Received: from nobody by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with local (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cOVlZ-0006Hk-4e for lojban-newreal@lojban.org; Tue, 03 Jan 2017 12:33:05 -0800 Received: from [162.144.100.169] (port=42447 helo=bigincomesecrets.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cOVlU-0006Gt-GF for lojban@lojban.org; Tue, 03 Jan 2017 12:33:04 -0800 Date: Tue, 03 Jan 2017 13:56:14 -0700 From: "Mark J Cuban" Mime-Version: 1 To: Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Subject: I will change your life with this incredible oppertunity 9614212 Message-ID: <00240406572.24040657w9614212l_lojban@lojban.orgw.o> X-Spam-Score: 2.9 (++) X-Spam_score: 2.9 X-Spam_score_int: 29 X-Spam_bar: ++ X-Spam-Report: Spam detection software, running on the system "stodi.digitalkingdom.org", has NOT identified this incoming email as spam. The original message has been attached to this so you can view it or label similar future email. If you have any questions, see the administrator of that system for details. Content preview: new year feeds This was his grand plan. He knew exactly where the Sutters Mill gold was, for it had all been discovered and extracted by the miners who had followed Marshall. He had maps of the seams that still lay undisturbed, right here For in this world, there had been no Sutter, no Marshall, no mill and no Gold Rush. All that wealth, or a copy of it, still slept in the ground. Just waiting for Jim to take it for himself. And there was laughter, from right behind him. He whirled around, tried to stand, and stumbled and splashed back into the stream, getting his feet wet. A man faced him, wearing rough denim clothes and a broadbrimmed hat. He carried a heavy orange backpack, and some kind of pick. He was laughing at Jim, shog white teeth in a grimy face. Others popped into existence around him: men and women, similarly dressed, grubby and tiredlooking. They grinned when they saw Jim, despite the stepping nausea. Not another one said one woman. She looked attractive under the dirt. An attractive woman, mocking him. Jim looked away, his face hot. Looks like it, said the first man. Whats the deal, buddy You here to make your fortune with the Sutter gold Whats it to you The man shook his head. What is it with people like you You kind of think one move ahead, but not the next, or the next. He sounded like a college to Jim, smug, sneering. You figured out theres unmined gold on this spot. Sure there is, youre right. But what about the same site on West 6 and 7 and 8, and as far out as you can go What about all the other guys just like you, out there panning the streams on all those stepwise worlds You didnt think of that, did you He dug a nugget of gold the size of a pigeons egg from his pocket. My friend, everybody else has had the same idea The woman said, Oh, dont be too hard on him, Mac. Hell make some , if he moves fast. Gold hasnt been totally devalued yet; there hasnt been much brought back. And he can always sell it as a commodity. Its just, well, gold isnt worth its weight in gold any more More laughter. Mac nodded. [...] Content analysis details: (2.9 points, 5.0 required) pts rule name description ---- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------------- 0.0 URIBL_BLOCKED ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE: The query to URIBL was blocked. See http://wiki.apache.org/spamassassin/DnsBlocklists#dnsbl-block for more information. [URIs: bigincomesecrets.com] -0.0 SPF_PASS SPF: sender matches SPF record -0.0 SPF_HELO_PASS SPF: HELO matches SPF record 0.0 URI_TRY_3LD URI: "Try it" URI, suspicious hostname 0.7 MIME_HTML_ONLY BODY: Message only has text/html MIME parts -1.9 BAYES_00 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 0 to 1% [score: 0.0000] 0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message 1.9 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_E8_51_100 Razor2 gives engine 8 confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.5 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_51_100 Razor2 gives confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.9 RAZOR2_CHECK Listed in Razor2 (http://razor.sf.net/) 0.8 RDNS_NONE Delivered to internal network by a host with no rDNS 0.0 T_REMOTE_IMAGE Message contains an external image new year feeds This was his grand plan. He knew exactly where the Sutters Mill gold was, for it had all been discovered and extracted by the miners who had followed Marshall. He had maps of the seams that still lay undisturbed, right here For in this world, there had been no Sutter, no Marshall, no mill and no Gold Rush. All that wealth, or a copy of it, still slept in the ground. Just waiting for Jim to take it for himself. And there was laughter, from right behind him. He whirled around, tried to stand, and stumbled and splashed back into the stream, getting his feet wet. A man faced him, wearing rough denim clothes and a broadbrimmed hat. He carried a heavy orange backpack, and some kind of pick. He was laughing at Jim, shog white teeth in a grimy face. Others popped into existence around him: men and women, similarly dressed, grubby and tiredlooking. They grinned when they saw Jim, despite the stepping nausea. Not another one said one woman. She looked attractive under the dirt. An attractive woman, mocking him. Jim looked away, his face hot. Looks like it, said the first man. Whats the deal, buddy You here to make your fortune with the Sutter gold Whats it to you The man shook his head. What is it with people like you You kind of think one move ahead, but not the next, or the next. He sounded like a college to Jim, smug, sneering. You figured out theres unmined gold on this spot. Sure there is, youre right. But what about the same site on West 6 and 7 and 8, and as far out as you can go What about all the other guys just like you, out there panning the streams on all those stepwise worlds You didnt think of that, did you He dug a nugget of gold the size of a pigeons egg from his pocket. My friend, everybody else has had the same idea The woman said, Oh, dont be too hard on him, Mac. Hell make some , if he moves fast. Gold hasnt been totally devalued yet; there hasnt been much brought back. And he can always sell it as a commodity. Its just, well, gold isnt worth its weight in gold any more More laughter. Mac nodded. Another example of the surprisingly low economic value of all these stepwise worlds. A real paradox. That college smugness maddened Jim. If its worth nothing, smart ass, what are you guys doing here Oh, weve been mining too, Mac said. Weve been retracing the steps of Marshall and the rest, just like you. We went further out. We even built a copy of the mill, and a forge to make iron tools, so we could find the gold and extract it the way the pioneers did. Its history, a reconstruction. Itll be on Discovery next year; check it out. But we were not there for the gold itself. Here. And he threw the egg of gold at Jim. It landed at his feet, and lay in the damp gravel.
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You assholes. Macs smile faded, as if in disappointment at his manners. I dont think our new friend is a very good sport, gents and ladies. Oh, well Jim lumbered at the group, sging his fists. They kept laughing at him as they disappeared, one by one. He didnt land a single punch. 7 FOR SALLY LINSAY, her departure from Datum Earth, a year after Step Day, hadnt been her first step at all. She left the world because her father had gone before her. And before him, most of her family. She was nineteen years old. She had taken her time about it. Time to get her kit together, to resolve her affairs. After all, she wasnt planning to come back.

Then, early one morning, she slipped on her sleeveless fishermans jacket with all the pockets, and picked up her pack, and left her room in her aunts home for the last time. Aunt Tiffany was away, and that suited Sally; she didnt like goodbyes. She worked her way over to Park Street and strolled through the campus. Nobody around, not even a cleaner; UW was asleep. At that, the early morning was quieter than it used to be, she was sure. Maybe more people had stepped away than shed thought. At the lake shore she cut past the library, headed west along the Lakeshore Path, and kept walking towards Picnic Point. There were a couple of sailboats out on Lake Mendota, and a hardy dsurfer in a lurid orange wetsuit, and a couple of boats of the UW Rog Club, their coaches bullhorn barks carrying across the water. The horizon was bounded by green.

To some all this was idyllic, the leafy university by the lake. Not to her. Sally liked nature, the real thing. To her the Long Earth wasnt some newfangled novelty, a theme park that had opened up on Step Day. She had grown up out there. Now, looking at the rowboats and the surfer, all she could see was disturbance, idiots scaring away the birds. Just as was starting to happen in the other worlds as more idiots stumbled stepwise, slackjawed. Even this limpid lakewater was just dilute waste to her. At least she had picked a fine day to say goodbye to this place, this city by the lake, where she hadnt always been entirely unhappy, and the air was fresh. But where she was going it would be fresher.

She found a quiet spot, and walked off the path into the shade of the trees. She checked over her kit, one last time. She carried weapons, up to and including a lightweight crossbow. Her Stepper was in a plastic box of the kind her father had used. As well as the basic apparatus itself it was crowded with spares, fine opticians tools, a length of solder, printouts of the circuit diagrams. There was the potato, of course, in the middle of the tangle of beatup electronics. What a smart idea that was, a battery you could eat, if lunch became the priority. It was a professional travellers piece of kit. She was nostalgic enough to have plastered the box with a UW sticker.

But the box was a cover. Sally didnt need a Stepper to step. She knew the Long Earth, and how to travel across it. Now she was going out there to find her father. And, something that had puzzled her endlessly since she was a little playing outside her fathers shed in a stepwise Wyoming, to figure out what it was all for. Shed never been indecisive. She made a random choice of direction, grinned, and stepped. Around her, the lake, the clumps of trees persisted. But the footpath, the rowboats, the idiot on the dsurfer had gone. 8 PEOPLE HAD GONE off every which way in those early days, with a purpose or just for the hell of it. But nobody had gone further than Joshua.

In those first months, still aged only thirteen, fourteen, hed built himself refuges in the higher Earths. Stockades, he called them. And the best of them were stockades, like Robinson Crusoes. People had the wrong idea about Robinson Crusoe. The popular image was of a determined, cheerful man heavily into goatskin underwear. But at the Home had been an old, battered copy of the book itself, and Joshua, being Joshua, had read it from cover to cover. Robinson Crusoe had been on his island for over twentysix years, and had spent most of the time building stockades. Joshua approved of this; the man obviously had his head screwed on right.

It had been harder when hed first started. In Madison, Wisconsin, what you found on the other side of the reality walls, to East and West, was mostly prairie. Joshua knew now that the first time hed stepped through hed been lucky it hadnt been ter, which could have plunged him unprepared into temperatures of forty below. And that he hadnt landed in some marsh, in some place that on Datum Earth had been drained by people and turned into farmland long before hed been born.





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