The Mooj Weekly Standard is published semi-weekly by The "New" Friends of Mooj Society, Dundalk, Md. The "New" Friends of Mooj Society is in no way affiliated with the "old" Friends of Mooj Society, formally of West Chester, PA. All material published in The Mooj Weekly Standard is considered the intellectual property of The Mooj and may not be reproduced in any manner, shape or form without the expressed written consent of The Mooj or one of his non-paid interns. (This includes stuff that The Mooj plagiarized from other web sites.) The Mooj invites all to join forces with him to rid the Earth of ignorance and greed. March on fellow Mooj Heads and proclaim allegiance to progressive spirituality! Hail Mooj! Hail good thinking! Hail the Boston Red Sox!
First Things First: No, your eyes are not deceiving you. The Friends of Mooj Society has, indeed, been moved south of the Mason-Dixon line. The Mooj has abandoned his former Chester County homeland for better or worse and now calls Maryland his home (even though The Mooj isn't technically living there as of right now). I sense there will be great sadness in the Keystone State when the realization of this loss becomes apparent, but The Mooj feels that this is a positive move and one that was needed for some time.
In truth I have very few happy memories of Pennsylvania. Yes, it is true that Chester County was my home for six long years but the vast majority of that time was spent rotting inside the unfriendly confines of the Chester County Jail for a crime that I did not commit (or at least have no recollection of committing). Now that time has slowly passed and I am further removed from the time of my captivity, most of my support network in Chester County has eroded and I no longer have many friends in Pennsylvania. So when the opportunity arose last week to hire two brand new non-paid interns living in Dundalk, MD The Mooj jumped at the chance and decided to take the plunge. Thus, humble Mooj and what's left of his merry minion infrastructure has moved south.
My two new interns are typical of their age group, except that they are clean cut, committed to excellence, God and country. These all-American boys are Eagle Scout candidates and are in the midst of completing their community service requirement. They have chosen The Mooj Weekly Standard as their vehicle to enriching their community and I have gladly accepted their offer of free labor. The Boy Scouts of America, Inc. has agreed to back this venture and their final grade [given by me] will be rendered in the late fall of 2000 after their project (which I guess is to help me spread good will) is complete. Hopefully, I'll get some work out of these guys, unlike my previous three interns, who were pretty much slackers. For obvious reasons these two Eagle Scout candidates have asked that their identities be kept secret.
So with all that important introduction stuff out of the way let's begin our minion newsletter. First up is the usual correspondence that The Mooj feels obliged to deal with each week since communication with my minions is how The Mooj justifies his tax-free status as a minister of God. Besides, what would The Mooj Weekly Standard be without The Mooj answering the queries of his loving and curious friends? You should also expect a poem or two, a meaningless short story, and then hopefully a round up of all my traveling adventures. If you are new to The Mooj Weekly Standard then just sit back and relax; it will take a while but soon this will all make sense to you ..... sort of.
"The
Mooj Mailbag"
Mr. Mooj, When I broke up with my girlfriend last month she started telling everybody that I had a very small manhood. Ever since then I've been the butt of many jokes and people laugh at me wherever I goes. I'm too ashamed to show my face in public now! My ex girlfriend is 17 and I’m 32. We both work at The Waffle House in Oxford, Alabama (the one near the mall, not to be confused with the seven other Waffle Houses that are less than a mile apart here in Oxford). Before the breakup we had been together for six years. She has three children and at least one of them is mine but the other two could be mine too. From the day we broke up she been telling people that I be small in the manhood size department. How can I stop her from making these cruel comments at my expense? How will I ever regain my dignity? Willie Ferguson
Dignity? The Mooj wonders why a 32-year-old Alabama guy, who obviously still dates high school girls and works at a Waffle House, would even care about dignity. I wish I could help you out there Willie but I can't. Hey moojer dude:
Great Mooj, I am currently studying to be a mortuary attendant in San Francisco and I think I have been struck with a grand idea on how to ease our global food crisis. You know how people elect to become organ donors at the end of their lives? Well, what if people were also given the opportunity to donate their bodies to pet food manufactures? The human flesh thereby would be recycled and that would release thousands of tons of grain, at present used in pet foods, to feed less fortunate children elsewhere in the world. Mooj, we simply must save the children if we can. Eartha Bucket
You were struck in the head all right but it wasn't by a good idea; The Mooj suspects it was more like the the foot of a horse. Silly person, don't you know that hunger has now become a political weapon? In today's world, no famine is gratuitous. Hunger is a strategy pursued with unbelievable cynicism by governments and military regimes, whom the end of the cold war has deprived of a steady income. Rather than starving the enemy they are starving their own populations in order to cash in on media coverage and international compassion, an inexhaustible source of money, food and political platforms. Freeing up more grain would only result in more grain rotting in the warehouses and ports of the third world. The Mooj salutes you for your bold thinking and hopes that you continue to think of other, more realistic, ideas to make the world a better place to live. Hey Dumb Ass, You totally suck. I sent in for a Mooj minion number five weeks ago and haven't heard nothing. As of now I no longer want to be considered as a loyal minion. [Picture of this person bending over and exposing his buttocks was omitted since it was deemed tasteless]. Herr Mueller
The Mooj apologizes to all his potential minions for the delay in issuing Mooj minion numbers. My two new interns (the Eagle Scout candidates) have assured me that the enormous backlog of minion candidates will be made their number one priority. If the rude person who submitted this nasty letter would like to be once again considered for a Mooj minion slot then The Mooj suggests that he re submit his application using a different name. As far as The Mooj is concerned anyone named Herr Mueller is now and forever banned from Mooj.com sponsored activities. The Mooj doesn't mind a little criticism now and again but this person's mean spirited remarks were taken to be offensive and I cannot tolerate that kind of rude behavior in a minion candidate. Dear Mooj, My wife and I are getting divorced and sleep in separate bedrooms. Is it too late to save our marriage? We’re both 39 and have never been the type of couple to talk about our feelings much. We’ve been together for 20 years and have three children (ages 15, 13 and 10). Last summer my wife told me that our marriage was over and allowed her boyfriend to move in with us. The guy is a real jerk and treats my kids really bad. My wife says she thinks she loves this guy and wants to marry him as soon our divorce is final. This boyfriend guy is also married and his wife lives in our basement since she can’t afford rent because her ex husband (who is my wife’s boyfriend) refuses to pay child support. How can I persuade my wife to give me another chance? The Lonely Troubadour
Dear friend, at first I thought your letter was a hoax but after much reflection and meditation I sense that you are serious. I suggest that you have a serious talk with your wife about her new boyfriend. I'm sure once she sees the folly of her actions that she will abandon this foolish behavior and return to her senses. (Or maybe not.) Whaaaaaaaaazzuuuuuuuuuup! Hello again my plump and pompous Punjabi pal! It’s me again, your anonymous buddy from The Washington Post. I wrote you a few weeks back with some hot Inside the Beltway scoops. If you're up for it perhaps I can spill some more toxic gossip your way. (Sheeeeeeeeeeet.) Scoop #1: Remember your old pal H. H. Monroe, the FBI guy who vowed to stomp on your head with his alligator skinned boots and then return your paltry Punjabi butt to prison? Well, it looks like the Durango Dude has been a baaaaaad baaaaaad boy. As we speak Monroe is cooling his fine self in prison. It seems that this goofy G-Man somehow forgot to pay income taxes for the last 16 years. (Saaaaay what?) Speaking of income taxes, you should be ashamed of yourself Mr. Politically Correct Punjab. The other day I was doing some snooping around in the IRS building and came across a folder marked, "Mujaputtia Umbababbaraba, Case #145,876." A yellow sticky note was attached to this folder that read: "This Uzbekistani bastard made $6 million last year selling new age paintings in Sedona. Check to see if this lard ass paid income taxes." I pulled the yellow sticky note off your folder and shredded it for you. While I was at it I also shredded the contents of the folder and the folder itself. (Ooooh, ooooh, ooooh, Mr. Kotter, Mr. Kotter, ooooh, ooooh, ooooh.) Scoop #2: Hey remember that super spy guy C. J. Merryweather Jr? Mooj Heads with short attention spans may have a hard time recalling this fellow so I'll remind everybody that he was the guy who recovered all your stolen money from J.E. Gayson in the Azores and then pretended that Gayson was broke so that he could keep all your money for himself. Anyway, I ran into this Speedo sporting super sleuth in gay Paree last month and we had a great time talking about old times. (He and I were classmates at Georgetown.) I asked him "off the record" if he really only found $16.35 in Gayson's safe when he captured him back in December and he laughed and told me: "Yeah, it was something like that! Or maybe it was more like $8 million, I can't remember ..... Ha ha ha." Boy, did we yuck it up! (Quick, can someone say UB scccrrreeewwwed?) Scoop #3: Speaking of J.E. Gayson, believe it or not I also ran into this "special" agent in Paris. In fact, he joined C. J. Merryweather and myself for a drink. I asked Gayson how he was finally able to get off Sao Miguel and he told me that he used your newsletters to pinpoint the location of the missing Inge Svensson treasure and then dug it up. According to him it was only a few hundreds yards away from where you and your Handjoy Syndicate pals were digging for the other, bigger, treasure. The Inge Svensson treasure was small compared to whatever it was that you guys were after but it was enough to help him buy a ticket off the island, a posh apartment in Paris, and then re-establish himself as a gentleman of good taste and distinction. Gayson says he'll probably live pretty well on what remains of the loot since it's pretty cheap to live in Paris. I'm no Einstein but perhaps you should have kept the Inge Svensson treasure a secret until after you dug it up. (Quick, can U say UB dumb?) Scoop #4: Last but not least I have some good news and bad news for you. First the bad news: remember that butcher J.J. Bigsby, the mental midget who thought he was the real Mooj and wanted to kill you to set the world cosmically straight? Well, he escaped from his maximum security prison in Mississippi last week and is now on the loose reeking havoc across the nation. Now for the good news: Although he included your name on his list of people that he is going to "severely hurt," your name was last on the list. There are nine other unfortunate persons ahead of you on his revenge list. (As grizzly as this sounds, this list was actually found carved into the back of his decapitated cell mate following the escape.) Bigsby's current path of destruction shows that he is on a northwest trajectory, headed towards Las Vegas. I'd avoid Vegas if I were you. (Quick, can U say UB dead?) Well that’s about it my fat, obnoxious, Uzbekistani buddy. I’ll let you know more if I hear any more. Good luck! –anon–
As far as the IRS goes, The Mooj isn't obliged to pay income taxes because of my status as a holy man (of course I could be wrong about that). Mr. Mooj, I'm typing this email to you as I ride on a bus to the Million Mom March. I was inspired to write this poem because I am so overcome with emotion right now. Please feel free to use this poem in your wonderful, progressive, left-leaning, newsletter. A Marching Mom's Burning Wish NRA please go away
Together we'll march as Hillary leads the way
Yours Truly,
The Mooj is touched. Thank you Hannah. I'm sure your thoughtful poem will be very well received by our readers. |
This week's light hearted story comes to us from Heddy Franscheska of Garden Grove, CA. The Mooj thought this story was touching (in a holistic sort of way).
I used to have a guinea pig that would eat only lettuce. Instead of buying fresh lettuce my mom could usually get the produce manager at our local grocery store to give her scraps (i.e., the outer leaves that were cut off to make the lettuce appear more appealing). One day while my grandmother was out visiting and she and my mom were shopping, they asked the produce manager about the scraps. He sadly informed them that everything had just been thrown away. After they completed their shopping my mom and grandmother drove behind the store and decided to search the dumpster for the recently thrown-away lettuce. Without much effort they located the scraps and began filling a plastic bag to bring them home. A reporter for the local weekly newspaper saw them doing this and asked if he could take their picture and do a story about their unfortunate circumstances. My mom and grandmother agreed, making up some ridiculous story about being poor and doing this everyday. (This was in the early 1970s, when the practice of "dumpster dining" was virtually unheard of.) They assumed that this guy was smart enough to know that they were kidding and, besides, no one ever read the paper anyway. (It was a freebie and was usually thrown away before anyone unrolled the rubber band.) The next week, out of curiosity, my grandmother and mom checked the paper to see if the guy actually wrote anything about them. They were shocked and horrified to see their picture on the front page with the caption: “So Poor, They Have to Eat Food from a Dumpster.” “Oh my god...., I hope no one sees this!” said
my mom. Luckily, as far as we ever knew, no one did.
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A Poem Written By Johntonomo, a loyal minion and noble Citizen of San Jose, CA. Who were the Hotentots? Who where the Hotentots?
The Hotentot legend, it portends
Lady Hotentot, Lady Hotentot,
The Hotentots live on
A Poem Written By some strange person calling himself, "Zig-Zag Zorba, the pot smoking Greek" Evolution? My oh my like a big pizza pie,
But her mother is ugly, like a pig in the sty
What should I do? Oh me oh my,
As cute as she is on this day it is true,
Think I'll smoke some blunts and go for a fly,
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So now that we have given up on the famous Sao Miguel treasure hunt where are we and what are we doing? Sadly, we are stuck here in Sao Miguel. Since we are broke we cannot afford passage to anywhere and are now forced to work in a local fishery. Needless to say life sucks right now.
On a sad note I should mention that our former pal Trent Handjoy has now changed his mind and will return to America with his father and uncles as soon as they can afford to do so. Trent said some pretty nasty things to me and it really hurt my feelings. (You know, stuff like I ruined his life and ruined the lives of his family, etc.) As mean as Trent was I know he didn’t mean all the terrible things he said and that our paths will once again cross someday. His father, however, was a bit more brutal in his condemnation. He actually beat me senseless while his brothers held my arms behind my back. But The Mooj is a forgiving kind of guy and so I have no ill feelings towards the Handjoys and hope that they can regain some of their former wealth and prestige.
What will the future hold for Lance and I? Who knows, but it will happen here in the Azores until we can finally save enough money to buy a ticket and get off this filth-ridden island. Wish us luck!
