected]
NNTP-Posting-Host: 214.33.60.9
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Complaints: [email protected]
X-Newsreader: Forté Agent 1.7/32.534
X-No-Archive: yes
Xref: diablo.netcom.net.uk alt.hackers.malicious:273180

Pilot: Prepare for landing, folks, and welcome to the beautiful city
of Miami. Please leave your seat belts and fat extenders on until the
aircraft has come to a complete stop. Thank you for flying CheapSkates
Airlines. We hope to see all but one of you again soon.

M: <wakes up startled> What? Oh my GOD! <sobbing> What the fuck is
wrong with me? I have the most vivid, horrible nightmares everytime I
close my eyes. Damn Jason, I wonder what the hell was in that Cajun
pudding!

FA: Sir? Remain seated. Security will escort you off the plane.

M: Well, I am fairly well-connected. I really should insist on the VIP
treatment everywhere I go.

FA: You're going to airport detention until your credit card has
authorized charges for the damage you've done on this flight.

<sticks tongue out>

M: <hisses> Bitch, would you like to have your coochie shaved or
pierced?

FAS: I beg your PARDON! Did you just threaten my flight attendant, you
deviant?

M: No! You misunderstood what I said.

FA: <squints at M> You lying, cowardly lardassed freak.

M: Your word against mine. There is NO PROOF! Now - get out of my way.

FAS: <walking away> Well, I NEVER --

M: <mutters> You never. Damned right. Never had nightmares about
pirates, Diaper Boys and fucking emergency landings in Oshawa. Never.

<heaves up and wedges sideways down aisle> Coming through! Pardon me!

Oh, sorry, sir. Make way, folks, emergency here! Thank you!

AIRPORT SECURITY: Come with us, big boy. Just keep walking and don't
make things worse for yourself.

BuZZard: Yo, Marty! It's me, BuZZ - and I'm ready to start detecting
for ya! I even upgraded my poop-stick for the occaZZion!

M: Officers, I don't know that man. Please make him stop harassing me.

B: Check it out, Marty! Stainless steel. It wont break, and it washes
off a lot easier then the old wooden one. No wooden grain for the
poop ---> to stick in!

M: <turns purple> Excuse me, officers! Can you do something to make
that guy leave me alone?

AS: We could, but we won't. <unlocks office door> In. Now. Take a seat
in that wooden chair with the metric device on the armrest.

M: That's a rather small chair.

AS: Your comfort is of no concern to us.

<attaches wires to -M's hand. Adjusts microphone and clicks recorder
on. Applies pulse oximetry monitor and cardiotelemetry.>

Now, we're going to have a little Q&A here, Martin. Don't try to lie
to us, because the polygraph and voice stress analysis DON'T lie.

M: <whispers> 'Kay.

AS: On this date, did you fly CheapSkates Airlines, direct connect,
Boston to Miami?

M: Yes.

AS: You were not in the Bahamas at any time in the past 24 hours.
Correct?

M: <mutters> Correct.

AS: So you lied on usenet at 6:58 PM when you claimed: "insert
quarter, sip beer . . . " and in the next paragraph, described a
cocktail called a Windex thusly: "MMMMMM."

M: <sheepishly> It was a lie.

AS: What you were actually doing at the time was polluting an aircraft
cabin by forcing out farts.

M: Okay, okay! You got me! So I farted on the plane. But how do you
know they were forced? Got PROOF?

AS: Individuals who lie tend to lie more than once. Forensic data
supports this.

M: So are you going to arrest me for farting?

AS: We just want to ask you a couple of questions. We've done a
preliminary investigation on the message you posted to usenet from the
aircraft. We used Google to make a scientific assessment. Do you want
to know what we found, Martin?

M: No. Not really.

AS: You made the assertion of a lady claiming to have been called
"hundreds and hundreds of times." We've compiled the data on this and
guess what, Martin? The ONLY person who ever made that assertion was
you.

M: No, she said it, I know she said it.

AS: No one has ever said that but you. Yet again we have established
proof of your prevarications. You lie -- habitually.

M: I do not!

AS: <glances at polygraph> That statement just sent the red arrow over
the old fib-meter. Now, getting back to this usenet message, which you
transmitted from CheapSkates Airlines, so don't try to say it's none
of our business --

M: Like I said, it really doesn't matter. There's no PROOF of
anything. Can you prove I even sent the message?

AS: The bangpath is munged, just like all your others. However, in
this case, we have more reliable evidence. Sat phone logs -- used to
freeze server logs.

M: Shit.

AS: "If someone actually said 'I will kill you', how come nobody has
been arrested?" Who said that, Martin?

M: <mutters> Nobody.

AS: Well, not quite true. YOU said it. But there's not a shred of
evidence that the lady in question - or anyone else - ever said it.
You lie a LOT, don't you, Martin?

M: No. <polygraph alert activates>

AS: "Personally, I hope someone kicks the living shit out of Kittrie
for all the lies she's told. Fortunately, for her, I would never hit a
woman, especially such a loser like her." Comments, Martin?

M: Fuck this! She's an easy target because she doesn't fight back!
It's WORDS ON A SCREEN! Don't you understand that? It doesn't matter.
It's only usenet!

AS: Sorry, fatboy. Wrong answer. You've made enough enemies on usenet
that as a courtesy to our neighboring country, we've decided to allow
a representative of that country's judicial ministry to finish this
little pop quiz with you.

M: Spooge?

AS: You filthy-minded bastard. <dials phone> We're ready for
undercover operative Jedi of Ro0t now. Send him in, please.

M: It's a dream, just a dream <pinches twelve inches of flab> Ouch!
<faints>


--

pH1