5-13-MWS

First Things First:

Greetings loyal and loving minions! This week's newsletter contains its usual selection of minion mail, minion poetry, minion stories, Mooj adventures, as well as a few other good things.

Hopefully this won't be the last newsletter of the year since I still have about a month to eke out another. In an effort to conserve some of my better material for that final newsletter of the year I will go ahead and allow this particular one (the next to last newsletter of the year) to go forward with mediocre crap. It's not that I don't value your readership it's just that I have a schedule to keep. But in all honesty this particular newsletter is still good, it's just not one of "our best." But then again even a sub par Mooj Weekly Standard is better than 99% of the crap you'll find on the Internet anyway, right?

Also, Don't forget: only a few thousand Mooj Minion T-Shirts remain in the Grizzly Duck Publications warehouse! That's right, nearly a dozen have been sold already! Don't miss out! Once these one-of-a-kind T-Shirts are gone it could take weeks, months or even years before they become available again. If you would like your very own Mooj minion T-Shirt click here.

The Mooj Mail Bag was full of its usual minion-type requests for wisdom, advice and psychic predictions. If you would like The Mooj to help you as he has helped all these others (see below) click here.

Dear Mooj,

Thank you so much for your inspiring Shakespearean love sonnet last week. I took advantage of your holistic advice and did something totally crazy: I asked the man of my dreams out on a date and now we’re engaged! (He’s that guy I told you about last week that looks like Fabio.) I owe it all to you (and Shakespeare)! When Peter (that’s his name) found out how rich I was he said that we should celebrate our engagement in true European style so we chartered a helicopter and flew to Atlantic City!!!!! That’s Peter and I (see attached picture). Isn’t he gorgeous? Eat your hearts out girls! Peter says life is too short to let money sit rotting away in a bank vault somewhere so we’re going to travel around the world. Next week we’re flying to the French Riviera to sunbathe in the nude on the Piazza Del Mer. I can’t wait! Thank you Mooj! For the first time in my life I am truly happy.

Candy Lemon
Bel Air, MD

Gee, that guy really does look like Fabio! I think your lover might be overdoing it a bit on the instant tanning lotion because he looks bright orange (at least he does in the picture you sent). I'm happy to learn about your engagement but I must warn you that my psychic senses tell me that this Peter guy isn’t exactly a "one-woman" type guy. I strongly advise you to think twice before you actually marry him (or give him any money).

Mooj,

The next time you sell one of your T-shirts I recommend you use the $15 to buy a grammar book. You’ve got terrible grammar for an editor.

Minion 1077
Bakersfield, CA

And you're pretty rude for a minion!

Oh Mooj,

I did it! I asked my dream stud out on a date and now we’re engaged!!!!! At first I was afraid because I thought that a man as handsome and beefy as my dream stud would reject a woman like myself. But then I read that beautiful Shakespearean sonnet that you dedicated to me and I knew that I needed to follow my heart. Thus, I seized my courage and asked him out. It turns out that Peter (that’s his name) and I are both Aries with Sagittarius moon signs! Peter is younger than I am but it doesn’t matter to him, nor does the fact that I have so much money. Peter is a starving artist and says he doesn’t need money to live—only love and passion. Isn’t he romantic? I told Peter that sometimes love happens no matter what we foolish mortals do to deserve it and he agreed and then went out and bought me a book of poetry by Emil Zola. (I told you he was a romantic guy!) Peter and I went to Bermuda last weekend (see picture). We chartered a special plane for just the two of us. I won’t go into details about our romantic 2-day stay in that balmy tropical paradise (that we never saw much of since we spent the whole time in our hotel room—yuk yuk) but let’s just say that Peter isn’t a virgin anymore!

Cindy Rawl
Bel Air, MD

Your dream stud guy looks familiar. I can’t exactly put my finger on it but I suspect that he may be some kind of fraud. (My psychic senses tell me so anyway.) I’ll keep meditating on the subject and get back to you if and/or when specifics become available. Until then I strongly advise that you not marry that guy and don’t give him any money.

Mooj,

What is it with you Asian people that makes the food you cook smell up a house? I’m a realtor and hate whenever an Asian family wants me to sell their house because it always reeks of curry. By law I can’t refuse anyone service so I just go along with a half-assed effort to show the place. Every time it’s the same thing: people walk in and then walk right out because the places stinks to high heavens from all that crap you Indians and Chinese people fry up in your woks and clay ovens. I’ve even made clients repaint and re-carpet their house and it still smells! The only time I actually get lucky and actually sell one of these Asian houses is when another Asian family sees it and doesn’t notice the odor. I hope I didn’t offend you or any of your Asian brothers and sisters but that’s just how it is. Sometimes the truth hurts.

Dianne Colby
"The Honest Realtor"
Blossburg, PA

And your point?

Dear Mooj,

Thanks to you and your great advice I have finally landed my dream hunk! I wrote in last week to ask you about asking this guy out at my health club. You said to go for it (or actually the Shakespearean sonnet you prescribed for me did). Peter (that’s his name) asked me to marry him last Thursday when we were in Mexico City for a quick 2-day love vacation! I used to be so frugal with my money but now that I met Peter I realize that I should live for the moment and not let my fortune waste away in some lonely bank vault. Peter and I are going to get married as soon as he finishes up his scuba diving certification. He wants to do that in either Rome or Paris next week. Attached is a picture of us in Mexico City. Aren’t we a cute couple? Peter says that if we have children we can name one of them after you. (Isn’t he a regular Don Juan?)

Sandy Crown
Bel Air, MD

What is it with all you rich widows? You meet some stud and you throw all caution to the wind. I give you the same advice that I gave those two other ladies that also met and got engaged to some young guy: hold off! I think I’ll have my new intern do a little investigating. Both he and I think this Peter guy looks and awful lot like the Peters that are engaged to those two other women. Regardless, he looks pretty shady in any case. I’ll get back to you in a few days with more information once my intern completes his investigation.

This letter is for minion 835:

I saw your short story last week about the Hi-Way 39 Drive-in. For your information the Hi-Way 39 Drive-in is still open. Back when I was a kid I remember they were always showing Rated-R movies there. We used to exit the Garden Grove Freeway onto Beach Blvd there and I remember that if I sat with my eyes glued out the car window I could see the big screen for a few split seconds while we drove down the freeway off ramp. It was rare but sometimes I could actually see nudity! (When you’re only 13 years old that’s a big deal.) When I was a little older my pals and I would go to Hi-Way 39 to watch stupid horror flicks. Even though they charged by the carload we still felt the need to sneak someone in by hiding them in the trunk. It was kind of a rite of passage I guess. I think I’ll take my wife and kids to Hi-way 39 next Saturday. Maybe I’ll make the kids hide in the trunk for old time’s sake!

Steven Jacobs
Westminster, CA

Thank you for your letter to minion 835. If he is reading this newsletter then I'm sure he'll see it.

Dear Mooj,

I loved the story about the drive-in movie in last week’s newsletter. It reminded me of my hot date with Shelly Longren at the Burlingame Drive-In. I don’t think the Burlingame Drive-In is around anymore but it used to be near the San Francisco airport. Back in high school I had an old Nash Rambler. (Those of you who remember Nash Ramblers must surely remember that their most famous feature was a back seat the folded down into a bed. But that’s another story.) When Shelly and I got to the drive-in all the best spots were taken and so we had to park up front near the playground. Shelly was concerned because she couldn’t see the screen. I didn’t really care because I had already seen the movie.

As soon as the movie started Shelly and I started to make out. Soon the windows were all fogged up and I didn’t notice that somehow my foot kicked off the parking brake and that the car was rolling backwards. Pretty soon we were totally flying through the drive-in (I mean literally flying because of all those dips and hills that were in there).

I tried to get back into the driver’s seat but my underwear got caught on the column shift. Shelly also tried to get into the front but her bra strap was hooked around the rear window lever.

Through the fogged up windows we could see the glare of oncoming headlights and hear car horns blaring indiscriminately between the screams of innocent bystanders. The car somehow made it through the drive-in lot, across the main highway, through another parking lot, through a restaurant and then went off a cliff into the SF bay.

Amazingly neither Shelly nor I were hurt. (Those old Nash Ramblers were built pretty tough I guess.) The worst part about the whole ordeal was when Shelly’s father showed up to rescue us. He was a cop. Needless-to-say he wasn’t very amused when he pulled his half naked daughter from the wreckage. To this day I can still see his very angry face glaring at me through my broken windshield. Sadly, that was my last date ever with Shelly Longren.

Dennis Hollinsworth
San Bruno, CA

Thank you for your letter. I’m sure there was a point to be made in there somewhere.

Sir,

For years I have been living with a terrible remembrance and decided after reading your Mooj Weekly Standard newsletter that this was the appropriate outlet to share my agonizing tale. I seek from you gentle ohms and possibly a few good vibes.

My horror story takes place during the summer of 1982; back then I was a young investigative reporter working for a local DC area TV station. The nightly news director was all gung-ho about doing this stupid expose on alleged corruption inside the Montgomery County Woman’s Prison and so he asked me to go undercover and pretend to be one of the prisoners. I was fresh out of journalism school and thought that this assignment could be my big break so I gladly accepted it.

I was given a miniature tape recorder and miniature camera and then smuggled into the prison by one of the guards. (This guard was an informant who was hoping to expose all the vice and corruption going on inside the prison.) According to my boss this guard was the only person who would know I was really a reporter and not a real prisoner.

I had no problem being smuggled into the prison and quickly integrated myself into the daily routine of a woman in prison. I encountered some difficulties though because I had blond hair, green eyes and a shapely figure (I look just like Cheryl Ladd). But, despite my good looks and troubles I did my job professionally and collected gobs of evidence.

When my boss thought that we had amassed enough evidence (which was smuggled out by the informant) he decided to break the story. But then there was a huge riot at the prison and the informant guard was taken hostage! When the 4-day ordeal was finally over this guy was given administrative leave and then transferred to another prison. I was totally screwed! My boss went ahead and aired the expose without me and didn’t even care that I was still locked up in prison. For weeks I tried to make a collect call to him to get me out but he refused to take them. Finally I called the station manager and he got me out. I was so pissed that I never worked as an undercover reporter again. If you ask me the media sucks!!! Today I work at a Krispy Kreme and everything is okay.

Denise Ross
Silver Spring, MD

Right now, even as we speak (or should I say as I type), I’m sending good vibes your way. I Hope that helps erase some of your pain and suffering.

Sir,

I heard on the news that the army and navy were having a big football game this weekend. Aren’t we at war? Instead of playing football shouldn’t the army and navy be fighting the Taliban? We pay those soldiers and sailors an awful lot of money. There’s plenty of time to play football after the war!

Ben Rapp
Millville, NJ

The Mooj has no idea what you are talking about.

Dear Mooj,

I was enthralled to see your clever use of Shakespearean sonnetry in your newsletter last week. I teach Elizabethan Literature at the University of Delaware and think that I will make my students write a paper examining why you chose each particular sonnet to answer the personal pleas for sagely advice from your many minions. I found many of your selections to be appropriate and very well thought out.

Additionally, I once had a student by the name of Tømmerby Hammershøj in one of my classes. Perhaps this is the same Tømmerby Hammershøj that is now your Mooj.com intern. The Tømmerby Hammershøj I knew was a major disappointment as far as I can recall. He was continually late for class and had the bad habit of poo-pooing everything I said. If your Tømmerby Hammershøj is passing himself off as a student I think you better do some looking into the matter because according to my records my Tømmerby Hammershøj flunked out of the University of Delaware in 1975. Keep up the good work!

Professor Donald A. Huffman
University of Delaware
School of The Humanities

Thank you for your kind words. I will look into this Tømmerby Hammershøj matter once I get back to Mooj.com headquarters. (Or maybe I won’t since I really don’t give a crap one way or the other.)

Mooj ...

"Hey Joe" here ... Mooj, I beg your forgiveness for accusing you of being my father and abandoning me under the PoTown bridge. I can only say that I was desperate and grasping at any/all possibilities. It just seemed to make sense ... I too have a talent for playing the Blues and actually studied under the great Filipino blues master "Blind Mango" Rizal ... so you see ... to me, it seemed possible that we were related.

But now, using your powers, you have determined who my true father is and I cannot begin to thank you enough !!! I never imagined that my father could possible be the infamous Steamer !!!! That's why I settled for you, don't you see? But now that you have confirmed my parentage ... I am without words to describe my elation !!! The Steamer is legendary in the Far East ... and stories are told of his adventures from the Malaysian island of Penang to S'pore and Hong Kong. And his exploits here in the PI with his running mates "The Magnificent 7" are now part of our folklore. He is known in Samar and the Southern islands & throughout Luzon, where he spent time as a guest of Ferd and Imelda at their summer Palace in Baguio (actually, Ferd knew nothing of it !!!) and shared his vast knowledge of fermentables with the brewmasters at the San Miguel Brewery. Oh joy !!!! ... I was homeless and alone and now find that I am part of a family of hundreds of brothers and sisters throughout the Pacific ... Thank you so much dearest Mooj for your help ...

Steamer's Boy
(formerly the blues artist known as "Hey Joe")

The Mooj is just happy to be of service.

Mooj,

I just met this guy on the Internet and I thought I better check with you before I meet him at the motel. His screen name is "Muymacho44" and he says he is a professional volleyball player. He sent me his picture and he looks just like Fabio. I’m pretty nervous about meeting a stranger at a motel but this guy sounds too good to be true. What do you think? Should I go for it?

Danielle Copper
Fallston, MD

If his name is Peter and he has a nasty orange tan I wouldn’t.

Dearest Ven. Mooj,

Thanks to you, dear friend, many wonderful events have taken place recently. Not only has young "Hey Joe" finally found his true Father but I have now learned that he is also in possession of the lost (and only) copy of my Masterwork, The WiseDumb of Y and he has agreed to return it to me. Of course none of this would have been possible if it were not for you, kind sir, and your most wonderful Mooj Weekly Standard, your powers of mind and your commitment to ease suffering wherever you find it. In thanks, I commissioned "Hey Joe" to construct a gift for you to show our appreciation for all you have done. He has just completed it and I attach a photograph of the finished work. Joe and his many orphaned friends worked together to sort through their collection of artifacts gleaned from the bottom of Olongapo’s most famous river just under the bridge where he was raised. They then tirelessly spent many hours shaping and polishing the various items into these beads you see before you. These include many priceless pearls, bits of glass and pottery, gold fillings and other objects of undetermined makeup that generations of sailors had cast into the river for decades. These objects, 4200 in all, were then carefully arranged and fixed in place following the Fibonacci pattern ... in just the way that Nature uses to construct her many beautiful forms which we observe in the natural world. It is our hope that this melding of many objects into One in a Spirit of Harmony and Love will emanate Peaceful vibrations and Healing to all who view it. We most certainly need it in these trying times. Below is a photograph of your gift. The actual thing will arrive shortly. Once again ... thank you dear Mooj ... for Being ...

With Metta,
Y-roshi

(Click to see details)

Thank you (I guess). How big is this thing anyway? I mean is it really heavy? I’m not sure I want to be lugging around some big artifact while I’m having all my adventures. In any case I’m sure I’ll treasure it and pay homage to it often until I can unload on one of my many loyal and loving minions for a few bucks.

This week a poem drifted in that has merits all to its own. It's author is a local poet, who frequents a haunt known as Perk's Coffee House in Norwood, MA. This person sent the following letter to accompany his poem and so I thought we'd include it along with the poem since it might help explain some of the bitter anguish this poor person must be feeling deep within himself. It's a long shot but hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as we did.

Dear Mooj,

Yesterday I was sitting in Perk's at a little round table, sipping a cup of hot chai and composing one of my poems. This beautiful woman approached me and asked me if she could sit and hold my hand while reading my poem. I'm normally very reluctant to share my poetry because I'm very private and much of my poetry is about my personal turmoil. This woman read my poem, cried, and then told me that I should send it to you because you would publish it. So I am sending this to you—very much aware that I leave myself vulnerable to you and others that may read it. I am very sensitive and hope that you not be overcritical or discouraging if you feel it is not worthy of being included in your poetry journal. I simply cannot take rejection and would rather think it never arrived rather than be judged unworthy. I would rather write poetry than do anything else on this Earth. If I am judged unworthy as a poet then I have nothing the live for.

Pax,
Khukumokumoto

She Likes Me, Not!

by Khukumokumoto, Age 24

Here I sit all broken hearted
Love forlorn but now departed
People think I look retarded
Take my heart but don't discard it

What's that smell?
Dude...I just farted!

Note to Interns Selecting Weekly Poetry: Hey guys, in the future don't publish crap like this! If anything else comes in from this Khukumokumoto idiot throw it away.

-Editor.

The following story was sent in by our old buddy H. Franscheska, minion #894. It's been a while since we heard from old #894 so hopefully the following story is worth the wait. It should be since #894 usually sends in good stuff.

My First Job

by H. Franscheska, minion #894

The first job I ever had was to help a friend of mine named Tony Clauso and his brother clean their neighbor’s house. The lady who owned the house agreed to pay us $5 each after the job was complete. That was back in 1976 so $5 was actually a lot of money. Foolishly the lady left the three of us alone in her house while she attended to other business. When she returned about an hour later she was horrified to see what those naughty Clauso brothers had done. (And to be honest, so was I!)

It all started when Tony threw a can of spray cleaner at his brother. It missed him and hit the brick fireplace in the living room. Upon impact the can exploded and sprayed foam all over the place. The foam continued to spew forth from the ruptured can and a mountain of suds grew in the middle of the living room.

Instead of being alarmed by the mess they had created on the living room floor, the Clauso brothers decided to wrestle in it. I pretty much just stood there horrified since I knew it could only make matters worse.

Then that idiot Tony decided to take a shower because he was covered from head to toe in foam (as was his brother). While Tony was in the shower his brother took Tony's underwear and hung it up on the fireplace mantel as a joke. It was at that less than innocuous moment that the lady of the house walked into the room.

I'll never forget the look on her face. While she was yelling at Tony's brother and I she noticed the underwear hanging on the fireplace and got even madder! Then Tony (oblivious to the situation) ran naked into the living room and started dancing. At that point the woman’s rage was complete.

Needless to say we didn’t get paid the $5 we were promised and were pretty much fired on the spot. I doubt the woman ever hired those Clauso brothers to do anything for her again.

New Minions! Below is a small sampling of this week's newest minions. All but one actually seems quite promising. If you would like to become an official minion yourself, click here. If you would rather just buy a Mooj minion T-Shirt and pretend you're a minion, that's fine too (In fact I'd prefer it that way); just click here.

Meet Minion 1303: Robert B. Rapp

Something Noteworthy About Robert: Robert claims to work at the Fosters Freeze in Willits, CA. He is 19 years old and has a girlfriend named Ramona. His favorite rock group is Agalloch but he also likes Pyogenesis and Wicked Mystic.

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): This may strike you as odd but I really like to [omitted due to extreme vulgarity]. What do you think of that Mr. Potato Head? Huh?

Note: This minion is admitted on probation!

Meet Minion 1304: Ramona Juanita Garcia

Something Noteworthy About Ramona: Ramona also works at the Fosters Freeze in Willits, CA. She is 18 years old and once saw her boyfriend Robert get beaten up by a gang of outlaw bikers. She actually videotaped the whole thing and loves to show it to people. If you are interested in seeing an MPEG of this horrendous attack check out http://fortunecity.com/gullivergulch/asswhuppin.mpeg

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): Your site has relived some of my guilt feelings knowing there are others out there who think like me. Do I get a free T-shirt if I become a minion or do I have to buy one? If I get a free one please send me one that's XL. [Mooj Note: Sadly, The Mooj's new merchandizing arm "Grizzly Duck Publications" refuses to give away free T-shirts anymore. Those evil Capitalists are now making new minions (as well as old) buy their official minion T-shirts. Since The Mooj gets a pretty generous cut from each T-shirt sale I happen to agree with their logic.]

Meet Minion 1305: Dwaine Stardusky

Something Noteworthy About Dwaine: Dwaine works at the Ron Jon Surf Shop in Cocoa Beach, FLA. Once when he was in Vera Cruz, Mexico during a spring break he got so drunk that he had to be flown back to the United States in a semi-coma.

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): I think I have lost my critical thinking! Here’s my proof: I want to become a Mooj minion.

Meet Minion 1306: Gilbert Sullivan

Something Noteworthy About Gilbert: Gilbert claims to be a Sedevacentist. He also says that for an Irishman he sure can fish pretty good.

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): Thanks for the work you are doing! I believe that sites such as yours will help to raise the collective consciousness of humanity. I especially liked that Hooters girl showing off her tattoo!!!

Meet Minion 1307: Hildrigard Zephyr

Something Noteworthy About Hildrigard: I have no idea what this woman said about herself since it was written in some strange foreign language (probably German).

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): An der Spitze stehen ist immer noch zu weit hinten. Die Zeiten sind hart, aber modern! Eine Lösung hatte ich, aber die paßte nicht zum Problem. Es genügt nicht, keine Gedanken zu haben; man muß auch fähig sein, sie auszudrücken.Fahren Sie mich irgendwo hin, ich werde überall gebraucht.Ich antworte mit einem entschiedenen Vielleicht.

Meet Minion 1308: Tim Dougherty

Something Noteworthy About Tim: Tim claims to be a hedonist striving for self-control. He also admits that sometimes his feet are a little too small for his body.

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): I read your book, The Pride of The 1916 Philadelphia Athletics. It was really good. I used to play baseball back in high school. Once I hit a homerun ball so far that it bounced off the QFI building roof. People who were shopping inside came running outside and looked confused. They thought a bomb went off or something! When they saw me rounding the bases across the street they all clapped and gave me a big cheer. Did I mention that I always wanted to be a cop? I couldn't pass the physical on account of my feet being so small. I now work as a security guard at one of America's most prestigious internet auction portals. I won't say which one it is but it rhymes with eGay.

Meet Minion 1309: Derek Jay Patel

Something Noteworthy About Derek: Derek is 43 years old and lives in Texas, USA.

This Person's Minion Application Essay (Abstract): Greetings! I liked your site and found it very informative. So much that I added it to my Links of learning page to promote religious and lifestyle tolerance. I try to help beginners & seekers find some of the best web links to search. Awesome site! Keep up the great work and let your light shine. Ohm Bari Ohm Bari Ohm.

The Bridges of St. Charles County

-continued from last week-

Although I was in a maximum state of shock because of the collision, I had the peace of mind to save myself and swim towards the nearest shore. When I arrived at the riverbank I was exhausted and heartbroken—for my humble nephew Mogender was missing. I remained on the banks of the Mississippi for several hours searching for any sign of Mogender but there wasn’t any. When sunrise came I had no choice but to flee from the scene and search for a safe place to hide.

Nearby I discovered an unpaved country road that led to a small hamlet called Portage Des Sioux, Missouri. There I found a humble place with dainty houses clustered about in a familiar geometric pattern. I sensed that my time to search for a hiding place was limited since people were stirring and many kitchen and bedroom lights were already on. I crept silently through the shadows of a narrow country lane while countless dogs howled and barked in my general direction. I found a basement window that was left unlocked and quickly climbed inside and found a temporary hiding spot. Luckily for me the basement that I had just broken into was equipped with a pool table so I climbed on top and went to sleep.

I awoke hours later when I heard the basement door unlatch. "Goodness!" I thought as I jumped off the pool table and hid in the corner. From where I stood I could see a shadow emerge while the stairs creaked. A woman soon came into view carrying a clothesbasket full of dirty laundry. I remained hidden as she emptied the dryer, transferred what was in a nearby washing machine into that dryer and then loaded the washing machine with the clothes that she had just brought down. When she was done with her chores she sat down on a small folding chair near a card table and began weeping. My heart ached for this poor woman for I could sense that she was very sad.

This poor woman sobbed for quite some time and so slowly I emerged from my hiding place to comfort her. She seemed alarmed at first to see me but she needed a hug so bad that she didn’t seem to care who I was or why I was hiding in her basement. After a very long embrace she finally asked me where I came from and I told her only that I was a humble and holy servant of mankind. She seemed to find that acceptable.

She knew from my ragged appearance that I was hungry and so she brought me upstairs and fed me. While I sat at her dinning room table she made a fresh pot of coffee and then sat down and lit a cigarette. I could tell that she was troubled. She immediately began telling me her whole life story. It was a tragic one: basically her husband had just run off with another woman and she was left all alone to raise two ungrateful children. She also mentioned that she had spent her whole life in Portage Des Sioux, Missouri and wanted nothing more than to get out of that stupid hell hole and see the world—even if it was just down to St. Louis, which was only 30 miles away.

When she concluded her heartbreaking saga I stood from the table and told her that the hour was late that I needed to be on my way. She was saddened by my rapid departure and asked me where I was going. I then began crying and admitted to her that I had nowhere to go because I was but a lonely and ignorant vagabond, traveling the Earth in search of truth and wisdom (plus food and/or shelter whenever applicable). She began to cry with me and then insisted that I remain as her guest for a few days. I was grateful for her hospitality and gladly accepted it since I wasn’t too keen on sleeping in the woods anymore.

Since I was going to be staying in her recently cleaned guestroom she insisted that I wash up and change into some decent clothes (they were most likely her estranged husband’s). It actually felt good to clean up a bit and then park myself comfortably in front of a TV set once again. I felt peaceful in that house, almost like I had lived there my whole life. In fact, I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps I had found my new home!

Then the lady’s son came home. He was a brutal young man (about Mogender’s age) and was extremely rude and vulgar. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence when he sat down next to me on the couch and took the remote control away from me to change the channel. The daughter arrived about an hour later and was even ruder. It was then that I fully understood what that poor lady was telling me when she said that her children were rotten and ungrateful.

Finally the daughter noticed me sitting in the living room and asked the mom who I was. The mom told the daughter that I was their "Uncle Fred" from St. Louis. The daughter said something unkind about me and then added that I looked more like a homeless guy than an uncle. She then leered at me and said that if she caught me touching any of her beer she’d break my fingers. (When I heard that I quickly hid the beer I was drinking under one of the couch cushions.)

Then there was a tremendous racket outside. It sounded like dozens of motorcycles! The next thing I knew the son’s motorcycle gang showed up at the house to party. The mom and I had to run and hide down in the basement to avoid being hurt while they trashed the place. The mom told me that this always happened whenever her son got out of jail (which I guess he did that afternoon). It wasn’t until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning that all the bikers finally left and the mom told me it was okay to go back upstairs. Before I entered the guestroom the mom took my hand and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek; she then told me she was glad to have someone decent around the house for a change. I blushed and felt happy for her. We then said our good nights and gave each other another big hug.

When I entered the guestroom I was horrified! Just as I was about to climb into bed I saw that it was already occupied by the daughter and two or three strange men. Rather than disturb them I just lay down on the floor and went to sleep.

-continued next week-

What exactly is Minion Pride? It's hard to define. Perhaps it's the way you hold your head as you walk down the street in your brand new Official Mooj Minion T-Shirt. Or perhaps it's the way you smile when you bombard your fellow beings with email by sending them copies of all my holistic and reflective newsletters. Better yet, maybe it's simply just being humble, polite and a good to your fellow citizens. Regardless of how you celebrate your Mooj pride we here at Mooj.com are just glad that you do. That is why this week the editorial staff at The Mooj Weekly Standard has chosen as this week's most blatant example of Mooj minion pride a photograph sent in by "Los Vatos de Mujo," a street gang from South San Jose, CA. Unlike other gangbangers that hurt people and sell drugs, these guys claim only to spread Moojism by "helping people and reigning [sic] goodness down upon humanity" (their words not mine). So join with me and marvel at these noble soldiers of self-realization and let us all celebrate their commitment to spreading the good karma and self conscious harmony of the healthy Mooj lifestyle. (Note: their eyes were blacked out because all were under the age of 18 and most were wanted on misdemeanor traffic violations).

Well, that's about all I can stomach this week. Hope to see you all again next week for the last official newsletter of the Year 2001. Remember, send in your "Mooj Pride" photos and T-Shirt orders!

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