🚀 go-pugleaf

  
SF-LOVERS PM Digest     Tuesday, 26 May 1981      Volume 3 : Issue 133

Today's Topics:
            Humor - SF Purity Test,  SF Books - BAD novels
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Date: 11 May 1981 0657-EDT
From: Roger H. Goun <G.ROGER at MIT-EECS>
Sender: Rick Stone <OR.STONE>
Subject: SF Purity Test


[ The following is a spoof on, what is known at M.I.T. as, the "Baker
  House Purity Test." The Test is known outside M.I.T. so you may have
  seen it.  If not, then prepare yourself for the following.  Thanks
  to Roger Roun for the Test, and Rick Stone for forwarding it to the
  digest.  -- Jim ]


For some bizarre reason unbeknownst (?) to myself, I wrote the
following.  Comments and suggestions are welcome.



                     SCIENCE FICTION PURITY TEST

Subtract 2.857143 points for each question answered "yes".  Result may
be called percent of purity.

Have you ever...

1. Heard of science fiction?  (If the answer to this one is no, try
   taking the "Space: 1999" test; they haven't either.)

2. Read a science fiction short story?

3. Read a science fiction novel?

4. Read SF at least once a day for a week?

5. Read SF at least once a day for a month?  (You can go blind doing
   this!)

6. Seen an SF movie?

7. Done number 6 in the last three months?

8. Read an SF story in french?

9. Read both volumes of Isaac Asimov's autobiography?

10. Skipped the editor's introductions to the stories in an SF
    anthology?

11. Read an SF story in a horizontal position?

12. Completely removed the book jacket from a science fiction
    hardcover?

13. Wanted to be an astronaut?

14. Seen "Star Trek"?

15. Seen every "Star Trek" episode?

16. Fallen asleep while watching "Star Trek: The Motion Picture"?

17. Seen "Star Wars"?

18. Done number 17 more than 10 times?

19. Fantasized about "Revenge of the Jedi".  (Star Wars episode VI.)

20. Been to a science fiction marathon?

21. Read the same SF novel more than once?

22. Read the same SF novel more than ten times?

23. Read more than one SF novel on the same night?

24. Gone through the motions of reading SF while wearing a space suit?

25. Read a superhero comic book subsequent to your weaning?

26. Had a subscription to a science fiction magazine?

27. Been a member of MITSFS?

28. Been to a science fiction convention?

29. Told someone you'd read a science fiction story when you hadn't?

30. Used alcohol to lower your resistance to science fiction?

31. Loaned a science fiction book to someone more than three years
    younger than yourself?

32. Entered a black hole?

33. Seen a naked singularity?

34. Written science fiction yourself?  (Oh yes you can!)

35. Met a member of an alien race?

------------------------------

From:   KIRK::GOLDSTEIN      13-MAY-1981 16:20  
Sender: YOUNG@DEC-MARLBORO
Subj:   First sentences of BAD(!) novels


First sentences of BAD(!) novels:

Science Fiction (Sword & Sorcery variety):

        K'tath, chief shaman of the People of the Noxious Dragon,
        stared pensively into the dawn mists and scratched his
        yellow pelt.

Science Fiction (Typical Hardware Mainstream)

        Brock thrust out his square jaw and spoke defiantly
        into the vocally-actuated piezoelectric terminal of
        the ship's main computer: "Dammit, Maggie, that's
        the third Class ZY Planet you've led us to since
        we came out of hyperspace.  If I have to communicate
        with another silicon-based life form I'll go space-happy!"

General

        My story takes place in an unnamed time, in an unnamed
        country.  Its two characters I shall simply call 'the
        Man' and 'the Woman.'

Love

        Selena bounced into the hotel room, smiling at the prospect
        of surprising her husband Bill. But her smile vanished at
        what she saw.  There they were--her beloved Bill and her
        best friend Harriet--locked in a passionate embrace, clawing
        at one another like two...two ANIMALS!  She stood riveted to
        the spot, unable to move.  The room spun and began to blur
        as Selena's tears started.

        "Oh damn!" she sobbed. "Damn damn damn damn damn damn damn
        damn damn damn damn damn damn damn!"

Mystery

        Dead.  That's what George Halsey was.  Dead.

                -or, the more economical

        "Dead."
        "Dead?"
        "Dead."


Really off the wall; defies categorization, probably written by a guy
who lives on an herb farm and whose hobby is sucking hardwood:

        As Miles Swaithe sojourned on the principal thoroughfare
        of the town, he beheld within one of the serried emporia
        the Promethean form of Argus Mechanoisus, bicep, sinew,
        and features of etched granite proclaiming, in the
        Volcanic glow of the crucible, the implacable,
        roughshod will of the man who had brought High-Tensile
        Carborundum molding to Slagsville.

Another "MYSTERY" -- Tough-guy shamus variety

        When you're looking down the unpleasant end of a .45
        held by a 300-pound gorilla with an itchy finger and
        some nasty ideas about personal air-conditioning, it's
        time to reconsider your career choice.

          ==============================================
           Some bad novel ENDINGS, just for variety....
          ==============================================

The Disaster Novel (The World Is Saved!)

        Waiting in the imposing Oval Office for Carson
        were not only the three Joint Chiefs of Staff,
        but the entire cabinet, thirty senators,
        Professor Schwienmunnt, and, looking most
        sheepish of all, the President of the United
        States.  The President stepped forward, held
        out his hand, and spoke for everyone who had
        refused to believe Carson's carbonated magma
        theory and had bitterly opposed him for the
        past year.  Be generous, Carson thought to
        himself, this is very hard for him; he's
        admitting he was wrong, almost tragically
        wrong.

        "Dr. Carson," the Great Man began, "you,
        and you alone, have just saved this tired
        old world of ours.  What can I say but
        thank you.  Thank you very much."

                T H E  E N D

The Modern Woman

        Joyce knew she had won the final round when George Clifton
        shuffled into her office later that morning, a broken man,
        his merchandising empire in ruins.  She almost found herself
        pitying him as he tried to form the words of his pathetic
        little speech:

        "Joyce...er...I mean...Miss...that is...Ms. Crowder...I
        wonder if..there's perhaps a place for me in...your new
        organization...I wouldn't ask for much, perhaps a job as
        Junior Sales Rep or...or even Trainee...maybe in the Boise
        branch office...I'd work hard for you, Joy--er, Ms. Crowd--

        "Ha!" She exploded. "Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

                T H E  E N D

Science Fiction (The Space Opera)

        As the last of the invading Rigellian space cruisers
        dissolved into harmless cosmic dust, Karya clung to
        the victorious Dirk, unabashed worship in her moist
        eyes.  "A simple problem," he explained, smiling down
        at her, "Once it became clear that the anti-matter
        propellant they were using would react synergistically
        with the etheric substrate of our Fessenshweiger force-
        fields, it was just a matter of fine-tuning our servo
        computers to maximize the output imbalance.  I'm just
        surprised I didn't think of it sooner."

        You're talking Science again, darling, she thought--
        the Science you love.  And I love you for it!

        The galaxies watched their embrace in splendid silence.

                T H E  E N D

The Tough-Guy Shamus

        So the case was closed.  I shucked off my
        .45 and filed it under "T" for Trouble,
        knowing I'd be there again sooner than I
        wanted to be. On my way out I stopped at
        the kid's desk and fired him.  He didn't
        know it, but I was doing him a big favor.

                T H E  E N D

AN ACTUAL BIT OF DIALOGUE from a Japanese monster flick, reconstructed
with reasonable fidelity:

        PROF. OKAMOTO OF THE HOKKAIDO RESEARCH INSTITUTE
        (Foremost Asian Authority on Prehistoric Monsters Who Have
         Been Awakened by Nuclear Weapons Testing And Are Very
         Cranky about It):

                "And so, in conclusion, gentlemen, Drekzilla is
                invincible.  Our most advanced weapons are useless
                against him.  We are all doomed."

        THE PRIME MINISTER:

                "I am sure that all of us thank you, Professor,
                for sharing your information with us."

        PROF. OKAMOTO:

                "Well, it was the reast I could do."

  ================================================================
   The Exciting Climax: The Nuts are in the Fire, The Die is Cast,
   The Chips are Down, The Underarm Spray is Fast Wearing Out!
  ================================================================

The Countdown Novel

        With a shock, Henderson took in the chaotic scene; 
        the normally antiseptic Strike Central looked like
        a battlefield.  Printouts, electronic parts, and assorted
        space-age jetsam lay everywhere.  A servo computer lay
        on its side, uselessly spitting tongues of flame.
        Thick, acrid smoke parted momentarily and he saw several
        bodies sprawled on the floor.  Living? Dead?  He didn't
        bother to find out, for there, at the other end of the
        huge underground room, he saw the maniacal form hunched
        over the Launch Control Console.  It had to be, it WAS
        Colonel Zane, the madman!  So Zane had finally gone over
        the edge, he thought with a rush of panic.

        Henderson had to act fast.  Running toward Zane, he
        saw that the damned maniac had already depressed all
        eleven hundred of the blood-red buttons that armed the
        ICBMs.  ALL HE HAS TO DO NOW, he thought, IS TURN THE
        LAUNCH KEY!  JUST A FLICK OF THE WRIST TO ARMAGEDDON,
        AND IT'S ALL UP TO ME!

        Almost there....almost there....He caught his breath
        to shout, and for a moment his vocal chords seemed to
        freeze in his throat.  But just twenty feet from Zane,
        just as the unheeding lunatic's hairy hand crawled
        shakingly toward the fatal silver key, he found his
        voice, the only voice that could save the world from
        final madness:

        "Hey Zane!  Cut it out!"
Sword & Sorcery Again

        Shing, the former Master Wizard of the savage, mountainous
        land of Egath, raged at his toad-familiar:

        "The fools!  The stupid, puny fools and their pathetic
        little schemes!  Thought they that by merely exiling the
        omnipuissant Shing to this K'Vall-accursed pile of offal
        beyond the Sea of Yellow Mists that they might stanch my
        implacable wrath?  They shall pay--aye, my loathsome
        bunion--they shall pay dearly!"

        The tiny toadlike creature, thinking the magnificent 
        rage of Shing was directed at it, averted its face, which
        closely resembled that of Hayley Mills during her career
        at Walt Disney Productions.     

        "And now," the sorcerer continued, his scowl brightening
        to a leer, "approaches the instrument of my vengeance, the
        pretty child; I shall use her as a skilled musician at
        the court of Lord F'Varg uses his---but hold, hold--even
        I, who have known all pleasures of the flesh, must pause
        in awe of her charms!"

        Through the Poison Garden, unaffected by the noxious
        emanations of its plants thanks to the spell cast on her
        by Shing, she approached: Argeetha, the child-woman,
        of whose innocent beauty the poets would sing down through
        the dynasties, over whom men would fight duels to the death,
        and yes, even wars that would ravage entire upper-middle-income
        housing developments.

        She drew closer to Shing, her radiance that of a thousand
        double suns, her innocence that of a Spring flower blooming
        in the high mountain meadows of Egath, half a world away.
        She spoke:

        "And what, pray, does the mighty Shing want with a lowly
        one such as I be?"

                --Sheldon

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End of SF-LOVERS Digest
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