Hi Mooj!

I just met the man of my dreams! He's handsome, good looking and cute and he's really smart and knows a lot! I'm really happy and glad too! Here's the thing that's really strange and a bit odd, he told me he's a scientologist but he works at the Canada College as a janitor. I don't really understand how a person like that is wasting his background and training and schooling as a scientologist just to clean up after a bunch of university wannabes. Wouldn't he make a lot more money if he were working as a scientologist in a laboratory somewhere?

Denise Davies (a.k.a. Dee Dee.)
San Carlos, CA

The Mooj thinks that you may be confusing the religion of Scientology with the profession of science. They’re similar but not exactly the same.

Moojer,

The other day I was driving home from work and I spotted this young teenage girl hitchhiking on the side of the road. I knew better than to stop and pick her up but I did so anyway. The girl got into my car and looked like a heroin addict or something. I asked her if she was okay and she told me to mind my own business. I asked her where she was going and she told me that she was a runaway on her way to Portland. Portland was about a hundred miles away so I figured I’d take her there (being the nice guy that I am). When we got to Portland I dropped her off at the Greyhound Station, where she was supposed to meet some friends. When I noticed there was no one there to meet her I went back and asked her if I could give her some money and a ride to a motel. She accepted my offer and I drove her to a flea bag motel and gave her $50 (that’s all I had). She thanked me and I watched her go into the lobby, where she was abruptly told to leave. I couldn’t just leave the poor girl all alone like that so I drove her to another motel and got the room for her myself. She was very homesick by then and started to cry. I told her that everything was going to be okay and went with her to her room so that we could talk. She reminded me of my daughter and so I just couldn’t leave her like that. I would up spending the night and, well… things got kind of wild. The girl called her friends and they all showed up and we did crack and heroin and stuff. Man was I wasted! But that’s not why I’m writing to you. What I need to know is what stocks do you recommend that I buy this week? I'm making a fortune following your stock market advice!

Philip Krueger

Wow, this Philip Krueger guy sounds like quite a character! One week he’s having an affair with his admin assistant, the next his parents are joining some space cult and now he’s smoking crack and taking heroin with a bunch of street kids. I do not condone his behavior but I do admire his willingness to invest in the future. This week I recommend stocks that have both impressive combined earnings ratios and noticeable relative strength. This week I recommend TARO, GPI, RLRN, DGX, AZA, KKD, and LEN.

Hey "Punjabi Pete,"

Since I actually live near The Great Lakes Naval Training Center in North Chicago I managed to catch your June 2^nd blues act at the Historic Helms Club (as advertised in your last newsletter). I had no idea that you were a real live person! I thought this whole Mooj thing was a joke. I’m not sure who your promoter is but next time you should be more careful about opening for a heavy metal band (especially one whose fans are as hard-core as The Official Navy SEAL band’s are). I hope you weren’t too badly hurt when the unruly mob pulled you off stage and beat you senseless. I guess people just don’t know good blues when they hear it. My favorite part of your act (before the beating) was when that man-monkey thing came out and started dancing around during your guitar solo. Pretty cool man pretty cool. Let me know where your next big gig is and I’ll try to catch it.

Jeffrey Zinger
Kenosha, WI

Yes, The Mooj remembers that awful night quite clearly. Sadly, my nephew Mogender is my promoter (or at least that’s what it says on his H-1 Visa application) and he was responsible for booking me at the Historic Helms Club. The poor fellow had no idea that he was pairing me up with an elite special forces heavy metal band. He was just as shocked as I was when the crowd turned unruly and violent. In the future I told him to just avoid that whole North Chicago area. Mogender has booked a few more gigs for me in and around the Chicago area. I recommend you call The Mooj Hotline for more information. (Remember, there is a nominal $3.95 a minute fee for using The Mooj Hotline. Be patient! My live blues show announcements are usually toward the end of a 90-minute diatribe that I chant about love, hope and inspiration.)

Dude, it was like Altamonte all over again! Me and my old lady went to the Helm’s Club to catch your act last weekend and had to split the scene when the crowd turned violent and began pelting us with beer bottles. We had just managed to get to the exit door when the crowd pulled you from the stage and began beating you. It’s terrible how today’s youth have no respect for the elderly. We hope you’re feeling better and won’t let this sorry episode defray you from continuing on your Punjabi Blues Legend tour. We’re your biggest fans!

The Silvers Family
Brookfield, IL

The Mooj is grateful for your condolences and support. I should point out that I checked the Master Donor List and saw that although you may claim to be my biggest fans, you certainly aren’t my most generous. The Mooj invites you to improve upon this anomaly.

Great and Loving Mooj,

My new girlfriend has a pierced tongue and tattoo on her ankle. My mom says that any girl with a pierced tongue and tattoo undoubtedly has naked pictures of herself on the Internet. My mom is usually right about these things. Oh wise one, can you use your holistic psychic senses to find out if my new girlfriend actually does have nude pictures of herself on the Internet. Not that I care, except I don’t want to get married, have kids and then have to worry about my kids finding naked pictures of their mom on the Internet. I’m an old fashioned kind of guy.

Jack Meoff,
Fresno, CA

The Mooj wonders why you (and others like you) bother him with such nonsense. If your request is genuine (which I seriously doubt) then I apologize for my gruff response. But, since you ask, The Mooj did look and was unable to locate any naked pictures of your girlfriend on the Internet. And I looked pretty hard, too! I did, however, find naked pictures of Demi Moore and Pia Zadora. Wow! That was a shocker.

Hey Mooj,

Those Jules Vermilion adventure stories were great! I was a nuke on the Carl Vinson (CVN 70) and enjoyed reading them. The people that wrote in and complained are losers and don’t know good stuff when they read it. Since that guy Tom Robinson from Columbia, MD is so willing to have a bamboo pole shoved up his butt and then hop around on it, I volunteer to put it there!

Francis Humboldt,
Vega, TX

Before everyone makes Jules Vermilion out to be this big martyr let me clarify some recent findings. Last month Mooj.com received dozens of letters from supposed Mooj Weekly Standard readers complaining about Jules Vermilion and his lingering navy story. As a result I did what any honorable editor would do under those circumstances and terminated the series. But something just didn’t seem right about the whole thing. My nephew and new sidekick Mogender is a computer programmer (besides being my blues act promoter) so he set up a macro that filtered threw the Mooj Mail Bag and sorted each email item by it’s sender name. It just so happened that all the anti-Jules Vermilion letters came from the same email address: a Hotmail account that was registered to none other than Jules Vermilion! That scoundrel was probably tired of writing his adventure stories and knew that I would probably can him if public opinion turned against him (which I did). The Mooj is outraged by this treachery and will admonish Jules Vermilion as soon as I can locate him. Then, after admonishing him I will ask him to finish up his adventure series since I have little desire to write any more in these newsletters than I already have to. So if you’re reading this Jules, we’re onto you! And get back to work!

Dear Mooj,

My sorority had a crush party last weekend and my violet sister invited a guy that she knew I had a crush on but instead of setting him up with me (that’s what a crush party is all about) she scammed on him herself. I’ve liked this guy all year and she knows it! What’s worse is that later that night she kissed him in front of everyone! I felt like such a fool! Then to make matters worse she slept with the guy in his van out front. I hate my violet sis and I totally hate this guy. I hate everybody! I even hate you! I’ve been crying for a whole week now. Mean people suck!

Shout out to Beta Chi!
Crissy Snowden,
Santa Barbara, CA

The Mooj feels your pain and will fast and meditate for you.

As I write email I am being held political prisoner in China. I am at reeducation camp in Lo Mien Province. It is by stroke of luck I have gained Mooj Website and am transmitting email message to you. I am assigned cleaning duty in office of camp party chairman. Office has computer and I am college educated so I use it. Sadly I cannot think of anything to say. I must leave now before I become discovered.

Xhu Chu Ping
Prisoner #1223-9875-09876

The Mooj feels your pain and will fast and meditate for you, too.

Mr. Mooj,

I just figured out that I have three degrees of separation between me and former President Bill Clinton! Wow. See, I know a girl who slept with a famous basketball player named "Michael," who at some point has met the president. Pretty cool!

Arnold Schwartzenhager
New York, NY

The Mooj strongly believes that this letter is a hoax and has seriously considered deleting it from this newsletter. But, on the other hand, it could very easily be genuine. I guess I’ll just leave it where it is. Either way, The Mooj could care less.

Dear Mooj,

Back during the summer of 1953 I was a sophomore at Tufts University and desperately needed money to help pay for college. I applied for and got a summer job working for the Brink’s Armor Car Company. I hated the job but it paid really well and I got to carry a gun. Since I was only a rookie the other two drivers were always really mean to me and always made me ride in the interior slot of the truck (in the back, next to all the money). It was horrible back there because the armored truck had no air conditioning and there was absolutely no ventilation. It could get up to about 130 degrees back there! One day I became dizzy with heat stroke and thought that I was hallucinating. But I wasn’t. Standing before me was the ghost of King Edward VII. The ghost revealed to me a foolproof way to steal money from the armored car and not get caught. Basically the plan was to [this section of the letter was omitted because The Mooj doesn’t want to give any other "would-be" armored car guards any ideas]. The plan worked like a charm! By the end of the summer I had well over a million dollars stashed away in a secret Swiss bank account and no one was any the wiser! Sure the bookkeepers at Brink’s noticed the shortfalls but, as by plan, the other drivers were suspected and arrested for the crime. I even got to testify at their trial and said exactly what the ghost of King Edward VII told me to say. Those two jokers were convicted and spent the rest of their lives in prison and I got away scot-free! But now I am old and am beginning to feel guilty about my crime. I really should have done more to help mankind with my millions in stolen loot but I didn’t; I basically squandered it away on fancy sports cars, booze, beautiful women and luxurious European vacations. To be honest if I had it all to do over again I probably wouldn’t. Oh well. Such is our lot in life I guess.

"Sad Sam,"
Horsham Township, PA.

Gee Sad Sam, The Mooj is wondering why you chose The Mooj Weekly Standard as the forum to confess your inconsiderate crime? I suggest you turn yourself in immediately.

Back when I was in high school there was this girl that was a total fox. I was always scamming on her but it was to no avail. Finally I came up with this bitchen plan and it worked. Since I’m such a cool dude I thought I’d share my great idea with my fellow minion buds. Here’s what I did. During 7^th period I snuck out of class and went to the senior parking lot (where all the seniors parked their cars). I found this girl’s car and popped open the hood (it was a ’67 Galaxy so you could do that in those days without a key). I was a pretty good mechanic so I knew exactly where her distributor cap was and so I yanked off the starting coil wire. I then closed her hood and returned to class. After school most of us local dudes hung out in the smoking quad and that was cool because I could see the parking lot from there. I pretended to be hanging with my buds when I saw the girl of my dreams get into her car and try and start it. Sure enough—the car wouldn’t start and so I showed up to save the day. I told her I was an ace mechanic and so she let me pop open her hood. I then did a bunch of stuff to make it look like I was doing some heavy-duty repair work (like I took off the air cleaner, pulled off the radiator cap and pulled out and put back in the dipstick—you know stuff like that). I then plugged back in her igniter cable wire and told to her to try and start the car. It started up right away and she was pretty grateful. Smooth! She then asked me how she could pay me back and I said, "Go to the senior prom with me!" She told me she would think about it and gave me her phone number. I can’t remember if she actually went to the prom with me or not because I was smoking a lot of dope back then. Come to think of it I can’t even remember if I actually even called her. Man, now that I think about it, I don’t remember anything from the 70s. Too hip, gotta go!

Ty,
Fullerton, CA

The Mooj reminds his minions that his time is valuable and that letters like this serve little purpose, other than fill newsletter space. The Mooj also points out that if you smoke a lot of pot you will undoubtedly wind up like this guy.

What kind of nonsense is this? What kind of name is Moojopootia Umboobraba anyway? I can assure you that it is not Punjabi. I am a Punjabi and I know a few things. Your web site is an insult to Indians around the world. You are a farce to humanity and you know it. I ask that you stop all this stupidity at once.

Bharat Talib
Old Delhi, India

I think this Bharat Talib person has been smoking way too much Pan Bahar lately. Either that or all the car exhaust in Delhi is finally getting to him.

Mooj,

I don't get it. Your nephew is the man monkey of New Delhi? Why don't you turn him in? Isn't there a reward or something? Why don't you collect it? If you're not going to then I will.

Peter Torque
Bounty Hunter, Taxidermist, Bail Bondsman and Card Carrying Member of PETA
Salem Winston, NC

The Mooj is doing what he can under these trying circumstances. My first priority is to make sure that my nephew adjusts to life in American and then we will see about all this man-monkey stuff.

Mr. Mooj:

Now that summer is here I thought I’d send you a great recipe: Watermelon Triangles! First you buy a watermelon and then chill it in the 'fridge. Next get out a sharp knife and cut the melon in half, lengthwise. Then cut the halves in half, lengthwise. This should give you four pieces. Now I don't know why but sometimes I end up with six or seven and I get really confused but that’s ok. Next you'll want to start cutting the pieces widthwise as thick as you want, but I prefer about an inch or inch and a half. Now here's the kicker: when you turn them side ways—they look like triangles!!!!

Mary T
Abingdon, MD

Thank you Mary T from Abingdon. You are very thoughtful to share your recipe with all of us.

Dear Mooj,

What ever happened to the Bay Area Predators?

Billing Dept.
The Ice Centre at San Jose

I have no idea. Last I heard they were all deadbeats and refused to pay their hockey league fees (after playing midway through their 4th losing season).

Dear Uncle Mooj,

You don’t know me but I am your brother Singh-Jing’s youngest son. I, too, am one of your nephews. I don't know what to do. The people here in Delhi now believe that the Man-Monkey was the figment of the imaginations of emotionally unstable people. They think that he never existed! How could they? He did exist! He was my brother Mogender Hanuman Vijay Singh! Maybe my brother Mogender Hanuman Vijay Singh fled New Delhi too soon! Maybe he wasn’t violent enough! He has failed Uncle! Please ask him to mail home the man-monkey suit and I shall resume random attacks on the unsuspecting masses, who have been lulled into this false sense of safety and security. Have him read the attached newspaper article and this shall outrage him! The man-monkey shall reign supreme over Delhi once again!

Your humble nephew,
Uriah Heep Singh

http://www.timesofindia.com/today/18mdel1.htm

What is it with all these nephews that I never knew about coming out of the woodwork all of a sudden? The Mooj is confused by all this man-monkey talk.

Dear Unknowing One,

My dog ate my wedding ring and I've been following him around for the last 10 days collecting his crap. Then I put on rubber gloves and break the crap apart to look for the ring.  How long can a wedding ring stay inside a dog’s system anyway?

Shelly B.

The Mooj has used his holistic psychic powers to envision your ring’s location. I have found it! It is located approximately 10 yards from your back porch, in some tall grass. The Mooj cannot assertion the exact environment of the material surrounding the ring—but it pretty much has the consistency of dog crap (so it probably is). While The Mooj was looking for your ring I also found the keys to your ’88 Nissan Maxima, your turquoise earrings, your husband’s pear tie clip, your daughter's Barbie shoes and a few hundred other odds and ends laying inside dog poop in your backyard. The Mooj suggests you watch your dog more closely (and clean up all that dog crap in your backyard).

Mr. Mooj,

The other day my wife and I were driving down to Florida. As we passed through Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia we were amazed to see all the cars with stickers of the number "3" all over them. They all mentioned something about honoring the greatest sports legend ever. Now I grew up in New York City—not three miles from the old Polo Grounds—and I was delighted to see that people were still paying tribute to the great Mel Ott! I would never have thought southerners would care about an old NY Giant’s legend but I guess they still do. I never knew Mel Ott was called "the Intimidator," either. 

May God bless you and keep you safe!

Dr. and Mrs. Berg
Newark, NJ

The Mooj is confused by your letter and so I will just ignore it.

Mooj,

This is no Joke. I have a problem getting condoms to fit. I am not bragging — I just want to be able to enjoy sex without worrying about my condom snapping due to ductile failure. I don't think I am abnormal for a man of my length and girth, but do they make condoms in extra-large sizes?

Che Che Guevara
South San Francisco

Gee Che Che, The Mooj is wondering why you think I care? I’m also curious as to why you cc’d this email message to all your friends and co-workers.

"Maybe I am and maybe I am not, yar," responded Depak, as he lit another cigarette.

"I have a very important case and I would like to talk to you about it, yar," said the lady.

"Come later I’m busy, yar," said Depak.

The beautiful woman then pointed to the Racing Form in Depak’s coat pocket and said: "Mein yeh nahin kehti ke pyar mat karna kisi musafir ka, magar atbar mat karna, yar? Too busy picking race horses it appears to me, yar?"

Depak then opened the door wide enough for the woman to squeeze by and then motioned for her to follow him with his dark and soothing eyes. She entered his office, took off her raincoat, hung it up on a nearby coat rack and then sat down in chair by the window. Meanwhile Depak poured himself a drink and offered one to the lady but she refused. The woman then opened her purse and pulled out a thick envelope full of money.

"Is 25,000 Rupees enough to get you started, yar?" she asked.

"Chup sali batmash, yar!" said Depak, as he poured himself another tall drink.

The woman then leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and lit a cigarette.

"It is my husband—, yar," she continued, "I think he might be fooling around on me and I want you to follow him, yar?"

"So your husband’s been a naughty boy, yar?" said Depak as he pulled a revolver from his coat pocket and emptied five unspent cartridges into an ashtray on his desk.    

"I don’t have much to offer you as far as additional payments go," continued the woman, "so maybe we’ll have to work out a deal, yar."

"What kind of deal, yar?" asked Depak as he took a pair of brass knuckles out of his other coat pocket and put them into the ashtray next to the bullets.

The woman then stood up and began loosening the top half of her sari. Depak was no schoolboy and he knew the drill. He poured himself another tall drink and then told the lady that he was more expensive than she thought. The woman then crawled over his desk and climbed onto his lap. They soon began kissing on the lips. Depak knew better than to get involved with a woman like this but his mind stopped thinking. After a few minutes of this passionate love scene the woman pulled away from Depak and told him to call her when he had the goods on her husband. She then re donned her raincoat and left the office. Depak ran to the window and watched as the woman crossed the street and walked out of his life forever. She was all woman, there was no doubt about that! It was then that Depak realized that he forgot to get the woman’s name, phone number or even find out who her husband was. He also realized that the woman never actually handed him over the 25,000 Rupees! Depak then sat down, poured himself another tall drink and said:

Ching-Chong-Chong
I sing my song

Of love and spring release

Chang-chang-cho
It's everywhere I go

I live my life in peace

Ping-ping-lee
Oh sweetheart don't you see?
You mean that much to me

Hip-song-hop chong
Mi-tang-wong-tong
This is a Chinese love song

Joe Schmoe, Joe Blow
Erato let it be!
An icy drink of lemonade
It sure tastes good to me

Hark! How sheepish my soul has become this day! 

Forlorn, forsaketh, and lamentable;

this merry braggart whom spoketh so true about love and forgiveness. 

Yet how is it that I pine away with my heart so impatiently? 

Not this but that can I say and or do; 

I know not how or why.

Prometheus has spoken!

Alas, why does my soul so cry? 

Yea, there I go as a witness. 

Yea, there I go as a fool.

How now brown cow?

Gilded like the Lilies; 

Waxed like the summer fruit. 

Who can say how this shall pass when none can speak of its rebirth? 

How joyous our rage; 

how painful our blight? 

Nether this Nether that;

out proven outright!

Why do I weep--Tis my country that I speak

The sound of the cows,
The baahs of the sheep,
Those are my memories, which I always keep

I get myself dressed, and run down to the pub,
A sore ankle, dear Lordy, I stop in the road to rub.

I see Shamus, Sean, and Cousin Pete
Or at least I think it's them, all I can see are their feet.

It's time to cook supper, pass bread and wine,
After a few drinks, I'm feeling so fine.

I cooked me some stew; it was made of mutton
If it wasn't so rotten, I'd sure be a glutton!

My husband lies next to me, asleep, passing gas
I look at my watch--It's time to go to Mass!

Tiparary, Tiparary, I say toodle-loo
Tis' morning in Cork County
I'm so bloody blue.

Amongst the periodicals, I stood on my head,
While reading the May issue of "Hearth and Homestead."

In the Children's section I tore out pages of Seuss,
The story time lady was very aloof.

I am what I am, that's all I can be.
When you're done with that index file will you pass it to me?

I sneezed into the pages of the New England Journal of Medicine,
I drew a moustache on the poster of Thomas Edison.

My protest comes down to one simple thing,
And as I throw my hat into the ring,
What frosts my bananas and charges my piston
Is that they've done away with the Dewey Decimal System!!!

I actually had lots of stuff planned for this newsletter but never got around to any of it.  It's too bad because most of that stuff was pretty good, too.  But don't worry I'm sure it will all show up in next week's edition (including all the new minion number assignments that my lazy nephew never got around to assigning).  Also, don't forget that next week's newsletter is our 4th annual awards newsletter.  So if you have yet to submit poetry, stories or other stuff, and want to be considered in this year's contest, get busy and send it in now!  This year we might even give out a few prizes (if they can get that damn T-shirt factory down in Guatemala reopened).  Also, if you live in the Chicago area be sure to check out your local listings or call The Mooj Hotline to find out where and when The Mooj is performing his lives Punjabi blues act.  As always, The Mooj will travel incognito and use assumed names for security reasons.

Until we meet again I pray that you and yours have a safe and sane Juneteenth and 4th of July.