World Watch OnLine: The UnOfficial Buckaroo Banzai Mailing List
#  21
Submissions: WWatchOne@aol.com
Editor: Banzai88@aol.com
Archives: http://members.aol.com/wwatchone
                ftp://members.aol.com/wwatchone/download
FAQ: http://www.slip.net/~figment/bb/bbindex.shtml


Number of subscribers: (beats me, I've gotten behind on keeping up 
lately. Next time for sure!!)
(NOTE: anyone who doesn't have an "@something" behind their name is
from 'aol.com.')

Contents:
Greetings
Re: World Watch OnLine 20 - 2 Mar. 1997
BB and me
No Subject
RE: World Watch OnLine 20 - 2 Mar. 1997
Banzai-dom, or How I Breached the 8th Dimension
Buckaroo Banzai
Ok, sure. . .what the hell
fun and games
Webring
"Help" part II

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Greetings,
Short one from me (hold the applause!) this time, so I can squeeze
more of "Help" in this time.
Hope those looking for a copy of BB caught it on HBO. Best print
I've seen; better than the videotapes or laserdiscs. Boy, this really
points to the need for a new release.
Coming on again the 23rd at 6:15am; and the 27th at 6:30am (Pacific time)

So, on with the show...
Chris

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Subj:	Re: World Watch OnLine 20 - 2 Mar. 1997
Date:	97-03-03 02:45:07 EST
From:	FRED312

I would just like to say Hi to everyone, being new and all. Now, I
don't know about all of you, but I am anxiously awaiting March 31st, which is
supposed to be THE day that the DVD hits the USA. Now, for any of those
unfamiliar with this format/concept, it's a Digital Video Disc, the size of a
CD, but it will hold 2+ hours of video and audio (in 6 channel AC3 digital
sound (just like in the re-released Star Wars movies)). It also has numerous
viewing options (like letter box, different rated versions (no more seperate
director's cuts)) and the discs are supposed to be about $20
apiece. Now, yes, it's an outlay of some $$$$$- the DVD players (not
recordable yet) will run about $500 to start, and an AC3 receiver's going at
$800 for openers, so... however, like anything else, the price will surely
drop significantly in 6 months. And assumably, there will be a
lovely, digitally remastered version of BB out soon too... can't wait.

Matthew A. Lapinski

WW1>> Well, call me a cynic, but I'm in no hurry. I've yet to see anything I'd 
consider objective saying the quality is better than laserdisc, and I
well remember how the mini-disc was supposed to make CDs obselete
a few years back Of course, *anything* that gets a new release of BB out will have my
undying support, no matter what.  <<WW1


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Subj:	BB and me
Date:	97-03-03 16:17:15 EST
From:	beej_martin@earthlink.net (Beverly Martin)

Well... I've been in BB fandom since the inception of the movie... I
converted all of my large circle of friends and I must have seen the
movie at least 20 times that happy year of 1984.  
	It was one of those: "Hey, have you seen this movie yet? Let's go --
you'll LOVE it!" situations and most times we ended up doing the strut
on the way out of the theatre.  And of course, I gots the Novel.
	I immediately abused my influence at the local paper and retrieved a
presskit (complete with all photos and such fun) and through my dear
friend (and oddly enough, Lectroid) John Nevermore (April Anderson) we
then all got headbands and more goodies from the original WWI -- back
when Denise Tathwell (now Okuda) was working at 20th Century Fox.  Oh
those were the days!!!  I still recall how Denise bragged that since the
BB contract was dead, that she used the Freddy Krueger mailing account
to handle all BB duties.
	Hmm... what else?  I was a participant in the first BB fanzine in Texas
-- The Penny Paradox (I designed the logo, wrote the veddy-sad Rawhide
bits and such...) and was all set to sell BB patches at NASFiC 1985 when
Starland got the contract. *sigh*
	Anyway, as a BBI, my nickname was Komish - graphics arts intern to Reno
(for those comics!) and my Lectroid persona is John Mr. Pibb.

	I hope you're willing to add me and my nuttiness to the BB mailing
list! 

	Adios,

	Beverly Martin
	beej_martin@earthlink.net


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Subj:	No Subject
Date:	97-03-03 21:02:26 EST
From:	ash73@indy.net (Groovy!)

Hey fellow Blue Blazers,

Just a word of advice (in my opinion): If you see someone selling or
auctioning off the Banzai laserdisc or videotape for an outrageous amount,
save your money. I just got through watching Banzai on HBO. I have the
laserdisc and the picture quality of Banzai on cable is better! (Well I
guess it really depends on your cable reception). It's definately better
than any of the commercially released video tapes.

BCNU,

Christopher


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Subj:	RE: World Watch OnLine 20 - 2 Mar. 1997
Date:	97-03-04 21:06:11 EST
From:	ccrowell@ea.com (Crowell, Chris)

Reading the installment at the end of the newsletter reminded me of
another fun group of books.  They made a pretty sucky movie out of em,
but if you get the chance to read any Doc Savage books, do it.  They are
very cool.


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Subj:	Banzai-dom, or How I Breached the 8th Dimension
Date:	97-03-05 11:46:34 EST
From:	lyo1469@kcmetro.cc.mo.us (Heather Lyon)

Hello! Call me Kittenwhip (or Kittywhip, whichever you prefer.). I'm a
singer and historian who has a thing for Rawhide. My "weapon of choice",
if you will, is a whip. 
I got turned on to Buckaroo Banzai mainly because of Clancy Brown--at
least, that was my initial incentive for taping the movie off of cable
the other night. But the more I watch it, the more I appreciate the
finer points of it. It's a really cool, easy-going, hip, fun movie, and
I'm dying (so to speak) for a sequel--anything! It's kinda like they had
a good thing going, just started...and then they left us hanging.
Bummer. I really hope this e-mail gets through to you--I can't always
access my own e-mail, but please keep trying to contact me; I really
want to join. I'd send my mailing address (snail mail), but that's not
the kind of risk I like to take over the internet. Anyway, thanks very
much, and I hope to hear from you soon.
Kittenwhip
"No matter where you go, there you are." --B. Banzai


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Subj:	Buckaroo Banzai
Date:	97-03-07 16:22:33 EST
From:	AslanAusTX

I am excited to find
this mailing list, and want to join, if for no other reason to know the
latest information on a letterbox laserdisc release.  
I first saw BB on HBO or Cinemax, where my friends and I watched it many
times over.  Shortly after (sometime 1984-85) the movie was played as a
midnight movie at  the local theatre that played Rocky Horror.  I and two
friends were the ONLY people in the audience (total attending probably less
than 30) that had any idea what was going on in the film.  We had an
outrageous time laughing hysterically at the lines that went right over
everyone elses head, adding our own stupid comments and quotes to the movie
(ala Rocky Horror) without being TOO distracting to the rest of the audience,
I think.  (We were sitting at the front of the theatre anyway, and so most of
our comments probably weren't heard by them.) 
Upon getting a VCR the movie was one of my first acquisitions, and has been
played countless times.  Since getting a lserdisc player I have been wanting
a new release in that format, hopefully in widescreen.  I really didn't have
much hope of this happening until I read the information in the FAQ (which I
just found.)  
I have the paperback novel, which I enjoyed immensely, though is certainly
due for a re-read (going through the FAQ pointed out I have forgotten much of
the novel.)  My favorite part of the novel that is not in the movie, and the
concept that has stayed with me since reading it, is that of "consciousness
radiation".  Throughout the years various circumstances bring this concept
back to mind, especially moments of "deja vu"!  

That should be enough of an intro, I think.  Currently enjoying HBO's
showings of the movie this month (and getting the best possible copy I can.) 

Blue Blazer Irregular Derek Donnell


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Subj:	Ok, sure. . .what the hell
Date:	97-03-07 21:11:09 EST
From:	mcolville@earthlink.net (Matthew Colville)

You know, it's strange.  Strange how influenced a person can be by an
event and then, later, forget about it even though the influence
remains.

	My name's Matt, I'm 26, and I saw Buckaroo Banzai when the movie came
out in 1984.  I was 14.

	It had a pretty big impact on me.  At the time, I did not know that
movies based on comic books almost always failed to caputre the spirit
of the comic book.  BB is, oddly enough, exactly like a comic book, even
though it's totally original (although I did buy and read the Marvel
adaptation. . .and read the book.  Wierd book.  More of a script.  This
dissapointed me and left me with the impression that the author didn't
care enough about it to actually write a standard novel.)
	The people in BB talk and act like characters in a comic book. 
Perfectly serious, in spite of the overblown absurdity of thier
predicament.  With an off-handed coolness combined with good-natured
humor.  The actors actually seemed as though *they* had been hanging out
together for a few years, knew each other, and enjoyed each other's
company.

	A movie book I have described BB as a "silly movie for smart people." 
This was by way of a compliment.  I just saw, again, BB on HBO and was
pleasantly surprised.  I have, since 1984, written a novel and done a
little world-building of my own and had, in the normal course of events,
almost totally forgotten how much I loved BB when I was a kid and how
badly I wanted the Hong Kong Cavaliers to be real.  They were like a
real, live superhero team, made up of people who, instead of
superpowers, were merely very, very smart, and cool, and could play rock
music.  Wow!
	Now I can see more clearly how BB influenced me, and it did so in no
small part.  So, here I am, checking out BB sources on the Net.  Sure,
sign me up for the mailing list!  What else is the internet for, if not
to waste phenomenal amounts of time persuing one's whims?


Matthew M. Colville


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Subj:	fun and games
Date:	97-03-11 23:00:28 EST
From:	loganpos@fyi.net (Fanatic)

TO:   persons recieving World Watch Wire Via Email	
From: Fanatic CO BBI Viper Strike Force Cobra team	
Re:   All pgaes located at http://www.geocities.com/Area51/3917	

----------------------------------------------------------------

I have to admit KEEPING A page is hard, but with the amount I have now
it's tough with work and School. I know what y'all are saying when Is
the Hero going to change? right now the PROJECTED completion date is May
1 1998 at 00:01 ET baring ANY big problems it's the earliest it'll be
done.
I have a small request for all readers could any one send pictures
scanned of:
Mark Hammil, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, Anthony Daniels, Billy Dee
Williams, and the other hero's from the SW trilogy current Publicity
shots but captures from the films perfered. 
please send them to loganpos@fyi.net
now as for the current pages I made some minor changes if U spot them
let me know! IF I do not hear anything about the Anaconda team as in
form of requests for membership (0 as of 3-11-1997) 
domu arrigatu for your time y'all!!

Fanatic

two good ideas
"It's all fun and games until some1 loses an eye then it's just fun"

"Snake Pliskin SHOULDN'T have fun and games He could go blind if he
wouldn't be carful!"


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Subj:	Webring
Date:	97-03-14 02:03:08 EST
From:	buckaroobanzai@geocities.com (Princess Rachel)

There is now a Buckaroo Banzai webring. The home of the webring is
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Vault/1219/bb-ring.html

The info on what it's about and whatnot are there.

Rachel
buckaroobanzai@geocities.com


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Subj:	toys
Date:	97-03-16 00:20:29 EST
From:	relayer@annex.com

Coded... calling all Blue Blaze Irregulars...

tired of watching the sky roll by while booting? 
wish you could break from the corporate cloud?
care to declare your true affiliations for all to see?

then you might get BANZAI 95, a complete makeover for 
Win95.

Included are ANIMATED startup screens and static shutdown 
screens featuring Banzai Institute and Yoyodyne themes.

i have added a new animated cursor of the Yoyodyne logo to
the other 3 (Jet Car, BB logo & chopper) and the most-requested
soundbytes from BBS#23 in .WAV format for attaching to events
(they .wav files will work under w3.1 also)

the whole package is 497k zipped. Instructions are included, 
as well as a batch file to do the substitution of the screen bitmaps
(and a restore batch file).

you can get to the page from BBS#23:Conference Room or direct:
http://bbs.annex.com/relayer/bbtoys.htm

Declare your freedom from Yoyosoft... er, Microdyne... i mean...

enjoy.
relayer

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Whoops! Part one was posted with no disclaimers whatsoever, which as 
a good fanfic List subscriber I should know better. So, in the interest of fending
off any pesky lawyers, here's my quickdisclaimer:
"Buckaroo Banzai" and related characters and concepts are copyright
Credit Lyonnaise.
The story itself, however, is copyright our very own Apache, and can not
be re-distributed or archived anywhere without her express permission.
For those that missed part one, email WWatchOne@AOL.COM and 
I'll get it out to you.

"Help" part II
by lf@cais.com (Apache)

	The heart of the ranch was a homestead with a cluster of barns and
silos, and a few outbuildings like a bunkhouse for the temporary hires
during roundup.  The main house dated from the second wave of settlers,
the ones who could afford glass for the windows from the start.  It was a
spare, weatherbeaten place whose activity centered on a big kitchen lined
with shelves that were bright with bottles of jams, conserves, preserves,
fruits and vegetables of various kinds, and even the odd jar of
pickalilli, because Rawhide's taste for hot spices was fondly indulged in
this house. 

	In the front room there was a piano, an old upright whose shelf
was covered with sheet music for genteel ballads -- 'Flow Gently, Sweet
Afton' was on top.  Rawhide let his fingers run along the keys, then sat
down on the bench and truly addressed the piano.  He played at tremendous
speed a passage from Bach's 'Sleepers Awake,' one of the most joyous
pieces in all music.  Buckaroo leaned against the piano, feeling the notes
vibrate through his forearms. 

	The music ended.  "That was my mother's favorite," said Rawhide. 
"I used to play it when she was feelin' sick."  He stood up and put his
hands in his pockets, and glanced at Buckaroo.  "She died when I was
twelve," he said.  "Hodgkins." 

	Buckaroo nodded sympathetically.

	Half hesitating, Rawhide went on.  "I used to read the paper to
her, too."  He swallowed.  "I remember reading to her about your parents." 

	Buckaroo was motionless, expressionless.

	"It was such a weird thing, that rocket car blowing up out on the
hardpan.  Every paper in Texas carried it," Rawhide said almost
apologetically.  "It came to me a couple hours ago where I'd heard your
name before." 

	Buckaroo unfroze, nodded.  "I was five," he said quietly, and
sighed.  The memory of that fireball was never far from his thoughts. 

	"Terrible accident," Rawhide said.

	Buckaroo shook his head.  His expression grew hard.  "No.  It was
murder." 

	Rawhide's Aunt Betsy walked in, and, not at a vantage that allowed
her to see the shock on his face, admonished her enormous nephew.  "Look
what you brought in the parlor, all that dirt, now you know better than
that."  Rawhide dropped his eyes from Buckaroo's and turned toward his
aunt.  She was a small, grayhaired woman; though her hands and body were
worn with many years of outdoor work, her eyes still danced with the
merriness of a natural flirt. 

	"I do claim," she continued to fuss, "you might as well still be
twelve years old." 

	"I am twelve years old," Rawhide told her.  The distracted quality
disappeared from his tone and he chucked her under the chin.  "How could I
be any older with you so young and pretty?" 

	"Oh, get on with you," she said with mock impatience.  "Was that
you playing Molly's music?  It was real nice to hear it again -- play
something else, long's you've already brought the front yard in.  Play
'The Tennessee Waltz.'" 

	Rawhide sat down on the piano bench and complied, noticing that
Buckaroo seemed deep in thought.  //Murder.  Damn.  I really put both feet
in the cowpie this time.//

	Aunt Betsy asked for three more tunes, and Rawhide played them. 
Finishing up 'The Red River Valley,' he asked, "Buckaroo, anything you'd
like to hear?"  Fortunately, the music seemed to be pulling Buckaroo back
out of himself. 

	"Oh... yes.  Do you know 'Rocket 88'?"  

	"Nope."  Wasn't often he didn't know something.  Buckaroo paused,
then started to whistle. 

	Note by note, Rawhide followed, then began fitting chords and
riffs.  Surprisingly, Aunt Betsy hummed along.  "I remember that song,"
she exclaimed.  "We heard it at the exposition in Chicago... oh, goodness,
could it be twenty years ago?" 

	Buckaroo flashed a grin that was like light breaking through after
a storm.  "Play it again, Sam," he ordered in a jaunty Bogart growl, and,
as Rawhide obeyed, slipped an arm around Aunt Betsy's waist and swung her
into a fast Texas two-step. 

	Dinner was chicken-fried steak swamped in gravy and liberally
accompanied by fixings.  They ate at the big round oak table in the
kitchen; the mahogany in the dining room looked like it hadn't been used
for a decade.  Aunt Betsy had set them all up with dinner, then gone to
town for choir practice. 

	"--a residential community of scientists," Banzai was saying, "a
think tank with no ideological agenda, no sponsors.  People will be free
to focus on basic research -- on what might strike Bell Labs or ITT as
whimsy.  Feynman won the Nobel Prize for an idea he had while watching a
food fight in the Cornell cafeteria; this will be a place where that kind
of thinking can happen on a daily basis. We'll fund ourselves--" 

	"You could probably get a foundation or two to give you a few mil
without strings," Rawhide mulled.  "The MacArthur, maybe the Dodge, the
Ford -- they like this kind of idea.  Maybe even get a little seed money
from the Feds..." 

	"No."  Buckaroo was adamant.  "This institution will be beholden
to no one." 

	"But you'll need -- uh, just the ordinary stuff, autoclaves 'n
centrifuges 'n -- lab coats..."  Rawhide was looking up at the ceiling. 
"Sounds like you're going to want some fancy stuff too, a scanning
microscope, some kind of particle accelerator, infrared spectrometer...
not to mention your mainframe... 'N you'll have housin' expenses-- some
kind of stipend -- these days, a geology grad out of Stanford can expect
to pick up sixty K right off the bat--" 

	"We'll buy it ourselves, build it ourselves, rent it, or go
without.  As for the rest:  scientists do not need split level
neo-Colonial BMW's.  What they do need, we'll find.  And what they need
most of all, what every mind needs most of all, is freedom to explore. 
Who wouldn't be willing to sleep on a cot to have that?  The ones who want
something else," Buckaroo shrugged, "they'll leave." 

	Old Joe eyed him shrewdly.  "Are you founding a research
institution or startin' a cult?" 

	Banzai was unembarrassed.  "Commitment to truth brings certain
values with it," he said.  "Truth is worthless without justice.  Action is
worthless without responsibility.  Dreams, no matter how beautiful, are
worthless without reality.  I do not believe that you can live one part of
your life according to a set of values and abandon them in the rest of
your life."

	He drew a breath.  "No one will be answerable for the substance of
his or her research to anyone else; no hierarchy will develop.  But in
larger ways, each is answerable to all; there cannot be a just society,
whether of five people or five hundred or five hundred million, founded
on any other precept." 

	Old Joe leaned back in his chair.  His eyes were narrow, measuring
slits. 

	Rawhide grunted.  "Who cooks dinner?  Who washes the test tubes? 
Who makes sure the mega-utility bills go in on time and the place ain't
gonna blow itself up because some enterprising young genius taps himself
into a gas main?" 

	"We all do." 

	"Not a chance," said Rawhide.  "Ever live in a group house?  No
rules, no supper." 

	"It will work," said Buckaroo Banzai.  He spoke with the calm of
foreknowledge. 

	Rawhide ran a hand down his jaw and scratched at several days'
growth of beard.  "I'm not saying it won't, but it would take a lot of
doin'.  And I don't see how you're gonna pay for it." 

	Buckaroo grinned.  "Remember our Wild West act?  That'll produce a
substantial cash flow right there."  All three men laughed.  "Seriously,
we all like to do other things that would produce income.  During
residency, I've been fronting a group that play s the Lone Star Cafe--" 

	"You sing?  Hunh," grinned Rawhide.  "I've played piano for cash
now and then."  He squinted at a memory.  "Played for other things, too...
one time in Bobodjoullaso, played for millet gruel." 

	"Ever play for an autoclave?" said Buckaroo.

2)

	Cody was gearing up for its annual Wild Horse Race, which
attracted all kinds of strange people to town for the week.  The arrival
of three soft-spoken, well dressed Asians occasioned no comment; everyone
simply assumed they were some variety of Japanese businessman, looking to
hire a cowboy or two to give the folks back in Yokohama or Osaka or
somewhere a little extra thrill.  The yen had been climbing and the dollar
falling steadily for the past year and a half, and Japanese tours had been
combed through Wyoming and the rest of the Old West in '72 until people
barely noticed anymore.  These men weren't carrying cameras, but otherwise
they were completely unremarkable. 

	"We seek the Triangle T Ranch," one said.

	"That's Old Joe's place, ain't it?" said a hand.  "You want to go
down U.S. 14 about twenty miles, 'n look for the yellow mailbox.  Turn in
there, go to the four-way crossroads, and take the right turning.  You'll
get there." 

	"I think we'll go on up to the winter shed and check supplies." 
Rawhide hoisted his saddle, settled it on the back of the tall, bony mare,
and reached under her belly for the girth.  The mare laid her ears back
and peeled her lips back from her teeth. 

	"Watch it," said Buckaroo.  Rawhide gave the mare a sharp poke in
the short ribs and drew the cinch a notch tighter. 

	"This old lady is Bad Manners," he said.  "She don't bite anymore. 
Used to, but now she just wants you to forget about the bellyband."  He
gave the mare an affectionate slap on the rump. 

	"Hot potato?" wondered Buckaroo.

	"Nope."  Rawhide smiled; he'd cured the mare's vice with a less
conventional remedy.  "She got me good 'n solid in the upper arm one time,
'n I turned around and punched her out." 

	Buckaroo took this as a serious piece of horsemanship, nodding
sagely.  "Hafta try that." 

	"Fractured m'hand."  Rawhide grunted thoughtfully.  "Haven't been
that angry more'n twice in my life."  He gave a short laugh.  "Both times
at a female." 

	"Did you deck the other one?"  Buckaroo was pulling the reins over
his own horse's head. It was curious how, no matter how softly he spoke,
you could always hear his words clearly.  His horse, an intelligent
gelding called Beau who was the ranch's best cutting horse, seemed also
to turn to Rawhide for an answer. 

	"Nope."  No elaboration.  The two young men rode out of the barn
into the glow of early morning, and reined their horses eastward toward
the crooked ridge of hills that were still throwing long shadows across
the plain. 

	Half an hour later, riding in shadow across ground steamy with
rising dew, they were climbing into the foothills at a scrambling canter. 
They were playing a kind of keep-away with a small tumbleweed that had
blown across their path, and Buckaroo Banzai was the clear winner despite
Rawhide's home court and home-horse advantage.

	"Ever play bozhkazi?" Rawhide was a bit winded.

	Buckaroo smiled.  "Sport of kings, my friend."

	"Sport of crazed Afghans," Rawhide said.  "I've always wanted to
try it, never been down that way." 

	"When you go, I have a Pashtu friend," said Buckaroo.  "Tell him
that my blessing is upon your brow.  His men play with live boars." 
 
	"Sounds like fun," Rawhide agreed.

	"Or skulls," Buckaroo continued.  "Be sure not to admire his
wife."  His eyes took on a merry gleam. 

	Rawhide declined to be terrified.  "Cabin's right up there," he
pointed.  They were climbing a draw that narrowed to pass between the
hills' rocky shoulders. 

	"Someone's been up here since snowmelt."  Buckaroo gestured at the
ground.  "On foot.  In Chinese shoes."  His expression was shifting from
puzzled to wary, and he began to turn in the saddle. 

	"Yeah?"  Rawhide stood up in his stirrups to get a better view of
the tracks, and leaned forward a few inches.  "Where?" 

	The motion saved his life.  The foot that was aimed at the base of
his skull scraped along his back instead, and Rawhide, the big mare, and
the attacker who had materialized almost out of thin air, all hit the
ground an instant later.  Rawhide instinctively rolled into a defensive
crouch, but still hadn't really seen what hit him until he whirled to
check Buckaroo. 

	Two men were bushwhacking Buckaroo:  another unseen attacker and
the man who had knocked Rawhide down.  Buckaroo had also been lucky,
shifting in his saddle, and was now on the ground, scrambling to get his
back against rock.  Even as Rawhide took his first step, Buckaroo
disabled the man who stood between him and the rock face, using a
controlled backward tilt to evade a blow and bring his left hand
distractingly upwards.  The attacker fell for the feint and got a faceful
of tumbleweed for his reward; the plant screened Buckaroo's real move, a
sidelong kick that gave Buckaroo a clear path to the rock wall. 

	Rawhide jumped the man who had kicked him from behind.  They lost
their footing in the loose gravel of the draw and slid downhill, rolling
one over the other while pounding with fist and foot and knee, winding up
underneath the old mare's belly, tangling with her legs as she tried to
scramble free.  Luck was with Rawhide again, for as he landed a good solid
punch to the jaw, the mare lashed out and caught the man's upper back.  He
slumped to ground, his neck broken.

	Less than a second after he managed to get his back to the rock
wall, Buckaroo regretted it.  From over his shoulder, the remaining
adversary produced a long blade, a cane-cutting blade.  A Malaysian blade,
Buckaroo thought fleetingly.  It rang against the rock; Buckaroo sidled
away.  Gravel, weed, rock, body, where was there a weapon?  The blade
struck at him again; again he evaded it, leaping past the lunging
attacker, trying to get higher in the draw.  Below him, he saw the grey
mare fidgeting as Rawhide and the second man rose almost to their knees
underneath her.  Dodging again, he missed seeing her kick.  He threw a
cloud of shale and dirt into the air, but his opponent was too far away. 
Got to get inside that blade, thought Buckaroo.  Gravel, weed, rock,
body. -- Tumbleweed.  He was still clutching it. 

	The blade sliced toward him again, but now Buckaroo stepped almost
into it, twisting at the last instant to spindle the tumbleweed on the
stabbing machete. 

	The clutter distracted the swordsman for only the smallest moment,
added only the tiniest extra drag to his follow-through, but that little
was enough.  Buckaroo Banzai dipped inwards and under, aiming his heel
exactly at the slightly slowed wrist, and broke it.  A second later, he
caught the blade in mid-air and, following his circle completely around,
opened the man's belly with his own blade. 

	Still moving, he came within an inch of cutting Rawhide, who had
scrambled up just in time to catch the falling swordsman.  Buckaroo
dropped the blade so that it passed under Rawhide's chin and was
completely motionless a second later.  Rawhide eased the wounded man down
to the dirt; he was conscious, and it looked like he had a decent chance
to make it.

** Stay tuned. More to come in World Watch OnLine 22 **