Commodore Free 29/Commodore_Free_Issue_29_2009_Commodore_Computer_Club.d64/rise and fall 1

Text File | 2023-02-26 | 10KB | 328 lines

*************************************
*  THE RISE AND FALL OF THE PULPIT  *
*        by Lenard R. Roach         *
*************************************

It was a dank and clammy night.  The
wind wafted through the trees,
obliterating any light being made by
the moon.  I stood in the empty alley
behind the 7-11 awaiting him.  He was
late.  I should of known better than
to trust him, but he was the only one
who had the goods.  Sure, I could
have gone out of town and picked it
up, but I was already running late.
A trip out of town would require a
special explanation to the wife, and
I have lied to her enough.  After
this last pick up, I would be done.
I 'm calling it quits.  I 'm getting
too old and the people I have been
dealing with are becoming too
dangerous.

Just as I was ready to give up, get
back into my  85 Chevette, and leave,
I heard him.  Who couldn't t hear
him?  His old  76 Toyota Corolla with
the bad muffler bearing and squeaky
shocks could be heard from a quarter
mile away.  As he approached, the
alley cats scrambled for cover.  I
should have done the same, but this
meeting was too important, and I
needed his special brand of
merchandise.

His one headlight remained on high
beam as he stopped just behind my car
and his vehicle sputtered to a stop.
I could barely see the driver, but I
knew it had to be him.  The moan of a
rusty car door opening, the crunch of
gravel under foot, and the rhythmic
footfalls told me that he was
approaching.  He stopped just in
front of his headlight, the light
silhouetting his frame.  His
appearance was that of nothing I have
ever seen.

He was a ball.  That s right.
Nothing more than a ball, perfectly
round hairy ball of what?  My contact
looked like a five foot tribble as he
slowly approached me.

Captain L?  he asked in a gruff
voice.
The same.   I tried looking past the
fuzz, but to my amazement I didn't t
find anything tangible that was
holding this hairball up.  Am I
addressing The Great Hairy One?

At your service,  he replied.
Do you have the stuff?  I asked
directly.
Do you have the payment?
I patted my left jacket pocket.  I
have it here.
Let s see it.
First let me see the merchandise.
Don t you trust me?
I trust everyone.  It s the devil
inside them I don t trust.
Do you think I 'm the devil?
I looked intently at him.  I don t
know what to think.  Nonetheless, the
merchandise, please.
The Great Hairy One grunted.  I think
it was a laugh, but from the creature
I could not tell.  He stepped to the
rear of his Toyota and somehow opened
the trunk.

Come and see,  he beckoned.

I stepped out of the headlight beam
and crossed to the back of his
Toyota, my body tense and ready for
anything.  This unknown creature
could do anything and without me
knowing where any hands, feet, or
weapons would hide I didn 't want to
take any chances.  I stood at the
back of the car for a few minutes,
waiting for my eyes to adjust to the
little lighting that was there, but
once they did, I could not believe
what I was looking at

There before me was all that I was
looking for Commodore drives,
keyboards, REUs, modems, the whole
lot.
I brought extra in case there was
something else that you wanted, The
Great Hairy One said. I started to
rummage through the plethora of
Commodore computer equipment when
something grabbed my arm and pulled
me back.  I looked at The Great Hairy
One.  He was standing close. Tsk,
tsk,  he said gruffly.  You've seen
that I deliver, now how about you?

I reached into my left jacket pocket
and pulled out a flat, plastic,
square package. Something from under
the fuzz pulled it out of my hand and
the package was instantly consumed by
the hair.  He began to giggle; at
least I think it was a giggle.  At
any rate, I think he was happy with
what I brought in exchange for the
Commodore merchandise.
Weird Al s Even Worse  album on CD,
he said, just what I asked for, and
new, too. I got it fresh off of
Amazon.  I never opened it.  I
brought it immediately out here to
you.  You've done well.  There was a
lilt in his voice.  Please feel free
to take all that you need. Do you
want something extra for the other
Commodore stuff?

 I already have all I wanted, The
Great Hairy One said as the sound of
the first track began to play from
underneath all the hair.  I quickly
rummaged through the computer
equipment, grabbed an extra 1581
drive, an REU, and some DSDD 3.5
disks and made my way back to my
Chevette.  After loading these items
in the car, I got in, started the
vehicle and left.  All the while The
Great Hairy One was dancing away
around the alley

Thus was the beginning of the work
which was soon to become the greatest
and yet short lived bulletin board
system ever to run on a Commodore 64
the Pulpit BBS.

Well, this may not be exactly how
this all began in fact, this is only
partly true all right, I lied out my
teeth!  You want the truth?  Fine, I
ll give it to you, but I must warn
you, it s not anywhere as exciting or
mysterious as the previously written
pages.

It began in the summer of 1994.  I
was calling so many local BBS  from
my Commodore and even though all
these boards were great, there really
didn't seem to be anything out there
for anyone of faith to call that was
Commodore based.  I have seen how
some of these boards were set up from
my calling in and the jealously began
to rage in my breast.  I know I could
do something better with my C64
system, but I had neither practical
experience nor the software to make
it all possible.  On a perchance
posting on the KBPD  Commodore board,
I read from its SysOp, Sgt. Butch,
that he was planning to shut down his
board in favour of going to the IBM
format and was looking for someone to
purchase his Commodore equipment and
subsequent files which made up the
KBPD.   I instantly jumped at this
opportunity and after several hours
on my knees begging my beautiful and
understanding wife Alana to allow
this purchase to take place, we were
on our way to Belton, Missouri, with
money in hand and her father s pick
up to get this large amount of
Commodore merchandise.  The deal was
struck, and within about an hour s
time we had all of Sgt. Butch s
Commodore computers, drives, and
disks loaded in the Dodge Ram and we
headed back to Kansas City, Kansas.

It s your stuff, dear, Alana said
sternly as we pulled up in front of
the house.  You drag it into the
house and put it away.  I want
nothing more to do with it.

Like a child in a candy store, I
began the joyous task of unloading
the pick up and putting all that
Commodore equipment in its proper
place.  As I dragged all this out of
the vehicle, I examined each piece
carefully, deciding what could go
into storage in the basement and what
went immediately into the computer
room for set up to my soon to exist
BBS.  As I worked a thought occurred
to me:  What was I going to call my
new BBS?  Sure, it was going to be
set up as a Christian BBS, but it
needed a catchy name something that
would grab a user s attention and
make him keep coming back for more.
Should it be called The Church, The
Steeple, The Way, The Door, or The
Outhouse?   I finally had to begin to
analyse what it was I was going to
dobring the gospel of Jesus Christ to
many wayward Commodore users
throughout the greater Kansas City
area and beyond.  Therefore, by the
time everything had a place the name
was chosen.  Where else does one hear
about the Word but from the pulpit?
So by set up time, the new BBS was
going to be named The Pulpit.

Now, what software was I going to
use?  I had Sgt. Butch s  C*Base 3.0
disk, but with working offline with
the confusing and often frustrating
C*Base 2.0, I wasn't ready to tackle
its upgraded cousin.  I went through
the disk files and found several BBS
packages to work with. After calling
several friends, I asked them to call
in to my house line with their
Commodores and go through each BBS
package I uploaded and give me their
opinion of each.  One by one,
packages like Ivory and other
programs, both familiar and
unfamiliar, were eliminated.
Finally, the argument was inevitable.
 I had to learn to use C*Base 3.0,
the best BBS package for the
Commodore 64 of the day.

I dialled into The Temple of Doom BBS
and asked its SysOp, Indiana Jones,
who was running C*Base 3.0, for a
crash course in how to set up and
operate the software.  He was very
cordial and helped me in ways I
couldn't imagine.  It took a couple
of weeks, but I got all the files
ready and each disk drive set up to
receive messages in accordance to the
functioning of C*Base.

The day came.  I posted on all the
BBS  I was a member of to let users
know that The Pulpit BBS was online
and ready to help in any spiritual
needs out there in cyberspace.  At
first the calls came rushing in, so
much so that we put in a second phone
line to handle the flow of messages
and questions.  Then the BBS went
from part time to a full 24/7 running
time.  At first it seemed that The
Pulpit was going to be a big success
and everything was going to be fine.
What could possible go wrong?
Plenty.

I'm sure those who ran BBS  in the
past have had their share of rascals
that would log in and start harassing
the users.  The Pulpit had its
problem child.  A Ku Klux Klan member
who liked to call in at 3:00 am while
drunk and send hate messages to
everyone on the board began causing
stuff among members.  Distress posts
went out to me and I tried to quell
those who were distressed by letting
them know that The Pulpit, like a
church, was open to all those who are
in need.  It was apparent that this
person was in need and I didn't want
to shut him out of the church
because he had a problem. That would
not show him the help he seemed to
need.  However, I would talk with him
and see what could be done.  Our
conversation was brief in the message
base, but the user agreed to back off
and not do that again.  A week went
by and everything was fine. Then a
post came to me saying he was getting
sexually rude with one of the women
members of the BBS.  I went into the
private message base of The Pulpit
and read what was sent to one of the
women.  Nothing shocking in my
opinion, but still I would invest-
igate further. The problem user again
agreed to back off.

     CONTINUED IN PART 2