
  Our Obsession with Gates!                     From the Mail Packet:


                          The Man From Microsoft

 There was a knock on the door. It was the man from Microsoft.

 "Not you again," I said.

 "Sorry," he said, a little sheepishly. "I guess you know why I'm here."

 Indeed I did. Microsoft's $300 million campaign to promote the
 Windows95 operating system was meant to be universally effective, to
 convince every human being on the planet that Windows 95 was an
 essential, some would say integral, part of living.  Problem was, not
 everyone had bought it.  Specifically, I hadn't bought it and I was the
 Last Human Being Without Win95. And now this little man from Microsoft
 was at my door, and he wouldn't take no for an answer.

 "No," I said.

 "You know I can't take that," he said, pulling out a copy of Windows 95
 from a briefcase. "Come on.  Just one copy. That's all we ask."

 "Not interested." I said. "Look, isn't there someone else you can go
 bother for a while? There's got to be someone else on the planet who
 doesn't have a copy."

 "Well, no," The Microsoft man said. "You're the only one."

 "You can't be serious. Not everyone on the planet has a computer," I
 said. "Hell, not everyone on the planet has a PC! Some people own
 Macintoshes, which run their own operating system. And some people who
 have PCs run OS/2, though I hear that's just a rumor. In short, there
 are some people who just have no use for Windows 95."

 The Microsoft man look perplexed. "I'm missing your point," he said.

 "Use!" I screamed. "Use! Use! Use! Why buy it, if you can't use it?"

 "Well, I don't know anything about this use thing you're going on
 about," The Microsoft man said. "All I know is that according to our
 records, everyone else on the planet has a copy."

 "People without computers?"

 "Got 'em."

 "Amazonian Indians?"

 "We had to get some malaria shots to go in, but yes."

 "The Amish."

 "Check."

 "Oh, come on," I said. "They don't even wear buttons. How did you
 get them to buy a computer operating system?"

 "We told them there were actually ninety-five very small windows in the
 box," the Microsoft man admitted. "We sort of lied. Which means we are
 all going to Hell, every single employee of Microsoft." He was somber
 for a minute, but then perked right up. "But that's not the point!" he
 said. "The point is, everyone has a copy. Except you."

 "So what?" I said. "If everyone else jumped off a cliff, would you
 expect me to do it, too?"

 "If we spent $300 million advertising it? Absolutely."

 "No!"

 "Jeez, back to that again," the Microsoft man said. "Hey. I'll tell you
 what.  I'll give you a copy.  For free.  Just take it and install it on
 your computer." He waved the box in front of me.

 "No," I said again. "No offense, pal. But I don't need it. And frankly,
 your whole advertising blitz has sort of offended me. I mean, it's a
 computer operating system!  Great! Fine! Swell!  Whatever!  But you
 guys are advertising it like it creates world peace or something."

 "It did."

 "Pardon?"

 "World peace. It was part of the original design. Really. One button
 access. Click on it, poof, end to strife and hunger. Simple."

 "So what happened?"

 "Well, you know," he said. "It took up a lot of space on the hard
 drive. We had to decide between it or the Microsoft Network Anyway, we
 couldn't figure out how to make a profit off of world peace."

 "Go away," I said.

 "I can't," he said. "I'll be killed if I fail."

 "You have got to be kidding," I said.

 "Look," the Microsoft man said, "We sold this to the Amish. The Amish!
 Right now they're opening the boxes and figuring out they've been had.
 We'll be pitchforked if we ever step into Western Pennsylvania again.
 But we did it. So - to have YOU holding out, well, it's embarrassing.
 It's embarrassing to the company. It's embarrassing to the product.
 It's embarrassing to Bill."

 "Bill Gates does not care about me," I said.

 "He's watching right now," the Microsoft man said. "Borrowed one of
 those military spy satellites just for the purpose. It's also got one
 of those high-powered lasers. You close that door on me, zap, I'm a
 pile of gray ash."

 "He wouldn't do that," I said, "He might hit that copy of Windows 95
 by accident."

 "Oh, Bill's gotten pretty good with that laser," the Microsoft man
 said, nervously.

 "Okay.  I wasn't supposed to do this, but you leave me no choice. If
 you take this copy of Windows 95, we will reward you handsomely. In
 fact, we'll give you your own Caribbean island! How does Montserrat
 sound?"

 "Terrible. There's an active volcano there."

 "It's only a small one," the Microsoft man said.

 "Look," I said, "even if you did convince me to take that copy of
 Windows 95, what would you do then? You'd have totally saturated the
 market. That would be it. No new worlds to conquer. What would you do
 then?"

 The Microsoft man held up another box and gave it to me.

 "Windows 95....For Pets'?!?!?"

 "There's a lot of domestic animals out there," he said.

 I shut the door quickly. There was a surprised yelp, the sound of a
 laser, and then ....nothing!

            From Frank Vlamings' mail offering Monday, September 25, 1995


         *            *               *               *


 Bill Gates dies and heads up to the pearly gates..no relation!   Saint
 Peter meets him there and says, "Well, you've led an interesting life,
 Bill. To be perfectly honest, we're not quite sure which place to send
 you.  So we're going to let you decide."

 Gates swallows nervously and says, "okay". St. Peter snaps his fingers
 and they are instantly transported to a sunny beach. There's beer and
 rock music and gorgeous women playing volleyball.

 Gates says, "Hey, is this heaven? It's great!" St. Peter says," No,
 this is Hell. Let me show you what Heaven is like." He snaps his
 fingers again and they are instantly transported to a serene city park.
 There's a soft breeze and birds are chirping and old people are sitting
 on benches feeding pigeons and playing chess. Gates says, "Well, this
 is... nice. But, given a choice, I guess I'll take Hell."

 St. Peter says, "You got it," and snaps his fingers. Gates is instantly
 imbedded in molten lava where his skin is flayed off in unspeakable
 agony. All around him he can hear demonic laughter and the screams of
 the damned.

 He looks up and shouts, "Hey, it wasn't like this! Where's the beach?
 Where's the babes?"

 Saint Peter looks down from his Sun workstation and says, "Sorry,
 Bill.  That was the demo !"

  Another Derek Buchler offering from his Email October 4, 1995

                                      ww


