Big Red's Tales of the Uncanny

[Jodo]

Before long, though, I was able to get to the World Wide Web, my exploration of which quickly ate up my 20 hours per month (at a cost of $39, IIRC),

Mother of Pearl. XD That sounds horrible.


I have ALWAYS had trouble with the laptops I have owned. Although I don't remember the specs of them, both of them have had their disk drives go out for no apparent reason. The one I had when I was around 16, and it did ok for about 6 months. The last one I got when I was 19, when I started college, and it has done well until about 6 months ago. I went to put the new Norton 360 virus protection on it, and it never would read the disk. I can put the disk in, and hear the humming noise as if the disk is loading, but after that nothing happens. I went to My Computer, and it doesn't register anything in the drive.

I might add, that I don't really like computers overall. Outside of Facebook, and a few forums I am on, I have no knowledge of how they really work.

[Big Red]

I hate Norton and won't use any Symantec products. I'll just leave it at that.

As far as the 20 hours it took me to explore the whole of the World Wide Web, that was actually kind of accurate. When AOL bought out Webcrawler it only had access to 400 sites, 372 of which were porn (just kidding, although the 400 number is accurate). When they finally opened it up a bit it was a mess. You seldom got the same results twice and would sometimes never be able to get back to a site after you'd found it. It did open up early enough that I was able to start getting on Star Wars sites in 1995, which I did promptly after reading in the local paper that they'd just released a new line of figures then running out to KB Toys to pick them up. I wish I remembered the name of that first site. It was pre-SSG, although everyone soon migrated over there. I suspect at least a couple of the seven of us from that first site are still around.

[Jodo]

I never think of SW sites even existing at that point in time. As a kid the computer was more of "that thing" we had, that I always wanted to type stories out in Word and print.

Later on, towards TPM's release, I can remember begging people to help me find new information on the new movie coming out. I think between the few tidbits we found, and the SW Insider magazine, that's all I really knew of new information about the new movie. I sort of miss those days....

[Big Red]

It's pretty cool to think back on how early I was able to get on the online Star Wars collecting bandwagon. That was one of the things that turned my brother staunchly against the Internet early on because it validated his ideas that it was a geeks-only domain. I know my timeline above is a bit off, but it's been 18 years. What I do remember of that first site I got on was that it had a grand total of two posts the first time I found it (the one saying "welcome to my Star Wars webpage," and the other talking about the news that there would be new figures), and the only graphics were a couple pics of old figures. I know the "message board" was very primitive and the guy who ran the site had to approve the posts; and that it definitely preceded SSG because one of the big pieces of news at one point was that there was a new collecting site to check out. I asked about that site in the various forums in those early years and even had Sir Steve tell me I was mistaken or making it up because he had the first site.

[Qui-Gon Jim]

My first exposure to the SW online community was receiving Adam Pawlus' e-mail newsletter. Wow, that was a long time ago.

[Big Red]

I never did any newletters. I also never got into the newsgroups, even though a lot of people I talked to back then were really into them. It wasn't for lack of interest, but AOL didn't have a newsgroup reader. At some point in '97, a coworker gave me a copy of Outlook 97 on floppy (I think it was 48 disks, which I still have in a box somewhere in the basement). I'd heard that Outlook had a newsgroup reader but found out I'd been misinformed after I installed it. I couldn't get the Outlook Express newsgroup reader to work on my PC until 2001 or 02, but by that time I didn't have any real interest in them. The forum communities had long been in full swing by that point anyway, so I don't know that there was even much value then.

[Qui-Gon Jim]

alt.rec.starwars.... Ahh... The good old days. Also, floppies.

[figureaddict]

Never did the newsletters either. Didn't really get into the Star Wars Internet stuff untill around 97 or 98. But havn't left since. I finally this past summer threw away the last of my 5inch floppy discs. Was first introduced to the 'chatroom' in college back in 1993. One of the big news items right now in sports is the Manti-Taeo scnadal where a lot of the older sports announcers don't understand how he could be scammed into thinking he was in a relationship with a person just over the phone and the internet withought actually seeing the girl in person. Being the age I am I can fully understand their scepticism, but can also understand the other side where I have known people in college who thought they had fallen in love with someone just by chatting with them on the web. I actually miss having to enter numbers to a web address instead of a name, kinda nostalgic I guess.

[Big Red]

Back when I still relied on floppies, Staples or someone had a big sale. It was buy one get one free on a case of 300 floppies for either 4.99 or 9.99. I used those for years, although I was slow to adopt CD's for anything other than music. I used to get on bulletin boards with my Commodore 64 back in the 80s. The ones around here were utterly un-exciting, although they'd get a little active at night. When I first started using IE, I was pretty suspicious of the bookmark feature. I didn't like the idea that someone could get on my PC, hit my favorites and see which sites I went to the most often. As a result, I memorized the URL's of the sites I went to most often, one or two of which were just IP addresses. I got over that when I found myself having to write them all down on a cheat sheet which I kept in the drawer next to my keyboard (because, you know, nobody would ever think to look there). It was right next to the Post-It note with all my passwords.

I know plenty of people who can't grasp the notion that people can develop actual relationships online. I got to be good friends with several people early on and stayed close to a few of them for years. I've also read of several marriages that started as online relationships. At least two of them didn't see each other, even a picture, until just before the wedding. Granted, I still find it hard to believe that Mati-Taeo wasn't in on the hoax, but I'm a bit cynical about some things.

[Big Red]

In my youth I spent many an hour in a couple of the local pool halls. Before that, I spent even more time playing on my parents' table. One of the highlights of my early dateless years in college was winning the 9-ball tournament at the pool hall we haunted the most. I'm sure I mentioned it a few times in the old forum and won't go into all the details here, other than to point out that the guy I beat in the final game was something of a local legend and I was more likely to have lightning strike three or four times than win that tournament.

I got to reminiscing about my misspent youth the other day after I started playing 8-ball online and my son asked me about it. A good deal of my wife and my early dates were spent playing pool, so it was fun to rehash some memories. My dad's pool table had actually belonged to my grandpa, but when my grandparents moved when I was about 7, we ended up with it. We hadn't been allowed to play it too often at my grandparents' house, but once it was ours I played all the time. After years and years of playing, I wasn't much of a player. We were kids and we knew that the best, in fact the only way to play pool was to hit the ball as hard as you could and hope that something went in. The only game we knew how to play was 8-ball, although we'd occasionally make up games of our own. By the time I was 12 or so, I was a shade better. I knew that hitting the ball as hard as possible didn't work in every situation and I understood some of the basics of banking. When I was 15 or so, I saw a tournament on either ESPN or ABC's Wide World of Sports. In the middle of it they played a segment from a "how to play pool" video, and my life changed dramatically. That's when I first got a good explanation of English, or putting spin on the ball. I spent the next few months practicing my back spin (the only thing that really made an impression on me) and working on my bank shots and combos. I still only knew how to play 8-ball, but I was much more confident in my skills. By the time I was 18, very few of my friends and family could beat me, and never consistently. My dad actually quit playing me for several years at this point, primarily because I beat him soundly on a regular basis. I was so confident in my skills that at my graduation party, I offered to put my car on the line for a single shot. My cousin and I had been playing two of my friends in a string of friendly games. It stayed friendly after we started betting on our shots, with a 10-cent maximum per shot. It got much less friendly when we bumped it up to a dollar per shot. In the last game we got rid of the limit and I ran the table. I was up by $30-40 and had only the 8 ball left. It was behind two of his balls and sinking it would require a three-rail bank. The guy who was most worked up over the game said he wanted to take the limit up to $100. He was sure I wouldn't make it. Between my cousin and I, we only had about $90. I was on a roll and my cousin was willing to put up his half of the cash, but the other guy wouldn't go below $100. I decided to call his bluff and told him instead of cash, we should go for cars. Neither of us had a great car, but his was a bit better than mine. I was sure enough that I'd be able to make the shot that I didn't hesitate. We argued it out for about ten minutes and he decided to forfeit the game and walked out. My cousin and the other guy wanted to see if I could really make the shot, no money involved. I missed, horribly.

I started hanging out with the guys who would make up my regular stable of friends through college shortly after my 18th birthday. It didn't take long for us to realize that couldn't go drinking every night. This coincided with what would soon become one of our favorite hangouts opening up--the pool hall. This wasn't a bar with pool tables--there were a few of those we could go to occasionally during the 18 and up hours; this was a a good old-fashioned pool hall. They didn't serve food or drinks, or anything else for that matter. You could play pool, buy cues and supplies and sit around at the tables in back talking about pool and playing cards. It was open until 3:00 AM every night and was generally devoid of any drama except for that which was found naturally on the tables. Among my friends, I was the big dog. I had a killer back spin and a mastery of bank shots. I think it was our first night up there that we quickly found out that if all you had was a killer back spin and a mastery of bank shots, you didn't have a right to even try to play someone in a serious pool hall. The best part about that first night, though, is that we found out that the real serious players, at least around here, only played 9-ball.

I'd heard of 9-ball before but I'd never played it. I didn't know the rules, even. After that first night of playing it, though, I'd seldom play anything else. While 8-ball was fun, 9-ball seemed to take a great deal more skill and finesse. Since any serious game required you to call each shot, it also brought in a level of strategy that I'd never seen in 8-ball. We spent the next few months watching the really good players, playing the halfway decent ones and practicing until our fingers ached. The pool hall charged by the hour, not by the game, so we could stake out a table and play all night. If a big group of us went together, or if we met up with some other guys, we'd get 3-4 tables between us and swap partners all night. Some guys were highly skilled but had no clue when it came to strategy. In other words, they could make just about any shot you threw at them but they had no idea how to set up shots or stick their opponent without a shot. Other guys were great strategists but couldn't make a short, straight-on shot if their lives depended on it. Other guys were attention whores who knew a handful of trick shots and could put such a huge amount of English on a ball that they could send it wherever they wanted on the table, but had no idea how to actually play a game. I had decent enough skills and a mind for strategy that I could hold my own against a lot of the guys up there.

We very seldom played for money (it was against the rules), but we would play for drinks & snacks from the vending machines, or some of the cheaper supplies from the shop (chalk, talc bags, etc.). The best guys to play were the ones who knew just enough to think they were good. We'd lure them in by playing a smash & slam game (we'd hit the balls as hard as possible on every single shot), then kick their butts once Mountain Dew, Kit-Kats or chalk was on the line. We also played the handful of genuine, old-time hustlers who came in whenever we could. Even if we didn't pick up any new tips or tricks from them, $2-3 in snacks was worth getting to chat with them and watch them play for a few minutes.

Most of the decent players considered it poor form to use trick shots in a serious game. As such, while I got to be pretty good with my English, I didn't bother much with actual trick shots. The one I got really good at, though, was one I could work into games from time to time. The way it worked was if you had two balls, one at each of the two pockets on one end, and the cue was against the rail on one side. If you were on the right rail, you'd hit the cue toward the closest ball using upper left English. You'd knock in that ball then ride the rail to the other hole and knock in the other ball. It was a pretty easy shot to master, difficult to screw up, intimidating as heck against someone who wasn't familiar with it and frustrating to someone who was. I didn't get a lot of in-game opportunities to use it (maybe 10-12 total over the course of 3-4 years), but when I did it always went off like a charm. The best, though, was an absolute fluke. After knocking in the second ball, the cue still had enough momentum that it ricocheted off another ball, came back to the near end rail and knocked in a third ball. The guy I was playing walked out.

The two things I worked on most were setting up shots/leaving my opponent without a shot, and pocketing the 9-ball early. It was always hugely satisfying to end a game with an early pocket. On a handful of occasions I pocketed the 9-ball on the break (never in a tournament, which would have been awesome). The best times were when I pocketed it on a difficult or seemingly impossible shot. Improbable banks, using back spin to pull the cue back the length of the table and multi-ball combos always ended a game with an exclamation point. Then again, I also loved the long, drawn out games where you knew the only chance you had was to repeatedly leave your much-better opponent without a shot while trying to set yourself up for a combo. The handful of times that I beat a couple of the old sharks and hustlers was mostly by following this strategy. Running the table was fine, but it always sucked losing to someone that way, so it was never quite as satisfying for me when I did it myself.

One of the more enjoyable nights at the pool hall took place on a night after we hadn't been there in a while. My stable of friends had broken up a bit over some internal strife and it was just Gary and I that night. There was this pair of guys there who were absolute pool studs. This was the early 90s so of course their mullets were rockin'. They had pencil-thin moustaches and the short sleeves on their T.J. Maxx button-down shirts were, naturally, rolled up. They had neon aluminum cue sticks and monogrammed Zippos. They were all about the flash, baby, and would run through all their trick shots before even thinking of starting a game. We knew them by sight but they weren't guys we regularly hung around with. We'd been there a while and were two tables over from the thunder studs. They yelled and pumped their fists every time they pocketed a ball and did the double high-five whenever they won a game. If they were playing anyone over 16 (the pool hall had hit rough times and was letting kids in at this point), the half-hug accompanied the double high-five. They'd managed to pick up a couple of 14-15 year old girls (the studs were in their mid-20s) and were engaged in a complex mating ritual involving leaping cue balls, pocketing four balls at once and slapping each others butts.

Gary and I decided we'd heard enough hooting and seen enough double high-fives, so we sauntered over and complimented them on their bitchin' cues. They cautiously accepted our compliments, then gradually loosened up as we praised their skills and ignored their women. We watched them beat the stuffing out of a string of high schoolers, then suggested we engage them in a friendly game. They turned us down several times but finally agreed. We took things easy that first game, marveling at the ridiculous amount of spin they were able to get with their surprisingly flexible cues. We let them win, then got serious in the second game and beat them pretty handily. With things tied, they had to go for a rubber match. We wiped the felt clean with them. With their jail bait looking on, they had to save face so they challenged us to another best-of-three. We upped the stakes and played for sodas the first game, then Reese's Cups the second. The girls had been growing seriously disinterested in Reese's game, but then Gary started hitting on them. This all but guaranteed a third best-of-three, although this time we each put up $10. We whipped them in two straight again. One of the girls was all over Gary now, and the thunder studs were furious. They wanted one more go at us, this time for $20 apiece. We agreed and were shocked when they managed to take the first game. We then got things back on track, with Gary running the table the second game and me polishing off the last 6-7 balls in the final game. The thunder studs left deflated. We had the girls call their parents then sat around and ate Skittles with them while they waited for one of their moms to come pick them up.

When my wife & I started dating, the long nights at the pool hall with the guys came to an end. It wasn't so much that we didn't want to hang out anymore; it's that I got much worse at pool when I was playing with her. You can't exactly win a girl over when you're mopping up the table with her. I still tried to stay sharp, though, and occasionally managed to get an opportunity to challenge myself. I think the last really great game I played was against my cousin. I was a bit rusty by this time while he'd been playing fairly regularly. We shot around a bit to warm up then played a few games of 9-ball. He was never a big fan of the game, especially the more strategic elements, so we switched over to 8-ball. I hadn't played in years and lost the first game after instinctively pocketing the 8-ball off a combo right off the bat. I got my head on straight and we split the next several games and were finally tied up, something like 4 games each. On the last game I broke, knocked in two solids, gave it over to him for a couple shots, then ran the table down to the 8 ball. These were just friendly games, the only thing on the line being bragging rights, but I'd choked after running the table in an earlier game and was now facing an impossible shot. It was similar to the shot he'd seen me mess up years earlier at my graduation party, only a bit more difficult. The cue was buried behind two stripes by one of the near corner pockets, as was the 8 ball by the other near corner. The only way I could possibly sink the 8 ball was to bank the cue off the near rail, around the two stripes, then bank off the far rail, go around the two stripes by the other pocket, bank off the near rail again and into the 8 ball, sinking it the other corner. I called the shot which elicited a huge laugh from my cousin. He offered to not only pay for the table but my lunch as well if I made it. When the 8 ball dropped, so did his jaw. He insisted that I'd cheated somehow. He refused to pay up at first, but then set up the shot exactly as it had been and told me he'd only pay if I sunk it again. Which I did. I forget what I had for lunch, I just know that I ordered the most expensive thing on the menu and that my cousin hasn't played me since.