A dark night, in Chicago. Where the crooks are tough and the sentences are too macho for verbs. There's a conference tonight. They call it LISA.
Throngs of sysadmins. Net.gods. Net.dorks. And a few very special people, taking a break from their weary crime-fighting duties in their home towns. Unaware that they will meet -- join in common cause -- and become --
The Net Crusaders.
(Who can send me their own descriptions if they like, cause some of these are suboptimal.)
"502 No fucking' permission to talk, spam boy!"
NNTP Bitch's trusty sidekick; maintainer of the NNTPmobile, and keeper of the BOFHcave.
330 mHz Alpha, 4 gigs of hard drive, 1 gig of memory, CD ROM, 21" monitor. $2,500. We love him, yet we are strangely jealous.
Don't make him requeue. You wouldn't like him when he requeues.
The mystery of the Man with the Pilot has not yet been revealed.
Sinister but compelling, the ageless Dr. XDM fights lusers with the vigor and alcoholic capacity that has made him a legend throughout the annals of BOFHdom.
He carries on the great works of his father with a firm and steady hand. "I'm not going to look in the mirror. I'm about to eat."
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Last updated 10/9/96 by Bryant the Cynical.