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498 lines
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REUNIFICATION ISSUE -- REUNIFICATION ISSUE -- REUNIFICATION ISSUE -- REUNIFICATI
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_ /\ _ _ /\ _
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/ \_/\_/ \_/\_/ \ M M 0000 0000 SSSSS EEEEEEE / \_/\_/ \_/\_/ \
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\_____/ () \_____/ MM MM 0 //0 0 //0 S E \_____/ () \_____/
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/ \ M M M M 0 // 0 0 // 0 SSSS EEEEE / \
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/ \__/ \ M M M 0// 0 0// 0 S E / \__/ \
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/__________\ M M 0000 0000 SSSSS EEEEEEE /__________\
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DDDD RRRR OOOO PPPPP PPPPP IIIII N N GGGGG SSSSS
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D D R R O O P P P P I NN N G S
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D D RRRR O O PPPPP PPPPP I N N N G GGG SSSS
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D D R R O O P P I N NN G G S
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DDDD R R OOOO P P IIIII N N GGGG SSSSS
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A-M00SE-ING ANECDOTES AND ILLUMINATION BY AND FOR THE PAWNS OF THE
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M00SE ILLUMINATI
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Issue 45 | Disclaimer: The Editor does hereby take responsibility | 10/04/90
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---------- for the full contents of this newsletter. Accountability ----------
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is now the name of the game. A pox on playing it safe. Let's get real. Bl00p.
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**************************** THE ISSUE AT A GLANCE *****************************
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EDITORIALS AND LETTERS
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Pickle wastes some bandwidth
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IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS
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A contest in Alaska
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EVENTS AND NEWS
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Progress in strategic placement by the Marist thr0ng
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An update on activities at Clemson University
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INTERESTING ARTICLES
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A m00se in Moscow
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A letter from Saudi Arabia
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More prophesies of the coming of the M00se Age
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FICTION AND POETRY
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Some doggerel from Silverm00se
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M00SCELLANEOUS NONSENSE
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The great Elvis debate continues
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M00sebabble from Mugwump
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Vam00se on milk cartons
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**************************** EDITORIALS AND LETTERS ****************************
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Howdy, all.
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Well, it's now been nearly 48 hours since Germany became Germany again,
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and nothing's gone wrong outside their borders. Nothing directly attributable
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to reunification, that is. What we must ask ourselves is, "Is this remarkable
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event a shining symbol of forthcoming world peace, or a sinister plot of the
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Bavarian Illuminati? And are they *really* going to put a speed limit on the
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Autobahn?"
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But those are not questions I wish to deal with right now.
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As I write this, some five days after moving back home with my parents,
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the weather is looking grim. Trees are whipping around, and wind is
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periodically making that noise outside my window that keeps me awake at night.
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It's quite nice.
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We've lost two m00ses since you received issue #44, but we've gained
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three. One of them has pointed out to me that M00se Droppings is being
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archived at a pub/m00se directory on the quartz.rutgers.edu anonymous ftp
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archive. I don't know who put them there, but it's yet another indication that
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more people than ever are being exposed to our literature.
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I received quite a few submissions for this issue, so I don't want to take
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up much space here. Please, by all means, continue sending your submissions.
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Next issue: The BOLSHOI Project.
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Bl00p,
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Pickle
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************************** IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS *****************************
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[Let's go for it. These people have to learn when to slash their 'o's.
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Submitted by Mugwump. -wrd]
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Flyer posted around campus this week:
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---------------------------------------------------------
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WANTED
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(picture-of-moose-horns)
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Moose Stories
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Humorous Encounters
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Moose Attacks
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Backyard Stories
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Highway Hassles
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City Dwellers
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Submit typed or neatly written stories, 100-1000 word
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stories to the following address:
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Animal Stories
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P.O. Box 148-A
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Palmer, Alaska 99645
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Include Phone No. and self-addressed, stamped envelope for
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reply and payment information
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-------------------------------------------------------------
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So, all you M00SE-- send your m00siest stories to the above address.
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Let them know what a powerful, all-pervasive and off-the-wall illuminatus
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organization this is. Good luck.
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****************************** EVENTS AND NEWS *********************************
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[Our Marist thr0ng has successfully infiltrated a number of important
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positions. Good work, m00ses! Submitted by Rescue M00se. --wrd]
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Marist M00seketeers infiltration:
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ORGANIZATION INFILTRATED POSITION SEIZED
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======================== ===============
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College Union Board: VP
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Commuter Union: Members and President :*)
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Computing Facility: Lab Manager
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Computing Society: Members
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Marist EMS: Founder
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Marist Health Services: Multiple EMTs
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Marist Media Center: Lab Tech
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MCTV (Marist College TV): Producer, Camera Man
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Outback Club: Members
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Student Aides: Members
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System Operations: Senior Systems Op
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Systems Programing: System clerk
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Off campus:
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Culinary Institute of America (CIA): Operations Manager
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Dutchess County Disaster Team: Member
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IBM: Lab Instructor
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Red Hook Fire Dept: FF-EMT (guess who :*)
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We are moving right along :*)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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[News from Clemson. I really like the library-book idea. Submitted by SNAFU
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M00SE, correspondent for the MUSElix thr0ng. --wrd]
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Ever since seeing the light of m00sedom last spring, the conspiracy in the
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upper corner of the lower south east has been growing steadily. I have
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personally presided over 10 initiations in the past six months, and there is
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no telling how many other pawns our lost members have accrued.
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The general goal of the m00ses of the thr0ng of the Mid-Upper South East
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(MUSE, pronounced MUSElix like the cereal for confusion), apart from a vain
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attempt to get better grades, has been to strive to increase membership and
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awareness of the illuminati wherever possible. This generally consists of
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intoxicating ourselves and rambling on about the secret conspiracy that will
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one day unite the world under its majestic antlers.
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Usually, this provokes strange glances from the un-illuminated, but
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occasionally, we find a being truly worthy of M00sedom, and they are promptly
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educated and given membership.
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Another thing we have done is to print up dozens of little scraps of paper
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with the majestic symbol of the pyramid (long may it stand). These scraps are
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left in books in the library, stuck on boards and generally left all over the
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place. Much confusion has abounded.
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Anyway, the semester is just getting underway. Many more m00sey things
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will soon spring up all across the country.
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Incidentally, for any of you who happen to be planning to go to Magnum
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Opus CON in April, there will be a TOP SECRET M00se Illuminati membership drive
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and weenie roast held on the party floor. The time and place will be posted
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all over the con, so keep an eye out for the sign. BL00P.
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**************************** INTERESTING ARTICLES ******************************
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[A m00se in Moscow -- Wrangle opens grand new frontiers for the M00se
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Illuminati -- mother Russia herself. -wrd]
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INSIDE COMMUNIST RUSSIA
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Moscow--Wrangle reports on the demise of the International Communist
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Conspiracy
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It was a job for Joe Bob Briggs, the only man in America with the guts to
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confront the Red Menace head-on. But Joe Bob was passed out in a topless bar
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in Amarillo (a little well deserved R & R), so I had to do the best I could.
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Fortunately, I had listened to Joe Bob's warnings. I thought I was ready. I
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was wrong.
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I slipped into Moscow with little difficulty. The invitation to lecture
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on metaphysics at the Institute of Philosophy of the USSR Academy of Sciences
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lulled the border guards into carelessness. My contacts from the Institute
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helped me check into the hotel--visit three separate offices where no one
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speaks English, fill out 11 pages of forms printed in Russian, surrender your
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passport to the hotel administrator and pay a fee for the privilege of doing
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so--a piece of cake. Then we hopped a subway to visit my hosts at the
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Institute.
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I knew I was in trouble even before I got out of the subway station. I
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rounded a corner and Rambo leapt from behind a pillar with an assault rifle
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levelled at my chest!!! Or so I thought. In fact, it was just a poster. Some
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enterprising Muscovite was raking in the cash selling life-sized posters of
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American pop culture icons--Rambo, Madonna (nice cleavage), several blonde
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bimbos with wet t-shirts (or no t-shirts at all).
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Matters went downhill from there. Poets and rebels denounced Gorbachev on
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street corners, police officers inquired politely about prices at an UNOFFICIAL
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art fair, every other person I passed on streets offered to exchange money (the
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official rate is 6 rubles to the dollar, the street rate is 20 to 1), and I
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couldn't find anyone anywhere who would admit to being a communist.
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Ah, but there were signs of communism everywhere. The infrastructure--
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roads, buildings, bridges, trains--is deteriorating at an unbelievable rate. I
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took the stairs to and from my 12th floor hotel room because the elevator was
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just too terrifying. The cars were so old that no self-respecting junkman
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would have them on his lot. The senses were continually assaulted by the
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sights and sounds and smells of decay. I even chain smoked because it was
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cleaner than breathing.
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Ah, but pollution isn't the only thing that hangs heavy in the Moscow air.
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There's revolution afoot. The old people seem afraid of the changes they know
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are coming, but the young people and the intelligentsia are ready to rock and
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roll. The black market operates openly in the streets, intellectuals don't
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even bother to pretend to have any respect for Marxist ideology, newspapers
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denounce the government in a dozen languages--I would have given my eye teeth
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for even a half a case of good, American dynamite.
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A perfect environment for someone who likes to shoot off his mouth. Yours
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truly rose to the occasion, although with some difficulty. It is hard to say
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anything shocking or radical in a country which is preparing to dismantle the
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central government, dissolve into its constituent republics, and completely
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eradicate all traces of 70 years of communist government; thus, I approached my
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lectures to the Institute with some trepidation. Finally, in desperation, I
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opined that George Bush is the modern incarnation of Lenin, and that the
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peoples of the USA and the USSR must make common cause against this threat of a
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new communist conspiracy, arising like a Phoenix from the ashes of the old.
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But even this blatant lunacy produced more sympathetic responses than
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denunciations.
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What finally defeated me utterly was the retail system from Hell.
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Shopping in Moscow is simply not possible for someone born and bred in the
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United Consumers of America. The Soviet retail system is designed to make the
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acquisition of the necessities and luxuries of life nearly impossible. For me,
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it was impossible. I was forced to slink out of Moscow with nary a thing in my
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bags to capture the attention of the Customs Agents.
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Joe Bob, a true patriot, likes to brag of the USA that "this ain't
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Communist Russia." I'm here to tell you that Communist Russia ain't Communist
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Russia no more either. It is not clear what it is going to become, yet. But
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one thing is clear: the people of Russia and several other of the republics
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that comprise the USSR have decided to kick ass and take names. And inquiring
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minds want to know who is going to end up with the missiles. You can bet that
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I am looking into acquiring one for myself.
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The demise of the International Communist Conspiracy is many things. But
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most of all, fellow M00ses, it is an opportunity. Seize this opportunity.
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Denounce the government. Subvert the evil plans of George Bush and the
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Trilateral Commission. Spread vicious lies about politicians. Refuse to
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register for the draft. Encourage disorder in any way you can. Make trouble!!
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Our comrades in the USSR have shown us the way.
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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[This letter was originally submitted to the POLITICS list by Harl0ck. His
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introductory remarks will explain more. --wrd]
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This morning's "Central Michigan Life" [Sept. 28] had an interesting
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article concerning what was going on in Saudi Arabia. Briefly, a mother of one
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of the soldiers in SA received this letter. For reasons that will be clear
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when you read it, it enraged her, and she's been going public with it, because
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she fears for her daughter's life. The letter was printed in its entirety in
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CM Life, and it is from that I'm taking what is below. The mother's name is
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Bobbie Slockum, and her daughter (the soldier who wrote the letter)'s name is
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Debbie, although Debbie's last name is different from her mothers. No spelling
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errors in the letter were corrected.
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-------------------------
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Mom,
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I was really hoping I didn't have to write this leter. I didn't want you
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to know what was really going on - cause I didn't want you to worry about me
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any more than you already do.
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I hope this letter makes it to you - I don't know if they go through our
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mail. But I feel that our families have just as much right to know what we're
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up against as the soldiers do.
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About four days ago, they took all our ammunition away from us. They
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said they didn't want us to hurt each other. We're sitting ducks. Five to
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seven thousand soldiers in one building - and no ammunition.
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They've rendered the whole division defenseless. I think that's really
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stupid. Mom, I'm really scared. I can't remember a time in my life I was
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more scared than I am right now.
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Our commanders finally decided to tell us what's going on. And it isn't
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pretty at all. I don't know what the news is telling you back home - but I'm
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gonna tell you how it really is.
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This is one of those "you better sit down" letters. There has been
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several known terrorist groups found inside our perimeter. Something that
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wasn't supposed to be able to happen. They are planning to hit two (that we
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know of) places where U.S. soldiers are at.
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King Fahd International Airport - which is where we are at (with no
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ammunition) and Da-ha-ron Airport, where all our equipment and supplies come
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in. That we could figure out. We're prime targets.
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Yesterday they found a terrorist *inside* our building where we sleep.
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He was carrying blueprints to the building. They were marked where all our
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air missles are located - where all the units are located inside and where
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all the officers sleep. We were told that the shit could come down any day
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now.
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This isn't summer camp. I could lose my life - and I don't wanta die.
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I don't want to be here. And I don't want to die. Mom - I'm scared.
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Please pray for me. Pray for all of us over here.
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I didn't want to cry before - cause I didn't want to look like a fool.
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I'm crying now. I don't want to die - and I might not get to see my family
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again. If that makes me look like a fool - then I'll be a fool.
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I love you Mom - and I'm gonna do what ever it takes to come home alive.
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P.S. Please pray for Becky, too. I love her very much.
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-----------------------------------------
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Some scary stuff, indeed...
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Gary W. Olson (34EPWQL@CMUVM.BITNET) Central Michigan University
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-----------------------------------------------------------------------
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"...there are periods of history when the visions of madmen and dope fiends
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are a better guide to reality than the common-sense interpretation of data
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available to the so-called normal mind. This is one such period, if you
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haven't noticed already." ("The Illuminatus! Trilogy")
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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[More from the M00se Prophet, Lord Sabre. --wrd]
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Being the next chapter in the Signs of incipepent and total M00siness....
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Deep in the American Midwest, a woman leans up against a tree. She is
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young, and lovely, with reddish hair, light green eyes, a soft look to her
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face, and a warm, caring personality. She has managed to avoid the rampent
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Republicanism and staid attitudes of her hometown, and within her lovely breast
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beats a heart that yearns to beat free.
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With a crash of thunder and light, the mighty god Apollo desends to Earth
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before the lovely lass, majestic in his solar glory and omnipotent in his
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demeanor.
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"Excuse me, miss," Apollo says, mildly, "One of my friends is having his
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opening night concert at the Philadelphia Spectrum. Could you direct me that
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way?"
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Quietly, the girl pointed east.
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"Thank you," the god said, and left, leaving the girl to her dreams.
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But that is another vision.
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The third sign will arise when Vince McMahon, Jr., the Promoter and
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President of the World Wrestling Federation and all-around slimeball, will
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explode during a tough play-by-play with Rowdy Roddy Piper. However, the
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Spirit of McMahon will survive, and will sense an underdeveloped brain with
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little coherent thought and no personality to speak of. Sensing that this body
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is one of an inferior being, McMahon will obliterate the soul of the person and
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viciously take the body over.
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"God, I'm scrawny," he will say, as soon as he becomes coherent. "This
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body needs some steroids, and fast. I'll have to make some calls. I hope the
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idiot I'm replacing has a little money to play with."
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So saying, McMahon will go through his body's wallet. He will stare at
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the Federal Identification Card for a while.
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"Daniel Quayle," the card will read, "Vice-President. No, really. If
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this person shows up at the Senate, you have to let him in."
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"Daniel Quayle?" McMahon will sputter, "I've become Vice-President?"
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This will be the third sign, and much M00sy anarchy will result.
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"FRENCH FRIES!!!!!!!" The omnipotent Leviam00se will shriek, quite
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incoherent, now. "I WANT **FRENCH FRIES**!!!!! SAY IT!!!"
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"Mmm mmmmm mmmmmm mmmmm. Mmmmm mmmm mmm mmmmmmm mmmm mmm?" the speaker
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will say.
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"I'M LATE FOR THE AGE OF M00SINESS, YOU IMBECILE!!!!! LEMMIE GET MY FOOD
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AND GET OUTTA HERE!!!"
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Thor and the Sacred Uru Hammers do indeed open at the Spectrum, with
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several Gods and thousands of screaming worshippers in the audience. Also, all
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of the people who have made it their careers to attend opening nights (in hopes
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of appearing on Entertainment Tonight and maybe getting a movie deal) will also
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show up, but the Valkerior will desend from Asgard and slay them, so it'll be
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all right.
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As Thor wraps up a successful cover of "Iron Man," involving several
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tossess of the hammer and structural damage to the spectrum, he notices many
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nubile females ripping their clothes off and hurling them onto the stage.
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Thor leans over to Heimdall, the Guardian of the Rainbow Bridge and lead
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bass for the Sacred Uru Hammers and mutters, "Y'know, this is loads better than
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the days when Vikings would take their helms off when it thundered."
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"What it is, Bossman," Heimdall will reply, as Clarence Clemens goes into
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the first Heavy Metal Sax Solo in history.
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More....later.
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***************************** FICTION AND POETRY *******************************
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[Some short doggerel from Silverm00se. --wrd]
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Puck, schmuck, raise a duck
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Bite its beak, it's good for luck
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A wicker windmill grinding dope
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Ship it east out to the Pope
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Pennies flipping, women dripping
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I think my mind is quickly slipping
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Stephen Honking slowly bonking
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His head into an open stocking
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"Stick 'em up!" he yells with vigor
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"And fill my telescope with liquor!"
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*************************** M00SCELLANEOUS NONSENSE ****************************
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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[Pat continues his argument on the "Elvis eats boats/Elvis needs boats"
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question. --wrd]
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How can he be "Captain Elvis", "Commodore Elvis", or "The Sailing Elvis"
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without a boat? Obviously, he NEEDS a boat.
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[Pat also claims to have found that this is the truth by -- get this -- buying
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the compact disc in question and listening to it closely. A likely story.
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Is it not possible that Elvis is merely exercising his extraordinary powers
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of confusion to prevent clear vision in this matter? --wrd]
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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[I think Mugwump should provide us with this kind of thing every issue. --wrd]
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I almost hit a couple of m00se on my way to school this morning. At first
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I saw them out of the corner of my eye, and I thought they were horses, but as
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I got closer they ran across the road and became m00se and I was glad I didn't
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hit them because I have a fairly small car and it would have caused quite major
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damage to the m00se, the car, and myself.
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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[Vam00se discourses on milk cartons, of the U.S. and soviet variety. -wrd]
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Issue #44 reminded me of....milkcartons. Okay, so maybe they were already
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on my mind, or maybe, just maybe, there was some sort of subliminal message
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that *made* me think of milkcartons. Anyhow, I am currently thinking of
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milkcartons. Who invented them? I don't know.
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Somewhere along the line when we stopped having the milkman leave them in
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that little box at the side of the house (my house doesn't even HAVE a little
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box there, but my grandfather's used to, and it is his that I think of whenever
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I think of that little box that milkmen opened and sat the milk into -- surely
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you know of what I speak) in recyclable glass bottles (in fact, you weren't
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supposed to keep the bottles, I guess) and instead sent mothers and general
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shoppers out to the grocery store to fetch little wax-coated paperboard
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cartons. The kind that has a weird little double-sided arrow on one end and
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'open other end' at the other, or similar information. The general theory is
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that you pull open the two sides, something which is rarely accomplished, and
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then you push out a spout. Normally what happens is the carton is gouged from
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step 1, causing milk to dump all over the table while pouring. Now, is this
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solely american, or is this some sort of international conspiracy?
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Well, I don't know. I haven't seen the milk cartons of most countries. I
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bet some of them still have milkmen. But in Moscow, your quart of Moloko comes
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with ingenious instructions. There are those funny double ended arc-shaped
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arrows on BOTH sides of the carton. There's also a diagram of the "proper" way
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to open a milk carton:
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Pull apart the two ends, like we do here, and make the spout. Then
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duplicate this action on the other side. That's right, you've lost your
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pouring spout. You instead have a big square hole leading straight down to
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your milk. Then you kind of press it into a warped star formation and pour.
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No way to reseal it, and many chances of spilling. I'm not kidding. I have
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the carton at home if you want proof.
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So anyhow, what they do with a milkcarton in Moscow is beyond me. I don't
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grasp the concept. But they probably still have milkmen, and maybe a hole in
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the wall. Not to say that there will be milk, or that it won't glow in the
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dark from the farmlands of chernobyl, where over 2,000,000 Soviets still live.
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Now, we still have postmen who come to the door, delivering mail. But he
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doesn't ring bells, let alone twice. And he doesn't bring milk. And I used to
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have a mailman who didn't even bring mail daily. He saved it up somewhere, I
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guess. Now we have a new mailman who brings me milkcartons from moscow, but
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without milk. For variety, they contain two matreshkas, three pins, and ten
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kopeeks. And they couldn't even get the directions straight.
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*************** AND, OF COURSE, THE UBIQUITOUS M00SE LIST UPDATE ***************
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Silly me. It seems I forgot to mail it with last issue. So, following
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*this* issue, will be a complete and updated M00se list, complete with landed
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m00ses. Really.
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================================================================================
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ON ISSUE -- REUNIFICATION ISSUE -- REUNIFICATION ISSUE -- REUNIFICATION ISSUE --
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================================================================================
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