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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Cheeky Kid who wrote (6745)	1/30/1998 3:47:00 PM
From: Gauguin	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 71178

Cheeky Kid, Pete and uncle blinky, Betty Ann... Congratulations, and welcome! I like your style. I'm honestly envious. You jump out of your cars, and already you've asked what's DAR, Rambi, and barbacoa. Me, personally, I've had to slink in here and piece together what I can over the last many months. I'm too chicken to ask anything. I make guesses, send e-mails, look at old double-crosstics, fax the Library of Congress... I did get the nerve to ask Penni if Ammo and CW ("C-dub") were really her boy's names. (They are.) I know YIO is Jeff's title as "Your Information Officer", but: ~ I still don't know what "SFE" is, (maybe one of you could ask); ~ I don't know how taht got started. It's rough, being only a third level sheep in Rambiland. Baaaa.

To: Cheeky Kid who wrote (6745)	1/30/1998 3:55:00 PM
From: Rambi	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

Hi Cheeky- Of course you may ask any question at all...I think probably the origin of Rambi has been shrouded and lost in the mists of time. So I will, with some trepidation-pull the orignal Rambi posts out of mothballs for you (and Pete and Betty and whoever else has one of those kinds of inquiring minds).. Rambi was born on December 2, 1996, the fruit of frustration from trying to deal with the men at Feelings-I believe Jeff was one of the main ones responsible for her creation-who accused me of being mushy and gooey. Clad only in a bikini and army boots, a semiautomatic slung over her shoulder, our determined heroine marches fearlessly onto the Feelings thread. She has taken all that she can-never again will they refer to her as gooey, as sentimental, as braindead. Tossing back her flowing, ashblonde tresses, she takes aim at the testosterone-bloated bodies around her and fires. A stream of CAPSLOCKED WORDS strikes the first victims, "TAKE THAT,YOU SMIRKING SONS OF BITCHES," she cries, gliding closer to inhale the intoxicating scent of their burning flesh and dipping her slender fingers in the sacrificial stream of their life force as it pours out upon her computer screen. She kneels astride each prostrate form and gently places a gummibear over their eyes as the light dies out of them- a gesture of deep symbolism-- a final benediction. Surveying with deep satisfaction the destruction she has wrought, our heroine lowers her weapon and munches contemplatively on a gummi bear as the adrenalin subsides. Gradually she becomes aware of the sound of cheering. From behind the rocks, from the dim recesses of the forest, pale forms emerge-moving tentatively toward her through the dispersing smoke. In despair, she realizes the horrible truth- Where kindness and warmth have failed, cruelty and violence have succeeded. They have welcomed her into their fraternity-she has become one with the enemy. She is RoboCop with breasts, the Terminator in pantyhose. She sinks to the ground, a low moan issuing from her very being, wondering what she has become, how she can go forward...the gummibear rises acid in her throat... Rambi had no parents, which is why she's untroubled by the usual moral conflicts, societal taboos, and religiously inspired guilt complexes that plague her alter ego. There is some mystery about her origin-some say that she emerged during the ecstatic union of the the sun and the moon during the last eclipse, springing fully formed to the Earth at the peak of the consummation. Others hold that she is the offspring of Shiva and Parvati, others say of Aslan and the Morning Star. Rambi knows only that she is, and that is enough. She appears sporadically and no one seems to have any control over her, including me. But through the past year there have been random Rambi sightings and shootings- she slips in and out. You will know you've had a visitation if you find gummibears on you when you wake up