Dear Mr. Whoever You Are,

I found your website by accident and couldn’t help but notice you’re a complete idiot. Why would anyone in their right mind ask you for advice? Is your website a joke? The letter from "Libby" in your last newsletter was especially troubling. She was in genuine pain and for some reason she thought that you could help her? I deal with women in mentally abusive relationships all the time (I’m a social worker). Libby, if you’re still out there, you really need to get help. Get out of that unhealthy relationship before you become another statistic! There was also a letter from some poor woman who was afraid that she was going to be accused of stealing money from her church. Did this woman really think that you could help her with her extremely serious problem? Are you licensed in counseling? I doubt it. You should seriously reconsider giving people advice since you really don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.

Ms. Francis Graft
Cherry Hill, NJ

Ms. Graft, I regret that you find my sagely and wholesome advice lacking. I wish there were something I could do or say that would ease your apprehensions about my ability to help others but I can’t since your heart is hardened towards me and my kind. Be it known to all that The Mooj is all-caring, all-knowing and provides spiritual guidance by example, not just by orated wisdom.

Hey Mooj, your butthead nephew didn’t answer the Mooj Mail last week! I didn’t get any stock market advice and so I acted on my own accordance and lost a ton of money! Are you going to answer your email this month or are we going to be ignored again?

Philip Krueger

The Mooj finds your email message offensive and will, thus, ignore it.

Dear Mooj,

I am currently attached to the AATSO observatory at the South Pole. I am one of four men assigned to this desolate weather observation outpost. We are now in the dead of winter and totally isolated from the outside world (except for a limited envelope of time each day when a satellite is visible and we can surf the net and email people). If it weren’t for you and your Mooj.com newsletter I would surely have gone insane by now. The constant howl of the wind and the bitter cold temperatures outside would have surely driven me nuts. You’ll hear more from me tomorrow!

Dr. Liam Yockey,
Senior Research Analyst
AATSO Outpost #4

The Mooj thanks you for your letter and looks forward to hearing from you again.

It is me again, Dr. Y from the South Pole. I have now read all your posted newsletters. My favorite one was September 16, 2000. I am compiling all my thoughts and observations about you in a special journal called, Why I Love The Mooj.

Dr. Liam Yockey,
Senior Research Analyst
AATSO Outpost #4

The Mooj can’t wait to read it.

Another day another snowstorm. The dark sky is ominous today. We haven’t seen the sun in nearly two months. The wind is my enemy; it will not cease. The others are slowly going insane but not I. I have you to thank for that. I am now up to page 15 in my special journal about you.

Dr. Liam Yockey,
Senior Research Analyst
AATSO Outpost #4

Sounds pretty eerie down there on the South Pole.

Today was especially hard. We lost Smitty. He ran naked into the cold and barren night. He cannot survive for long, as it is nearly –100 degrees F outside. There are only three of us at the outpost now. The others are mentally weak. I am now up to page 28 in my special journal about you.

Dr. Liam Yockey,
Senior Research Analyst
AATSO Outpost #4

I guess this poor guy really doesn’t have anything to do down there at the South Pole.

Our food storage locker has been destroyed by fire. Just about everything is lost. I am slowly growing weak and weary. The wind will not stop howling! Blasted wind! Blasted cold!

Dr. Liam Yockey,
Senior Research Analyst
AATSO Outpost #4

This sounds bad. The Mooj will chant, meditate and pray for you.

Hunger. There is hardly any food left and they cannot make an airdrop until spring. It will not stop snowing. The wind is constant. We are weak from hunger. Last night we lost Dr. Franklin. He, too, wandered off naked into the night. It was the wind that drove him insane. There are only two of us left.

Dr. Liam Yockey,
Senior Research Analyst
AATSO Outpost #4

Wow. Things sound like they’re getting pretty tough out there for our friend Dr. Y.

Now there is only me. I had to do it. I had to kill Dr. Maxwell. There was only enough food left for one and I knew that Maxwell would kill me if I didn’t kill him. Do you hear the wind? It is especially loud tonight. I am alone now. There is nobody to talk to. I am now on page 45 of my special journal about you.

Dr. Liam Yockey,
Senior Research Analyst
AATSO Outpost #4

This poor guy is losing his mind.

More wind. More snow. I have eaten the last of Maxwell. What will I do now? I am now on page 73 of my special journal about you.

Dr. Liam Yockey,
Senior Research Analyst
AATSO Outpost #4

The Mooj is getting worried about Dr. Y.

What is that you say wind? You want me to take off my clothes and walk toward you? I will obey you great wind. You are my lord and master now.

Dr. Liam Yockey,
Senior Research Analyst
AATSO Outpost #4

Sadly, this was the last message I got from Dr. Y. I hope the guy’s okay.

Mooj,

I will never forget Helga Hundershcmart. She was the little German girl who lived next door to me when I was a boy growing up in New Oxford Township, PA. She was a sad little girl who had a very sad little life. Every night when I went to bed I always included her in my prayers because I knew that her step mom was very mean to her. One day she moved away. Can you tell me whatever happened to her?

Jerry Berry
Reading, PA

I searched the 5 dimensions of space, time and that other thing (whatever it is) and found a Helga Hundershcmart living in Mannheim, PA (near the big auto auction complex). She appears to be of your vintage. But other than that I can’t envision anything else about her. Sadly, my psychic senses don’t seem to be working that well anymore.

Mooj,

In your last newsletter some guy sent in a sound bite of you playing at a bar on 42^nd Street in Chicago. I was unable to download the file. I kept clicking on the file icon and nothing happened. I thought you said your nephew was a computer programmer? It seems to me that a computer programmer should be able to attach a file to an HTML document! Can you fix the link?

Best Regards,
Jim Daniels
Bel Air, MD

The Mooj is quite aware that someone bootlegged one of my shows in Chicago last month. The Mooj has no problem with that, except that the file was 400 MB. The idiot taped all 2 hours of my show and put it in one big file. We just don’t have room on the Mooj.com server for something so big. I’m thinking now that maybe we’ll burn it to a CD and sell it at the next Mooj-Fest.

I’m sure you’re aware of this already but last week your nephew didn’t answer the Mooj Mail like he was supposed to. What are you gonna do about that?

Mark
Hampton Roads, VA

The Mooj is well aware of the fact that his lazy and hapless nephew shirked off his duties (again) last week. I have scolded him and he has assured me that it will never happen again. To atone for his laziness I have asked Mogender to submit a poem of regret this week. If he completes the poem I will include it in this newsletter.

Mr. Umbababbaraba,

This is just a reminder to you and your readers that summer is peak lightning season. Lightning is the second most common killer, after flooding, among storm-related phenomena. In the past 30 years, lightning strikes have killed an average of 73 people a year.

Sarah Conduit, Ph.D.
National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration
Washington D.C.

Thank you for your letter Mrs. Conduit. The Mooj is well aware of the dangers posed by lightning. I was a victim of it once. In fact, that is how I became omnipotent. Sadly, I now feel like I am slowly discharging my psychic powers back to ground. (It’s almost as if my brain is acting like a giant dielectric.) Anyway, to make a long story short I am actually attempting to be struck by lightning again to recharge my omniscient abilities. To date I have not been successful.

Heavens to Betsy!

Your website is magnificent! I found it by accident when doing a search for Bengali porn. I must admit this wasn’t what I expected to find. Keep up the good work.

Charanya Punday
Sutherland, Australia

I don’t know whether to be happy or sad about this guy’s letter.

A corn snake just bit me. Do I have anything to worry about?

-unsigned

As far as I know corn snakes are safe. In the future, though, I suggest that you turn to alternative sources of wisdom in such emergencies. If an actual poisonous snake had bitten you, you may have died waiting for me to get back to since I only check my email once a week.

Mooj,

I don’t know if you remember me but my name is Peter Caldwell and I met you a few years ago while you were on your Mooj Freedom Tour. I had the good fortune to ride with you on The Mooj Freedom Bus between Boca Raton, Florida and Blount Springs, Alabama. When we were together you gave me a special blessing and then commanded me to go forth and spread your wisdom to others more ignorant than I. Well I have. As of yet I haven’t been able to convert a single person to Moojism. Can I come home now?

Peter Caldwell,
Swakopmund, Nambia

Yes, by all means. To be honest I was only joking when I told you to do that.

Mooj,

There is something very strange going on. My fiancée has been acting very suspicious lately. He won’t return my calls and refuses to answer the door whenever I go over to his apartment. I know he’s in there because he looks out his window and then quickly hides. Our wedding is in less than 4 weeks! I need to know now whether or not I should cancel everything.

-unsigned

Yes, that does sound strange. Sadly, your fiancée is probably up to something that I fear is going to adversely affect your future wedding plans. My recommendation is to forget about getting married in 4 weeks.

Dear Mooj,

I’m going to be a freshman at The University of Massachusetts, Amherst this fall. I was thinking of rushing a sorority. Which sorority was it that let you sleep in their basement last year? They sounded really cool. My boyfriend is going to Boston University. Will he remain faithful to me? Will I remain faithful to him?

Karen Klein
Dedham, MA

The Mooj can’t remember the name of the sorority but it had a Greek sounding name. As far as your boyfriend and you remaining faithful to each other I can honestly say, "Nope." In fact, you’ll be cheating on each other before freshman orientation is over!

Dear Sir,

I am uncertain on whether or not this is a legitimate self-realization website. I’ve read through some of your newsletters that you claim are written to educate your devotees. I have studied at the feet of Swamiji Krishnananda and find your teaching style much different. For example, Swamiji Krishnananda actually had a point to his teachings and you don’t. Am I missing something?

Jay Ram Jeekey
Sheffield, UK

Obviously you are.

What exactly is Mooj and how can I get more?

F.J.

I am The Mooj and you can get more by becoming a Mooj minion like countless others, who are now happy and satisfied with their newly enriched lives.

Dear Mooj,

Back during the summer of ’58 I was in love with this boy named Bobby Dingle. I spent my nights crying into my pillow because I loved him so much and he didn’t even know I existed. He lived up the street and was my brother’s friend. Bobby was a rebel and my parents didn’t approve of him at all. One night I saw Bobby and my brother downtown. I followed them behind the A&P and saw that they were drinking corn liquor from an old fruit jar. My brother was mad that I followed him and told me to scram. I promised him that I wouldn’t tell on him so he let me hang out with them while they smoked reefer cigarettes and threw empty bottles at the back of the store. I was such a fool that I told Bobby Dingle right there and then that I loved him. My brother laughed and called me a retard. Bobby told me that he thought I was kinda cool for a kid but that I was way too young for him because he was in high school and I was only in 3^rd grade. Bobby Dingle broke my heart that day but in the long run he was right. I was too young for him. So Bobby Dingle, wherever you are….thanks!

And the point of this letter is….?

My love for you is "thick." About this thick (I’m holding the thumb and index finger of my left hand about 4 inches apart). What can I do to prove that I am worthy of being one of your minions? How about this (I’m now taking all my clothes off).

Sherry Miller
Chapel Hill, NC

Although you did not use the proper channels to apply for minionhood, The Mooj grants you unconditional minion status (you're now minion number 1281).  The Mooj also reminds his readers that taking all your clothes off is not a requirement to become a minion.  But if you do, at least send a picture.

I just saw a "Mooj.com" bumper sticker and was curious what Mooj.com was. You seem to have a lot of time on your hands whoever you are.

-unsigned

And so do you.

Ever since I can remember my old man has driven around with an old Fender Telecaster and baseball glove in his trunk. Once I asked him why he did that and he said, "You never know when someone will need another ball player or guitar player." I guess that’s all fine and dandy except that my old man wasn’t a baseball player and didn’t know how to play a guitar.

Howard Teal
Embrum, ONT

Is there a point to your letter?

My wife refuses to use those new state quarters. Every time she gets one she puts it away in a special drawer. Last night I needed some change to buy a coke and so I grabbed a couple of quarters from her drawer and she went ballistic. She said that someday those quarters are gonna be worth a fortune. I said, "yeah…about $0.25." Anyway, the woman’s crazy and I just thought you should know that.

Jeff Harvey
Troy, NY

Is there a point to your letter?

Dear Mooj,

I just read your latest newsletter and found it enlightening. Your poem entitled, Why was so incredible. I read it over and over again. It was so deep. I have never read a poem that said so much with just a single word. I am forever one of your greatest fans.

-unsigned

The Mooj gleefully accepts your praise. It is refreshing to encounter one nice letter in a mailbag that is usually filled with nonsense and insults.

Mooooj,

I’m a college student at Western Kentucky University. As soon as I graduate I’m going to travel around the world and show everybody how hard this Kentucky girl can party!

-unsigned

This is an example of a letter filled with nonsense.

Mooj, 

You totally suck! I’ve read better poetry on bathroom walls. Get a life and stop bothering people with your stupid junk email.

This is an example of a letter filled with insults.

Dear Mooj,

I work at The Washington Post but I am not your "so-called" secret informer (i.e., the guy that sends you all those hot scoops). I'm new here and was "making the rounds" when I stumbled upon a desk that was a virtual Mooj shrine. The guy even had a map outlining all your travels. (You may recall that your secret informant mentioned that he was keeping such a map up on his office wall.)  Anyway, here’s my deal. For $50 I will reveal the name of your anonymous Washington Post informant. For an additional $100 I’ll send you his personnel file. Attached to this email is a photo of your anonymous cub reporter's desk to prove that I know who the guy is. I can be reached at The Post.

"The Kid"
Sports Desk
The Washington Post

The Mooj is outraged by your offer! Don’t they teach ethics in journalism school anymore? The Mooj declines.

While riding the "T" this afternoon, a friendly guy about my age started chatting with me. As his stop approached, he hesitatingly said, "So, are you a Mooj Head?" Unsure of what he meant, I blurted out that I am unaffiliated with any lifestyle choice at the moment. He carefully repeated, "No, what I meant to ask was do you read The Mooj Weekly Standard?" I never heard of it so he gave me your website URL and told me that he was a big fan of yours. He also asked me for my telephone number. I gave it to him because he was cute.  Now that I've checked out your website I’m hoping that he doesn’t call!

-unsigned

The Mooj is hoping he doesn’t call either. He sounds like a fine upstanding citizen and I think he can do much better than get involved with someone so mean and uncaring as you.

Dear Uncle,

It is I, your humble nephew Uriah.  I found a new friend.  His name is Crispen Morganthau and he is a very funny chap. We got together and bought a video camera to film funny stunts, which we want to submit to such television shows as Jackass and Spy TV. Here is our first such endeavor. Please enjoy.

Your Nephew,
Uriah Heep Singh
New Delhi, India

When we arrived at the house I parked on the street and the man parked behind me. As soon as I took one look at the house I thought, "Darn, this place is a little more dilapidated than I thought." The front yard was totally overgrown and most of the paint on the house was peeling. I was just about to put the key back into my pocket when the man asked to see the inside. I unlocked the front door and we both entered. The place was spooky. None of the lights worked so I had to pull up the dark green shades in the front room to let a little light in. As the man looked around I went outside to have a cigarette. After I finished my smoke I began to wonder about the man inside. He sure had been in there a long time. I went back inside and looked around. The guy was gone! I went back outside and he wasn’t out there either and his car was still parked behind mine. I called out for the man and got no answer. I took one last look around inside and then locked the front door and headed back to the office.

The Man-Monkey of Hannibal, MO

Mogender and I left Chicago on July 31^st and drove southward through Springfield, Illinois and then headed west. Near sundown we reached the tiny little hamlet of Hannibal, Missouri and decided to stop there for the evening. Hannibal was located on the western bank of the river and seemed like a very nice place to end our first day of traveling. We had approximately $500 (a gift from my Uncle for finally evacuating his basement) and so we used a portion of that money to rent a motel room. Once we had secured our lodging for the night we took a leisurely stroll about town to find a place to eat.  After dinner we returned to our motel room to turn in for the night. As I lay in my bed dozing off to HBO’s Real Sex VII, my nephew Mogender excused himself to get a bucket of ice (for what I didn’t know). After a few minutes I began to worry since Mogender’s absence seemed lengthy. Then I heard screams in the parking lot. I quickly dressed and ran to the balcony outside my door. In the parking lot I saw Mogender dressed in his man-monkey suit harassing and attacking other motel patrons. "That fool!" I thought as I quickly ran to stop him. But I was too late. In the distance I could hear the wail of police sirens. Soon the parking lot was illuminated with flashing lights and Mogender had disappeared. Others had joined me in the parking lot and wide spread panic ensued when Mogender’s victims described for the police how they were attacked by a giant ape. Before I knew it dozens of law enforcement officers were on the scene and K9 units were brought in to sniff for Mogender. We innocent bystanders were then instructed by the police to return to our motel rooms and keep our doors locked. I was very worried and prayed that Mogender had escaped. I had warned him about becoming the man-monkey while we were traveling west and he assured me that he would abide by my wishes. But I guess he just couldn’t help himself.

All through the night I sat in my room waiting for Mogender to return. Periodically I would peek out the door to search the horizon and would be rudely scolded by the sniper standing on the balcony to get back inside (after he shined his flashlight in my face). Away in the distance I could hear the agonizing howls of police dogs and feared that my poor nephew Mogender was in trouble. In the morning I had no choice but to checkout and search for Mogender myself. Roadblocks had been set up all over town and I had a terrible feeling that Mogender’s days were numbered.