words about dsm..

[eclipsed at 3am]

ok i read this one story in that anarchist cookbook a couple years ago. then today, for some reason i just thought of the same story, just with a "dsm effect". here it is... the original is at the bottom.

"Jason's Last Words" by +++eclipsed at 3am+++

The Conscience of a dsmer
Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in high speed race", "racer Arrested after "improper acceleration" "... Damn kids. They're all alike. But did you, in your three-piece psychology and V8 mentality, ever take a look behind the eyes of the dsmer? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him? I am a tuner, enter my world... Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this n00b automotive crap they teach us bores me... Damn underachiever. They're all alike. I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to change the oil. I understand it. "No, Sir, its not a bad transmission or clutch, its crankwalk." Damn kid. What does he know about cars? They're all alike. I made a discovery today. I found a DSM. Wait a second, this is cool. Maybe it isnt the most reliable car. If it makes a mistake, it's because I got it into the 10's with 25 pounds of boost in under $2000. Not because it doesn't like me or feels threatened by me or thinks I'm a smart ass or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here...damn kid. All he does is tune that damn car. They're all alike. And then it happened. A door opened to a world. Rushing through quarter miles like heroin through an addict's veins, a clutch is let out, a revolution from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... high boost is found. "This is it... this is where I belong..." I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all... Damn kid. greasy hands and bandaides again. They're all alike... You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed neons and hondas at school when we hungered for speed... the speed that we did attain was short and stopped by traffic. We've been dominated by mustangs, or ignored by the corvettes. The few that tune with safc and dsmlink found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now... the world of the wrench and the socket, the beauty of the boost solenoids. We make use of a part from home depot without paying for high end expensive parts that could be dirt-cheap if dealerships werent run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We race.. and you call us criminals. We seek speed... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.
Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of tirelessly working on the dsm, night and day, perfecting my launch, looking for that upper hand on the street and I think, not about whos slower, but who is faster? My crime is that of outracing you, something that you will never forgive me for. I am a dsmer, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.
+++eclipsed at 3am+++

here is the original from the cookbook.

"Mentor's Last Words" by +++The Mentor+++


The following file is being reprinted in honor and sympathy for the many phreaks and hackers that have been busted recently by the Secret Service.

The Conscience of a Hacker
Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering"... Damn kids. They're all alike. But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him? I am a hacker, enter my world... Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me... Damn underachiever. They're all alike. I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head..." Damn kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike. I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because I screwed it up. Not because it doesn't like me or feels threatened by me or thinks I'm a smart ass or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here...damn kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike. And then it happened. A door opened to a world. Rushing through the phone line like heroin through an addict's veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a board is found. "This is it... this is where I belong..." I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all... Damn kid. Tying up the phone line again. They're all alike... You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore... and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.
Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for. I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.
+++The Mentor+++


just something cool i thought up today lol. let me know what you think

[gthompson97]

That is freakin awesome.

"Rushing through quarter miles like heroin through an addict's veins, a clutch is let out, a revolution from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... high boost is found."

Best sentence in the whole story, I think I'm going to use that in my sig, if it's alright with you afterall.

[eclipsed at 3am]

lol go for it

[EDMUND65]

good find... i agree with thompson

[Mikelb]

I'm amused... would you mind if I posted this in a blog (Myspace,with you as the writer)... b/c all my friends know that I'm car crazy...

that is just simply amazing to me...

Edit: I'll credit you as the writer, then give the link for others to read this... And you'll acheive World domination

[eclipsed at 3am]

sure i dont mind do whatever you want with it...but i just replaced some of the words of that original text with dsm/car related stuff. you guys think its cool though? neat