Editorial

I SUFFER FROM A TERRIBLE ADDICTION CALLED COMPUTING. Although I had left for Europe to flee from the terrible slave labour camp called the office, to rest my hears from the awful rantings of my evil boss but most of all to escape from the creation (Windows 95) of the Spawn of Satan (Bill H. Gates) I had the "e-mail" urge. Ever had one of those? You are thousand of miles away from home, but you just have to read your e-mail. My girlfriend thinks I should seek medical help.

In a Cybercafe` in downtown Rome, next to the Vatican walls, with people watching the first soccer derby of the year or playing Quake I managed to send an e-mail to the few people whose address I still could remember. I then went surfing happily in Capnasty while drinking lemonade in front of an eggplant and mozzarella sandwhich. Unfortunately I couldn't check my mail. I would have to wait until my return to Toronto.

Back in Toronto I was greeted by some really good weather (20 degrees colder instead of the 40 I had estimated) and although tired and kissed to death by family and other relatives (it's an Italian thing) I finally was able to check my mail.

There were 767 messages waiting for me. 464 messages belonged to various newslists I subscribed to. Of the remaining 303 messages, 48 were spam, 46 jokes (thanks Sandra), 15 wishes of a Merry Christmas, 3 messages which were definately not for me, but somehow I was on their carbon copies, and one jerk STILL complaining of how I force religious propaganda down people's throats. In total I had 2 personal messages.

I've received some "complains" since the last two CoNs were not sent out. The reason they were not sent out was because we were all busy in our laborious lives. Our apologies to all those that wrote, and also, if I haven't replied to your e-mails yet. I will be doing that shortly.

And I'll end this with something completely unusual:

"We are flying, Katarina!"

"Like the goats, Maestro!"