Newsgroups: alt.butt.harp Subject: RICHH: THE IMPORTANCE OF GOOD INFORMATION Message-ID: <1992May6.164347.3615@tigger.jvnc.net> From: richh@tigger.jvnc.net (RICHH) Date: Wed, 6 May 1992 16:43:47 GMT Sender: news@tigger.jvnc.net (Zee News Genie) Organization: JvNCnet, Princeton University, NJ Originator: richh@tigger.jvnc.net Ed note: I e-mailed an old housemate asking for any Gresge stories I might have forgotten. Here is what he sent back) -------------------------------- It was late - about 1 AM - on a Saturday night. The Gresge and I were lounging around, watching TV, when we were finally bored into action. We decided to head up to the A&P supermarket (i think that was what it was called, who can remember?) a few miles north of campus. We had to take a slight detour because some of the roads had been blocked off by the police for road repairs. On the way up there, the Gresge and I were engaged in a discussion about the relative merits of various philosophies of life. "So, Gresge, you don't really believe in the Golden Rule, do you?," I asked. He laughed - a crazy kind of laugh, sort of high-pitched, with a mean, sarcastic tone to it. "No, not exactly. I don't worry about other people - just myself. And unlike other people, I am going to survive." "And just what is it that gives you the edge over other people? I mean, it's not just your carefree attitude." "Information. That's it. Information. I constantly read all kinds of sources - underground books, Time, financial newsletters, auto repair books. I listen to and know a lot of different kinds of people. Because there's nothing more important than information. You never know when one little bit of information will make the difference between your own survival and becoming someone else's *FOOD*!" I mulled this over as we drove the last couple of miles to the supermarket in silence. We pulled into the nearly deserted parking lot. The Gresge smiled as he screeched to a halt next to a station wagon. At the door, a woman carrying grocery bags gave him a dirty look, but the Gresge was oblivious. As we started hunting for our food (the first stop was the frozen meats section for the rack-o'-ribs, I remembered a story Ralph had told me a couple of months ago. "Gresge, is it true that you were arrested at this grocery store?" "Yeah, it's true. But I didn't deserve it. I was arrested for carrying out a girl. On my shoulders." "Voluntarily?" "Not exactly. But I figured, hell, you can buy just about anything else at a supermarket..." "So she called the cops?" "No, the manager did. In fact, she didn't even want to press charges. It was that damned manager." We paid for the goods and went out to the car. The Gresge looked around, grinned, and got into the car. I knew I was in trouble. "What are you planning, Gresge?" "Just watch." He drove maybe twenty yards, straight towards an abandoned grocery cart. The back of the cart just touched the front bumper; we were lined up right behind the cart. The Gresge told me to hang on. Slowly, he accelerated the car. The grocery cart bounced along in front of us, rolling faster and faster. When the car hit about 45, the Gresge slammed on the brakes, and the cart skittered off in front of us until it started to tumble end over end. I was cracking up. I have no idea why, but it was hilarious. The Gresge did this a few more times, then it was time to head home. On the way back, the Gresge described his philosophy of driving. "Like most things in life, you never know how far you can push things until you push them too far. Like taking corners, for instance." "That gets to be a little expensive, doesn't it?" "The way I see it, there's nothing more important than information. And there's no more important information than good information. I'm willing to pay for good information." We drove on. As we passed the blocked off streets, the Gresge said, "Gee....I wonder...." and hit the brakes. He backed up the car until we were facing the police barrier. It was a large, wooden barrier, painted white. The Gresge revved the engine a few times, and shouted at me, "I've always wanted to try this!" With that, he pushed the accelerator to the floor. The barrier rushed up at us, glaring in the high beams. I instinctively threw up my hands as we crashed through the barrier, wooden beams flying all over. A beam came rushing toward me, smashing into the window in front of me. It was then that I learned safety glass really does work. The beam bounced along the roof of the car and was gone. The Gresge ran down to the middle of the street and stopped the car. He looked at me, ecstatic. "Boy, that was great!" I was still shaking in my seat, thinking that this little piece of information had cost me a couple years of my life. He turned the car around, the headlights surveying the damage. And what damage there was! Through the cracked windshield I could see wooden planks and beams scattered everywhere - over several front yards, on the street, stretching as much as 60 yards from the original impact site. It was impressive. I could also see there was another barrier, still standing. The Gresge saw it too. With a shout of "Irrepressible!" he raced the car toward the other barrier. Once again, I ducked down in my seat as beams crashed into the car, on the side, on the roof, on the windshield. And then the car slowed and turned around. I could see that the Gresge had destroyed the barricades, spreading destruction over an area roughly the size of a football field. The people living in the area had a bit of a surprise waiting in their yards. We decided it might be a prudent time to leave. The next day I got up around noon and wandered outside to look at the car. It was a mess. The windshield was cracked, the hood was dented, and the whole car was covered with white streaks where the boards scraped across the car. The Gresge realized that the police would come looking for him (strangely enough, he *was* the first one they suspected) so we decided to paint the car to cover the evidence. I drove down to Kmart and picked up a few cans of red and yellow spray paint. Of course, a bright red car with a green interior and "Screw the Police" painted in yellow on the side did attract a little attention... KTCJ:RICHH