Date: Fri, 8 Dec 1995 01:53:33 -0500
From:: firstname.lastname@example.org (Patrick Sobalvarro)
Subject: GSL Friday, December 8, 12:15 p.m., 8th floor playroom
There will be a GSL today. We will be serving you a hearty risotto accompanied by a delicious salad of selected baby lettuces, arugula, fresh basil, walnuts, and apples, with a simple dressing of wine vinegar, extra virgin olive oil, broken Gorgonzola, and cracked pepper. There will also be a selection of piping-hot freshly-baked breads, some with cheese, some without. To drink, a nice Pinot Grigio, and for dessert, tiramisu for those of you who want to continue in an Italian vein, but for the more adventurous, my very own special creme brulee! -- with just a touch of almond. And since we're all friends here, I'll let you in on a secret -- that subtle little almond flavor comes from a little dash of Amaretto. Just a little bit of it. Ah -- ah -- ah HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Some of you actually believed me for a minute there, didn't you? You actually believed that Jan and I had spent hours planning and preparing this meal, carefully shepherding our limited GSL funds and cooking like demons to provide our fellow miserable graduate-scolyers a taste of the experience of our former peers, people who weren't admitted to MIT for graduate school and ended up as street people wandering aimlessly around Palo Alto mumbling things like "Internet" until they bumped into a tree and four venture capitalists fell out and gave them jillions and skillions of dollars to start ill-conceived ventures that opened at 58 and immediately went to 75, then 90, then 120! Yes, and by the time you graduate it'll all be over, that's right, Netscape'll be bust, the market will have suffered a "correction," those guys at the Journal will be talking about the Internet the way they talk about Ebola Zaire, VC's won't touch computer science with a ten-foot pole and it'll be another ten years before the next scam comes along and you'll have missed it. You'll have missed it, so you'll never know what it's like to have your own table at Alain Rondelli up in the city, hundred and fifty dollar dinners every night, John Markoff calling up on the phone and 200 demented idiots with greasy ponytails and Macintosh Powerbooks cheering themselves hoarse for you in 34-101 every time you say something like, "I've been thinking about Emacs..." -- yes, the train will be gone and you'll have MISSED it, you'll just be left on the platform with a broom in your hand and it'll be no Pinot Grigio for YOU, buddy! So just to get you ready, pal, it's another twenty-six Stefani's pizzas. FOUR of them with ANCHOVIES. You don't like it? Go ahead, QUIT! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Plenty more where you came from! We're going to Star to try to find the cheapest soda we can, because we don't have much cash and there sure are a lot of you thirsty little folks, aren't there? Sure hope we have enough money left over for ice cream sandwiches, but if we don't, think of it this way: you probably wouldn't want to eat the ice cream sandwiches we can afford on the GSL budget, anyway. So come on over to the eighth floor playroom tomorrow at about 12:15. Or don't -- we don't care. It's a seller's market.