World Watch OnLine: The Unofficial Buckaroo Banzai Mailing List
#  81 (18 April 1999)
Submissions: WWatchOne@aol.com
Editor: WWatchOne@aol.com
Homepage: http://come.to/BuckarooBanzai
FAQ: http://www.figmentfly.com/bb/bbindex.shtml

Number of subscribers: 543
(NOTE: anyone who doesn't have an "@something" behind their name is
from 'aol.com.')

Contents:
Greetings
Re: Touche
Thanks To Some BBI
Dragon Tales
I wanna be a Blue Blaze irregular!!!
membership
Lock and Key, Ch.7, pt. 2

HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88

Greetings,

Well...I made a few tweaks to the page. Upgraded a few pics...added a few more.
Got some more stuff in the wings waiting to go up. If you catch any links
that arent working correctly, please let me know. I tried to go through it all,
but my connection was co-operating to well. Conked out while I was uploading,
even. 

Hope everyone got their taxes in on time.

Later...
ArcLight

HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88

Subj:	Re: Touche
Date:	4/12/99 6:51:23 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From:	Tonkatron

Subj:	 camelot@amigo.net (Scott Tate's) response to Cory Edwards 

To Blue Blazer Tate:

Sorry for the sharp criticism. Sometimes my opinions get the best of me, and
I forget about the person on the other end of the email. Best regards and
blaze on...

"Just having fun with it",

Cory Edwards

**** No harm, no foul. - ArcLight ****

HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88

Subj:	 Thanks To Some BBI
Date:	4/14/99 11:49:17 AM Eastern Daylight Time
From:	post@nelvana.com (post)

Just a word of thanks to some really outstanding BBI. "Riptide",
"Zeeterman", and "JudgeRaye" have all been very kind to me. Thanks guys for
everything you have done.

"Gowan Francisco"
Toronto, Canada

HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88

Subj:	 Dragon Tales
Date:	4/14/99 11:32:33 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From:	alandsmith@uswest.net

I've just read the most recent WW1's (#78-80) and have a few items to
comment on. In issue #78 a fellow BBI makes a note about being the only
Dragon. I believe there is room enough in Team Banzai for more than one
"Dragon". Issue #79, to The Synthetic Angel and anyone else looking for
a copy of TABB the novel. You could keep your blue blaze eyes on the
auction web sites like eBay, I've seen them for sale there. Or, you
could help me come up with a little contest of sorts to give away one of
my many copies. I've got a few just collecting dust and I can only read
one at a time, I know, how limiting my reading skills are. Make
suggestions, I have an idea or two but would like to hear other
thoughts. No, you will not get a novel for posting an idea, silly, you
will have to win the contest what ever it turns out to be!
 
Be cool. Thanks for reading and ArcLight, thanks for the WW1! 
Always True Blue, BBI Dragon

**** Ooh...a contest. I like that idea. Ive started thinking about what I
may or may not be able to do for the 100th ish. Its coming up... - ArcLight ****

HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88

Subj:	 I wanna be a Blue Blaze irregular!!!
Date:	4/14/99 10:46:51 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From:	shdwstrr@stargate.net (Craig and Julie)

Dear World Watch One,

I am a first generation Buckaroo Banzai fan.  I'm actually one of the few to
see it in the movie theaters when it was released in 1984.  The truth is, I
hated it the first time I saw it.  I couldn't figure it all out, there was so
much going on.  But something told me to go see it again, give it another
chance.  I gleaned a little more the second time, and that made me curious to
learn more.  I went a third time, and I had an epiphany!  It was just like
Penny Priddy in the film: "I get it!  Oppositely charged particles cancel
each other out, like big baby bang, or a baby big bang!"  It made perfect
sense, and it was suddenly all so simple.

I consider myself a quintessential Buckaroo Banzai fan.  I have the film on
tape (and hoping for a DVD release), I have a couple of jacket patches, and a
bootleg tape of the soundtrack (is there a real one out there somewhere?).
I've been looking for the novelization of the movie for years, but I've never
found it (does it exist?).  My wife and many of my friends are also fans, so
having an outlet for info about Banzai and the Hong Kong Cavaliers is a real
treat for us.

I'm excited about the possibility of a new television series, and I've also
heard about the possibility of a new book series.  Any word on when the books
might be available.  I figure that by joining the Blue Blaze Irregulars, I'll
have an up-to-the-nanosecond pipeline to any new info on these subject's.

So, there you have it.  I can be reached via e-mail at shdwstrr@stargate.net.
Please drop a message and let me know of any new developments on Buckaroo
Banzai projects.  I'll also visit your web site regularly for updates.
Thanks, and I hope to hear from you soon.

"Hikita-san, what is this?"
"It is your hand, Buckaroo."

Craig W. Frey, Jr.

HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88

Subj:	 membership
Date:	4/15/99 10:58:14 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From:	cdcrsh@webtv.net (Shawn Harrington)

 back in early 1986, while in a bookstore, i ran accross the buckaroo
banzai book. it looked interesting, so I bought it and read it. and
re-read it. and re-read it.and then i re-read it again!! sound familiar?
 about a month later, i just happened to be skipping school (an old
hobby of mine!) and went to the local video store. there was buckaroo on
the shelf. i picked it up, kept it for 3 days, and watched it till my
eyes bled!!
 since then, i have seen it more times than i can count. I even had the
video, but it got stolen, along with the book. anyway, whenever it is on
cable, i"m there, no matter what time of day or night. I've been known
to be late for work in order to watch the last few minutes (the boss has
always understood).
 i have seen the movie so many times that my girlfrind sometimes calls
me buckaroo banzai, which to me is the highest of compliments.
 i cannot sat exactly what it is that draws me to the movie. but when i
watch it, i'm in total heaven. something about a eclectic group of
heroes that most people would consider misfits trying to save the world,
and having a good time while doing it.
 anyway, i would love to become a bbi. please let me know how to to
this. to become a member of team banzai would make this 31 year-old man
a very happy boy!!
 thank you for your time and consideration.

HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88

Subj:	 Lock and Key, Chapter 7, pt.2
Date:	4/15/99 9:58:30 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From:	jetlightfoot@juno.com (Becky M Nelson)

Disclaimer/Author Notes:

This story takes place in Spring 1987 (between the events of the movie
and Rafterman's proposed script for the sequel, from which it takes a few
plot cues). It's written from Reno Nevada's point of view much after the
fact, which seemed the best way to avoid getting flamed by folks who own
the book, and lets me pick up a few details from there more easily as
well. 

Characters and concepts related to Buckaroo Banzai belong to other
people. See disclaimer on Chapter One for full info. In any event, the
author has no intent to make any money hereby and is just having fun.
Don't complain if details here don't coincide with the TV pilot/series;
this was started before the pilot script.

Plot elements and other characters are copyright 1998-??? and
1990-infinity, respectively, and are the property of Replay, except
T-Bear (who belongs to Lynx, Trouble, himself, and several cats at last
check). ArcLight has permission to archive the text version of this story
as part of the newsletter. Strike Team Renegade has permission to include
an HTML version in their archives on a delayed basis. All others should
e-mail me at BBI_Replay@yahoo.com first. Comments and questions should be
routed to the same address.

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

Previously--

After an explosion wreaks havoc on their hotel rooms, Team Banzai has
relocated rather hastily to a former school at the edge of the metro
area. Their only wounded from the incident is Replay, who has now been
exposed to talava for the second time. She regains consciousness after
being comatose for 3 days, but proves to be far from her normal self.
Only she and Buckaroo are aware that she has no recollection of Team
Banzai in general and only a very slight recall of Rawhide, whom she'd
once drawn. Perfect Tommy, unaware of her memory loss, informs Reno of
the situation, then "drafts" the Institute's chief pilot, Lindbergh, to
keep an eye on Replay so Buckaroo can rest. Pecos informs a concerned
Buckaroo that Reno and Wayback have already departed. Buckaroo asks her
to set up a meeting. In Sabah, Hanoi Xan receives news from his spies.
Meanwhile back in St. Louis, Reno and Wayback have ventured out to deal
with issues related to the canceled concerts and seminar and are caught
out in an extremely peculiar thunderstorm -- Big Norse admits it to be a
good thing that storms can't be aimed. At Team Banzai's safehouse, Replay
notices the storm abruptly, and is escorted down to the boiler room by
Rawhide, who is much better equipped to deal with her distaste for the
weather. At the hotel, the police are still collecting evidence when the
storm begins to threaten them as well. Reno and Wayback discuss Replay's
condition in the restaurant. At the safehouse, Buckaroo starts the
meeting, only to have it interupted. When Big Norse reports
communications are being jammed and people at the briefing discover
they're 'locked' in, they assume the worst. Downstairs, Rawhide realizes
how uncertain they all are of Replay/Jet's situation just before the
power goes out. One of Hanoi Xan's spies, under direct control, makes an
unsuccessful bid to get at Replay, much to the consternation of the
Cavaliers. Meanwhile, Lindbergh decides to make a call of his own, and
the rest of Team Banzai reacts to the sound of a single gunshot. Back at
the precinct house in St. Louis, Harrison discusses the case with two
fellow officers, one of whom is much better informed about current Team
Banzai activities than anyone else on the force.

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

Lock and Key
Chapter Seven, part 2

Wayback was behind the wheel again and we were both listening to Mouse
tell us about the next turnoff when the go-phone in my hand went dead. I
gave it a moment on the off chance that we'd been cut off by accident,
only to be dissuaded of that possibility by a series of electronic
shrieks that would have made fingernails on a chalkboard sound pleasant.
It didn't take an expert to realize those sounds meant trouble of some
sort; the only questions either of us had were where and when it would
hit. 

Had we suspected that anyone else was listening in at the time, we might
not have been as concerned about our own position as we were. There were
only the two of us, after all, trying to find our way around an
unfamiliar city and coming up on one of the only three bridges across a
river. The only better spot for an ambush in traffic would have been in
the middle of a traffic jam where we wouldn't have had any
maneuverability at all. With communications with World Watch One clearly
out of the question, we were left with a limited number of choices: press
on like nothing was happening, make a try for whatever cover we could
find and hole up there until the situation was resolved, or presume that
the safehouse was being targeted and hope we could generate enough
surprise by returning to turn the tide of that battle. Presuming, of
course, that we weren't intended to make a run back to the safehouse so
that the bravos could use us as guides. If my own first instincts were to
worry more about Buckaroo and the rest than about my own position, it was
as much from habit as aught else and logic dictated that I consider all
the possibilities.

Normally I might have expected Wayback to have an answer for me, but
under the circumstances I wasn't sure I wanted to ask. Traffic was heavy
enough given the weather that distracting him from the road wasn't
especially wise. Since even Jet or Cameo would have needed a moment's
concentration to assess the threat properly with all the variables that
were involved, I could only presume the same was even truer of the
Canadian intern, who might well be encountering this sort of thing for
the very first time. He wouldn't knowingly drive into a situation without
at least sharing that information, but he hadn't been with us long enough
for me to be at all certain how much it would take to distract him from
realizing he was about to do just that.

Being so distracted myself by debating what the right move was, I
scarcely noticed that Wayback was angling for the first exit until he
pulled the wheel back to the left sharpely as another driver cut him off.
"Deliberate bastard," he said, no more heat in it than if he'd been
dictating a shopping list. "I think we've got a problem." He was clearly
hoping he was wrong, but not especially expecting that to be the case.

I didn't bother to tell him to do what he could about it; that would have
been redundant. Until and unless we were overtly attacked at fairly close
range, there was nothing I could do about things but double check both my
seat belt and my sidearm, and perhaps offer a suggestion or two. Neither
one of us knew the town very well, which made his navigational choices as
good as anyone's if he was trying to take things out of range of
civilians, and no worse than mine would have been in any event. Rather
belatedly, I resolved to consistently use the GPS as a backup system in
the future, provided we got out of this alive.

Neither one of us actually expected the sudden disintegration of the
windshield but we both understood its cause before we registered the
impact of a single rifle slug in the upholstery. There was a sniper ahead
of us, undoubtedly hidden in the superstructure of the fast-approaching
bridge. We both flinched at the unexpected event, but to his credit,
Wayback managed to correct his involuntary jerk of the wheel before our
car sideswiped anything. For a moment I was more concerned about the
civilians than anything else, then it occurred to me that the anticipated
second bullet hadn't come at all. This bunch of bravos wasn't out for our
blood; they were trying to herd us somewhere. That suggested we were
targeted for a kidnapping, and I said as much.

"I presume we're already paying damages on the car," was all Wayback said
about it before he swerved violently to the left, narrowly missing the
front end of a second suspicious car as he deliberately pushed the gas
pedal to the floor in spite of the risk of hydroplaning. "Act of war
clause, or would it be terrorism?" 

***

Murphy nearly knocked her microscope over in startlement when the
go-phone abruptly emitted the same offensive sounds I have already
mentioned. As with the rest of us who were hearing those noises, it took
her only a few seconds to realize something was up, and several more to
power down the go-phone. Being so far removed from the rest of us, her
first instincts were that Wayback and I were at considerably greater
risk; everyone else was in a better position to back each other at least
briefly.

Even so, doing anything about it probably meant her career. Absolutely it
meant she'd be pulled off the case immediately and that someone else
would have to repeat the work she'd done so far if there was any hope of
salvaging a case, but chances were high that the Captain would fire her
on the spot for her outside affiliation; the number of times in the past
two months that she'd personally heard him badmouthing Team Banzai as
vigilantes and the Blue Blaze Irregulars as wannabes was already
approaching his golf handicap. If she wanted to have any real hope of
getting us any help, she'd have to admit what she was, and that would
probably be that; the only real question there was how long it would take
to get back to the Captain.

Altogether, she spent a full ten seconds debating with herself before she
picked up the phone and dialed for an outside line. She'd heard enough
before the jamming had started to be fairly certain she was calling the
right department; there was only one route she knew that would fit
Mouse's navigational instructions. Giving that set of instructions would
have been pointless unless we were within a certain range of I-270, which
left her with a fix that was at least as accurate as most motorists could
give a tow driver. And since the chances were good that a show of force
would be sufficient to keep any bravos from starting trouble, she wasn't
particularly worried about not being able to describe the rental car.

It was possible that she was just overreacting by calling St. Charles and
that the real trouble was brewing further west. It was also possible that
her first call was already belated. Better to do everything she could to
minimize the problems anyway; at least then she'd be able to sleep
nights. It was always easier to apologize to a fellow cop for wasting
their time than to the relatives of the victim for failing to prevent a
tragedy. If she was going to blow her career as a cop in this man's town,
then at least she was going to do it for the right reasons.

***

When you get right down to it, telephones are electrical devices. For the
most part, people forget this, in spite of such terms as "circuit" and
"wire" applying as much to phones as to, say, light fixtures. It's not
hard to forget these things when the first thing most people do when the
power goes off is reach for the phone to call the electric company.

Still, every year, thousands of meteorologists and weather readers remind
people that they shouldn't use the phone during electrical storms unless
necessary. And apart from phone company technicians, probably fewer than
one person in ten really understands why. Perhaps it would help to
explain the massive number of batteries that power the entire phone
system and make comparisons to situations where batteries and water or
other electricity simply don't mix; certainly most motorists are more
cautious about hooking up jumper cables in dry weather than they are
about telephones and storms.

Lindbergh studied the rain more than he did the junction box itself,
taking a moment to determine the best way to angle the box's cover in
order to minimize the amount of water that reached his working area. He
was perhaps more aware than usual of the fact that this was realistically
about as bright as using a blow dryer in the shower, but he couldn't see
any other viable options. "Don't try this at home, kiddies," he said
under his breath, and got down to the business of determining which line
to tap into. For most people, this would have been a real guessing game
without some way of testing for an active line, but he'd never quite
decided if he was just an exceptional guesser or if he really could tell
the difference between a complex circuit that was getting power and one
that wasn't just by looking at them. He'd had friends try to tell him it
was just pilot instinct, something that went along with being a natural
as much as his ability to handle almost anything that flew, and which
should have held true only with his planes -- but apart from the lack of
a connection to an engine, how different could a junction box be from one
of the small sections of wiring easily accessible in a large plane?

He wasn't expecting to get lucky with his second try, but it didn't
surprise him either. He was rewarded with a dial tone at his ear when he
touched the wires together, and quickly twisted them to firm up the
connection in spite of the shock he got from it and the blisters that
began to form on his fingers almost immediately. Dialing took
considerably longer than his short prayer of thanks for the string of
miracles which included the police, fire, and ambulance numbers being
printed on a label pasted to the side of the phone. Certainly it was a
good bit slower than he remembered push-button phones being on
rotary-grade lines, although later he admitted he'd never really paid
that much attention before. Then the wait for someone to pick up at the
other end seemed interminable as well, although he realized it was
probably only a matter of a few seconds. "O'Fallon Police Department,
Sergeant Fuller. How can I help you?" 

HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88
HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88HB88


