The Real Anklebyter's guide. Due to the immense popularity towards the many "real" files, I have decided to compile a guide which shows what NOT to do to become a better user. Since I have not been an anklebiter for many a year, I find it fitting that I should write such a file. First, for those of you who are not familliar with the term "anklebiter", I will define it; ANKLEBITER: One who has not owned a modem for more than 6 months, and asks annoying questions about how to use it. Anklebiters cannot be blamed for their actions, because they just dont know any better. ANKLEBYTER: One who acts immature, and generally retarded on BBS's. Anklebyters are hated by everyone (exept by other anklebyters, as anklebyters tend to stick together) Anklebyters must be set straight or they will eventually poison the minds of anklebiters. Since we all were anklebiters at one time, I will direct this guide towards anklebyters, as there seems to be a large flood of them these days. HOW TO SPOT AN ANKLEBYTER ------------------------- Real anklebyters can be of any age but are usually 12 or 13. Real anklebyters leave a "Pleeeze send me E-mail!!!" message at least once a week. Corollary: Only real anklebyters reply to such messages. Real sysop's, when spotting real anklebyters, delete them at once. Real anklebyters think that Half duplex is a small two family house. Real anklebyters hardly ever run BBS's, exept in rare occasions such as the case of Lyle Lexier. Real anklebyters cannot ever be real pirates or real sysops. Real anklebyters can be true leeches, or unreal system crashers, and usually are. When calling BBS's with 20+ message bases, real anklebyters always complain on the bitch board that there aren't enough. Corollary: Real sysops don't run BBS's with more than 13 message bases anyway. Real anklebyters have at least 5 different pseudo's. Real anklebyters name themselves after the t.v. shows they watch. (I.E. Pa Ingalls, Scrappy Doo, Jr. Frisky Frolic) Corollary: Real anklebyters never miss an episode of STAMPEDE WRESTLING. Real anklebyters try to get others to like them by setting up clubs populated solely by their many pseudo's. Corollary: Real anklebyters name their anklebyter clubs after them sound powerful. (I.E. Neo-nazi's, Resistance fighters, Jedi Knights, 9" pricks) Real anklebyters pronounce "Sysop" SIGH-SOP. (Note: Correct pronunciation is SIS-OP) Corollary: Real anklebyters think SIGH-SOP is a new type of barbeque sauce. Real anklebyters are always posting messages about what rock groups they listen to. Corollary: Real anklebyters listen to Heavy Metal because they think people will like them if they do. When a Real anklebyter achieves a measley access level of 2, he considers himself more socially valuable than an anklebiter with level 1. Corollary: Real anklebyters are always accusing others of being anklebyters. Real anklebyters watch POLICE STORY, and EYE ON HOLLYWOOD, when everyone else is watching LATE NIGHT WITH DAVID LETTERMAN. Real anklebyters try to sell games that foolish pirates gave to them. Corollary: Poor anklebiters, not knowing any better, buy such games. Real anklebyters use the family's computer. Corollary: Anklebyterness is hereditary so any brothers or sisters they have are usually anklebyters too. When on backspacing boards, Real anklebyters say "This message will erase itself" at the end of a message, then proceed to waste everyone's time by backspacing over the whole message (And knowing anklebyters, its around 90 lines of irrelevant shit). When on the local Bitch Board, real anklebyters always complain that there are never any new messages. Corollary: The reason there is never any new messages is because real anklebyters sit by their computer all day signing on to BBS's at least 4 times a day each. Not enabling any new messages to be posted. Everytime a Real anklebyter signs onto a BBS, the first thing he does is call for chat; even if last time he chatted with the sysop, the sysop booted him off. Real anklebyters type in upper case. Corollary: Real anklebyters refer to upper case as "Big letters", and lower case as "Small letters" When overhearing a Real Hacker discussing the p/w to some new system, Real anklebyters use the info and always mess things up for Real Hackers. Corollary: Real anklebyters always brag about being hackers, when their really just dick smackers. When running a BBS, Real anklebyters always cut in for chat, and sometimes when people say "I dont want to chat with you" they start to cry and threaten to delete your User I.D. Corollary: Only Real anklebyters care if he does it or not. Real anklebyters use at least 9 exlemation points at the end of their sentances. Corollary: Real anklebyters hardly ever make Real sentances anyway. Real anklebyters randomly pick people out of the user list to send E-mail to. Corollary: Only Real anklebyters reply to such messages, unless they are telling the anklebyter to fuck off. When reading files like this, and discovering they fit the description given, Real anklebyters begin to cry. GEORGE/AKA MR. MODEM MAN: PORTRAIT OF AN ANKLEBYTER --------------------------------------------------- Hooking up a computer wasn't nearly as hard as George thought it would be. He simply plugged it in according to the diagram. Soon George was ready to start gaming! He had leeched a few games from his pals at school, and one of them told him to get a modem. George didn't know what a modem was, but because of the cute name, George asked his parents. Naturally they agreed to buy George the best modem on the market, the micromodem IIe! after getting the best deal in town, George and his family came home $400 poorer... but at least they had a micromodem! The man at the store had been so nice, he gave George a list of phone numbers he could call with his new modem. George listened in on the extension after dialing one of the numbers off of his list. Someone picked up the phone, so George announced "Hello! I just got a modem, is this a modem num-" George was cut off by a terrible noise which blared at him through the handset. In tears, George yelled "That doesn't seem right! Daaaaaad-deeeee!" George's father rushed in to see what was wrong. George told him the whole thing... "Why don't we see if there was any damage done to the computer Georgie? then if anything went wrong we can get it fixed and have it back by morning!" his father comforted him. Walking into the bedroom, which was littered with lego's and G.I. Joe action figures, they noticed something was happening on the screen. ENTER U.I.D. OR NEW == It said, waiting for a reply. George was over joyed as he reached up to hug his father. Then he settled down at the keyboard to see if he could hack into this system. U.I.D. George entered, knowing it would work, because he was a hacker. It didn't work, but George shrugged it off, after all, he was just starting, it could take 5 or 10 minutes before he got in... Getting a brilliant idea, George entered NEW It worked! He applied for a P/W and soon realized that this wasn't a private system after all! He laughed in his shrill voice and leaned over to turn his computer off. It was 8:00 pm, his bedtime, and he needed rest because by tomorrow he would be validated! The next day George asked his parents if he could stay home from school to use his modem. They agreed happily, and once again George sat down at the computer and dialed that number. This time he did not fall for that tricky log on procedure, and was on line within seconds! George browsed through the BBS and decided to leave a message. From: Mr. Modem Man Date: Tue Feb 16th 1986 HI EVERYONE! I JUST GOT MY MODEM! I WANT TO TRADE SOFTWARES!PLEASE LEAVE ME E-MAILS!!! I NEED E-MAILS!!! HA HA HA !!! HI MR. SYSOP, ARE YOU WATCHING ME? HA HA HA! .S *.SS SAVE HOW DO I END THIS THING??? HA HA!! YES -S HA HA AH AH HA HA!!!! (millions of carriage returns) George called back ten minutes later, expecting a reply. No one had called. He decided to take it upon himself to notify the sysop of the lack of callers, so he selected the chat with sysop function. A few minutes later the sysop broke in. --- Sysop here --- Yes? HI I'M MR.MODEM MAN WANNA TRADE?HA HA! Umm, sure I have nothing better to do. OK!!!!A!! THANX DUDE!!!!! Ok, what kind of modem do you have? A MICROMODEM!!!! IT'S BETTER THAN YOURS! Yeah sure... IT IS!!! (George banged on his cheap clone keyboard which sent several keys plummeting to the floor.) Ok whatever you say ...Do you have AE... (George glanced at his keyboard, noticing that his A,U, and I key were currently scattered among his lego's. George said;) WELL MY A KEY IS ON THE FLOOR!!!!HAAHA! Fuck you asshole... -- Sysop out -- George began to cry.Never before had he been called such names... it didn't matter though, that guy was just jealous of his modem, thats all! ()()()( - ONE WEEK LATER - )()()() George considered himself a professional hacker/phreaker/pirate now, and tomorrow the sysop was coming over to his house to trade games! The next day, at exactly 7:00 pm there was a knock on the door. George answered, expecting to see someone about his age. (12) instead, he was surprised to see that the person which he had been talking to earlier was 17 and carried what appeared to be a baseball bat. "Hi! Are you that loser who's going to give me some games?! Ha ha ha!" The figure casually stepped inside without saying a word. Proceding to George's bedroom, he glanced into the kitchen to see if any family members were around. "Are your parents home?" he asked, as George skipped happily into his room. "No, I can stay all by myself now!!! Ha ha ha!!" George giggled as he turned on his computer. "Good that makes it easier" The person at the doorway said. "Yeah," George replied "So we can trade wares!!!!!! You can play with some of my G.I. Joe figures while this loads, if you want to." "It's ok, I'm not into that kind of thing..." "Whats your name?" George inquired as the words "LOCKSMITH 5.0 WRITTEN BY MR. MODEM MAN" appeared on the screen. "Never mind," the figure said in a deep, cold voice "Sector edited your name into Locksmith eh?" "Yeah!!!" George announced proudly "Bet you couldn't do that!!!!!!" George's parents were down the street having dinner at the Jone's house. They had drank a little too much Sherry, so were unable to hear poor little George's screams of terror. The bat came down swiftly onto Georges computer, producing a sharp crack, unlike the sound George's head had made not two minutes earlier. As the lone figure walked out of the house, and down the street, George's dog trotted into the room. Rover was a Saint Bernard, and his favorite pass time was consuming fresh meat. After chewing the last of the tender flesh, Rover curled up on George's bed and had a nice, deep sleep.