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Old 01-31-2003, 10:22 PM   #1
Hawg73
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Another Sports/Sci-Fi Short Story - The Return of the Splendid Splinter

This is something I did a while back but wasn't happy with and had time recently to go back and tweak it a little until it worked better. For those that have read my stuff before this is quite a bit more serious in tone (it couldn't be much sillier) but since it's the offseason and I can't think of any real football talk at the moment - thought I'd share it here. The story that was in the news recently about John Henry Williams freezing Ted William's body was disturbing to me and sometimes writing can be cathartic for me and this story was the result. I haven't a clue where else they'd let me publish something like this and hopefully you will enjoy it. I had to post it in three parts due to space limitations.



The Return of the Splendid Splinter

There was a fine misty drizzle falling on Ozawa Park as we made our
way to our seats adjacent to the visitor's dugout. Normally, Barrett and I
would have been in lab at this time on a Tuesday afternoon but decided to
make an exception on this day to see what was sure to be an interesting
spectacle and we might even be able to convince the professor that we were
here for reasons of research and not just blowing off his class.

We certainly were not here to watch the actual game, as not many people did
anymore. The stadium which seated about 33K was virtually empty, with a few
K, maybe 3.5 or so mostly ancient boomers scattered about the seats. The
Red Sox had been marketing this game as the "Return of the Splendid
Splinter" on holo, but no one really seemed to care, just some baseball
hobbyists, media types and a few K of the curious. It seemed yet another
desperate attempt to generate some buzz that had failed.

Retros were nothing new anymore but no one had yet tried to bring back an
athlete. A soft mist fell as the American and Japanese national anthems
were played by a Berklee student on an clear acrylic harp. Nobody sang
along with either one. The musician finished and then the "play ball" tone
sounded and the game was underway.

The Hanshin Tigers were in town and their ace Sato was on the mound. He had
his shootu working and the Sox were helplessly beating his offerings into
the ground and retired quickly in the first. I asked Barrett what he knew
about Williams and he launched into a long, convoluted explanation
involving DNA sequencing , cell regeneration, derma tanks, marrow seeding,
and of course, rechem coding. Typical Bio-Engineer freakspeak. I was one of
a handful in the stands that could have understood half of it, since we
were both Bio Majors, but he had missed the intent of my question entirely
which I politely pointed out to him.

He finally processed what I had meant and went on to explain that this guy
was considered one of the legends of the sport, one of a handful of the
true greats in addition to being an ace World War II fighter pilot, and a
world class fisherman and that he approached each pusuit with a
single-minded determination to be the greatest ever. He went on further to
explain that his son had the foresight to get him a quick cryo when he
coded out to facilitate a successful retrofit but had been vilified for
it. That had all happened over forty years ago before the technology for
remakes had even been developed. I had studied up on his career over the past few days but hadn't
realized quite how accomplished the man was and had thought that he was
just a great baseball player.

One thing about retros, is that nobody comes back exactly the same and
while the brains seem to regen just fine, they have a tendency to be
physically awkward and slow. If anything , logic would suggest it would be
the opposite but that's how it works. How they figured this guy was going
to be able to hit a baseball was beyond me, for it wasn't easy from what
I've heard.

The only reason I knew anything about Baseball at all was I used to like to
play a holo version of it on my SonyCube and my father really liked it when
he was still alive. There was a fair amount of strategy involved with the
game and I sometimes wished that I had a chance to try the real thing but
nobody really played it much anymore. There was a time when everybody
played baseball but this was definitely not that time.

The Tigers were up in the top of the second inning when I happened to
notice his son sitting a few rows to our right. He had become quite famous
or rather infamous in his own right, and I recognized him immediately from
a 3D I had seen. He was sitting with his hands in his pockets and a navy
blue Red Sox cap pulled low over his forehead against the drizzle.

He was a pretty controversial character and had taken some public abuse
back before this sort of thing had become accepted science. So it goes with
the pioneers of this world. He did not appear to be well, so perhaps the
whole episode has taken a toll on him.

His face was expressionless but I noticed his eyes scanning the Red Sox
dugout looking for signs of his father. It was always weird to see an
elderly son and a younger looking retro father - I don't care how may times
you see it.

I would think that he would have been a little nervous with all of the
inherent hype, but he didn't really appear to be. Finally, the Tigers were
retired and there was a sense of anticipation as people realized that
Williams Sr. would be batting in the next half inning.

I have to admit that when Barrett suggested coming to the game I initially
thought it would be a complete waste of time. I had finals not three weeks
off and I was going to go watch another retro embarrass himself by trying
to recapture the past? I eventually decided that it was kind of historic in
a way and I was glad to have a chance to witness an athlete give it a try
for a change. I was tired of politicians, entertainers, captains of
industry and the like. The privileged. The ballpark was an interesting
place to lurk for a few hours and I could see how it would have had a
certain appeal back twenty or thirty years ago.

Williams was batting sixth and I waited patiently for the first batter to
make an out and then suddenly he appeared in the dugout, his height and
vintage uniform a dead giveaway. His frame appeared almost skinny compared
to his pumped teammates . He pulled a bat from the rack and emerged from
the shadows of the dugout into the glare of the lights, and then slowly
walked to the on-deck circle.

Every eye in the stadium focused on him as he walked head down, an old
wooden bat dangling from his right hand, it's dark patina evoking a long
past age. His uniform hung loosely from his slim, rangy frame in baggy
folds which looked anachronistic, but cool. He just wouldn't have looked
right in Silkex. I compared him to the old anim on my pilot and he looked
pretty much the same. They had done a really nice job.

The brim of his cap shaded his eyes from view but you could see his mouth
set in a tight scowl as he kneeled and began to study Sato intently like a
bird of prey. He gripped and regripped the bat as he watched the pitcher
toy with the second batter, his mind apparently comparing and cataloging
the pitcher's mechanics to the ghosts of more than eighty years ago. Before
long Sato retired the hitter and the moment was at hand.

As the tall figure strode toward the plate I glanced over to his son, who
was leaning forward in his seat, hands folded in front of his mouth and
now you could now see an intense look in his eyes that seemed a mixture of
fear and desire or possibly darker things.

Last edited by Hawg73; 02-01-2003 at 09:14 AM..
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Old 01-31-2003, 10:27 PM   #2
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Part 2

The small crowd began to applaud and I could see some younger ones look
around to try and figure out why. I glanced over at Barrett but with
clinical detatchment he was watching an old boomer who had tears streaming
down his cheeks. He finally looked over at me, cocked an eyebrow and said
simply: "Ready for this, Foley?" I nodded in response.

Williams walked up to the right side of home plate and dug his Nikes in
the dirt and carefully tapped the far front corner of the plate, measuring
its dimensions with an assured familiarity. He took a few abbreviated
swings towards the pitcher and then coiled himself and set his hands just
above his left shoulder and his bat at right angles to the ground. The
barrel of the bat began to wiggle slightly, menacingly and Sato went into
his big windup and then finally whipped the ball towards the catcher's
target.

We could hear the loud pop as the ball was caught at waist level, dead in
the center of the plate. Definitely a shootu. The area of home plate was
well miked and the sound echoed off the tarnished walls of the almost
empty park.

The strike tone sounded and Williams never moved except to follow the ball
all the way to the catcher's mitt in calculation. A tense silence filled
the park as Sato stared in for his sign, it seemed like the fans were in
fear that this legend would be embarrassed by the speed and power of Sato,
and everyone knew that no matter how skillfully they were teched, retros
were not yet as good as naturals. Not yet anyway.

It was sure to be an embarrassing mismatch and yet the crowd was helpless
to turn their eyes away.

Sato kicked again and fired and the ball whistled in high and tight and
Williams leaned back hard and then began to windmill his arms like a
beetle on its back before regaining his ki. Ball one.

Williams then dug in deeper and stared hard at Sato whose countenance was a
perfect mask of indifference. His arm cocked again and he fired another
inside pitch and this time Williams swung and caught a piece of the ball
which bounced at his feet and rolled foul. "At least he made contact" said
Barrett approvingly, "that's more than a lot of people thought possible".

I leaned towards the field as far as I could fascinated by this strange
encounter. The pitcher's next delivery was a slow curve that bounced in
the dirt and was gathered in by the catcher. Ball two.

What happened next stunned me as the silence was broken by Williams
stepping out of the batter's box and yelling in a shockingly loud and
gravelly voice:

"THAT ALL YOU GOT, BUSH?"

His booming voice could be clearly heard by all and it's effect was
chilling.

"JUST REMEMBER, BUSH, MY NAME IS TED F*****G WILLIAMS, AND YOU GOT
NOTHING I HAVEN'T SEEN BEFORE"


It shook me up to hear him and I immediately looked at Sato. I wasn't sure
if he could understand english but he appeared unsettled by the outburst.
His almond complexion appeared to pale slightly and he stalled for a
moment, pretending to concentrate on rubbing the ball as both teams
shuffled forward to stand on their dugout's top steps. Even though the
Japanese had come the farthest of anyone in remake technology a lot of
them still tended towards superstition and discomfort when in the presence
of a retro, or at least that's what I've heard.

Williams stood back in the box and tapped the caked dirt from his shoes
with the handle of the bat for a moment and then hestitated and began
looking around the park as if noticing it for the first time, his eyes
wandered around the park where he once played and he seemed to be taking it
in. He glared at the opposing team and then scanned the crowd with a
glance, taking his time as his face began to darken with anger.. Sato had
started to toe the rubber and Williams froze him by pointing his finger at
him and bellowing:

"I'LL TELL YOU WHEN IT'S TIME TO PITCH, BUSH. JUST STAND THERE FOR A
MINUTE, I'LL BE RIGHT WITH YA."


Sato quickly stepped back as Williams turned to address the crowd.

The lights on the stadium were all on - illuminating the light silvery
sheets of mist which still fell. His baggy uniform seemed to emanate a
white glow as he stood and stared at them all. His face seethed with
emotion and he gritted his teeth as if struggling for control. The veins in
his neck stood out clearly and the dam finally burst as he exclaimed:

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU ALL EXPECTED. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS GOING
ON FOR A WHILE BUT NOW I GOT IT FIGURED OUT. THEY BROUGHT ME BACK LIKE
SOME KIND OF GODDAMN TWO-HEADED CALF IN A CARNIVAL, AND I DIDN'T ASK FOR
THIS, NO SIR....... SO WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW?


He then paused and took a deep breath before continuing. The silence in the
park seemed stifling, and then he continued:

"I'M SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD NOW AND YET HERE I AM. I. I DON'T PRETEND TO KNOW
HOW THE HELL THEY DID IT AND IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYWAYS....(pauses) I
REMEMBER ALL RIGHT, I REMEMBER JUST FINE AND I'LL BE GODDAMNED TO HELL IF I
DON'T TELL YOU ALL THAT IT AIN'T RIGHT. IT JUST DOESN'T FEEL.......RIGHT.
NOBODY SHOULD HAVE TO STAND HERE LIKE THIS, LIKE A FREAK SHOW. NOT ME, NOT
ANYBODY."


At times his voice got thin and strained like he was about to start crying
or something, but at the same time he sounded freakishly angry.

"AFTER I FIGURED OUT WHAT HAPPENED I LET MYSELF GET TALKED INTO THIS AND
A PART OF ME WAS JUST STUBBORN ENOUGH TO WANT TO KNOW IF I COULD STILL DO
IT.............. BUT NOW THAT I'M STANDING HERE I KNOW I DON'T BELONG,
AND I KNOW THAT IT WAS ALL A MISTAKE. IT'S JUST A TERRIBLE DAMN MISTAKE
AND I'M SORRY I EVER GOT INVOLVED IN IT. THAT'S ALL.......... I JUST
WANTED TO SAY THAT I'M SORRY FOR THE WHOLE DAMN THING".

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Old 01-31-2003, 10:30 PM   #3
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Part 3

With that he took a deep breath and then turned back to the plate and then
pointed out to Sato, who wide-eyed stepped back to the rubber and tried to
settle himself. The crowd started to stand and someone started to clap. The
clapping spread until everyone in the stands was standing, clapping and
then cheering, making more noise than seemed possible for a crowd of such a
modest size. I found myself standing up to get a better view since everyone
in the park was now standing.

A lot of the boomers seemed really upset, some crying and straining through
the tears to see the man, to see Teddy Ballgame brought back and made whole
again. The air seemed charged with electricity or maybe it was fear or
simple voyuerism. It was hard to tell which. Then Sato rocked back and
fired the pitch plateward.

Williams rose up slightly as the ball sped plateward. He seemed a towering
figure as he gathered himself and then lashed violently at the pitch and
the air was split by a resounding CRACK! as his ancient bat streaked
straight through the ball with a slight upswing -crushing it and sending
it like a missle on a rising trajectory thru the mist towards the outfield
walls.

The crowd all strained to follow it's flight, silently watching it's long
straight climb and then swifter descent until it finally landed and then
bounced around in the distant right-centerfield stands. It was so eerily
silent that I could actually hear the ball land and rattle off the faded
seats. It took a moment or two to register before the crowd erupted in
celebration at the feat they had just borne witness to. History had been
made.

Williams had stood stock-still at home plate and watched the ball
completely finish it's long parabola before casually tossing the ancient
bat aside and slowly headed for first base as the cheers of the stunned
fans washed over him.

He stumbled slightly as he crossed the bag and then gradually began to pick
up speed, his long legs seemingly infused once again with grace and power.
His head was down and his face was a grim mask as his long, loping strides
carried him around the basepaths.

As he rounded third base a coach approached him, a huge grin on his face
and offered his hand in congratulations, but Williams ignored him. Halfway
down the third base line Williams turned his head slightly toward our part
of the stands and his smouldering eyes sought out his son and then found
him.

Williams locked eyes with him for a moment and then spat forcefully in his
direction before turning back towards the plate which he then he jumped
on with both feet before continuing on towards the dugout. His son just
appeared to stare straight ahead seeing nothing.

Williams ignored the excited shouts and congratulations of his teammates
and hurried past them and then down the steps towards the clubhouse. The
last thing I saw of him was the sight of the number nine on his back being
engulfed in shadow and then disappearing. I had a gut feeling then that he
wouldn't be back.

We didn't bother sticking around for the rest of the game and decided
to walk back to the dorms to decompress and I distractedly listened to
Barrett drone on as we navigated the glistening puddles that pooled on
the cracked and worn sidewalks of Commonwealth Ave.

I was sort of lost in my own thoughts and tried to force myself to be
polite and listen to him as he debated with himself over the effect this
would have on the industry and other self-involved topics but even he
quieted down as we neared a large holoscreen on the side of a University
building and noticed a bulletin trailer crawling the screen.

As we got closer we were able to pick up the narration as the anchor
blandly announced that Ted Williams was dead:

"Boston public safety officials have just confirmed the death of former
professional sports legend Ted Williams. The remade baseball star's debut
earlier today at Ozawa Field was a successful one with a home run in his
only at bat. Williams then left the field
of play and then exited the stadium and entered a vehicle in an adjacent
parking garage which was owned by his son John Henry Williams. He then
apparently doused the interior of the vehicle with a flammable substance
and then ignited a blaze which took his life. According to sources the
intense heat prevented rescuers from coming to his aid and caused damage to
his body so extensive that no further remake is possible. His son has
declined any comment to 7 news......The legendary Williams..."
She started
a biographical segment but I really didn't hear any of it.

I stood still for a while and absorbed the news and what it meant. Barrett
started to speak again and I told him to shut his mouth for once. He looked
hurt but complied. We began to walk again while I tried to imagine what it
must have been like for him and decided that there is no way to actually
know, but it must have been quite a little slice of hell.

Funny that for all of the excitement and skill that goes into remaking
someone, the cliches on the topic ring true. Sometimes the fact that you
can do something doesn't always make it a good idea - no matter how much
acclaim and wealth go to the practitioners.

The game he played so well in his time and that had been considered "the
national pastime" back in the 20th century was past it's time now. Everyone
that he ever knew was long since dead except the son that had brought him
back claiming that it was at the behest of his father. The spitting
incident told me all I needed to know about that subject. That he had to
feel desperately unhappy needn't be elaborated.

The man was once a commanding presence who inspired both worship and
disdain. He bowed to nobody and and in my brief exposure to him found him
to be a very compelling figure - not a mere athlete, but a symbol, an icon
for a way of life now lost. His once powerful lifeforce had failed him, as
it must eventually for us all and from the void, from that nameless unknown
beyond all thought and being, he had been recreated in his former image -
but that recreation could not succeed without the intrinsic blessing of the
individual that had created it in the first place and that blessing was
not, could never be forthcoming. Somebody should have recognized this. That
his own son could not see this seemed an unpardonable offense and I knew
that any sentence -self-imposed or otherwise would never be sufficient to
atone for that.

An author once wrote about William's disdain for the fans, for the
outsiders who jealously critiqued his mastery: Gods do not answer letters
and that statement seemed somehow to reflect on his return as well. He was
a God that had to answer only to himself that he was still what he had been
and the man once known as Teddy Ballgame had answered that question to his
own satisfaction. Then and only then, was he was released from the bonds of
ego, of expectations and the hands of time that ticked anew.

I thought of all of the of things he said standing there seeming so
terribly alone at home plate and they continued to echo in my mind for
weeks afterward. I found them oddly troubling. For all the time I've spent
learning the science and the process I think maybe I had spent too little
time dwelling on the implications of my chosen field. I am giving some
serious consideration to changing my major.

One thing is for sure - they aren't making guys like him anymore.

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Old 01-31-2003, 10:32 PM   #4
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Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
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Old 01-31-2003, 10:51 PM   #5
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Re: Plagiarism alert! Plagiarism alert!

Quote:
Originally posted by FallingAlice
I think...but I can't prove....

that was a chapter in Cryptonomicon .

;)
Huh? What's that?
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Old 02-01-2003, 12:23 AM   #6
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Verizon is holding back one hell of a writer Hawg! This was good... I didn't expect the outburst at home plate and I really didn't expect the suicide!
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Old 02-03-2003, 03:03 PM   #7
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Attention: NON-FICTION ALERT!!!!

Hawg73's lastest novella has garnered much critical acclaim. Let's take a look at what they have to say:


Quote:

"Well written and entertaining. One of Hawg's more mature pieces. A fascinating Sci-Fi synthesis." -- Chicago Sun Times


"A new take on the old favorite man-freezes-dad, man-thaws-dad, man-makes-dad-play-baseball genre." -- Seattle-Post Intelligencer


"A fascinating trip down memory lane. Takes me back to when I myself was just another frozen head. I loved it." --Washington Post


"Fans of Cryogenics will love it. A real page turner. Hawg deftly recreates the magic of the time we reanimated our own parents." -- NY Times
----

Very Good Hawg. I enjoyed it. You have the tone down perfectly.

However, during the 2000 campaign, I remember Al Gore yelled, "THAT ALL YOU GOT, BUSH?" with respect to the re-count of votes in Florida. Not to be an annoying, misinformed, gloryhound but you really should cite that in the piece. Also, I believe that some words you used in the short story were not ALL made-up? That would make it a work of non-fiction would it not? ;)
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Old 02-03-2003, 05:15 PM   #8
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Re: Attention: NON-FICTION ALERT!!!!

Quote:
Originally posted by NoRespect
Hawg73's lastest novella has garnered much critical acclaim. Let's take a look at what they have to say:




----

Very Good Hawg. I enjoyed it. You have the tone down perfectly.

However, during the 2000 campaign, I remember Al Gore yelled, "THAT ALL YOU GOT, BUSH?" with respect to the re-count of votes in Florida. Not to be an annoying, misinformed, gloryhound but you really should cite that in the piece. Also, I believe that some words you used in the short story were not ALL made-up? That would make it a work of non-fiction would it not? ;)
Jim_vh was going to blast me for "plagarism" but Alice beat him to it;) and you are correct that I ripped off Gore, but can you blame me? It was such a great line. We are going to have to be a lot more careful about giving props with everything we post here to make certain people happy. NOT.

Thanks for the quotes - I didn't realize that the planet was so widely read. This place is growing by the day.
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Old 02-03-2003, 05:45 PM   #9
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Re: Re: Attention: NON-FICTION ALERT!!!!

Quote:
Originally posted by Hawg73
....you are correct that I ripped off Gore, but can you blame me? It was such a great line.

I meant to sound outraged about the whole Ted in a Tube thing. Do you think I sounded sufficiently outraged? I don't want to give the impression that I hold nothing sacred and everything is just an excuse for a laugh, because that's NOT the way it is.

I actually find that whole incident repulsive and a great opportunity for a laugh. THAT"S the way it is.
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Old 02-03-2003, 05:59 PM   #10
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Re: Re: Re: Attention: NON-FICTION ALERT!!!!

Quote:
Originally posted by NoRespect
I meant to sound outraged about the whole Ted in a Tube thing. Do you think I sounded sufficiently outraged? I don't want to give the impression that I hold nothing sacred and everything is just an excuse for a laugh, because that's NOT the way it is.

I actually find that whole incident repulsive and a great opportunity for a laugh. THAT"S the way it is.
Dark humor is a great method of dealing with the ugliness of the world around us and I often laugh at stuff that bothers the hell out of me. It's a survival technique.

I could pretty much assume that you (and anyone) would find the whole idea of freezing your dad to wake him up some day like Frankenstein as totally offensive. You didn't need to sound outraged for it to be obvious that you were. I don't know much about anything, but I know that John Henry Williams is a complete loser.
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Old 02-03-2003, 06:19 PM   #11
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Re: Re: Re: Re: Attention: NON-FICTION ALERT!!!!

Quote:
Originally posted by Hawg73
Dark humor is a great method of dealing with the ugliness of the world around us and I often laugh at stuff that bothers the hell out of me. It's a survival technique.

The thing is there is no way that it can be done. If it could I'd freeze the whole family. Black humor is a wonderful thing is it not? There is a line that I will not cross. You just can't go straight into humor until there has been a sufficient time for people to mourn and for it to become sufficiently comical. Seriously though I was absolutely outraged by hearing that Ted Williams was to be cryogenically preserved upside down in a stainless steel tube. What a conniving little worm his son is. I hope his family informs him that he will be stuffed and turned into a lamp after his death.
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Old 02-03-2003, 07:36 PM   #12
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Quote:
Originally posted by FallingAlice
Here's the really ghoulish thing about the Ted Williams saga.

It's tantamount to burying your father alive.

While one assumes that since he's been frozen cryogenically, that Ted has no sensation. One hopes so, at any rate. Nevertheless, if the theory of this bizarre Cryogenic Freezing Foundation is correct, they haven't really allowed Ted to "Die" completely. Instead, they're keeping him in this deeply frozen, "Non-dead" but "Not-quite-living" state.

So, if you're a Christian who believes in the afterlife, you might theorize that Ted's spirit has not been permitted to be set free into the afterlife, so to speak. If you're a buddhist or a hindu, he has not been allowed to merge into nothinginess or -- alternately -- be reborn. Instead, his spirit dwells somewhere between existence and non-existence. In a word, he's been made a zombie.

Being buried alive is one of the most primal fears of mankind. I wouldn't wish it upon the most evil to have ever lived. Or, for that matter, a Yankee.

Ted was a very flawed man. But he deserved a better fate than that.
You're freaking me out man.... That is indeed the most horrifying method of death, to be buried alive.

One time I had a dream that I was buried alive.... But then I woke up with an awful hangover and found my date from the previous night next to me breathing lovingly in my ear as she slept.
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Old 02-03-2003, 08:20 PM   #13
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Quote:
Originally posted by pookie
You're freaking me out man.... That is indeed the most horrifying method of death, to be buried alive.

You want to see something really scary?
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Old 02-03-2003, 09:14 PM   #14
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Quote:
Originally posted by FallingAlice
Here's the really ghoulish thing about the Ted Williams saga. It's tantamount to burying your father alive.
To me the really scary part is not the fact that his body is frozen or the theological implications. To me the part that is entirely unfathomable is that there are people out there stupid enough to believe that this can work!!!

I just can't believe what a bunch of nutjobs these people are. Does it seriously matter if he is cremated, buried or stuck in a tube filled with liquid nitrogen? The guy is very, very, thoroughly dead. Make no mistake about it. He died, and then was shipped to this company in Arizona. Brain death occurs within 10-15 seconds in the absence of oxygen. Rates of cellular death vary; Organ tissue dies quickly while muscle tissue is the last to die and it can live somewhere between 5-7 hours (roughly) after death. However, the brain is the part that matters and it is surely dead. I think it is safe to assume that Ted was dead long before Arizona.

To make matters worse they freeze the head separately from the body. Not that it matters, but further evidence of the problems facing future "re-animation". Oh, and they also fill the body with anti-freeze because water turns to ice and ice crystals kill cells. However the antifreeze is also toxic to the cells as well -- which they readily admit. They are a complete bunch of frauds in my opinion.

Check out this link to an article written by the good people at ALCOR -- the company that has Ted on ice:

"Realistic" Scenario
for Nanotechnological Repair
of the Frozen Human Brain

(Those QUOTES are their own)

http://www.alcor.org/Library/html/NanoTechRepair.htm

It is the biggest bunch of gobblydygook-quasi-scientific garbage I have ever read. They actually have information on how you can sign over your life insurance premiums to ensure your cryonic preservation. They are frauds, plain and simple. The only thing that will EVER be possible will be to clone Ted from his DNA and I think that is within the realm of possibility although not desirability. (However, the likelihood that it will be legal is another matter all together.) And if you think the original Ted was messed up WAIT till you meet the severely psychologically damaged version that is his clone.
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Old 02-04-2003, 11:58 AM   #15
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NR, my man, some people will believe just about anything.

In the words of Steve Martin (the comic, not the defensive tackle): "I
wouldn't believe in anything if not for my lucky astrology mood watch or
the north star wondermen with the puppy dog faces"

There are about a million different belief systems in the world and Alcor
has theirs, as implausible as it all sounds. If I could sum up that
long-winded treatise on their website in a sentence it would be something
like; "Hey, we don't know if it works, but it might" and you can't really
prove them wrong.

Remember that this is a world where people like Tom Cruise and Kirstie
Alley believe in a "religion" founded by a failed sci-fi writer who
postulates that the reason why people are screwed up is because they have
"engrams" AKA bad-seed spirits from space poisoning their systems. How do
you get rid of them, or to become "clear" in their parlance? Apparently by
giving the Scientologists all of your money.

The Raelian movement was founded by a gaullic whack-job with a bad top knot
who, while driving to his job as a writer for a racing car magazine one
fine day felt compelled to drive to a Volcano where he was met by a little
green man from space (the color precludes the alien from being Admiral
Jheelizar) who gave him a blueprint for a new religion. They are now in 50
countries and are driving the French and Pakistanis nuts, which is their
only saving grace. They are the people made famous by their apparently
bogus claims of cloning and their theories are out there to say the least.
Hey, whatever it takes to get you on CNN.

Speaking of cloning, you can't swing a dead cat these days without smacking
into a cloned sheep.

I won't attempt to skewer Catholic dogma, even though I freely admit that
some of it is pretty far-fetched. As someone born a Catholic it is
something I frequently do, especially in these dark days for all Friday
fish-eaters.

Plenty of upstanding young men and women from the finest universities in
the land have given up their careers as accountants or pediatricians to put
on orange robes and dance around beating drums while paying homage to
Krishna and annoying people at airports.

Quacks, charlatans, con men, draft gurus and snake oil salesman seem to do
really well in this world since there seems to be an abundance of people
who are desperate to find some reason to believe in something. It doesn't
really seem to matter that much what that something is.

I don't know squat about bio-chemistry so can't validate or refute any of
the Alcorian claims, but I will fall back on the old cliche about how
things that are accepted science now couldn't have been dreamed of when I
was born back in the days when dinosaurs still ruled the earth. If you had
told the widow of a bricklayer that died of a heart attack in 1956 that "40
years from now they could have inserted a wire into his groin and fished it
up to his heart so you could place little tubes called stents to keep the
arteries open" she wouldn't have bought it and probably made the sign of
the devil at you. The fact is that I have three of those babies in me right
now keeping me healthy and posting my nonsense, and I'm kind of glad of
that I am lucky enough to live during an age of cardiac enlightenment.

I wouldn't be all that surprised if in my lifetime, somebody achieves some
form of reanimation whether it be something simple like a mollusk or a
slightly more complex lifeform like a televangelist. Whatever the result,
you can bank on the fact that it won't be good.

Whether John Henry Williams really thinks that they can bring his much
beloved "freeze pop" back from the dead on the positive side, or he is
planning on selling his DNA on the internet ( a more likely scenario for
that peculiar lad) is unknown, but what is known is that there a whole lot
of crazies out there selling stuff and a whole lot of crazies buying. Thank
the creator that we here at PatriotsPlanet are all fundamentally well
grounded and getting closer every day to understanding the world around us
using pro football and pictures of hot chicks as metaphors for life.
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