I was heavily medicated when Gayson floated the idea that “we” should found a New Mooj Freedom Network to help me escape from The Memphis General Hospital.  I think he even volunteered to take charge of the whole operation himself.  I was in a very vulnerable state of mind at that time and Gayson knew it.  He also knew he would have no trouble convincing my half-wit protégé Lance Worthy to sign over all Mooj.Com Enterprise assets and property to him so that he could set everything into motion.

My suspicions about Gayson were confirmed last week when it was revealed in the local Chester County papers that authorities found my full body cast empty when they went to change the bandages.  Somehow that crook Gayson managed to get out of my full body cast and escape with all my money.  By the time we realized Gayson was a fraud, it was too late.  The FBI is still searching for Gayson, but as far as they know he’s just a missing person not an embezzler.

At the present time I have too many other things on my mind rather than worry about Gayson.  My biggest problem is now that in addition to being hunted again by the FBI, I am also being sought by the Coahoma County Sheriff in Mississippi for the murder of Blind Lemon Washington.  (I can assure all you Mooj Heads out there that I had absolutely nothing to do with this murder!)  How can it possibly get any worse?  [Actually, forget that I said that.]

Mooj,

I’m totally confused here…what’s going on?  I just became a Mooj Head and I have no idea what’s going on.  Why are you on the lam?  Who is J. J. Bigsby?  Who is Agent Merryweather?  Who is Gayson?  Where is Chester County?  I’m totally confused here.  Can ya help me out?

Kevin Gogan
Dublin, CA

Kevin, in the near future The Mooj Home Page will feature a FAQ section to help new minions figure things out.  My best advice to you now is to utilize The Mooj Weekly Standard Archives and read the earliest posted newsletter, onward.  As far as I know the answer to many of your spiritual and secular questions lie buried in the back issues.



Listen up you S.O.B!

I don’t know how you did it but somehow you managed to make a fool out of me!  When we finally cracked open your full body cast in the Chester County Jail Infirmary it was empty.  Don't think for a moment that you are going to get away with this, you miscreant moron! We will hunt you down like a dog!  We have no idea how or when you escaped but that doesn’t matter.  All that matters is that your days are numbered!  Unlike my predecessors Bigsby and Gayson I am not weak in the head (the way they obviously turned out to be).  When I find you I will stomp on your head with my alligator skinned cowboy boots.  You little sissy boy, just wait till I get my hands on you!

H. H. Monroe,
Temporary Acting Director of Eastern Operations
Federal Bureau of Investigations, Washington D.C.

Oh yeah, like I really care anymore.



Great Impotent One:

Mooj, Doug Redhand here.  Could you please stop telling your minions (including the FBI) my occupation, who is currently working for me, and my business locations.  I hired C. J. Merryweather Sr. because of his experience working as a foreign operative.  Also, since he was a government employee I don’t have to pay him a lot of money to keep him happy.  When I get back from the Caymans next week (where I’m doing my "laundry") I’ll look into how your Freedom Network money was embezzled from you.  Hope I can sign your cast before you have it removed.

Doug Redhand
Rm. 453, Utilities Bldg., Highway “0”
Guano Atoll
An Unincorporated Territory of the United States

Mr. Redhand, I have no recollection of meeting you but when I checked my minion roster I saw that you were a "most favored Mooj Head," probably because of your past generosity.  As far as I know I have never told anyone anything about you.  I apologize if somehow one of my underlings leaked something to the press about you.  Normally, Mooj.Com policy forbids the release of any information regarding active Mooj Heads.  (That's why, for example, nobody knows that people like Monica Lewinsky, Connie Chung, Abe Vagota, Rupal and John Wayne Bobbitt are Mooj Heads.)

El Mujo,

I remember my first time, too.  I was away at camp one summer and extremely homesick.  All the other kids in my cabin were making fun of me and I was totally miserable.  So one night I ran away.  I had no idea where I was going; I just wanted to get away from that awful place.  Before long I came upon another camp.  It was the notorious all girls camp on the other side of the lake.  We were warned by our councilors to stay away from this place because the girls there were known to be extremely naughty.  I tiptoed through the woods and peeked through the window of one of the cabins.  I couldn’t believe my eyes!  Inside were dozens of girls—all naked—engaged in a pillow fight.  I stood at the window gawking as my pre-teen hormones raged within me.  Then one of the girls saw me.  I tried to escape but it was too late.  The girls caught me, tied me up and then brought me back into their cabin.  The tallest and most beautiful of the girls then told me that she was going to “spank me” for being such a naughty boy.  

[The Mooj has decided to cut this letter off right here.  It goes on for a few more pages and doesn’t say anything about Skyline Chili.]



Great and Loving Mooj,

Is it possible that you can use your super psychic powers to help me find my long lost love?  Her name was Kelly Winslow and she was my girlfriend back in high school. We were very much in love and even talked about getting married as soon as I got out of the service.  But her family moved away when I was in boot camp and I never saw or heard from her again.  I have been married twice since then and am now currently divorced.  I’m not sure why but I still think about Kelly.  She has always been my one true love and I would do anything to find her again.  When I knew Kelly we both lived in Gaylordsville, Connecticut.  She moved to Pawtucket, Rhode Island in 1963.  Please help me find her again if you can.

Jeff Cooder,
Chappaqua, NY

Jeff, The Mooj honors your commitment to true love and will do all I can to help you.  Sadly, upon my first try, I was unable to locate your true love Kelly Winslow beyond the year 1975.  The Mooj will keep trying and get back to you as soon as I find something.

 
Mooj,

What's the deal with this Lance Worthy guy?  Is he for real?  I checked Encyclopedia of American Dare-Devils and he wasn't listed anywhere.  There was, however, mention of a guy named Lance Worthy who "performed stunt work" in some old alternative lifestyle classics such as The KY Cowboy Meets the Bath House Gang, Dr. Strangeglove, and Stuck in the Tunnel of Love.  Is this that Lance Worthy?

J.J., Newark, NJ.

J.J., yes, this is that Lance Worthy.

 
Mooj,

I know most of the time you’re only joking around when you give out free psychic advice but I really need your help.  Lately I can’t stop thinking about an old boyfriend of mine from way back.  His name was Jeff Cooder and he and I graduated from Gaylordsville High School in 1963.  He was a very handsome boy and I was madly in love with him.  Right after graduation he joined the army and went away to boot camp.  That very same summer my dad got transferred to Pawtucket, RI and we had to move.  Jeff and I had talked about marrying but we weren’t officially engaged so I thought he wouldn’t mind if I dated other boys while he was away.  Later that summer I met another boy, who got me into trouble.  My father forced me to marry this boy and I was too ashamed to ever write or call Jeff again to explain what happened.  We haven’t spoken to each other ever since.  I have been married four times now and I have never felt the same about any other man.  I have and will always be in love with Jeff Cooder.  Oh Mooj, if only I could see Jeff again!  If only I could tell him how sorry I am that I hurt him.  If he took me back I would make him the happiest man in the world.  Please Mooj, help me find Jeff Cooder again!

Kelly Winslow-Valdez,
Yuma, AZ

Kelly, amazingly, this is the second letter I got this week asking me to help find an old "true love."  Normally my super psychic senses pickup on long-lost loves but with your mystery man I can only sense that he lives within 100 miles of your former high school.  The Mooj will keep trying to locate this guy and get back to you as soon as possible. 



Great Mooj:

I need your advice buddy.  I know that in the past we have had our differences but now I want to let you know I’m a Mooj Head and damn proud of it, too.  Here’s my problem: I met this bitchen chick that I really dig but she don’t seem to have a very good sense of humor.  I’m a pretty funny guy and to me there’s nothing more important in a relationship than a sense of humor.  I keep cracking jokes at this chick but she never laughs; she just deflects my hilarious advances.  Should I dump her?

Willem D.
LA-LA Land, CA

Glad to have you back on board Mr. D.  Yes, if I were you I would end this relationship before either one of you gets too emotionally involved.  Don't waste your refined sense of humor on just anybody. 



Mr. Mooj,

How can I begin?  You have no idea how important you have become in my life.  I am so sorry that that black-hearted goon J. Edgar Gayson pilfered your great empire.  What can we minions do to help?  I stand ready and able to help!  Just say the word and I will hunt that bastard down for you.

The Scarlet Avenger,
Matagorda Island, TX

[That's all The Mooj needs is another wacko out there running amok in my name.]



Dear  Mooj:

As per your direction I began reading your collected works.  I proceeded first with your technical paper entitled Apparently Three Out of Four People Make up 75% of the Population.  I found the discussion fascinating, but did find some flaws in you argument, which I would like to discuss with you.  The discussion of your “model of the world” is confusing to me.  The question is not whether the distribution of a population set is epistemic or aleatory.  The question is whether the event and the parameter associated with it is representative of an aleatory process, or whether it represents an epistemic uncertainty concerning the hypotheses, that people exist, or that certain people don't exist, in the binary case, or more generally that people exist with one or more characteristics.  I agree that there were several ways to model the population of the Earth, but given the uncertainty associated with nations and regions in the world, where population is not actually counted, you have incorrectly characterized the bounds of your uncertainty distribution.  Perhaps we can discuss this issue later, when you find yourself in better circumstances.

With Utmost Respect,
Trent Handjoy (Mooj protégé #2),
Durham, NC
 
Thanks for you input Trent; but I fear that you don't quite understand the protégé/mentor relationship.  Forget not that you are an ignorant person and not yet enlightened by my wisdom.  I asked you to read and learn from my works not critique them. 

Lance Worthy nobly set aside his Amish lifestyle and came down to Arkansas to be with me in my hour of greatest need.  Because Lance had returned to his Amish faith I had a devil of a time talking him out of driving to Arkansas in his horse and buggy.  He reluctantly agreed to hitchhike when I explained to him that time was of the essence: there were only a few days left, if not hours, before they realized that I was not inside the full body cast.  As soon as Lance arrived we pooled our resources and used what little money we had to buy a reliable form of transportation to aid in our escape.  Unfortunately, we only had about $100 between the two of us so all we could afford was a second-hand moped that we saw advertised in the local Recycler.  Before long we were putt-putting our way southwest toward Texas.

Because we had no money our first course of action when we arrived in Texas was to find a job.  Finding work wasn’t easy for us because we encountered considerable prejudice (because Lance was Amish and I was in a full body cast).  Finally, when things seemed their bleakest, we got hired to wash dishes at a Texarkana Dairy Queen.  Lance and I worked hard and saved every dime we could until we could finally afford to rent a 10-ft by 10-ft storage shed near the outskirts of town.  Lance found the accommodations pleasant, I on the other hand, missed having electricity and running water.

Our manager at the Dairy Queen was a very kind old man named Mr. Fussie.  He took a liking to Lance and I and soon confided in us about a grand scheme, which he had cooked up in his head.  For years Mr. Fussie had worked for the owner of the Dairy Queen (a man named Jarvis McGee) and McGee had never once shown Mr. Fussie any kind of appreciation.  Mr. Fussie told Lance and I that if we helped him with his plan “to set things right,” he would split the proceeds with us 50-50.  When the plan was presented to us I was dead set against it since it hinted of wrongdoing.  But after a few days of living in a storage shed I decided I had nothing more to lose—hell, I was already wanted for murder, jail breaking and a dozen other petty crimes, what could one additional felonious count against me matter?  So Lance and I reluctantly agreed to Mr. Fussie’s diabolical plan.

The plan was actually quite simple.  On the busiest night of the week—a Friday—Mr. Fussie put all the Dairy Queen profits into a bank night deposit bag (as he did after closing every night) and then drove to the bank to wait in his car while we waited in some nearby bushes.  Finally some old lady walked up to use the night deposit box.  Mr. Fussie signaled us with his cigarette lighter and then stepped out of his car and walked toward the bank with his bag of money.  When Mr. Fussie was near our hiding spot we ambushed him in plain view of the witness.  According to plan we hit Mr. Fussie over the head with a ‘plastic’ baseball bat and then flashed gang symbols at the witness.  As Mr. Fussie pretended to lie on the ground unconscious we grabbed his deposit bag and ran to our moped and sped off.  The witness ran over to help Mr. Fussie and then called the police from a nearby pay phone.  Our plan worked brilliantly—the police arrived shortly and took a full report from Mr. Fussie and the witness.  We would have pulled off the phony heist except that Mr. Fussie forgot about pretending to have amnesia and gave an excellent description of Lance and I to the police. Within minutes an APB was broadcast looking for “an Amish guy and a guy in a full body cast riding on a moped.”  We had originally planned to meet Mr. Fussie after the phony robbery at our storage shed (to give him his share of the loot) but since the cops were all over town looking for us we had no choice but to abandon Texarkana and head west.

Using old Indian trails and cattle paths we got as far away from the town as we could.  Finally we found an old abandoned barn and stopped to rest for the night.  While in the abandoned barn we took the liberty of counting the stolen loot: it totaled $1,265.87.  It was definitely more than enough to get us by for a few days.  Because we were honorable men we immediately wrote Mr. Fussie an IOU for $632.94 and stuck it to a nearby fence post, hoping that some passerby would bring it into town and give it to him.  (Just to make sure Mr. Fussie knew what we were sending him the IOU for, Lance added a short description to the bottom of the note explaining that the IOU was “for his share of the Dairy Queen robbery.”)  We then decided to lay low because sunrise was fast approaching.  From then on Lance and I would hide during the day and travel only at night.

Since the police were sure to spot us if we remained as we were, we decided to disguise ourselves.  Lance had no problem obtaining a ‘new look’ by shaving off his Amish beard and exchanging his unadorned black Amish clothing for some bib overalls that he found hanging from a nearby clothesline.  I, on the other hand, had a more difficult task (since I was in a full body cast).   But soon we happened upon a novel idea.  As we sped along through the open ranges of Texas we passed an oil derrick, bobbing up and down in the pale moonlight.  Lance and I collected handfuls of oil splashing up from the spigot and coated the outside of my cast with it—I was then completely invisible (at night).  From there we began our journey north, driving 35-mph atop that rusty moped toward Oklahoma.  We could sense that things were better already.