Pity the Matrix round didn't last longer; I *hate* winning with my first rule. :) The Wizard has until midnight, May 30, GMT, to post the first rule. After that, any member of the FRC is free to do so. I have come up with several ideas for themes: Memorial Day FRC Archeology and/or Mythology and/or Fairy Tales Plays Shakespeare Didn't Write The Wizard of Op Clever combinations of the above, as in the last round, will be rewarded. 'Clever' is the operative word. :) Judge-For-Life Garth Note: It's speculated that L. Frank Baum created the name 'Oz' by taking the initials of his home state of New York and advancing them by one letter in the alphabet. Hence 'Op' from Norway, where trolltech is located. -- Rule Date: 2000-05-26 05:31:33 GMT ====================================================================== Round Summary 138 - The round without a judge. All rules were valid by time out. -Nick for Judge Garth Rule 138:1 The Land of Op is a very interesting place. Everyone there is either a liar or a truth teller. For example, I know the Wizard of Op always tells the truth. The Wicked Witch of the West told me, "Muchkins are fat and lazy, and they always lie." All Rules must quote at least one Denizen of Op. -Nick -- Rule Date: 2000-06-02 19:52:46 GMT 138:2 >>>> Last evening I attended the Muchkin Repertory Theatre's production of "Muchkin Ado about Nothing." I can't say I thought much of it. It had no discernible plot, consisting merely of a gaggle of the little fellows standing about making implausible claims about each others' lineages and personal habits. Gnip-Gnop, the clockwork man of Op, explained it to me thusly: "The denizens of Op are incorrigible gossips. Everything they say is, in one way or another, a comment on the behavior of one or more of their fellows." <<<< -Christian -- Rule Date: 2000-06-02 20:38:13 GMT ------ BEGIN 138:3 ------ "Hello, my dear," quoth I once bright and sunny morning in France. I was, of course, addressing myself to my acquaintance of some years, Dorothy of notable fame. I had come across her in one of the narrow rues of Paris on my way to see the much-renowned performance of a certain musical of ill-repute for its wantonly scatological references. I, of course, considered my destination inappropriate for my friend's delicate young ears, and so I prevaricated, I fabricated, and ultimately I misdirected her to a delightful cafe by the side of the road, pretending this to be my goal. "Good day, Mr. Calais," she said, quite properly as the petite waitress took her order for an espresso. I has already indulged myself that morning, and contented myself with a croissant. "Did I recently see a movie featuring you?" I asked eventually, thinking of course of the colorful classic starring Judy Garland. "I should hardly know, Mr. Calais," she replied. "You will have to tell me." She was a pert girl. "Well, I did," I said. "Then you must be thinking of the 'Wizard of Op,'" she replied. "Not to be confused with the cheap Technicolor knock-off starring that boozing coke-fiend. Shameless," she muttered finally. I was shocked. Imagine that delightful ponytailed young girl using such language! I must think any responsible adult would have been shocked. "But surely--" I began. "I once visited Op, you see," she said, brooking no dissent. She was a very pert girl. "In fact, I really am a /denizen/ of Op, in a very real sense. I was much-loved there, you know." Far off, lost almost in the muddled murmur of the street, I thought I heard the strains of...could it be? "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"? "Well I am certainly no denizen of Op," I said. There was a long pause, and she said nothing. Did you really go there?" I asked, assuming the psychoanalytic method of question in order to elicit further information. I was to say the least intrigued. "Oh yes," she said dreamily. "It's such a wonderful place there. Although I can't say I shed a tear when my house fell on the Wicked Witch of the East. She was a real whore for attention. But at least one thing can be said for her: in her entire life, she spoke only the truth." "Is that so?" I replied. "Oh, yes. I can't even say that much for her sister, the Wicked Witch of the West. She was a liar--a liar, I say! I remember when she said, "I'll get you, dearie, you and your little dog too." Did she get me?" There was a long pause, and finally, I said, "No, of course not." "You see what I'm saying," she went on. "Good riddance to bad rubbish." "My dear, you mustn't judge," I said. "Surely you've fallen prey to the same flaws: you can't have gone your whole life without straying from the truth." She seemed shocked and offended at once. "Mr. Calais, I shall attribute that to the heat of the day, but I must say I am insulted by your implication." She paused. "I recall hearing once on unimpeachable authority that the Wizard of Op had declared, 'all denizens of Op either always teller the truth or always lie'" She said nothing. "He said further," I went on, "that those of our world can (naturally) either tell the truth or lie at any moment, as the situation merits." I suddenly thought of something disturbing. "The Wizard of Op is a liar!" she said then, and then I knew what I had feared. My Dorothy, my dear Dorothy, was a liar. Or was she? -- From the Journal of Francis Robert Calais ------- END 138:3 ------- [ t e m p u s f u g i t ] -- Rule Date: 2000-06-03 01:53:23 GMT -- Rule Date: 2000-06-14 03:09:59 GMT