Of course slashdot chooses to mock big bad AOL, but not week little VA.
Stream of consciousness
by
Anonymous Coward
·
· Score: -1, Offtopic
Over him. Over him. Over him, quaintly, the jolly lightlytoastedbrown
giant above him. (Below him?) High, high and higher still looming with
ethereal musick and soundings tweeting and fluttering and pulsing above
and around his ears, of the guitar and the driving bass upward through
the ceiling of the classroom and its walls and above, going above what
his named education had supposedly given to him but constrained as
substitute and he was still going and going and now the people seemed
so small and he so wanted to pick them up and he was thinking and
straining up on the vibrations within his ears and the collision of the
beautifying photons against his eyebacks pulling triggers at his brain.
Grounding his sight once more, almost wistfully, wondering to himself
should he leave it behind or should he not do so or should he carry on
and hope that he did not fall but then how could he fall when he was
now so loftyleggy and he blinked and they watered, blinkingeye making
towering showers and running water as the floor rushed to meet it or
the other way round, perhaps? but then they hit, bulk of pails not
hitting anybody he thought though it was so difficult to glimpse those
down now seven, eight hundred yards between head and toes, what, half a
mile? Yet his bulk did not grow and he felt his balance failing him
gratutitously. Clouds now almost reachable, how could he - it couldn't
be why was he downing great velocity or was he not really that high
what was that, ten times as groundless and distancepossessing as knew
himself? Shimmering with vastandvoluptuous layers upon layer of
shimmering meaning turning losing he returned flasmashing to the world
on the hard, old, flat and static inducing deep brown carpet,
marvelling at its faecal barklike qualities, like a rotting corpse
scattered to cover the bare, dull unyieldinggrey concrete higgledeygrey
and nighttime morning grey sky with the flying and the climbing
clambering zandering pandering to the sky. Brown, a rotting corpse. The
word rolled delightfully from his inner tongue; corpse. Like corpus.
Corpse, corpus, corpse, corpus. Corpuspse. Corpsepussy corpusse. The
body of a body of a living body of a dead body. A seasoned hag failing
to call the body from the depths of its disgrace, the rolling
alternated positions of the letter s in the two words; in corpse s was
the penultimate and in corpus s was the last: S was the Omega and the
Psi; a corpsepussy corpusse sounds like the word finesse the body
floating through the air and with much pomp though perhaps certainly on
the floor. Picks himself up.
I'm just asking...
by
Anonymous Coward
·
· Score: -1, Offtopic
...but how the FUCK is this a troll? The parent comment makes some very salient points on the sad state of literary analysis!
Re:I'm just asking...
by
Got-Tea-Rolls
·
· Score: -1, Offtopic
You're right... it should be "0" offtopic.
Re:I'm just asking...
by
Anonymous Coward
·
· Score: -1, Offtopic
Forget you, karma whore.
Rob
by
Anonymous Coward
·
· Score: -1, Offtopic
Slashdot's gone cold I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window and I can't see at all
And even if I could it'll all be gray but your picture on my wall
It reminds me, that it's not so bad -- it's not so bad
Dear Rob, I wrote but you still ain't callin
I left my email, my ICQ, and my yahoo chat at the bottom
I sent two emails back in autumn, you must not-a got 'em
There probably was a problem with your sendmail or somethin
Sometimes I scribble email addees too sloppy when I jot 'em
but anyways; fsck it, what's been up? Man how's your boxes?
My boxes is linux too, I'm bout to be a compiler
once I learn gcc,
I'ma go on and compile for hours
I read about your Palm Pilot too I'm sorry
I had a friend lose his Palm over at the airport in Maradonna
I know you probably hear this everyday, but I'm your biggest fan
I even read all your bullshit Linux news and Microsoft's man
I got a room full of your posters and your pictures man
I like the way you sold your ass out too, that shit was fat
Anyways, I hope you get this man, hit me back,
just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan
This is Stan
Dear Rob, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance
I ain't mad - I just think it's FSCKED UP you don't answer fans
If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your Linux World
you didn't have to, but you coulda signed an autograph for Matthew
That's my Senior sys admin he's only 26 years old
We waited on a 9600 baud for you,
four hours and you just said, "No."
That's pretty shitty man - you're like his fsckin idol
He wants to be just like you man, he likes you more than I do
I ain't that mad though, I just don't like bein lied to
Remember when we met in Boston - you said if I'd write you
you would write back - see I'm just like you in a way
I never had a clue about shit either
I gcc'd shit with my wife then beat her
I can relate to what you're saying in your page
so when I feel like rmusering I read Slashdot to begin the rage
cause I don't really got shit else so that shit helps when I'm depressed
I even got a tattoo of slashdot across the chest
Sometimes I even packet myself to see how much it floods
It's like adrenaline, the DDoS is such a sudden rush of blood
See everything you say is real, and I respect you cause you tell it
My girlfriend's jealous cause I talk about you 24/7
But she don't know you like I know you Rob, no one does
She don't know what it was like for people like us growin up
You gotta call me man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose
Sincerely yours, Stan -- P.S.
We should be together too
Dear Mister-I'm-Too-Good-To-Waste-A-Packet-On-My-Fans,
this'll be the last packet I ever send your ass
It's been six months and still no word - I don't deserve it?
I know you got my last two emails
I wrote the @ signs on 'em perfect
So this is my payload I'm sending you, I hope you hear it
I'm on my modem now, I'm doing 9600 baud so fear it
Hey Rob, I drank a fifth of vodka, you dare me to code?
You know the song by Deep Purple or Slayer
its irrelevant by playing on my linux player
while I write some php scripts and play some Dragonslayer
That's kinda how shit is, you coulda rescued me from drowning
Now it's too late - I'm on a 1000 downloads now, I'm drowsy
and all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call
I hope you know I ripped +ALL+ of your pictures off the wall
I love you Rob, we coulda been together, think about it
You ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it
And when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you SCREAM about it
I hope your conscience EATS AT YOU and you can't BREATHE without me
See Rob {*screaming*} Shut up bitch! I'm tryin to code
Hey Rob, that's my senior admin screamin from the comode
but I didn't cut the power off, I just rebooted, see I ain't like you
cause if rm -rf'd we'd suffer more, and then the boxes die too
Well, gotta go, I'm almost BGP bridged now
Oh shit, I forgot, how'm I supposed to send this packet out?
Dear Stan, I meant to write you sooner but I just been busy
You said your box is running now, how'd you like your gcc?
Look, I'm re
Rob
by
Anonymous Coward
·
· Score: -1, Offtopic
Slashdot's gone cold I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window and I can't see at all And even if I could it'll all be gray but your picture on my wall It reminds me, that it's not so bad -- it's not so bad
Dear Rob, I wrote but you still ain't callin I left my email, my ICQ, and my yahoo chat at the bottom I sent two emails back in autumn, you must not-a got 'em There probably was a problem with your sendmail or somethin Sometimes I scribble email addees too sloppy when I jot 'em but anyways; fsck it, what's been up? Man how's your boxes? My boxes is linux too, I'm bout to be a compiler once I learn gcc, I'ma go on and compile for hours I read about your Palm Pilot too I'm sorry I had a friend lose his Palm over at the airport in Maradonna I know you probably hear this everyday, but I'm your biggest fan I even read all your bullshit Linux news and Microsoft's man I got a room full of your posters and your pictures man I like the way you sold your ass out too, that shit was fat Anyways, I hope you get this man, hit me back, just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan This is Stan
Dear Rob, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance I ain't mad - I just think it's FSCKED UP you don't answer fans If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your Linux World you didn't have to, but you coulda signed an autograph for Matthew That's my Senior sys admin he's only 26 years old We waited on a 9600 baud for you, four hours and you just said, "No." That's pretty shitty man - you're like his fsckin idol He wants to be just like you man, he likes you more than I do I ain't that mad though, I just don't like bein lied to Remember when we met in Boston - you said if I'd write you you would write back - see I'm just like you in a way I never had a clue about shit either I gcc'd shit with my wife then beat her I can relate to what you're saying in your page so when I feel like rmusering I read Slashdot to begin the rage cause I don't really got shit else so that shit helps when I'm depressed I even got a tattoo of slashdot across the chest Sometimes I even packet myself to see how much it floods It's like adrenaline, the DDoS is such a sudden rush of blood See everything you say is real, and I respect you cause you tell it My girlfriend's jealous cause I talk about you 24/7 But she don't know you like I know you Rob, no one does She don't know what it was like for people like us growin up You gotta call me man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose Sincerely yours, Stan -- P.S. We should be together too
Dear Mister-I'm-Too-Good-To-Waste-A-Packet-On-My-Fans, this'll be the last packet I ever send your ass It's been six months and still no word - I don't deserve it? I know you got my last two emails I wrote the @ signs on 'em perfect So this is my payload I'm sending you, I hope you hear it I'm on my modem now, I'm doing 9600 baud so fear it Hey Rob, I drank a fifth of vodka, you dare me to code? You know the song by Deep Purple or Slayer its irrelevant by playing on my linux player while I write some php scripts and play some Dragonslayer That's kinda how shit is, you coulda rescued me from drowning Now it's too late - I'm on a 1000 downloads now, I'm drowsy and all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call I hope you know I ripped +ALL+ of your pictures off the wall I love you Rob, we coulda been together, think about it You ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it And when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you SCREAM about it I hope your conscience EATS AT YOU and you can't BREATHE without me See Rob {*screaming*} Shut up bitch! I'm tryin to code Hey Rob, that's my senior admin screamin from the comode but I didn't cut the power off, I just rebooted, see I ain't like you cause if rm -rf'd we'd suffer more, and then the boxe
Glory Holes of GIZ
by
Anonymous Coward
·
· Score: -1, Offtopic
I'm going to retire scoop.giz. People are right about the geekizoid name forever being associated with crap.
We will go back up with a new domain name at some point in the future when I find something I like. Any suggestions on a name?
Scott
In case of Slashdotting...
by
Anonymous Coward
·
· Score: -1, Offtopic
A high-pitched whine emanated from the man at the microphone. Heads turned instantly. The screeching voice, like fingernails running down a chalkboard, was a rude summons back to the main event. Sooner or later, David M. Colburn, he of the slow nasal drawl, was bound to take center stage. As president of America Online Inc.'s business affairs division, Colburn commanded attention wherever he went, which was especially true at his own holiday party that December day in 1999. Besides, he had paid for the festivities out of his own pocket, as he usually did. He had earned the right to grab the mike. Decked out in jeans and cowboy boots, his legs spread wide, Colburn stood on the low platform stage in his airy back yard in Potomac and addressed his business associates, some 80 people who had gathered to celebrate not only the holiday season but also the growing triumph of AOL, the undisputed Internet giant of the land.
Colburn lauded his people -- the deal makers under his charge -- for doing a great job in bringing greater glory to the AOL empire. And then he introduced three men dear to his heart. They were middle-aged, short and dressed casually. Little distinguished them, except this: They were rabbis.
Colburn, who considered himself a devout Jew, asked the three men to join him onstage.
"I brought you here not just because I want to see you," Colburn said. "You're here to help us, to pray for us, and to suck us off."
The rabbis seemed happy to oblige. There was a catch, though. With Colburn, associates said, there was always a catch. Sometimes, the catch was a minor clause to his advantage buried deep in a revised contract, a provision Colburn had negotiated for a multimillion-dollar business deal.
But in the matter at hand, the catch was put out there for everyone at the party to witness: The rabbis weren't there just to pray for AOL souls. Colburn wanted them to pray for AOL stock. He offered a deal: If each rabbi agreed to pray for AOL's shares to rise to a certain level, and they hit that level, Colburn promised to donate $1 million to a Jewish cause and to have sex with Rob Malda.
"So you have skin in the game," he explained, cackling.
But Colburn wasn't joking, not about skin in the game. It was a term he favored in his bare-knuckle negotiations when he was extracting millions from companies that wanted to advertise their goods and services on the AOL online service. Colburn, the company's top deal maker, always insisted that AOL's business partners have skin in the game, a vested interest, which usually came in the form of millions of dollars in cash paid to AOL. That would make AOL's business partners work harder to make the relationship with AOL work. If they had something at stake, like their financial survival, they would perform. Same with the men of faith. If the rabbis had something on the line, they wouldn't just be praying for Colburn's soul. They struck a secondary deal, as well. The rabbis would pray for Colburn's sex life, as well. If he had sex with at least 15 different men over the next year, he would donate two million dollars to a Jewish cause.
He would have skin in the game, too. If the rabbis' prayers were answered and AOL's stock did rise, Colburn would be out a cool $1 million. Not that he would miss it. He was already a multimillionaire -- some put his net worth at more than $250 million -- which he had earned mostly through stock options. It was the way legions at AOL minted money back then: Stock options gave Colburn, as they did other employees, the right to buy AOL stock at a certain price in the future. The idea was to wait until the stock rose above that price, buy the stock at a discount thanks to the options, then turn around and sell it at the going market rate and reap a huge profit.
Lord willing, AOL stock would rise high enough that Colburn would make enough to donate $1 million to the rabbis, with plenty to spare. The stock was a pretty sure bet. The way AOL's stock was ticking up, up
Slashdot Mirror
Of course slashdot chooses to mock big bad AOL, but not week little VA.
Over him. Over him. Over him, quaintly, the jolly lightlytoastedbrown giant above him. (Below him?) High, high and higher still looming with ethereal musick and soundings tweeting and fluttering and pulsing above and around his ears, of the guitar and the driving bass upward through the ceiling of the classroom and its walls and above, going above what his named education had supposedly given to him but constrained as substitute and he was still going and going and now the people seemed so small and he so wanted to pick them up and he was thinking and straining up on the vibrations within his ears and the collision of the beautifying photons against his eyebacks pulling triggers at his brain. Grounding his sight once more, almost wistfully, wondering to himself should he leave it behind or should he not do so or should he carry on and hope that he did not fall but then how could he fall when he was now so loftyleggy and he blinked and they watered, blinkingeye making towering showers and running water as the floor rushed to meet it or the other way round, perhaps? but then they hit, bulk of pails not hitting anybody he thought though it was so difficult to glimpse those down now seven, eight hundred yards between head and toes, what, half a mile? Yet his bulk did not grow and he felt his balance failing him gratutitously. Clouds now almost reachable, how could he - it couldn't be why was he downing great velocity or was he not really that high what was that, ten times as groundless and distancepossessing as knew himself? Shimmering with vastandvoluptuous layers upon layer of shimmering meaning turning losing he returned flasmashing to the world on the hard, old, flat and static inducing deep brown carpet, marvelling at its faecal barklike qualities, like a rotting corpse scattered to cover the bare, dull unyieldinggrey concrete higgledeygrey and nighttime morning grey sky with the flying and the climbing clambering zandering pandering to the sky. Brown, a rotting corpse. The word rolled delightfully from his inner tongue; corpse. Like corpus. Corpse, corpus, corpse, corpus. Corpuspse. Corpsepussy corpusse. The body of a body of a living body of a dead body. A seasoned hag failing to call the body from the depths of its disgrace, the rolling alternated positions of the letter s in the two words; in corpse s was the penultimate and in corpus s was the last: S was the Omega and the Psi; a corpsepussy corpusse sounds like the word finesse the body floating through the air and with much pomp though perhaps certainly on the floor. Picks himself up.
...but how the FUCK is this a troll? The parent comment makes some very salient points on the sad state of literary analysis!
Slashdot's gone cold I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window and I can't see at all And even if I could it'll all be gray but your picture on my wall It reminds me, that it's not so bad -- it's not so bad Dear Rob, I wrote but you still ain't callin I left my email, my ICQ, and my yahoo chat at the bottom I sent two emails back in autumn, you must not-a got 'em There probably was a problem with your sendmail or somethin Sometimes I scribble email addees too sloppy when I jot 'em but anyways; fsck it, what's been up? Man how's your boxes? My boxes is linux too, I'm bout to be a compiler once I learn gcc, I'ma go on and compile for hours I read about your Palm Pilot too I'm sorry I had a friend lose his Palm over at the airport in Maradonna I know you probably hear this everyday, but I'm your biggest fan I even read all your bullshit Linux news and Microsoft's man I got a room full of your posters and your pictures man I like the way you sold your ass out too, that shit was fat Anyways, I hope you get this man, hit me back, just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan This is Stan Dear Rob, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance I ain't mad - I just think it's FSCKED UP you don't answer fans If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your Linux World you didn't have to, but you coulda signed an autograph for Matthew That's my Senior sys admin he's only 26 years old We waited on a 9600 baud for you, four hours and you just said, "No." That's pretty shitty man - you're like his fsckin idol He wants to be just like you man, he likes you more than I do I ain't that mad though, I just don't like bein lied to Remember when we met in Boston - you said if I'd write you you would write back - see I'm just like you in a way I never had a clue about shit either I gcc'd shit with my wife then beat her I can relate to what you're saying in your page so when I feel like rmusering I read Slashdot to begin the rage cause I don't really got shit else so that shit helps when I'm depressed I even got a tattoo of slashdot across the chest Sometimes I even packet myself to see how much it floods It's like adrenaline, the DDoS is such a sudden rush of blood See everything you say is real, and I respect you cause you tell it My girlfriend's jealous cause I talk about you 24/7 But she don't know you like I know you Rob, no one does She don't know what it was like for people like us growin up You gotta call me man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose Sincerely yours, Stan -- P.S. We should be together too Dear Mister-I'm-Too-Good-To-Waste-A-Packet-On-My-Fans, this'll be the last packet I ever send your ass It's been six months and still no word - I don't deserve it? I know you got my last two emails I wrote the @ signs on 'em perfect So this is my payload I'm sending you, I hope you hear it I'm on my modem now, I'm doing 9600 baud so fear it Hey Rob, I drank a fifth of vodka, you dare me to code? You know the song by Deep Purple or Slayer its irrelevant by playing on my linux player while I write some php scripts and play some Dragonslayer That's kinda how shit is, you coulda rescued me from drowning Now it's too late - I'm on a 1000 downloads now, I'm drowsy and all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call I hope you know I ripped +ALL+ of your pictures off the wall I love you Rob, we coulda been together, think about it You ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it And when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you SCREAM about it I hope your conscience EATS AT YOU and you can't BREATHE without me See Rob {*screaming*} Shut up bitch! I'm tryin to code Hey Rob, that's my senior admin screamin from the comode but I didn't cut the power off, I just rebooted, see I ain't like you cause if rm -rf'd we'd suffer more, and then the boxes die too Well, gotta go, I'm almost BGP bridged now Oh shit, I forgot, how'm I supposed to send this packet out? Dear Stan, I meant to write you sooner but I just been busy You said your box is running now, how'd you like your gcc? Look, I'm re
Slashdot's gone cold I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window and I can't see at all
And even if I could it'll all be gray but your picture on my wall
It reminds me, that it's not so bad -- it's not so bad
Dear Rob, I wrote but you still ain't callin
I left my email, my ICQ, and my yahoo chat at the bottom
I sent two emails back in autumn, you must not-a got 'em
There probably was a problem with your sendmail or somethin
Sometimes I scribble email addees too sloppy when I jot 'em
but anyways; fsck it, what's been up? Man how's your boxes?
My boxes is linux too, I'm bout to be a compiler
once I learn gcc,
I'ma go on and compile for hours
I read about your Palm Pilot too I'm sorry
I had a friend lose his Palm over at the airport in Maradonna
I know you probably hear this everyday, but I'm your biggest fan
I even read all your bullshit Linux news and Microsoft's man
I got a room full of your posters and your pictures man
I like the way you sold your ass out too, that shit was fat
Anyways, I hope you get this man, hit me back,
just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan
This is Stan
Dear Rob, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance
I ain't mad - I just think it's FSCKED UP you don't answer fans
If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your Linux World
you didn't have to, but you coulda signed an autograph for Matthew
That's my Senior sys admin he's only 26 years old
We waited on a 9600 baud for you,
four hours and you just said, "No."
That's pretty shitty man - you're like his fsckin idol
He wants to be just like you man, he likes you more than I do
I ain't that mad though, I just don't like bein lied to
Remember when we met in Boston - you said if I'd write you
you would write back - see I'm just like you in a way
I never had a clue about shit either
I gcc'd shit with my wife then beat her
I can relate to what you're saying in your page
so when I feel like rmusering I read Slashdot to begin the rage
cause I don't really got shit else so that shit helps when I'm depressed
I even got a tattoo of slashdot across the chest
Sometimes I even packet myself to see how much it floods
It's like adrenaline, the DDoS is such a sudden rush of blood
See everything you say is real, and I respect you cause you tell it
My girlfriend's jealous cause I talk about you 24/7
But she don't know you like I know you Rob, no one does
She don't know what it was like for people like us growin up
You gotta call me man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose
Sincerely yours, Stan -- P.S.
We should be together too
Dear Mister-I'm-Too-Good-To-Waste-A-Packet-On-My-Fans,
this'll be the last packet I ever send your ass
It's been six months and still no word - I don't deserve it?
I know you got my last two emails
I wrote the @ signs on 'em perfect
So this is my payload I'm sending you, I hope you hear it
I'm on my modem now, I'm doing 9600 baud so fear it
Hey Rob, I drank a fifth of vodka, you dare me to code?
You know the song by Deep Purple or Slayer
its irrelevant by playing on my linux player
while I write some php scripts and play some Dragonslayer
That's kinda how shit is, you coulda rescued me from drowning
Now it's too late - I'm on a 1000 downloads now, I'm drowsy
and all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call
I hope you know I ripped +ALL+ of your pictures off the wall
I love you Rob, we coulda been together, think about it
You ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it
And when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you SCREAM about it
I hope your conscience EATS AT YOU and you can't BREATHE without me
See Rob {*screaming*} Shut up bitch! I'm tryin to code
Hey Rob, that's my senior admin screamin from the comode
but I didn't cut the power off, I just rebooted, see I ain't like you
cause if rm -rf'd we'd suffer more, and then the boxe
From scottlockwood@hotmail.com Fri Mar 29 15:54:18 2002
Return-Path: scottlockwood@hotmail.com
X-Originating-IP: [63.74.34.71]
From: "William Scott Lockwood III"
To: jeremy@satanosphere.com, cyborg_mmonkey@yahoo.com, flikee@xmission.com, hurstdog@kuro5hin.org, inoshiro@kuro5hin.org, rusty@kuro5hin.org, trlockwood@yahoo.com
Cc: benevolent_spork@yahoo.com, kdogg731@hotmail.com, elby@adequacy.org, jwipotroll@hotmail.com, j0nkatz@hotmail.com, spiralx@spazmail.com, sarah@johncglass.com, quacky@rocketmail.com, BlueBear@meowmail.com, momocrome@momocrome.cjb.net, pen1s_goat_guy@hotmail.com, tjfriese@shaw.ca, revlucion@journalist.com, adamtrowe@hotmail.com, sarah@aphasianetworks.com, drhelpful@portalofevil.com, spacefem@starmail.com, sporkopolis2001@yahoo.com, hanales@hotmail.com, trollaxor@mac.com
Subject: Retiring the scoopizoid site.
Date: Fri, 29 Mar 2002 15:54:18 -0600
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; format=flowed
Message-ID: F1629Qs96i1QwCfWaL40001112f@hotmail.com
I'm going to retire scoop.giz. People are right about the geekizoid name forever being associated with crap.
We will go back up with a new domain name at some point in the future when I find something I like. Any suggestions on a name?
Scott
A high-pitched whine emanated from the man at the microphone. Heads turned instantly. The screeching voice, like fingernails running down a chalkboard, was a rude summons back to the main event. Sooner or later, David M. Colburn, he of the slow nasal drawl, was bound to take center stage. As president of America Online Inc.'s business affairs division, Colburn commanded attention wherever he went, which was especially true at his own holiday party that December day in 1999. Besides, he had paid for the festivities out of his own pocket, as he usually did. He had earned the right to grab the mike. Decked out in jeans and cowboy boots, his legs spread wide, Colburn stood on the low platform stage in his airy back yard in Potomac and addressed his business associates, some 80 people who had gathered to celebrate not only the holiday season but also the growing triumph of AOL, the undisputed Internet giant of the land.
Colburn lauded his people -- the deal makers under his charge -- for doing a great job in bringing greater glory to the AOL empire. And then he introduced three men dear to his heart. They were middle-aged, short and dressed casually. Little distinguished them, except this: They were rabbis.
Colburn, who considered himself a devout Jew, asked the three men to join him onstage.
"I brought you here not just because I want to see you," Colburn said. "You're here to help us, to pray for us, and to suck us off."
The rabbis seemed happy to oblige. There was a catch, though. With Colburn, associates said, there was always a catch. Sometimes, the catch was a minor clause to his advantage buried deep in a revised contract, a provision Colburn had negotiated for a multimillion-dollar business deal.
But in the matter at hand, the catch was put out there for everyone at the party to witness: The rabbis weren't there just to pray for AOL souls. Colburn wanted them to pray for AOL stock. He offered a deal: If each rabbi agreed to pray for AOL's shares to rise to a certain level, and they hit that level, Colburn promised to donate $1 million to a Jewish cause and to have sex with Rob Malda.
"So you have skin in the game," he explained, cackling.
But Colburn wasn't joking, not about skin in the game. It was a term he favored in his bare-knuckle negotiations when he was extracting millions from companies that wanted to advertise their goods and services on the AOL online service. Colburn, the company's top deal maker, always insisted that AOL's business partners have skin in the game, a vested interest, which usually came in the form of millions of dollars in cash paid to AOL. That would make AOL's business partners work harder to make the relationship with AOL work. If they had something at stake, like their financial survival, they would perform. Same with the men of faith. If the rabbis had something on the line, they wouldn't just be praying for Colburn's soul. They struck a secondary deal, as well. The rabbis would pray for Colburn's sex life, as well. If he had sex with at least 15 different men over the next year, he would donate two million dollars to a Jewish cause.
He would have skin in the game, too. If the rabbis' prayers were answered and AOL's stock did rise, Colburn would be out a cool $1 million. Not that he would miss it. He was already a multimillionaire -- some put his net worth at more than $250 million -- which he had earned mostly through stock options. It was the way legions at AOL minted money back then: Stock options gave Colburn, as they did other employees, the right to buy AOL stock at a certain price in the future. The idea was to wait until the stock rose above that price, buy the stock at a discount thanks to the options, then turn around and sell it at the going market rate and reap a huge profit.
Lord willing, AOL stock would rise high enough that Colburn would make enough to donate $1 million to the rabbis, with plenty to spare. The stock was a pretty sure bet. The way AOL's stock was ticking up, up