5-14-MWS

First Things First:

Greetings loyal and loving minions! It's here!!!! It's finally time for the last official newsletter of 2001. This particular newsletter is chock full of good stuff, including actual Mooj Mail, two minion stories, a genuine Mooj poem, more Mooj adventures on The Mississippi River and who knows what else. The good folks at Mooj.com really worked hard to make this [the last newsletter of 2001] one of their best. In my humble opinion they came darn close to doing that!

Before we move on I can't help but notice as I gaze upwards [at the title box] that this is only the 14th newsletter of the year. Can that really be true? Since this is a weekly newsletter shouldn't we be at around #52 by now? If we really only put out 14 "weekly" newsletters this year then someone at Mooj.com has been slacking off and I'm pissed. I'll have to talk to my intern(s) about that.

Also, Don't forget: This is the last month to buy official Year 2001 Official Mooj Minion T-Shirts (before they are re designated as year 2002 Official Mooj Minion T-Shirts). If you still haven't bought your very own official minion T-shirt then I don't know what to say. Actually, yes I do! FOR GOD'S SAKE.... BUY MY T-SHIRTS! They are literally rotting away in the Grizzly Duck Publications warehouse. What's wrong with you people? Don't you recognize quality haberdashery when you see it?

The Mooj Mail Bag was full of its usual minion-type requests for wisdom, advice and psychic predictions. If you would like The Mooj to help you as he has helped all these others (see below), click here. To be honest The Mooj doesn't really want to hear from you unless you have something meaningful to say. I'm tired of all the nonsense!

Great One,

I was peeved when I saw how rude and obnoxious minion 1107 was to you last week! The nerve of some people! I happen to think that you do a fine job as editor and it doesn’t bother me that you never use new paragraphs when you're supposed to and avoid all together using semi-colons. People just need to understand that you’re a poorly educated Punjabi-Uzbekistani immigrant! You can’t help it if you’re a moron! Keep your head up and be proud of who you are! I will fight and die to preserve your honor great swami! Om Bari Om Bari Om!

Your #1 Devotee,
Danny Jeep, Minion 776
Columbia, MD

Thank you for your kind words minion #776. In passing, however, I couldn’t help but notice that even though you claim to be loyal enough to fight to the death to preserve my honor, you’re still too cheap to fork over $15 to buy my official Mooj minion T-shirt. I’m not sure what that’s all about.

Mooj, this letter is for Dennis Hollinsworth of San Bruno, CA:

Sir,

I saw your letter last week in The Mooj Weekly Standard about your old Nash Rambler. I loved it! My dad used to have an old ’58 Nash Rambler and it was a true gem. One night he let me borrow it for a date. I can’t remember my date’s name; but, boy, was she fine looking man! Her sister was a nun if I remember correctly. Anyway, I took this girl up to "inspiration point" to watch the "submarine races." Every town had an inspiration point and ours was up on Bear Creek Mountain. It was warm that night so I put down the top and then soon thereafter my date and I started kissing while the car radio was turned on softly. (It was a very romantic setting, just like the one you saw in all those movies about the 50s.)

Just when things were about to get interesting the local constable drove up and shined his big search light on us. The constable turned out to be a good friend of my date’s father and he made this big stink about finding her up there. He told her that he was going to tell her father and my poor date started to cry. Because I was such a rebel back then I told the constable to kiss my royal Irish ass and then did this huge burnout in front of him and drove off. In my rearview mirror I saw the constable run back to his car to give me chase. Pretty soon I had that old Nash Rambler up to about 100 mph (top speed I’d have to guess) and I was literally flying down that mountain on two wheels! The constable stayed right on my tail the whole way down until we got back into town and I took my chances by cutting him off at a RR crossing just as a train was coming. Needless to say my date was pretty upset and wouldn’t speak to me the whole rest of the night. I never saw that poor girl again because she pretty much stayed on restriction the whole rest of her life!

Yours Truly,
Garry Bradford (minion 965)

If Dennis Hollinsworth of San Bruno, CA is reading this newsletter then I am sure he will see your letter. Otherwise I don’t know what to tell you.

Mooj,

I’ll never forget my 13^th birthday party at Shakey’s Pizza Parlor when Randy Goodman told me that he loved me. I laughed. I liked Randy as a friend but I certainly wasn’t in love with him. Back then I was in love with Donald Drake; he was the dreamily 15-year-old boy that lived up the street and looked just like Bobby Sherman.

All through high school Randy Goodman was my best friend. I told him everything. During my freshman year we must have talked on the phone a million times because I was so in love Donald Drake (by then a senior) and Donald didn’t even know I existed. Randy was such a sweetheart that he would actually write love poems for me to slip into Donald’s locker but Donald just threw them on the ground without even reading them.

Then during my sophomore year I fell in love with Billy Allen Preston. Billy was my first boyfriend and looked just like Shawn Cassidy. When Billy dumped me for my best friend Crystal I was so devastated that I cried for almost three weeks. Randy actually sent me a teddy bear every day during that whole three-week period because he knew how sad I was and wanted to cheer me up. He was such a good friend.

During my junior year I fell in love with Joey Trattoria. Joey was the junior varsity quarterback and was extremely handsome. His dad was super rich and owned all the Italian restaurants in town. Joey turned out to be a major jerk just like Billy Allen Preston and dumped me for my friend Sarah. I must have cried every night for a month after that and I think I even stopped eating for a while, too. But Randy, bless his heart, did everything he could to cheer me up. I still laugh when I think about how Randy let the air out of Joey’s tires in the school parking lot and wrote "I Totally Suck" on his windshield with a magic marker to get even with him for me. One of Joey’s friends saw Randy and poor Randy really got his butt kicked for that afterwards.

During my senior year I fell in love with Danny Seton. Danny was the starting center on the varsity basketball team and was by far the best looking boy in the whole school. Randy again put up with all my late night phone calls because Danny was so mean to me. A week before prom Danny actually had the nerve to break up with me so that he could take my friend Darby instead! I was totally devastated and didn’t know what to do because I already had my dress and everything. Randy knew I really wanted to go to the prom so he told me that he would take me. I agreed but then Albert Berry asked me and Randy was totally understanding about me going with Albert instead. Then on prom night Albert Berry never showed up! He got drunk with a bunch of his friends and passed out somewhere. I was totally embarrassed and humiliated! My mom must have called Randy because Randy came right over to take me (I guess he still had his rental tux or something). Believe it or not I actually had a blast that night; I certainly had more fun than I ever would have had with Danny Seton or that drunken idiot Albert Berry.

After we graduated from high school I went away to college and Randy went to work in the local steel mill. Even though I was over 500 miles away Randy would always drive up to see me whenever I needed him. I can’t tell you how many times I called him in the middle of the night because I broke up with one of my boyfriends or failed a test or something.

After college I married this guy named Steven Dixon from Mobile, Alabama. Randy came down for the wedding and was his usual jolly self; he was so happy for me. Because my father had passed away I asked Randy to walk me down the aisle. I remember that as we walked toward the altar Randy told me that I looked beautiful—more beautiful than he had ever seen in his life. He was so sweet!

My marriage to Steven Dixon lasted only six years. Following the divorce my children and I were left virtually homeless and without any means of support. I was desperate and called Randy; and, yes, within hours Randy was there to help us. For the next two or three years I had severe financial difficulties and came close to being evicted and having my car repossessed dozens of times. But somehow someone would always save the day and pay my rent or car payment if it was late. I know that it was probably Randy but he always denied it. That was just the way he was; he was so good to us.

I remarried again in 1987 and that marriage was a total disaster. My second husband was an alcoholic and spent every dime we had on his ridiculous inventions that he swore would someday be worth millions. I finally had enough and left him for good in the spring of 1990. I was pretty much an emotional basket case by then and started hanging around with people that were a very bad influence on me. By 1992 I was hooked on cocaine and didn’t even care about anything anymore. Somehow Randy found out and came out to get me into a drug rehab center. Within months I was clean and sober and then Randy saw to it that I got my kids out of foster care. As always Randy made sure that we had food, shelter and clothing. He was truly a saint and without a doubt the best friend I ever had.

I got married again in 1995 but that marriage also ended in failure. My third husband was a major idiot and wound up losing every dime we had in the stock market crash of 1999. And yes, when I needed him most, Randy came through and helped my kids and I get through some really tough times.

Then last night while I was sitting at the kitchen table having a drink I remembered something my mother told me back in high school. She said that guys like Donald Drake, Billy Allen Preston, Joey Trattoria, Danny Seton and the others were a dime a dozen; but Randy Goodman, he was one-in-a-million because he had a heart of gold. She then went on to say that it’s what’s inside a man that counts most, not how he looks, how he dresses or what kind of car he drives. She told me that I’d search my whole life trying to find a man that was not even one-tenth as good as Randy Goodman. I finally realized that after 25 years my mother was right!

I quickly called Randy and asked him if he remembered my 13^th birthday at Shakey’s when he told me that he loved me. He said that he did. I then told him that I now realize that it was him that I love and that I wanted to be his wife. He laughed and turned me down because he said I had too many problems. He then hung up on me! I was flabbergasted! Mooj, why are men such bastards?

Marcie Martin-Silver
Norwalk, CA

I wish I could tell you that one day you’ll find true love but you won’t—not with the kind of bad karma you've got! If at all possible can you send me Randy Goodman’s address so that I can send him a free Mooj T-shirt? I think it might help erase some of the pain that he may have suffered through during his lifetime.

Mooj,

I have a confession to make. I hope you don’t think less of me but here it goes: Back in 1978 I broke into this grocery store and stole a loaf of bread. I wasn’t starving or anything; I was just stoned and had the munchies. Oh Great Guru—forgive me!!!!!

-Unsigned

The Mooj might forgive you for stealing food but not wasting his time with your stupid letter.

Dear Mooj,

I can’t tell you how surprised I am to see that mooj.com is still around. I haven’t been on your web site in almost three years. Reading through some of your most recent newsletters reminds me of the good times I had while traveling with your freedom convoy back in July 1999. I joined the auxiliary entourage in South Carolina near the South of the Border complex. Back in those days I was an aimless drunk without any direction in life; I guess I was a prime candidate for your type of mass movement. I traveled with the freedom convoy for about three days and got busted in Kissimmee, FLA at the Green Briar Trailer Park.

Man, those were some wild times on that tour bus, let me tell ya! I was on devotee bus #4 and the people on that bus were totally wild! For example, every day while we were driving along we had these massive orgies. They would last for hours! The only thing that would have made it any better is if we had women on board. Oh well. Anyway, glad to know that you’re still out there spreading your good works and good karma.

Benjamin Yoder
Henderson, NV

Yes, as I recall you people on bus #4 were a bit odd. As always it’s nice to hear from you again (whoever the hell you are).

I got a great idea. You know how people drink Slim Fast to lose weight? Instead of drinking Slim Fast, I drink Guinness Ale! It has all the nutrients and natural ingredients as Slim Fast; yet it doesn’t taste like crap! I’ve been on the Guinness diet for sixteen years now. I haven’t lost any weight but, man, who cares!

Johnny O’Keats
The Gaelic Versifier’s brother

Thank you for your letter. I have no idea whether you’re being serious or not. But if you are I can only say that it seems fitting that you’re the Gaelic Versifier’s brother. Where is that guy anyway? Why hasn’t he sent in any of his award winning Irish poetry lately? Tell him we miss his charm and wit.

Great one,

Three days ago I was stirred from my peaceful slumber by the sound of someone digging in the woods behind my house. I got out of bed and went to the window to see what was going on. Through the darkness I spied a stranger silhouetted against the moonlight digging. I put on my slippers and bathrobe and went outside to get a better look. I got close enough to see that the person digging was my neighbor Professor Rathbone. From where I was standing I could clearly see the professor drag something very heavy into the hole. Professor Rathbone quickly filled the hole and ran back to his garage and put his shovel away. Very suspicious! Then he went into his house and turned off the porch light. Again, very suspicious!

The next morning I did some investigating and found out that Rathbone was telling people that his wife was "away to see her mother." I asked the professor how long his wife was planning to stay away and he told me to mind my own business. Odd, wouldn’t you agree? I think Professor Rathbone killed his wife and then buried her in the woods! What do you think?

R.P.
Harleysville, PA

I think you’re a nosy neighbor and should mind your own business!

I have a dilemma that only you can help me with great and loving swami. Next year I’m supposed to go to college but I don’t want to. I’d rather take a few years off to see the world and discover myself. My mom and dad say I have to go to college. When my grandma passed away last year she left me over a million dollars and I feel that I should be allowed to use that money any way I see fit. Surely I would learn more traveling around then going to some stupid college.

-Unsigned

Yes, I guess you would at that. But I can think of an even better idea than using that money traveling—send it to your favorite swami and I’ll use it to help people (mainly myself).

When I was 14 I was on my way out the door to attend a high school dance when my dad said, "Be sure you don’t dance with any Asian boys!" I didn’t think anything about it until I got to the dance and the very first kid that asked me to dance was Chinese. I had to tell the poor boy no. Years later I met and fell in love with a Punjabi fellow like yourself. We are now married and have 4 children and let me tell ya, when it comes to loving—they’re ain’t nothing like a genuine Asian lover!

MIT
Gunpowder, MD

Yes, The Mooj knows exactly what you’re talking about!

To whom it may concern:

I have a great idea how to make all those Taliban alkada terrorists talk. I read somewhere that none of them will cooperate. Easy solution: make them sit and listen to Mannheim Steamroller. After two or three days these guys will be begging to talk. As far as that Johnny Walker kid goes, I think we should just strap him down to a chair and make him listen to Mannheim Steamroller until his head explodes! Even that’s too good for him!

-Unsigned

I have no idea what you're talking about.

so...i was simply trying to find out more about the new broader definition and expansion being sought by the already largest used auto auction in the WORLD, THE MANNHEIM AUTO AUCTION, WHICH TOOK PLACE LAST NIGHT IN THE AREA WHERE THESE PEOPLE WHO ARE OWNED BY THE COX CORPORATION WANT TO AUCTION OFF MORE AND DIFFERENT KINDS OF STUFF I PRESUME THIS MEANS THAT BEING THE LARGEST USED CAR AUCTION LOT IN THE WORLD ISN'T WEIRD ENOUGH FOR YOU MENNONITE MOTHER F—RS! YEAH BABY, YOU HEARD ME... GUESS WHAT... I AM SPENDING MY DAYS FERVENTLY TRYING TO SELL MY SCREENPLAY WHICH IS A TALE OF MY TRUE-LIFE ADVENTURE. IF YOU CARE, AND FRANKLY LANCE CAN KISS MY A—, I ALREADY KNOW HE'S A F—ING MENNONITE.... OTHERWISE HIS GRANDPA, WHITLAW SHOW WOULD HAVE HAD HIM IN SOME DNA CLONING EXPERIMENT A LONG TIME AGO.... GO TO FREELISALAMBERT.COM THRU GOOGLE AND SEE HOW I CAME TO AMISH COUNTRY THEN BACK HOME TO CALIFORNIA... SORT OF A REVERSE LANCE WHATEVER GIG... THE WYETH FAMILY AND I ARE ACQUAINTED, LET'S JUST SAY, AND CHADD'S FORD IS TEEMING WITH SECRETS, BODIES AND FOR A WHILE TONIGHT I ALMOST THOUGHT THAT JOHN DUPONT HAD ESCAPED ...BUT WHOEVER THE MOOJ IS GOOD FOR HIM .... HE'S UP ON THE TRUTH, ABLE TO LAUGH AT THE TRAGEDY OF INJUSTICE, AND HELL, GO AHEAD AND CARE...SEE WHERE IT GETS YOU....LIKE ME, GOING...MAYBE IF I WRITE A MOVIE ABOUT WHAT THE AMISH ARE REALLY UP TO, THEN I CAN'T GET SUED AND I CAN CALL IT FICTION...AND YET.....EVER WONDERED WHY WITNESS IS THE ONLY THING EVER MENTIONED WHEN HOLLYWOOD AND THE AMISH ARE BROUGHT UP IN THE SAME EVENING...THEN ASK PEOPLE WHAT THEY KNOW ABOUT THE MENNONITES....OUT HERE IN CA. THEY GO...THE WHO? ... WHICH IS WHAT THE PEOPLE IN LANCASTER CO. WOULD SAY WHEN I ASKED THEM WHERE THE CHURCH OF SCIENTOLOGY HEADQUARTERS WERE? THE WHAT?...AND THEN...OH WAIT...ISN'T THAT THE CHURCH THAT JOHN TRAVOLTA GOES TO?.....AFTER I WAS ABLE TO STOP GASPING FOR AIR I WAS LAUGHING SO HARD, THEY (MOST EVERYBODY BORN AND RAISED IN THAT SURREAL F—ING COUNTY)... WOULD SAY, WHAT'S SO FUNNY?...JESUS...A FEW MONTHS LATER, NO S—T, IN ROLLS TRAVOLTA AND CO. TO FILM THE MOVIE LUCKY NUMBERS, WHICH WAS BASED ON THE REAL LOTTERY SCAM THAT TOOK PLACE IN PA. BACK IN THE 70'S...BUT THANKS TO WILLIAM COSTOPOULOS, NOBODY GOT HURT....BUT ODDLY ENOUGH, WHILE LUCKY NUMBERS WAS BEING FILMED, TRAVOLTA NEVER CAME TO LANCASTER, (BOO HOO!)... AND THEN, WOW, JUST AS HIS ENTOURAGE WAS LEAVING THE AREA NEAR PALMYRA AND OTHER FILMING LOCALES IN THE STATE, SOMEBODY WON 17 MILLION DOLLARS IN THE LOTTO!!!!...TO THIS DAY, NOBODY HAS COME FORWARD TO COLLECT IT... THAT'S SCIENTOLOGY WHEN IT SHAKES HANDS WITH THE MENNONITES BABY./...RUMSPRINGA...AND YOU PROBABLY THINK IT BITES LIVING IN AN AMISH PARADISE...BUTCH YUNKIN HE'LL BE NICE WHEN HE GETS OUT OF PRISON AND WON'T THAT BE NICE... MS. MIRACK SHE TOO DIED...BUT MIKE FISHER COULDN'T CARE LESS...CUZ .....NOW HERE'S A QUESTION I POSE TO ANYBODY OUT THERE ...I'LL PAY YOU 200 DOLLARS... IF YOU CAN TELL ME WHO BUTCH LAWRENCE YUNKIN'S BIOLOGICAL FATHER IS......MOOJ...IF I SEE THIS LETTER IN IT'S ENTIRETY ON YER SITE...IT WILL MAKE ME HAPPY...IF NOT, IT WILL MAKE ME JUST KEEP WORKING ON MY SCREENPLAY... BECAUSE BEING AN AMISH CHILD IS ABOUT THE MOST MISERABLE THING ON THIS EARTH....LOVE, HEATHER JOHNSTON...OH YEAH HERE'S ONE FOR LANCE..."HOW DO YOU MAKE AN AMISH GIRL HAPPY?" ANSWER: GIVE HER TWO MENN-O-NIGHT....."THEN IT'S TIME TO GET THE BBQ GOING ...YOU A—HOLE...WHAT'S BETTER THAN BIRD IN THE HAND.....YUNKIN IN THE CAN...CHOW BABE!...NOT YOU MOOJ

HEATHER JOHNSON,
REDONDO BEACH, CA

Ouch, my eyes hurt. I'm not sure why this person decided to use all Capitol Letters in her letter. I'm not even sure what her letter was about.

Mooj,

I met a man in September at a meeting. We have e-mailed every day, phone calls nearly every day. We have been intimate once and are planning on it again. I wonder if he is the one for me. I am falling in love with him. My question is he the one? His birth date is 11/13/58, Thank you.

S. Shontelle-Smith
Montpelier, Vermont

The Mooj senses that this may be the right man; but one can never tell for sure, can one. I suggest you take the Is My Man the Right Man quiz in the May 17, 1999 Newsletter.

I just logged on to this site. Not sure what it is all about. I like the look of the t-shirt. How do I get one? I think I may have dated you. Did you ever spend time in Alameda County, CA?

Pushpa Dail
San Bruno, CA

The Mooj welcomes all inquires about genuine Mooj Minion T-shirts and hopes that you buy one. The Mooj doesn't remember dating anyone named Pushpa Dail or anything about his time in Alameda (except that whole Altamonte thing).

Christmas, 2001

Well it’s that time of year again! Time for Big Dwight and Tina to brag about their family! This Year we’ve been truly blessed! Big Dwight was supposed to return to Sea Gus Cesspool Service last spring, however the "powers that be" suggested he take another one or two years off, just to make sure his groin pull is fully healed. Big Dwight was so excited! Now he can continue following Jeff Gordon around the NASCAR circuit. Tickets are so expensive but Big Dwight says, since we paid off our second on the trailer, he should be able to do what he damn well pleases.

Now, on to Dwight Jr., he is all of his daddy and then some! He sure has his daddy’s need for speed! Why that boy got his license last summer and we’ve barely seen him since. And he is quite the chemist! Dwight Jr. loves science and experimentations. Some thing is always brewing in the tool shed! He has more test tubes and stuff bubbling in there, and he has so many friends! They come by at all hours to see what Dwight Jr. is up to. Jr. can get along with so many different kinds of people, business men, bikers, even people of color, God Bless him!

Tammy started her freshman year and made the cheerleading squad! She struts her stuff for the Wildcats! She’s enjoying the social side of school! That girl has already dated half the football team and is looking forward to the basketball season. It’s not been all peaches for our little Tammykins, she was so nervous starting high school. Got the jitters so bad she threw up every morning for weeks. Big Dwight couldn’t figure out how someone who barfed so much could still expand the way she did. Our sweet little thing is still growing! It’ must be my cooking!

Now about me! I’m still temporarily employed at B&G Sons Trucking. Been there 10 years now. Dwight says when he goes back to work in a couple of years I can quit and go to beauty school! For my 30th birthday, Big Dwight and the kids took me to the Rib House for a Caesar Salad! We had such a nice time! I hope we can go again next year! Well, Merry Christmas to you all and a Happy New Year! I have to cut it short this year because the family that adopted us for Christmas needs our list! I think we’re only up to four or five pages so I’ve got a lot of work to do.

Love,
Big Dwight, Tina, Dwight Jr. and Tammy

If there’s anything I can’t stand it’s these Christmas form letters people are always sending me. I don’t even know who these people are! The letter was postmarked from York, PA so I assume they’re family (since I have lots of cousins and nephew’s living there). My psychic senses tell me that Big Dwight and Tina are in for some big surprises next year (when they become grandparents and Dwight Jr. gets hauled off to jail for whatever illicit drug he's "cooking up" in the shed).

A few weeks ago I scribbled a poem on a napkin and then carelessly tossed it away. I had no intention of publishing this great work of art; yet, somehow, that's exactly what happened. Someone inadvertently picked the poem out of the garbage and sent it to The St. Charles County Democrat (the local newspaper paper around these parts) and they published it in their "daily poem" feature. I had no idea that this happened until someone showed me a copy. I was delighted; and as far as I can recall this is my first poem ever published in a respectable newspaper. The poem is entitled The Salted Fig and is attributed to my nom de plume, "Fred." I have provided a copy of this poem (suitable for framing) for all my loyal minions and hope that they enjoy it as much as I did (see below and click to enlarge).

To be honest I have no idea what the poem is really about since I wrote it following the local Blessing of the Fleet Ceremony and was under the influence of several liters of malt liquor (as well as other alcoholic substances). After reading and reflecting upon this great poem I now see that I was either brilliant or just a rambling drunk. I'm not really sure which.

Two stories were deemed worthy of being included in this the final newsletter of 2001. (How lucky can you be?) The former was sent in by our old friend and fellow Punjab Veejay Gupta, the self proclaimed Madman of Missaukee County, Michigan. The latter comes from a new minionette named Heather Johnson. She is a native of Lancaster, PA and has a passion for something (but I have no idea what). Her story may be considered tasteless to some but not to others. We found the story to be acceptable; but then again we have no standards here at Mooj.com.

Bandits on the Road to New Delhi

by Veejay Gupta, minion #544

Many years ago my grandparents and uncle were driving along the dark and desolate highway connecting Agra with New Delhi. As they motored along they noticed a policeman standing in the road waving at them to stop. The policeman warned them that bandits were active on the highway that night and that several people had already been killed. My uncle grew very concerned and thought it best to turn around and go back to Agra but the policeman said that that was unwise since most of the killings were occurring on that stretch of the road.

My grandparents and uncle were in a panic and didn’t know what to do so the policeman told them that if it would make them feel any better he would travel with them to New Delhi. They accepted his offer and the policeman climbed into the car with them and sat between my grandparents in the back seat. They were approximately one hour from New Delhi at that point.

While they motored along the policeman began telling my grandparents and uncle all about the gruesome acts of carnage that he had witnessed on the highway that night. The gangs of robbers, in his opinion, were ruthless and had even been cutting the throats of women and children. My poor grandparents and uncle were frightened beyond description as the policeman continued on with his gruesome narratives.

To make matters worse every few kilometers my uncle encountered a tree or some other obstruction in the road and the policeman warned him to avoid the object and proceed by without stopping since that was the mechanism by which the robbers were stopping automobiles.

Finally, after an hour of terror-stricken travel, the car arrived in New Delhi and the policeman asked to be dropped off at a local checkpoint. My grandparents and uncle were grateful to the policeman and thanked him for riding with them. The policeman responded that he was glad to be of service and then mumbled something like, "Yes, this was a scary night indeed! Of all night’s for me to forget my gun!"

A TRUE LANCASTER COUNTY TALE

by Heather Johnson, minion #1312

THE WHITE RIBBON MARCH AGAINST PORNOGRAPHY IS ANNUALLY HELD IN LANCASTER, PENNSYLVANIA, HOME OF THE OLD ORDER AMISH, THE CHILDREN OF ZION, THE MENNONITES, THE BLACK BUMPER MENNONITES, THE LUTHERANS, THE DUNKERS, … AND THAT’S JUST A SHORT LIST.

THERE ARE THE REAL AMISH WHO I HOPE TO SOMEDAY MEET, AND THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO DRESS UP IN AMISH COSTUME AS PART OF WHAT IS DESCRIBED IN THE TOURIST BROCHURE AS "THE AMISH EXPERIENCE".... COME TO LANCASTER COUNTY AND YOU CAN "LIVE WITH AN AMISH FAMILY AND PARTICIPATE IN THE ACTIVITIES OF THE DAILY LIVES OF THESE SO-CALLED PLAIN PEOPLE" STATES THE TEXT ... THIS IS FOR A FEE OF COURSE BUT IT IS BILLED AS AUTHENTIC WHEN ACTUALLY THE FAMILIES ARE JUST PEOPLE POSING … IF IT SOUNDS A LITTLE STRANGE TRUST ME IT’S ALL BUSINESS AS USUAL IN DUTCH WONDERLAND, LANCASTER COUNTY, WHERE RELIGION CREATES A CULTURE FULL OF INTERESTING EVENTS THAT AREN’T ALWAYS WHAT YOU MIGHT THINK.

ONE DAY WHILE PERUSING THE LANCASTER NEWSPAPER, THE INTELLIGENCER JOURNAL, I SPOTTED AN AD ENCOURAGING READERS TO PARTICIPATE IN THE WHITE RIBBON MARCH AGAINST PORNOGRAPHY, WITH THE DATE OF THE EVENT LISTED AS OCTOBER 31ST 1999. HMMMM…. I THOUGHT, ON HALLOWEEN THAT MIGHT BE CAUSE FOR WEARING A COSTUME, PERHAPS I TOO COULD BE AMISH FOR JUST ONE DAY AT LEAST, AND JOIN THE MARCH. IN CALIFORNIA WE HAVE THE PASADENA SPOOF ON THE ROSE PARADE WHICH WE CALL THE DOO-DAH PARADE. I SUPPOSE SOMEWHERE IN MY MIND THAT PARODY WAS NOW FUELING MY IMAGINATION. … I WAS INTRIGUED ENOUGH BY THIS HALLOWEEN MARCH, WHICH TO ME, WAS AN ODD BLEND OF SPOOKY AND ANTI-SMUT. I MEAN HALLOWEEN IS MEANT FOR COSTUME AND IF SOMEONE IS GOING TO HAVE A MARCH SUCH AS THIS ON THAT DAY COULDN’T ONE BE FORGIVEN IF THEY HAD A LITTLE FUN PRETENDING? THE MIND WANDERS AND WONDERS.

I READ FURTHER ON IN THE AD AND SAW THAT THERE WAS A PHONE NUMBER FOR INTERESTED PEOPLE TO CALL FOR DETAILS. SO I DID...

I DIALED THE NUMBER AND THE PHONE BEGAN TO RING… THE FOLLOWING CONVERSATION TOOK PLACE:

A WOMAN ANSWERED IN AN ALMOST SUGARY SWEET TONE AND SAID SOMETHING LIKE, "CALVARY COVENANT CHAPEL OF THE BRETHREN IN THE CHRIST JESUS TEMPLE OF OUR LORD, HOW MAY I HELP YOU?"….

ME: "YES, I’M CALLING ABOUT THE WHITE RIBBON MARCH AGAINST PORNOGRAPHY, AND WAS WONDERING IF ANYONE CAN PARTICIPATE RIBBON MARCH OR IF IT IS FOR CHURCH MEMBERS ONLY."

CHURCH LADY: "OH NO, ANYONE IS ENCOURAGED TO JOIN AND THAT IS WHY THE AD IS IN THE PAPER, BECAUSE WE ENCOURAGE AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE TO BECOME PART OF THIS WORTHWHILE EVENT."

ME: " OH GOOD, BECAUSE I AM INTERESTED AND WANTED TO ASK YOU A FEW QUESTIONS ABOUT THE DETAILS IF YOU HAVE THE TIME."

CHURCH LADY: " OH SURE, WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW?"

ME: WELL, I WAS WONDERING IF I BUY THE WHITE RIBBON MYSELF OR…"

CHURCH LADY: "OH NO, WE PROVIDE THE RIBBONS"

ME: "OH WELL THAT’S NICE AND WHERE DO I PUT IT ON MY WRIST OR ON MY CLOTHING…"

CHURCH LADY: (LAUGHING NOW) "NO, NO, NO."

ME: (WONDERING WHY THAT WAS SO FUNNY) "OH, WELL, IS THERE A ROUTE MAP THAT YOU PROVIDE SHOWING WHERE THE MARCH BEGINS AND AT WHAT TIME, ETC.?"

CHURCH LADY: (LAUGHING HARDER NOW, BUT SOMEHOW SHE SENSES THAT I AM SERIOUS BECAUSE, IN FACT, I AM. AND THIS IS SOMEHOW GETTING THROUGH) "WELL, NO, YOU SEE WE DON’T EXACTLY MARCH ANYWHERE"

ME: (THINKING, WELL, O.K. SO IT’S NOT A GOOSESTEP BUT…) "WELL, I GUESS WHAT I’M ASKING IS WHAT STREET DOES THE WALKING BEGIN ON AND WHAT TIME DOES IT START… IT DOES START ON HALLOWEEN LIKE THE NEWSPAPER STATED, RIGHT?"

CHURCH LADY: (KINDA UNCOMFORTABLE NOW, AND CHUCKLING A LITTLE NERVOUSLY) "OH YES, IT BEGINS ON HALLOWEEN BUT IT’S NOT REALLY A WALK… PER SE…(SHE PAUSES AND THEN I JUMP IN WITH THE ZEAL OF A FRUSTRATED PROSECUTOR AS IN "LET ME REPHRASE THE QUESTION FOR YOU LADY.")

ME: "O.K., NOW I WANT TO KNOW WHY YOU ARE LAUGHING ABOUT THIS BECAUSE I AM CONFUSED AND I REALLY DO WANT TO BE PART OF THIS SO PLEASE HELP ME OUT HERE. YOU SAY IT’S NOT A MARCH AND NOW YOU DON’T REALLY WALK … I’M TEMPTED TO ASK IF THIS IS A 10K IN DISGUISE BUT I KNOW SOMEHOW THAT YOU’LL RESPOND LIKE THE STAND-UP COMEDIAN’S WET DREAM AUDIENCE…AND I REALLY AM SERIOUS…"

CHURCH LADY: "O.K., WELL, THE WAY IT WORKS IS LIKE THIS. THE EVENT OFFICIALLY BEGINS ON HALLOWEEN AT NOON AND PARTICIPANTS COME DOWN AND GET THEIR WHITE RIBBONS AND PUT THEM ON THE ANTENNAS OF THEIR CARS."

ME: (THINKING, WELL HELL, I WILL BORROW A CAR IF I HAVE TO THEN, BUT HECK, MY COSTUME WON’T BE NEARLY AS VISIBLE MEANING THAT THE AMISH BONNET BETTER BE BRIGHT BLUE…) "OH, O.K, SO I GUESS WHAT I NEED TO KNOW IS WHAT STREET WILL THE DRIVE BEGIN ON, THEN."

CHURCH LADY: (SHE’S LAUGHING AGAIN DANG IT!)" "WELL, IT’S NOT LIKE A PROCESSION OF CARS AT A CERTAIN TIME IT’S JUST THAT EVERYBODY WHO SUPPORTS THIS PUTS A WHITE RIBBON ON THE ANTENNA OF THEIR CAR AND THEN THEY ARE IDENTIFIED AS SUPPORTERS OF THIS CAUSE AGAINST PORNOGRAPHY AND BECOME RECOGNIZABLE TO OTHERS AS SUCH…"

ME: "WELL, I’LL BE DAMNED, THEN. SO IT’S NOT A MARCH OR A WALK AS STATED IN PRINT TO BE, AND IT’S NOT A DRIVE AS IN DESIGNATED ROUTE WITH DRIVERS UNIFIED AT A SPECIFIC PLACE AND TIME ALTHOUGH, IN ALL HONESTY THE PAPER STATES THAT THE DATE IS HALLOWEEN AND YOU SAY THE START TIME IS NOON. YOU KNOW, WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, THIS IS SOUNDING A LITTLE RIDICULOUS AND DARE I SAY MISLEADING. IT’S LIKE YOU ARE TRYING TO CAPTURE THE FEELING OF A CAUSE WITH WORDS WHOSE DEFINITIONS HAVE BEEN IGNORED."

CHURCH LADY: "WELL, WE FEEL STRONGLY ABOUT THIS EVENT AND IT IS FOR A GOOD CAUSE."

ME: "PERHAPS, BUT THE AD READS LIKE SOMETHING OTHER THAN WHAT IS ACTUALLY DONE. IT’S REALLY JUST A BUNCH OF PEOPLE DRIVING AROUND WITH WHITE RIBBONS ON THEIR ANTENNAS AND KNOWING HOW TO IDENTIFY WITH ONE ANOTHER ON THE STREET."

CHURCH LADY: PAUSES, AND THEN I BEGIN TO SPEAK BEFORE SHE DOES.

ME: "NOW, ONE LAST QUESTION, DOES IT COST MONEY FOR THE WHITE RIBBON?"

CHURCH LADY: "WELL, WE DO ASK FOR A SMALL DONATION"

ME: "WELL, THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME."

CHURCH LADY: "YOU’RE WELCOME."

SHORTLY AFTER THIS CONVERSATION I BEGAN TO SEE THEM. THE CHEAP WHITE RIBBONS FLAPPING FROM VARIOUS ANTENNAS AROUND TOWN, AND ARMED WITH THIS NEW KNOWLEDGE I WOULD CHUCKLE TO MYSELF AS I WATCHED THEM DRIVE BY AND OVER TIME THEY BEGAN TO GET TATTERED AND YET, THE DEDICATED DRIVERS KEPT THEM ON … AT THE TIME I WAS LIVING ACROSS FROM KUNTZLER’S HOT DOG FACTORY AND ONE OF THE EMPLOYEES WOULD PARK IN FRONT OF MY APARTMENT EVERY NIGHT AND THE WHITE RIBBON WAS ALWAYS THERE … IT WAS JUST TOO TEMPTING. I HAD A STASH OF PENTHOUSE FORUM LETTERS MAGAZINES IN MY POSSESSION AND HAD READ THEM MORE THAN I CARE TO ADMIT. IT WAS TIME TO DO THE RIGHT THING. ONE NIGHT IN A MISCHIEVOUS MOOD, I STEPPED OUT INTO THE SNOWY NIGHT AND ARMED WITH ONE OF THE FORUM ISSUES IN MY HAND I PUT IT ON THE WINDSHIELD OF THE CAR. THE NEXT DAY THE CAR WAS THERE AGAIN RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY APARTMENT. BEFORE I HAD PUT THE FORUM ISSUE ON HIS WINDSHIELD, (OR HER’S FOR ALL I KNEW) THE CAR WOULD PARK IN VARIOUS AVAILABLE SPOTS AROUND THE NEIGHBORHOOD, NOT NECESSARILY IN FRONT OF MY APARTMENT. BUT AFTER THAT FIRST NIGHT, IT WAS ALMOST AS IF SOMEONE SAW ME AND INFORMED THE OWNER, WHO HAD DONE THE DEED. ..WITHOUT A DOUBT, THOUGH, THIS CAR FROM THAT FIRST PLANTING ON, WAS ALWAYS PARKED RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY APARTMENT AS IF WAITING FOR THE NEXT PORNOGRAPHIC OFFERING. I DID NOT DISAPPOINT. AND THOUGH IT WAS NO SUBSTITUTE FOR MY UNFULFILLED FANTASY OF BEING AN AMISH GIRL IN COSTUME IN THE MARCH AGAINST PORNOGRAPHY, WALKING PROUDLY DOWN DUKE STREET, IN MY DREAMS, IN FRONT OF PERHAPS THE COURTHOUSE, (OH, YEAH) I STILL WAS ABLE TO SHARE SOME SILENT COMRADERY WITH AN UNKNOWN PARTICIPANT WHO I KNEW APPRECIATED MY SENSE OF HUMOR AND OUR SILENT ANONYMOUS BOND.

New Minions! Are you minion material like these fine upstanding people below? find out by clicking here.

Meet Minion 1310: Benjamin G. Rosenberg

Something Noteworthy About Benjamin: Among Benjamin's most prized possessions is a big ribbon that says, "I made a Pig of myself at Farrell's." Benjamin says he got the thing by eating a giant pig trough of ice cream. Benjamin is 35 years old and still single. He hopes to meet "Mrs. Right" one of these days, if and when she becomes available. [Mooj Note: How about it gals? He sounds like a winner!]

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): The dream state is a malleable realm where the past, present, and future melt into one another and give forth the mystic vibrations that have forever controlled the Universe and time. Spiritual masters of Tibet developed techniques to use this “timeless time” to speed their progress toward nirvana and better karma. My Tibetan Dream Yoga Master Lama showed me how to enhance my spiritual life, improve problem solving and creativity, overcome my deep-rooted fears and false beliefs, and free myself from harmful habits in waking life. I am ever so grateful to him but now it is time for me to move on and find a new guru for the next phase of my transformation into better-metta. I choose you Mooj, for I know that you know. I shout Oms to you great Swami!

Meet Minion 1311: Todd Wilson

Something Noteworthy About Todd: When Todd was a teenager he had a poster of Blue Oyster Cult hanging up in his room. It totally freaked out his parents because they though he had joined a real cult; they didn't know it was just a rock band. Today Todd is a member of the Mummer's guild and marches in any parade that will have him.

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): If I had to limit my advice on healthier living to just one tip, it would be simply to learn how to breathe correctly. I use my nose. I breathe in through one nostril and then exhale through the other. Sometimes I shove a chipati up my nose to regulate this charge and discharge oxidation/reduction process. I found that standing on my head during this evolution also helps me to focus on nothing and everything at the same time. I do this all the time man. It makes me who I am.

Meet Minion 1312: Heather Johnson

Something Noteworthy About Heather: Heather was born in Lancaster, PA but now lives in Redondo Beach, CA. Heather also likes to use all capitol letters whenever possible. You probably noticed that by reading her letter and story above.

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): I AM ATTEMPTING TO EXPOSE THE WHOLE AMISH TOURIST FACADE UNDERNEATH WHICH LIES A GRIM REALITY INVOLVING CHILD PORNOGRAPHY, MONEY LAUNDERING, DRUG DEALING, PUPPY MILLS AND GOD KNOWS WHAT ELSE...I AM CURRENTLY WORKING ON A SCREENPLAY ENTITLED RUMSPRINGA. THINK WITNESS MEETS THELMA AND LOUISE. ALL THAT GENETIC INBREEDING HAS NOW BROUGHT THE BIGGEST BUNCH OF DNA TWEAKERS TO LANCASTER COUNTY WHERE AMISH AND MENNONITE KIDS ARE USED LIKE GUINEA PIGS THOSE THESE MORONS CAN WRITE UP SUCCESSFUL REPORTS FOR THE DRUG COMPANIES. THE AMISH IN LANCASTER IN MY OPINION ARE REALLY MONEY-GRUBBING MENNONITES DRESSED IN AMISH GARB. NO CHILD LABOR LAWS KEEP THE COPS AWAY AND THE ARLEN SPECTERS OF THE WORLD JUST LOVE THE SOVEREIGN NATION TYPE STATUS THAT THE AMISH (ALLEGED AMISH) GENEROUSLY PROVIDE FOR THESE ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES ALL IN THE NAME OF RELIGIOUS FREEDOM. THEY MAKE L. RON HUBBARD SEEM LIKE SORT OF A DECENT GUY...ANYWAY.. I WOULD LIKE TO BE A MINION BECAUSE ...WELL FOR OBVIOUS REASONS, IT'S A FASCINATING BUNCH OF PENNSYLVANIA ADVENTURE STORIES SOME OF WHICH I BELIEVE ARE TRUE! I ALSO HAVE A WEBSITE THAT YOU MIGHT MENTION CALLED FREELISALAMBERT.COM. THERE'S SOME GOOD STORIES I WROTE WHEN I WENT BACK THERE AND ATTEMPTED TO BLEND IN...AND WRITE STUFF ABOUT THE POWERS THAT BE AT THE COURTHOUSE THAT DIDN'T EXACTLY GET ME THE KEYS TO THE CITY...BUT BOY DID I LEAVE AN IMPRESSION! ONWARD MOOJ! DID YOU EVER MEET MICHAEL STRUBE WHILE IN CHESTER COUNTY? THE JOHNSTON GANG... PARTICULARLY MY COUSIN NORMAN JOHNSTON... HE ESCAPED FOR AWHILE AS YOU KNOW AND SOMEDAY I WOULD LIKE TO MEET HIM. HE'S A PART OF THE FAMILY I NEVER GOT TO MEET...BUT INDEED A BRANCH OF THE OLE FAMILY TREE...YOUR HOPEFUL NEW MINION...I HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT AND I WILL TRY TO DO THAT NOW LOVE, HEATHER

Meet Minion 1313: Upti Gupti

Something Noteworthy About Upti: Upti is a real fun loving guy. He's looking for the right gal to hitch to his trailer. He knows karate and got past green belt. He read all the Harry Potter books and is soooo looking forward to seeing the movie. He also loves kids.

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): I have a deep respect for other-worldly religions. Mooj is true. He's been wronged by the man like me. I spent time in the hole for being different. I got busted in Palm Springs for trying to set up cock fights amongst the rich and famous. I really thought they would enjoy the thrill of the sport. They told me to get my toothless, homeless face outta town. So I set off explosives at the golf course. Whatever, right?

Meet Minion 1314: Stacey Kendal-Hoffman

Something Noteworthy About Stacey: Stacey is a graduate of The Bryman School and is now working in the medical profession. She is married with two children and calls Canoga Park, CA, home. She also claims that she is part of the free-trade-uber-alles crowd.

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): When I was growing up our phone number was 867-5309 and my mom could never figure out why we got so many calls asking for Jenny. I knew the answer but I pretended that I didn't. It was as if I had superior knowledge and it gave me power. Day after day my mom would go crazy when the phone rang and some idiot would sing, "Jenny don't change your number - eight six seven five three oh nah-eeh-ah-ine." I just sat there all powerful, all knowing while my poor mom slowly became confused and tormented! I was like you great Swami!!! Finally my mom had the number changed and I lost all my power. It was a very sad day in my life. So sad, in fact, that I never recovered. Never!

Meet Minion 1315: Jerry Nottel

Something Noteworthy About Jerry: Jerry likes to think of himself as a "latter day" Leisure Suit Larry. Jerry also claims to have had intimate relations with the woman who sang 99-luft balloons.

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): I love you Mooj. I am lost without you and your wisdom. I simply can't even imagine not being an official minion. Peace out and rock my world Big Daddy!

Of Human Bandage

-continued from last week-

With the exception of Abigail Grangerford’s two obnoxious children, I found her home and the town of Portage Des Sioux to be very pleasant. In all honesty my interaction with Abigail’s children was actually quite limited because a few days after I moved into her guestroom her son was back in jail and the daughter was off "doing her thing," whatever that meant. Abigail was very good to me and I quickly grew accustomed to her quiet and old-fashioned ways.

Usually after supper if the weather was agreeable Abigail and I would stroll along the riverfront and hold hands. Sometimes we would talk and other times we would just remain silent so that we could hear the wrens, larks and blue jays sing. (Actually only Abigail talked because I was usually scouting the river searching for my long lost nephew Mogender.)

Then after our long walk we would return home, crack open a few beers and then watch The Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy! (Sometimes we would compete to see who could guess the answers first.) Then after our TV hour we would sit and play Crazy 8s to see who would do the dishes that night.

In the evening before I retired to the guestroom Abigail would often come and sit beside me on the front porch. Those were usually quiet times and Abigail would sing while I played an old harmonium that I found in her basement. Then we’d just sit and stare at the moon or the stars that glistened above the river.

In the morning Abigail would often make me get up early and walk with her to the post office (it was actually a general store that had a post office in the back). There we would meet with other townsfolk, have a cup of coffee and gossip. Since I was pretending to be some guy named Fred from St. Louis, people were always asking me questions about St. Louis; I often had to give vague answers so as not to blow my cover. (Only once did I ever get caught in a lie; and that was when I told this old timer that I regularly attend St. Louis Brown’s games. I didn’t realize that the team left St. Louis in the late 1950s.)

Since most of Abigail’s friends and neighbors were widows I was often asked to come around their homes and perform simple handyman tasks for them. Most of the jobs were easy (like screwing in a light bulb or something) and so I didn’t mind. These ladies were always very polite and loved to sit and talk to me for hours on end. Before I came over they would usually bake a pie or cake for me and I would always feel obliged to sit and eat the whole thing in front of them. Some days I visited three or four women and wound up eating three or four cakes and pies!

Soon the days turned into weeks and before I knew it I had been living in the Grangerford guestroom for over a month. In many ways I felt like part of the family; and for the first time in a long time I thought, perhaps, that I had found the home that I had always been searching for.

Then "he" returned. The "he" was Abigail’s estranged husband. That fool begged Abigail to take him back and told her that he was sorry for all his cheating and drunken ways. She was reluctant to take him back but decided to give him a second chance for her children’s sake. That evening after supper she took me aside and told me it was now time for me to go. (The husband wasn’t as kind and pretty much let me know that he’d blow a hole in my ass with his shotgun if I didn’t hit the road.) It was the saddest I felt in a long time.

Thus, humbly, I collected my things, as meager as they were, and bid farewell to my adopted family. I couldn’t help but shed a tear of sorrow as I waved goodbye while they all stood on the porch to see me off. As I neared the road leading southward out town I heard the sound of distant footsteps approaching me. I turned around and saw that it was the daughter; she wanted to give me a hug. After our hug she told me that she knew I wasn’t her real Uncle Fred but that if I didn’t mind she would always think of me as her Uncle Fred anyway. I told her that that would be nice. I then continued on my way and sadly reflected that I would probably never find a nicer family to free load off of in the future.

-continued next week-

This week The Mooj was honored with a stunning tribute by The Joppa Fun Committee (JFC), a nonprofit organization based in Joppa, Maryland, which is focused on the specific goal of creating and delivering the latest in eco-friendly, next-generation, emergent fun technologies to create a paradigm-shift in the holistic entertainment experience domain (in other words, they just like to have lots of fun!). I've been told on good authority that several members of the JFC are loyal minions in good standing and a few of them actually had the decency to buy official Mooj minion T-shirts! The Mooj salutes the JFC and all the good that they do (whatever it may actually be).

The San Francisco Police Department's Vice & Bunko Squad also sent in a photo this week. Three of their most senior officers posed for this photo in front of the famous Mooj.Com billboard on Polk Street. Oh my gosh! I just noticed something! Do you guys see what I see? Can gas really be $1.91 a gallon in SF????

Well, that's about it for the year 2001! What lies ahead for The Mooj Weekly Standard next year? Who knows. All The Mooj can say is that it will be along the lines of what you've come to expect from me already.

Before I sign off for the year let me thank again the people who were kind and caring enough to buy official Minion T-shirts. You few dozen benevolent minions will undoubtedly be rewarded with good karma next year! Those of you that call yourselves "minions" and haven't yet bought my official minion T-shirt, well, let's just say you're really missing out on something special (and Mooj.com is missing out on some pocket money).

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