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Coupled with more than 250 stunning, full-color visual reproductions, the text illustrates how this machine combines new technology with traditional art forms. The book reveals for the nonspecialist as well as for the computer professional the potential of computer graphics in many fields, including medicine, architecure. and fine arts, in addition to providing a fascinating insight into our future. 200 pages. $16.95 CRACKED By Andy Robinson Linocut by Jack McLarty rney brought that White Train through town again the other day. Don't ask me why they keep bringing it. We stopped it the first time back in '84. Bunch of people lying on the tracks, primitive but very effective. Three hours in the rain, the cops peering at us and us peering back at them. After that all hell broke loose. They decided, forget about Portland. So they routed the train up north through Yakima, over the Cascades. Problem was, the train derailed in six feet of snow. The folks up in the mountains were not too pleased about having a couple hundred nuclear missiles just lying there in the snow, waiting for spring. Once the train got out, the locals blew up the track. Now that’s what I call direct action. Next time they brought it down the Gorge. Figured they'd sneak it through Vancouver and then up to the submarine base. They got it through Vancouver all SOMEBODY DROVE TO THE COAST AND LOADED UP A COUPLE OF TRUCKS WITH THOSE PURPLE JELLYFISH, THE ONES THAT STINK. PICTURE THAT, A WHITE TRAIN COVERED WITH STREAKS OF STINKING PURPLE COO. right, but up around Castle Rock they ran into trouble. I mean, literally. A wall of dead television sets. Hundreds of ’em, all shapes and sizes. Ancient Philcos with round picture tubes, Magnavoxes, Sonys, you name it. Each one had a photo of Ronald Reagan glued to the screen and he was saying things like, “Progress is our most important product." Anyway, they got to Castle Rock about four in the morning and boom! Right into all those teevees. Glass and plastic everywhere, Reagan’s speeches cut up into little transparent pieces. The Department of Energy called up the FBI, they did a big investigation, lots of headlines. They never convicted anyone, though. The district attorney didn’t want it in court, Feds or no Feds. Cost the taxpayers too damn much to convict a bunch of pranksters, is what he said. Lots of folks were speculating that the D.A. was a sympathizer, but he was up for re-election and won, which says something about something. Since the televisions, people have been blocking the tracks with all manner of things. Dumpsters. Old tires. Tons of surplus grain, if you can believe that, with a sign saying, Bread not Bombs. Somebody drove to the coast and loaded up a couple of trucks with those purple jellyfish, the ones that stink. Picture that, a white train covered with streaks of stinking purple goo. Looked real artistic. I went down to the railroad yard the other day, thought I’d watch the fun. Sure enough, somebody had taken half the animals from the zoo and tied ’em to the tracks. The police didn’t know what to do. The zoo wasn't answering the phone and no one wanted to mess with the lion, not to mention the wild boar. Even those cute little panda bears; they cost an arm and a leg. You let one go by accident, it wanders all over and you might never see it again. There goes a lot of taxpayers’ money right there. You know what they did? They backed the train up. When they got to Troutdale they found that somebody had built a suburban ticky-tacky right on the tracks. Four bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, a fine house. Threw it up in a matter of hours. City inspectors came out, gave it the OK, went home to watch the news. Union Pacific had to dismantle the house. The guys were bitching and swearing the whole time. Last we heard, that train was back at the plant in Amarillo. Can’t be sure though. Since Reagan got his fourth term they confiscated all our walkie-talkies and CBs. Nobody can afford a goddamn telephone. I hear they're still testing bombs down in Nevada. Drill a hole into the heart of the earth, blow up another bomb, watch the meters jump around. The place is filled with cracks and crevices; it’s just waiting to collapse. They’re in my heart too. Cracks, crevices, fissures, you name it. Every bomb they make splits me a little wider. If they can’t make a train run down the track, how are they going to put my heart back together? Do I bind it with hope and linament? Ah, well. To the tracks. • Andy Robinson is a Portland writer and peacemaker. Jack McLarty is a Portland artist. Clinton St. Quarterly 7
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