Hey Mooj Heads!  Long time no see!  I was thrilled to be asked to sit in for The Mooj again.  I had a blast last time.  This week I'll make a well-meaning effort not to offend you Mooj Weekly Standard readers.  I had no idea so many of you were so sensitive, especially you Japs, Beaners and Polocks.  I apologize.

Many of you have been peppering me with email asking me why I remained in the Chester County Jail even after they told me I could leave.  It was because I was a professional asked to do a professional job.  My job was to "become The Mooj" and that's exactly what I did.  Wouldn't you agree that The Mooj would stay in jail even when they told him to leave?  I wasn't smart enough to think of a reason why I should stay but I know The Mooj would have.  I would have stayed longer than I did except that under Pennsylvania law a prisoner replacing another prisoner cannot stay past the previous prisoner's allotted time.  Since The Mooj was scheduled for release on August 1st, 1999, I was forcibly removed from the jail.  Since then I have just been hanging out with my Amish grandparents in Bird in Hand, PA.

I'm not sure where all these rumors are coming from that say I am old.  I'm only 28.  It is true that I am "past my prime" for the line of work I was in, but I'm not "old."  And I never had plastic surgery done on me either!  I have no idea how that vicious rumor got started.  The only things I have had implanted in my body were removed shortly afterwards.

The Mooj didn't really leave me any instructions about how to edit this week's newsletter.  When he called me last week all I could hear was him huffing and puffing as a pack of bloodhounds chased him into the woods.  The only thing he said that I was able to comprehend was that he didn't want me to tell anyone that he was headed toward Arkansas.  As soon as The Mooj gets there I'm sure he'll call with more instructions.  Since he's completely out of money and has no means of support I should probably divert some money from The Ling-Ling The Musical Ape Fund to him.  I'm not sure why The Mooj put me in charge of all his social activist funds.  I'm terrible with math and haven't quite figured out his 5% to the fund, 95% to The Mooj rule yet.
 
Well, I guess it's now time to dip into The old Mooj Mail Bag.  God forbid we uncover something of value in there.

To Mooj: 

It’s the same with all you liberals!  Putting together a special fund for “Ling-Ling, The Musical Ape”???  What kind of crap is that?  What about putting together a special fund for the families of the people Ling-Ling impaled with her oboe?  Huh?  Seventeen innocent people lost their lives that day and not one of them deserved to die (except, maybe, the guy dressed in the banana suit who caused the rampage in the first place by pelting Ling-Ling in the head with acorns).

Wm. G. Wadsworth,
President of the Whig Revivalist Party
Washington D.C.

You know Mr. Wadsworth, if that is your real name, instead of bad mouthing some poor dead ape why don't you admit to the world that you're living a double life (because you're both an ass and a moron).  Gee, instead of using your meat skinners to pop the zits on your forehead why not use them to pull out a few measly dollars from your big fat wallet.  Surely even you, a man who probably spends a few thousand dollars a year on impotence control, can spare a few bucks for poor Ling-Ling.

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Mr. Mooj,

Hey you half-wit, The Hardy Boys mystery novels were set in Morris County, New Jersey, not Cecil County, Maryland!  Don’t even try to pretend that you’re a Hardy Boys expert.  No one knows more about The Hardy Boys than me and that’s why I’m the curator of The Official Hardy Boys Museum her in Larchmont, NY.  My Ph.D. dissertation from Duke University was on The Hardy Boys.  So before you run off at the mouth spreading falsehoods about "F. W. Dixon’s" classic adventurous duo again, I suggest you contact me first.

Leslie McFarlane III
Curator of The Hardy Boys Museum
Larchmont, NY

I don't know what makes you a bigger loser: being the curator of The Hardy Boys Museum or having gone to Duke University.  Instead of worrying about some error in a low-budget website published by a fugitive deranged Uzbekistani-Punjabi poet I suggest you worry about why you never had a date with a real live woman before.  Get a life you pervert.   

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Mooj or Lance, or Whomever,

I am greatly disappointed with how The Mooj Weekly Standard is shaping up.  TMWS used to be a very informative newsletter and I learned many interesting things from it.  But in the last few months it seems like all it is now is just The Mooj answering mail and putting up phony psychic predictions.  What happened to such regular features as "Cop Beat," "Bible Corner," "Stock Market Picks," "Keystone State Trivia," "Cook's Corner," "Poetry Corner," "Fisherman's Pride," "Mooj Trivia Quiz," etal.  TMWS used to be somewhat respectable (or at least consistent).  I know it doesn't cost anything to subscribe but I'm still canceling my subscription.

Shlomo G.
Seaford, DE

Damn!  You don't how sad this makes me feel?  The Mooj just lost his prime candidate for "big fat loser-subscriber of the year."  Hey Mr. Shlomo, if I got down on my hands and knees and begged you to stay, would you?  Better yet, what if I painted "Please allow us back into your life" on my butt and whistled Dixie from my rectal cavity while I stood on my head, would you then take us back?  You sick freak, I bet you'd like to see me do that, wouldn't you? Shlo-long Shlomo!

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Mooj,

"Poppycock," that's all I have to say is, "poppycock!"

Prof. G.H. Lewis
University of The Americas
New Gabon

Professor, sounds like your medication is wearing thin.  Quick, pop yourself in the head with a hammer—you'll feel better.

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To Lance (c/o Mooj Weekly Standard)

Hey Lance, I think I may be your long lost twin brother.  I checked your web site a few days ago and saw that you looked exactly like me.  Almost every feature of your body matched mine right down to that dimple on your left butt cheek.  I know nothing about my childhood except that I was adopted [or stolen] by Gypsies.

Mike H.
Claxton, TN
 
Everyday some clown writes me and tells me that he or she is my long lost brother or sister.  I suggest you people reevaluate your dull lives if being my brother or sister appeals that much to you.  I know that my mom and dad were wandering hippies but I doubt that even they would stoop so low as to hang around in Tennessee long enough to give birth to some turd farmer like you.

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Mr. Mooj,

I am a very successful businessman who is 75 years old and married to beautiful 24 year old woman.  My wife greatly desires to have children but I am unable to produce offspring at this late stage in my life.  After long and careful consideration my wife and I have decided to ask you to sire our children.  We have spent years researching potential donors and feel that you would be the best choice.  You can perform the job in person or we can have arrangements made for you to freeze your by-products and have them shipped to us.  Either way we will pay you handsomely for your service.  Please contact my lawyers if you are willing to accept this offer.

Sincerely,
F.D. Reynolds III
Hattiesburg, MS
 
First of all grandpa, it sounds like you're missing more than just your teeth, memory and bladder control.  As for your wife I believe she has struck her head too many times on the headboard of life if she thinks this is a good idea.  If I can get hold of The Mooj I'll tell him about your offer but I seriously doubt that he'll accept it since he usually doesn't deal with sickos like you.  

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El Mujo:

Recorro a veces solo y descubierto a través del desierto.  Paro para saludar solamente el viento.  Entonces continúo mi caminata hasta que el sol fija.

Jose D. de El Paso, TX

Stand back everyone! The Durango Riddler has struck again!  Sorry Jose D. from El Paso, I'd love to sit and listen to you profess your Spanish wisdom but I feel a bowel movement coming on and feel that that experience will be more satisfying to me than whatever random sampling of idiocy you're about to let flow from your complex mind. 

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Moooooooooj,

I'm totally wasted right now.  Whoooooooooooooooo whooooooooooooooooo whoooooooooooo.

[unsigned]

That's what happens folks when you give an idiot a computer and access to the Internet.  Whoever you are I suggest you see if the Circus needs another freak the next time it comes to town.

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To The Editor of The Mooj Weekly Standard,

I want to get a job writing for your newsletter.  If talent is required then I assure you I have some.  Attached is a picture I drew.  If you like it send me $5.

Tim McG.
Canaan, MO

I can see that your parents got their money's worth sending you to MENSA camp.  I can't help but notice that you used all the crayons in the box—good, next time maybe they'll let you use a pencil (that is, if they let you use something that has a sharpened point at the insane asylum).  Please don't think me critical when I say I've seen better artwork in the toilet after drinking a six pack of Tequiza and eating a dozen tacos.  

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Hey Mooj,

I wrote a poem about Lance Worthy.  It goes like this:

Lance Lance,
He’s our man

Boyish looks
Tropical tan

Lance, Lance
He’s a stud

Packin’ a projectile
That ain’t a dud

Lance, Lance
He’s a star

Shows up for work
In a limo car

Lance, Lance
He’s so groovy,

He does stunts
In a porno movie

Lance, Lance
His career’s now done

Now he’s home, retired
Resting his bun

What do you think?

K.P.
Didsbury, Alberta
 
Good God almighty!  It must be "out of the closet week" for North America's most insane.  This poor fellow never had a chance.  It's too bad his parents kept dropping him on his head when he was an infant.  Hey K.P., you're poetry is about as stimulating as a fist up the butt, and I don't mean that figuratively, either. 

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An Open Letter to Mooj:
 
Okay Mooj, somehow you’ve outsmarted me.  This is an embarrassment, not just to me but to the entire FBI organization.  We have been tracking your every move since you left Chester County, PA back on July 10th.  We let you escape! We did this because we knew that you would lead us right to Doug Redhand, America’s most notorious fugitive pirate and drug lord.  And you, unwittingly, did that.

You have no idea who Mr. Redhand is I’ll bet but let me assure you that he was a big fan of yours.  That’s why we allowed you to escape and then followed you all the way to Florida.  We knew Mr. Redhand would undoubtedly make contact with you and want to join your entourage.   (We even went as far as to infiltrate your Mooj Freedom Network to ensure that your escape route included Florida, Mr. Redhand’s last known official residence.)  Do you not think it odd that every morning when your ‘safe house’ was raided that you were the only one that was not captured?  Hell, we purposely waited until you went to the bathroom before commencing the raid.  Since we were only interested in arresting that picaroon Doug Redhand we had to arrest your entourage members en masse.  It took a while to get Redhand but we finally nabbed him in Blount Springs, AL.

I must admit you are clever.  At first it was just a cat and mouse game for me—I was just following you from town to town as you and your caravan of minion idiots continued south.  At first I thought you a fool—a mistake I now acknowledge.  I began to study your methods.  I knew to understand you that I would have to get inside your head.  I would have to become you.  I soon began writing senseless poetry and styling my appearance to resemble yours.  I even allowed myself to be struck by lightning so that I could potentially attain your psychic powers.  My friends and family slowly disowned me as I became more and more “Mooj-like” each day.

At first, I admit, I couldn’t believe my bad luck to be handed this ridiculous assignment—it really wasn’t until I had to sit through that ridiculous dance performance of yours at the Juniata Son’s of Uzbekistan Lodge that I realized that I was dealing with a genius.  My admiration for you grew each day after that and I found myself losing the respect of my peers for defending you and your apparent senseless actions.  For example, I remember the day my team and several back up squads were in position to capture Mr. Redhand at your celebration in Okahumpka, FL on July 21st.  When Mr. Redhand saw that he was about to be arrested he opened fire on us and several of my agents returned fire, while I personally shot randomly into the crowd to make you think that you were the intended arrestee.   Out of the corner of my eye I saw how smoothly you took your place with the University of Tulane marching band, and marched off into the sunset.  My partner (or should I say ex-partner) made some snide remark, like “what an idiot” and I said: “No Ken, That’s no idiot, that’s The Mooj!”

But enough of that for now.  Let me get back to the matter at hand.  The master plan was to let you wander aimless with your Freedom Convoy until Mr. Redhand surfaced.  The Federal Government was quite willing to pay for all the damage you seemed to cause everywhere you went because they felt any price was acceptable to secure the capture of the notorious Doug Redhand.  We would have just let you go after Redhand’s capture except that the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania would not agree to the plan unless we paid for all the sinkhole damage you caused or returned you to the Chester County Jail after “Operation Mooj Bait,” as it was called, was complete.  Your time was up the day we finally got Redhand but somehow you outsmarted me!  Just when I thought I had you all figured out you pulled the ultimate fast one: You decided to pick elderberries (something you have never done before) instead of going to the bathroom after your morning meditation.  The last “round up” of Mooj entourage personnel was to include you.  Agents were specifically told to “look in the bathroom” on that raid.

Something else went wrong that day: somehow The Mooj Freedom Network ran out of money!!  (This was never a developed scenario when Operation Mooj Bait was conceived).  The Federal Government even took the outlandish measure to donate $10 million to The Mooj Freedom Network to keep it running for what would seem long enough to carry out the mission.  With no money left we lost the charter to The Mooj Freedom Bus (which contained some of the most sophisticated information gathering equipment in the World) and what was left of your entourage (whom were all on our payroll).  Without our spies and the bus the entire FBI and CIA surveillance network broke down.  And somehow you managed to walk away.

No one cares whether you're caught or not—they have Redhand and that’s all that matters.  But not to me.  I care and I’m going to get you.  If it’s the last thing I ever do I will bring you in, dead or alive.  You cannot escape me.  

J.J. Bigsby
Director of Eastern Operations
Federal Bureau of Investigations

This letter doesn't even merit a response. 

Tasty Scottish/Polish or Scottish/Italian Treat

Broil a nice long piece of haggis until it's brown and tender.  Use butter or oleo to lubricate the interior portion of the haggis and then slip in either a regulation size kielbasa or extra-long Italian sausage.  Bake until the kielbasa (or sausage) stiffens.

Covered Bridges of Lancaster
Dutch Wonderland
Dutch Country
Lancaster County History
Lancaster Visitor Info
Amish Beer Festival
Amish Buggy Races
Dutch Demolition Derby
Pass the Dutchie with the Left Hand, Mon

When Lot and his wife were told to leave Sodom, where did they (actually it was only him by then) go?

The first person who emails me the correct answer will win a free Lance Worthy T-shirt. 

One day my buddy and his partner responded to a mugging call.  When they neared the scene of the crime they saw some punk running in the opposite direction, who matched the description of the suspect.  They cuffed the dirt bag and threw him into the back of the squad car; and then drove over to where the victim was making her report.  My buddy told the dirt bag that they needed to make an identification so they were going to bring the lady over to look in the car.  When the lady came up to the car window the crook said: “Yeah, that’s the lady I robbed,” thinking he was the one that was supposed to be making the identification.