You’re a fraud! Here’s my proof: On October 15^th you posted your October 22^nd newsletter and it had in it a prediction for the 2001 World Series. That prediction was that "the Oakland A’s will defeat the Atlanta Braves in 6 games." Then on October 17^th, after the A’s got beat by the Yankees, you uploaded a new newsletter that said: "the Yankees will defeat the Atlanta Braves in 6 games." Then on October 21^st, after Arizona eliminated the Braves in the NL playoffs, you uploaded another newsletter that said: "the Yankees will defeat Arizona in 6 games." Not only were you totally wrong back on October 15, but then you had the audacity to pretend like you made the correct predictions all along! If that isn’t crooked then I don’t know what is!

Alice B. Token
Pittsfield, MA

The Mooj suspects that you may have been bobbing for apples in a barrel of whisky. Not only are your allegations hurtful but they’re most likely false as well. I suggest you take your insults elsewhere and use them on someone who cares.

In your last newsletter you gave a link to your, "Is My Man The Right Man?" quiz. I took the quiz and discovered that my man was no man at all!  He was a chump!  I dumped his sorry butt and am now looking for a new man. My new man better measure up Mooj-style or his butt be gone too!

Lotta Phatt
Brooklyn, NY

I’m happy that you were able to use that quiz to better your life. My hope is that everyone can build better relationships abiding by The Mooj’s fruitful teachings, including those that are too ignorant to understand how to use them.

Wondrous swami! 

I bid thee howdy do and hope all is well out there in your special world. I write this short memo in hope that you can settle an argument that my wife and I are having. My wife claims that in her former life that she was the Empress Wu Zetian. I don’t believe it! What say you great swami?

-Unsigned

I'll check into it and get back to you.  (In other words I'm just being polite and don't want to come right out and say that your wife is nuts.)

Dear Mooj,

Last July I had the good fortune of attending The National Education Association’s Annual Convention in Los Angeles. During the convention I was selected as co-chair for a subcommittee on Teacher Morality. After the meeting I shared a cab ride back to the hotel with the other co-chair (a woman) and [this woman] asked me if I was interested in joining her for dinner and cocktails. Since we were both professionals and married she made it perfectly clear that the invitation was for social intercourse only and not laced with ulterior motives. I found that to be acceptable. That night we took a cab out to Westwood and ate at the world famous Mongolian BBQ. Afterwards—since it was still early—she suggested that we take a cab up into the Hollywood Hills and look down upon the city lights (like they do in the movies). I thought that would be fun. As soon as we got up there on Mulholland Drive this woman asked the driver to park his cab in a dark secluded spot and then paid the guy $100 "to take a long walk." When we were alone she asked me if I was up for a little fooling around. She wasn’t too bad looking and so I figured, "What the hey!" Then before you could say "Jackie Robinson" we were committing what practicing religious folk calls "adultery." The next day this woman gave me the cold shoulder and avoided all eye contact with me. I figured she was just embarrassed about what happened the previous night and so I didn’t press her. After the convention we parted ways in a professional style by shaking hands and then that was the end of it—or so I thought. Now fast-forward three months: yesterday, out of the blue, I get this letter from this crazy woman’s lawyer accusing me of sexual harassment! This totally blows my mind! I’m a high school principal and this could ruin my career! What should I do?

Mr. Walker
Madison, WI

Gee, maybe you should have done what most practicing religious folk call "behave." I suggest you tell the truth and hopefully your family and peers won’t shun you, as they most certainly should.

Tell me if this makes any sense: my boyfriend says that back when he was a child he was traumatized by his neighbor’s dog. I think the dog bit him or something. Today, as a result—according to him anyway—every time he sees or hears a dog he must have sex right away or he will go into septic shock. That sounds pretty far-fetched to me but I go along with it because I don’t want him to have a seizure or something. I asked one of my sorority sisters about this "condition" and she said that it was legitimate because her boyfriend has the same thing. What do you think?

"Beta Chi Cassy"
Isla Vista Baby, CA

Septic shock, huh? This sounds pretty serious. I suggest you and your sorority sister call the local heath department and get those boyfriends of yours quarantined. (And maybe while you have them on the phone, ask about "common sense" shots for yourselves.)

Back when I was in the navy I got a tattoo in Hong Kong of this big dragon with Chinese characters all around it. After reading that girl’s letter in your newsletter last week I got to thinking that I really had no idea what my tattoo said so I showed it to some Chinese guy at work and he laughed and told me it said, "Hey, look at me, I’m a jackass." I was shocked! I’ve been walking around like this for 30 years!

-Unsigned

Yes, that does sound pretty shocking.

Dear sir,

Several months ago I read an interesting story in one of your newsletters and now feel obliged to share mine. It's very heartwarming in a homespun sort of way.  My story takes place in the year 1955 in the small town of Callistoga Springs, CA. 

I was a senior in high school back then and on the varsity football team. One day after practice my fellow jocks and I were bored and looking to pull a prank on somebody. Then all of a sudden Jim Ruddy, the school 90-pound weakling comes walking by. Us jocks were always harassing that scrawny little pipsqueak and so someone suggested that we "kidnap" Ruddy that night and take him on a "joy ride." 

The plan was embellished later when we all met at Chet Parker’s house and started drinking mass quantities of tequila. Then, about 10:00 p.m., we stripped down to our boxer shorts and painted ourselves up to look like wild Indians. 

As we drove over to the Ruddy house we continued to fuel up on tequila and joke about how we were really gonna put the fear of God into that loser Jim Ruddy. We parked down near the meadow and hiked back up to the Ruddy house (being as quiet as a bunch of drunk guys could be). Then we kicked down the front door of Jim’s house and made lots of racket. One of the boys fired a shotgun blast into the ceiling while the rest of us whooped it up and pretended that we were on the warpath. 

We made the Ruddy family get out of their beds and lie face down on the living room floor while we did this stupid war dance and whooped it up some more. Then we did this fake scalping ceremony where we pretended like we were scalping everyone but instead we just shaved their heads. Then we took Jim prisoner and tied him up on a big stick by his wrists and ankles and carried him off while his family looked on in horror. As we were leaving, a few of the guys ransacked the house and started small fires—man, it was a total riot! We then carried Jim all the way back up to Chet’s car and threw him in the trunk. 

We next drove downtown, stripped Jim naked, and left him tied to a lamppost with a blindfold on. Man, we were cracking up the whole time! The next day at school Jim acted like nothing happened. We were cracking up the whole day and kept asking him why he had a shaved head and he said, "Just felt like it, that’s all." We jocks totally ruled back then and everyone wanted to be one of us. Sadly, though, most of the jocks suffered great misfortunes later in life. For example, most of my teammates died before they reached their 30^th birthday. (They were all mysterious deaths, too.) Jim Ruddy actually went on to become a multi-millionaire and now owns TV stations and car dealerships everywhere. Me? I'm a loser.

B. Derrick Pyle
Napster, CA

Hmmm, this is what you consider a heartwarming story? Let’s hope you don’t have any more.

Mooj,

Since you're an immigrant I'll help you out with this one.  The answer is Tom Niedenfuer.

Sincerely,
Patrick Kerry (your web host administrator)

The Mooj has no idea what this letter is about and so he will ignore it.

How can the avant-garde possibly press the envelope of artistic genius if we are imprisoned by the mercurial whims of jaded, enfeebled, club-toting philistines? But on a serious note I’d like to quote the great humorist El Vez, who said I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.

-Unsigned

Hmmm, can't say I know what this person is saying either so I'll ignore it, too.

Dearest Mooj,

A few years ago I was traveling through India as an ambassador of The International Poetry Society. I was hand selected for this mission by the United Nations Office on Cultural Diversity. Part of my job was to find indigenous poetry and then visit schools and centers of commerce to read and dance to this poetry so that people would learn to value their own culture. While I was in the Great State of Rajastan I came across a poetry book in an exotic bazaar that had been written in the local dialect by an unknown author. I had the work translated and found it to be of exceptionally quality. This poetry book has become increasingly important in my life and I now believe that you might have been the author. (I found your web site by accident today and your poetry is very similar.) Included with this short text message is an English translation of one of my favorite poems from that book. Please read it and tell me if this is one of your poems. Thank you.

Coffee Ananon
Columbia University, NY

Sorry, what you seem to have there is a poem by Sir Philip Sidney (1554 – 1586). He was the English Ambassador to Germany in 1577. My guess is that some Rajastani crook translated that poem into the local language and then tried to pass it off as his own. Shame on him!

I found your website by an accident while I was searching for naked pictures of Bollywood legendary actress Kareena Kapoor. I must say that I was amused by all your wisdom and might even consider becoming a minion. But first I must ask my mother.

Anil (age 12)
Bombay, India

You are a very naughty boy and I admonish you for using the Internet to seek your jollies. Please have your mother contact me so that I can tell her what you have been doing!

Dear friend,

On October 15, 2001 our New York office received an anonymous email from someone claiming to have been awarded a free lifetime supply of Turtle Wax. The Turtle Wax in question was a consolation prize for appearing on the popular ABC TV game show The Newlywed Game. This person doesn’t have anything against Turtle Wax, per say, or the other sponsors of The Newlywed Game. It’s just that this person now believes that he was "duped" and that it is impossible to ever use more than "one container" of Turtle Wax over a lifetime. The whole lifetime supply claim appears to him, at best, to be misleading or disingenuous. And we here at The Law Offices of Rodman, Goldman, and Sack’s can’t agree more! That is why we are now contacting everyone that may have been awarded a "free lifetime supply" of Turtle Wax on any televised game show to let them know that we are pursuing a class action lawsuit against Turtle Wax and the TV game show industry as a whole. We will be answering people’s specific questions in the next few days and getting back to everyone with more details after we meet with other lawyers pursuing similar class action lawsuits against tobacco and asbestos companies. What we need from everyone at this time is their complete contact information and either a brief or a detailed description of how they have used the Turtle Wax and how often—and, of course, how much of the original wax remains within the original container. We are working on putting a message board up on our web site so that people can share their experiences and communicate better with other victims.

Yours Respectively,
Dennis Owen Rodman,
Senior Partner, Rodman, Goldman, and Sack’s

Interestingly enough The Mooj actually appeared on The Gong Show in either 1977 or 1978 (and was subsequently gonged by that a—hole J.P. Morgan!). As a consolation prize I received a Cross pen set, some Jolly Time Popcorn, Rath ham, and a free lifetime supply of Turtle Wax. I suspect that these lawyers may have gleaned my name off an old Gong Show program schedule. To be honest I never used my Turtle Wax and have no intention of doing so now. Thus, I must decline being party to this class action lawsuit and hope that others will too.

Dear Mooj,

Last July I went duck hunting with my older brother up in the mountains. While we were sitting in our tree stand he told me that he had something important he wanted to tell me. He said that he had been looking for a way to say what he was going to tell me for years but could never do it. He then started to cry and said stuff like it was extremely difficult for him to say what he was going to say and hoped that I would find it in my heart to forgive him but that he wouldn’t blame me if I never spoke to him again, etc. Just as he was about to tell me what this awful secret was his rifle accidentally went off and killed him. I’ve been debating for months now whether it is better to know or not know what that secret was. But, since my brother really wanted to tell me I guess I owe it to him to find out. Please tell me what my brother’s terrible secret was!

Gabe Garcia
T-or-C, NM

Duck hunting in July? In the mountains? Using a tree stand to look for ducks? A rifle? I think your brother was probably going to tell you he doesn’t know anything about duck hunting.

I am hoping that you get this message. I am sending this to my base camp via a messenger. This person has proven to be reliable in the past and so I assume he will deliver the message properly and trust that someone at the base camp will forward it along to you. If you do not get this message, fear not for I will send along another one when the messenger returns next month. Here’s my message: OPRAH SUX!!!!

"Ben"
K2, Nepal

I am amazed that you went through all that trouble (not to mention risking the life of some poor messenger boy) to convey your mysterious message to me. Who is OPRAH? Do you mean Oprah Winfrey? The Mooj is confused.

Does it smell like burnt popcorn in here to you? Someone burned popcorn in the microwave again!

-unsigned

The Mooj has no idea what this message is about and so will ignore it.

Hey Mooj! 

Glad to see you haven't been deported yet! Do you have any fans in Illinois yet? Even cornfields need enlightenment!

"Markus of Urbana"

Thank you for your kind words Markus of Urbana. Sadly, Mogender and I did not receive your message in time to be of any use to us and we were, thus, unable to freeload at your residence following our egression from Chicago. If we find ourselves in Illinois again we will be sure to stop in and stay for as long as possible.

Most Revered Mooj:

It gives me great pleasure to have constructed the Mooj poster for you, my dear friend, and I am very pleased to see that you have now offered it free of charge to all minions, non-minions and notable others. Due to an oversight on my part, I had failed to negotiate for a cut of the action. This way, I don't miss out. One very minor correction, a clarification really ... "The Teachings of ‘Y,’" you so kindly mention, are only one small portion of a greater, all encompassing Master Work entitled, The WiseDumb of 'Y'. Unfortunately, the only copy was lost while attempting to rescue a good friend from drowning during a most regrettable incident in the Philippines. Most of this work consisted of the unknown teachings of the Great Zen Master Dogen, which have been orally transmitted from the 13th century through many teachers and finally to me. As heir to the Dharma, it has fallen upon me to commit it to written form. Now the remainder of my Life must be dedicated to reconstructing as much of the lost teachings as I possibly can. I will have to put off reaching Nirvana and leaving this samsaric world behind until I can complete my task. I had hoped to be outta here by now. Those interested in the known teachings of Dogen Zenji may find this URL of interest: http://altzen.freeyellow.com/page10.html (seeing as he lived from 1200-1253, I'm not sure what that "contempoary portrait" means. )

With Metta,
Y-roshi

Thank you Y-roshi for whatever it was that you wrote above. To be honest I can’t exactly figure it out but will include it in the Minion Mail since you sound somewhat coherent (plus, we were a little low on minion mail this week and I'll use just about anything to fill newsletter space these days). Thank you again for the Mooj Love Offering poster. From what I heard most of my minions downloaded it and are now using it in their everyday lives.

Most Ven. Mooj,

re: my last: "message from Y-roshi":

I see after reviewing my email outbox that my editor is as big an idiot as yours! It is indeed difficult to find good help these days. Not only has she mispelled "contemporary" but has also put me in the postion of looking like a foole (sic) when she insisted on the definition of the word contemporary as meaning: Simultaneous; marked by characteristics of the present period; Modern; Current. This is technically correct but of course not the primary and most often used meaning: Happening, existing, living, or coming into being during the same period of time. And so ... I apologize for her ineptness ... She came highly recommended by my dear friend, the late Richard Brautigan, who first brought her to my attention via his short, "Ernest Hemingway's Typist" from his well known collection, The Revenge of the Lawn. I include it here:

Again, I apologize ...I can only add that she is a dear, kind hearted being ... and of course, well into her 90's and not as adept in her typing skills as she once was. And I must admit that there is not much light here in my hillside cave. Ah well ... it's in the past and we must strive to live in this moment, eh? Here and Now, boys, Here and Now.

-Y-

The Mooj accepts your apology and will get back to you when he can figure out what exactly you are trying to tell him.

Mooj ... if that is really is your name,

Hey ... what's up with the Oct 22nd date on last "weak’s" newsletter? It’s October 15th where I live. Is this just an attempt to pad the date and give you an additional weak (sic) to put out the next "weakly"??? Why don't you just call it what it is ... a bi-monthly, at best, publication. Or ... is this some sort of a time warp thang ... exercising your powers to move forward or back in time and write from there? How convenient! You certainly do work in mystical ways, my friend.

Al Grabäss (pronounced Gra-baaz)
East Jesus, B.C.

An observant and astute person you are Mr. Grabäss. Yes, unfortunately last week’s newsletter was uploaded before it was supposed to be. I am uncertain as to why that happened and my web host administrator has assured me that this will never happen again. Luckily, no one was hurt by this unfortunate occurrence.

Your Moojness ...

This is new minion #1284 ... listed last week as anonymous (yeah, right). You wish! You may refer to me as "Hey Joe" as that has been my assigned moniker since the time you abandoned me under a certain bridge in beautiful downtown Olongapo City in the 1970s. You must remember a certain girl named Jasmine who worked at the Top Three Club? People tell me that she was my mother and that she was always true blue to only you, Joe. Of course, once you returned to the States, she had no way to support a family. The story is that she made an attempt to follow you to the U.S. on a raft constructed from coconut shells and flotsam gathered from the banks of Potown's most famous waterway, but that the current swept her away B4 she could carry me aboard and that was the last that anyone ever saw of her. I've remained under that very bridge ever since, waiting for her (or you) to return, but ... at least I have finally located you ... and now, at last, have the opportunity to know you as my Spiritual Father, even if I’m not accepted by you as your own flesh & blood. 

I too, have experienced many visions ... most likely brought on by the enforced fast I did for the first 12 years of my life. My only sustenance being scraps of food and small change thrown by the sailors from The Bridge. They thought it great fun to watch us (yes, there were many waifs competing for their favors) dive to the bottom of "Doo-Doo" river to snatch up whatever they decided to cast off. I have some very strange and unusual objects in my collection. I do recall one kind soul who would occasionally bring me special gifts ... a candy bar or books and spiritual writings. I still have a dog-eared copy of The Wisedumb of "Y" ..., which may be the only thing that allowed me to cope with my suffering and otherwise miserable life. It was this work that inspired and started me on my spiritual quest for Peace. I think this was in appreciation for having rescued one of his friends, a very strange man called "Animal Parker," who was robbed and cast into Doo Doo River one evening in only his skivvies. Not a pretty sight. Well, Joe, I have pulled on your coat long enough. I can only hope you can find it in your heart to accept responsibility for your actions and/or transgressions of the past and to finally recognize me for who I am, your devoted son ... in spirit at least ...

"Hey Joe" Umbababb (I've further shortened it as the city officials here do not support names, which contain more than 8 characters)
Potown, PI

Although your story is a tragic one, I must make it clear that I am not your father. Using my psychic powers of deduction I can tell you that your real father was an American sailor attached to The USS Enterprise (RC Div, 1973) who’s name was "Steamer."  As for the copy of The Wisedumb of "Y" you now possess, I suggest you sell it on eBay. There’s at least one person out there that would buy it.

Mooj,

I just found out that my son wants to buy a bright yellow VW Beetle. Oh my God! Does that mean he’s gay?

"A Very Concerned Father in College Station, TX"

No. (I think you might be confusing the VW Beetle with a BMW 325i.)

Gracious Swami,

I find myself in the most peculiar of spots—a rather sticky wicket you might say. I won’t give you my name and I certainly hope that you will respect my privacy and not publish this letter. I desire only a personal communication from you that gives me your thoughts, prayers and, perhaps, a suggestion about how I can get myself out of hot water. Here’s what happened as far as I can recall (my memory is very fuzzy these days). Last month I attended the American Bar Association’s Annual Meeting in Chicago and, as usual, was asked to chair a subcommittee on lawyer ethics. I am a professor at Harvard Law School and regarded by most to be the godfather of American Legal Moralism. I am also the principal author of The Lawyer’s Credo—a textbook published in 1955 that is still widely used in law schools all over America. Anyway, now back to my ethical dilemma (that I need your advice on). During this conference a very dear friend and colleague of mine confided in me that he was suffering from depression. I suggested that "an excursion" to the "seedier" part of town to have a drink and eyeball some pretty young ladies at a stripper bar might cheer him up. Since my friend and I are both in our late 80s I thought that he would have realized right away that I was only joking. But, to my surprise, this colleague and friend of mine thought going to a strip club sounded like a capitol idea. I had no idea what to do or where to go so I took the hotel concierge aside and asked him for suggestions. He told me that he was getting off work in a few minutes and that he would gladly take my friend and I to his favorite "gentlemen’s club," which was less than a mile from the hotel. I agreed to this foolish plan and my friend and I accompanied the young man to a really bad part of town. The next thing I knew we were at some crack house and this concierge guy is buying drugs. Then some crack head pulled out a gun and started shooting up the place. The police then show up and my colleague and I were

 <<webmaster, delete this letter!>>

Mooj Note: I must apologize to the sender of this email. I did not realize in time that he had requested that the above correspondence be kept personal. Luckily, I was able to delete most of the letter before this newsletter was uploaded to the Mooj.com server. If by some chance you were able to read this letter before I deleted most of it, wouldn’t you agree that it sure sounds a lot like the letter from Mr. Walker, the adulterous high school principal from Madison, Wisconsin? These two fellows got themselves into ghastly situations as a result of their bad judgment. It may just be a coincidence or it may be part of God’s Divine Plan to weed out the wicked by making them victims of their own stupidity! I pass no judgment, I just find it ….. amusing, that’s all.

Can you please explain what a Mooj is? I won a Mooj Minion T-Shirt as door prize at my 20-year high school reunion. Did The Mooj go to Mater Dei High School, Class 1981? I don’t see the connection. Please enlighten me.

To be honest it just sounds like a random act of kindness.  Consider yourself blessed!

Is there something about Vermont I should know? For instance, why do they show a picture of some guy peeing in a bucket on the back of their state quarter?

Jeff Harvey
Troy, NY

I have no idea what you're talking about.

Kyonki Main Jhooth Nahin Bolta!

Raj Malhotra couldn’t take his eyes off of the beautiful girl that sat across from him at the wedding feast. She was perfect in every way! He learned from the wallah sitting next to him that this woman was a friend of the bride and had traveled from far far away. Raj finally worked up the courage to talk with the lovely stranger and asked her if he could introduce her to others in the village. She was happy to have someone to talk to since she was feeling neglected by her friend the bride. Raj was a popular chap in the village and so he impressed the young lady with his many acquaintances. But, unwittingly, Raj made a fatal mistake of introducing the lovely stranger to Aamir Kahan, the village playboy. Aamir moved quickly in on the pretty young stranger and soon had her all to his own. Raj Malhotra was furious! He followed the two outside and observed them from behind a giant shrubbery. His anger grew severe as that rascal Aamir wooed the pretty girl with his smooth talk and rude advances. Raj could take no more of this and exposed himself from behind the shrubbery and demanded that Aamir apologize to the beautiful stranger for offending her modesty. The girl scolded both men and told them they were acting like schoolboys; she quickly excused herself and returned to the banquet hall. Others had gathered in the garden and encouraged the two men to fight (in a fashion typical of many Bengali weddings). The boys gave in to popular demand and commenced to a fistfight, with Aamir Kahan clearly dominating the struggle. To add insult to injury, after his public trouncing, Raj was then asked by the father of the bride to leave the party. While Raj collected his things he saw much to his dismay that Aamir Kahan was not only allowed to remain at the banquet but that the others (including the bride’s father) were patting him on the back and feeling his biceps.

And now for this story’s witty pun—which you obviously knew was coming: bhaaii, zaraa dekh ke chalo, aage bhii like a big dog with a big bone nahI.n piichhe bhii ehasaan teraa hogaa mujhapar, dil chaahataa hai vo kahane do, yar!

By, By and By

-continued from last week- 

As dusk settled over the lazy Mississippi River, Mogender and I drifted slowly southward atop our raft-like floating dock. The island that had been Mogender’s home for the last few days was now a distant memory. When we were safely down the river about a mile I made Mogender take off his stupid Man-Monkey outfit and throw into the river. Mogender, sensing that I was in no mood to be angered, obeyed my wishes.

As we floated down the lazy river Mogender and I squatted comfortably atop the drifting floating dock. We couldn’t help but notice the beauty that was all around us as we gazed up at the stars. Every mile or so we saw lights on the Missouri side but hardly anything on the Illinois side. (That part of Illinois must be totally deserted or something.) Mogender and I passed the hours talking. It was then that I realized that Mogender was actually a very pleasant fellow. I found him quite charming and witty and much more intelligent than I had ever given him credit for in the brief time that I have known him. In fact, the two of us really began to bond that night and I was sorry that I had ever spoken ill of him in the past.

Through the night we saw little or nothing along the sides of the river. Every once in a while a large scow or boat would come sailing up or down the river and would cause small waves or ripples that overlapped our floating dock and soaked or knocked us off the dock. Shortly after 3:00 a.m. we skirted along a big island and then the river turned eastward. We began seeing lights again and knew that we were getting close to civilization once again. After about an hour or so the river turned southward again and we could see a bridge and town far off in the distance. It was almost sunrise by then and I figured that we better put into shore and hide in the willows. (I didn’t want to attract unnecessary attraction to us if people down in these parts had heard of the man-monkey attack in Hannibal. Also, Mogender and I looked pretty ridiculous floating around on a piece of floating dock—not to mention the fact that Mogender was naked on account of him not wearing anything under that stupid ape suit that I made him throw into the river).

Once we had got the floating dock over to the side of the river (no easy task since we didn’t have a rudder) we pulled it out of the water and lugged it up into the woods. I then instructed Mogender to hide in the trees until I could return with food and clothing for him. By then it was about 6:00 a.m. and traffic on the river was beginning to pick up.

From our hiding spot I climbed up to the embankment and found a set of railroad tracks that ran parallel to the river. I followed them southward into the town (called Louisiana, Missouri). There I found a Wal-Mart and bought Mogender some overalls (they were cheap). I also bought us a few non-perishable food items (e.g., beef jerky, Slim Jims, pixie sticks, etc.). While I was in town I scouted for information to see if there was any mention of the "man-monkey" incident up in Hannibal. Most people were busy worrying about other things and so I felt fairly confident that Mogender and I were safe. Then horror struck me when I picked up the morning paper and saw a huge story about how the Hannibal Police Department had fished an "ape suit" out of the river the previous night and that the "suit" contained vital clues in the pocket. The most troubling of these clues were Mogender’s India passport, his H-1 Visa paperwork, and several love letters to a woman named Shahajaan Preteep Narwalah in India. These letters detailed Mogender's "Man-Monkey" activities. Sadly, that idiot Mogender also mentioned me in his letters and told this woman that I was the same Mooj that was a fugitive from Pennsylvania! The Hannibal Police Department is now offering a reward for both of us!!!  I quickly dropped the paper, looked around to make sure I was non observed, and then ran to hide in the woods. After sundown I came out of my hiding place and made my way back toward Mogender and the floating dock.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do now, besides give that idiot Mogender a kick in the ass!