Date: Fri, 8 Dec 1995 01:53:33 -0500
From:: pgs@thillana.lcs.mit.edu (Patrick Sobalvarro)
To: gsl@ai.mit.edu
Subject: GSL Friday, December 8, 12:15 p.m., 8th floor playroom

There will be a GSL today.  We will be serving you a hearty risotto
accompanied by a delicious salad of selected baby lettuces, arugula,
fresh basil, walnuts, and apples, with a simple dressing of wine
vinegar, extra virgin olive oil, broken Gorgonzola, and cracked
pepper.  There will also be a selection of piping-hot freshly-baked
breads, some with cheese, some without.

To drink, a nice Pinot Grigio, and for dessert, tiramisu for those of
you who want to continue in an Italian vein, but for the more
adventurous, my very own special creme brulee! -- with just a touch of
almond.  And since we're all friends here, I'll let you in on a secret
-- that subtle little almond flavor comes from a little dash of
Amaretto.  Just a little bit of it.

Ah -- ah -- ah HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!  Some of you actually believed me
for a minute there, didn't you?  You actually believed that Jan and I
had spent hours planning and preparing this meal, carefully
shepherding our limited GSL funds and cooking like demons to provide
our fellow miserable graduate-scolyers a taste of the experience of
our former peers, people who weren't admitted to MIT for graduate
school and ended up as street people wandering aimlessly around Palo
Alto mumbling things like "Internet" until they bumped into a tree and
four venture capitalists fell out and gave them jillions and skillions
of dollars to start ill-conceived ventures that opened at 58 and
immediately went to 75, then 90, then 120!  Yes, and by the time you
graduate it'll all be over, that's right, Netscape'll be bust, the
market will have suffered a "correction," those guys at the Journal
will be talking about the Internet the way they talk about Ebola
Zaire, VC's won't touch computer science with a ten-foot pole and
it'll be another ten years before the next scam comes along and you'll
have missed it.

You'll have missed it, so you'll never know what it's like to have
your own table at Alain Rondelli up in the city, hundred and fifty
dollar dinners every night, John Markoff calling up on the phone and
200 demented idiots with greasy ponytails and Macintosh Powerbooks
cheering themselves hoarse for you in 34-101 every time you say
something like, "I've been thinking about Emacs..." -- yes, the train
will be gone and you'll have MISSED it, you'll just be left on the
platform with a broom in your hand and it'll be no Pinot Grigio for
YOU, buddy!

So just to get you ready, pal, it's another twenty-six Stefani's
pizzas.  FOUR of them with ANCHOVIES.  You don't like it?  Go ahead,
QUIT!  HAHAHAHAHAHA!  Plenty more where you came from!  We're going to
Star to try to find the cheapest soda we can, because we don't have
much cash and there sure are a lot of you thirsty little folks, aren't
there?  Sure hope we have enough money left over for ice cream
sandwiches, but if we don't, think of it this way: you probably
wouldn't want to eat the ice cream sandwiches we can afford on the GSL
budget, anyway.

So come on over to the eighth floor playroom tomorrow at about 12:15.
Or don't -- we don't care.  It's a seller's market.