First things first.  I know that most of you are busy in your everyday lives so I am ever so grateful that you think well enough of me to put aside a few minutes each week to visit Mooj.com.  This is a special time of year for The Mooj, as most of you know, because of my extreme religious convictions.  Since The Mooj is omnipresent in all dimensions I celebrate all religious holidays as if they were my own.  So currently I am fasting for Ramadan, atoning for Advent, lighting candles for Chanukah, plucking hairs for the Winter Solstice and dancing for Kwanzaa.  It is an exhausting time of year for The Mooj but well worth it (as far as karma points go).

Let us not waste anymore time with formalities and begin the newsletter.  This particular edition of The Mooj Weekly Standard is filled with goodies and so I suggest that you give yourself extra time to absorb what is undoubtedly some heavy-duty stuff.  Enjoy. 

Mr. Mooj,

We have put off writing to you for some time because we totally hate your guts and don't want anything to do with you.  But now we're afraid that you're our only hope.  We are the parents of Trent Handjoy and are in desperate need of your help.  Our son Trent has dropped out of college and has enlisted in the Chechen Liberation Army.  Prior to this he attempted to join The French Foreign Legion and USMC, but was rejected by both due to his low body weight and status as a minor.  He leaves for Chechnya tomorrow and has vowed to return home a conquering hero or die with his boots on.

This is all your fault because he thinks this stupid act of gallantry will win you over and get him reinstated in your stupid mentoring program.  Please call him and explain to him that what he is about to do is utterly foolish and will get him killed!  For heaven’s sake, he's only 13 years old!

Dick and Doris Handjoy,
Chappaqua, NY

Going off to fight in the Russian/Chechen War may be just what Trent needs to build some character and self esteem.  However, my psychic senses tell me that our little Trent wouldn't last but a day in the jungles of Chechnya and so I guess I'll ask him (I know I'm going to regret this) to come with Jeff W. and myself to the Azores.  Have him meet us in College Park, Maryland on or about December 16th.  Also, make sure he has enough money to support the entire expedition for at least six months (or maybe a year, depending on how hard it is to find the long, lost treasure).   



Mooj,

Your new format is wonderful.  I especially like your ads...I tried CHEESES OF NAZARETH...and am yellow (and green) with glee.

Katishka Punjabeiii

Thanks...I'll let the good folks at Cheeses of Nazareth know.



Sahib,

I am a fellow graduate of the Ashram in Ramrama and a very good friend of your brother Hector Gomez.  I have wandered the World in search of tranquil unity of mind and spirit and believe that I have finally found it here in Greenvale, NY (but that is a topic for another time and place).  My desire to communicate with you today is for another reason.  I am a great fan of your “Buray Bengali” feature but feel that you are wasting your spiritual insights on a reading audience that is largely unfamiliar with the higher levels of spiritual awareness and self-realization necessary to understand such deep lessons.  A case in point is last week’s teaching about the two men from Mangolori, who were discussing their fragile manhood.  A person not familiar with the ancient teachings of Sanskrit may construe that particular teaching to be a “dirty joke.”  However, someone who reads and understands the ancient Hindu languages, and knows the teachings of The Sutras, would immediately understand the hidden meaning of your lesson.  I have conducted many focus groups here at my self-realization workshop and discovered that most Mooj Heads (In the Greenvale area anyway) understand little or no Hindi (not to mention Bengali, Urdu and Punjabi—which you seem to use indiscriminately in your stories).  I suggest using either all English or all Hindi, not both, so as to prevent people from taking away the wrong message.  Last week’s story was absolutely brilliant and I would like to, if you don’t mind, translate it for your readership.  Hopefully I will pull off the intended effect that you were trying to impart upon the lowly with your superior wisdom.  Please correct me if I am wrong.

The first Mangolori represents the vanity of childhood and the second Mangolori represents the shamelessness of adulthood.   The literal translation for jhatka-wallah is “horse cart driver,” but in ancient teachings this word has also been used to mean “a person who works as hard as a horse to better his life.”  Taken that way it becomes obvious that the first Mangolori does not fully understand that his life is wasted on impure activity (obviously the reference to his virility is meant to somehow show that he is concerned more with physical pleasures than spiritual fulfillment).  He is quick to test others and does not understand that he is not worthy to cast judgment on anyone, let alone a fellow Mangolori.  The second Mangolori is a driver for the Delhi Transit System (DTS), clearly an inference that he should be more responsible since his fellow countrymen rely heavily upon him.  But his reckless and shameless behavior distances him from that realization.  Many people misinterpreted the exchange between the DTC driver and his grandmother as being libidinous in nature but that is because they cannot translate the mixed language used to describe the scene.  Translated from mixed Sanskrit/Bengali/Farsi/Hindi/Urdu to English the exchange reads:

“He then loosened his trousers to allow himself the comforts of a relaxed waste band so that he could sing more comfortably while a group of women approached.  Unfortunately for the DTC driver his grandmother was among the group of unsuspecting women (who had come within eyeshot of his shameless and immodest behavior). The grandmother, who had very poor eye sight thought that her grandson was a banana salesman and asked him if his bananas were fresh [since she had the false impression that only a fruit seller would be singing in the street].  After sampling what she thought were his bananas, meaning his empty soul, she yelled in disgust to the other ladies:  “Forget it gals, this isn’t a banana salesman but only a drunkard, who is wasting his life away.”

If I have misinterpreted this lesson please forgive me.  If any of your minions would like to have other “Buray Bengali” lessons translated (and explained as this one was) have them contact me at The Self-Realization Clinic in Greenvale, NY, 11548.  I will charge them a one-time only fee of between $600 and $2,000, depending on the complexity of their soul.

Dr. Balkrishen S. Tull,
Greenvale, NY

Actually the Mooj is quite puzzled by your interpretation of my Buray Bengali joke since it was actually just that—a joke!  I guess sometimes the level of my wisdom surprises even myself.  I am very disturbed that you would try to profit from my teachings.  The Mooj likes to think of himself as a "nonprofit prophet."  Please discontinue this unethical practice of charging spiritual people for translations of my Buray Bengali jokes (or kick a percentage of your fee my way).  Also, I do not have a brother named Hector Gomez!

 
Mooj:

I think that this might be Tracy Giovanni's daughter or maybe even her granddaughter [photo attached].  I think her name is "Traci." She was out with her sorority sisters from the Gamma Rho chapter of the Sigma Theta Tau Sorority at the University Of Tennessee.  Traci is the second from the left (can't miss her), and the president, K. G. Geller is on her left.  That Tracy Giovanni must have been a serious looker judging by her off spring.

Best of Luck and Asalaam a lakim my brother!

Your friend,
Donnell Eastman-Kodak
Chief Developer in Charge
Kodak Disposable Camera Processing Facility
Sing-Sing State Penitentiary
New York Department of Corrections, Inmate # H12376

First of all The Mooj has made it perfectly clear that lewd material should never be sent into my newsletter office.  I fear that this photo—obviously downloaded from an Internet porn site—might have offended the modesty of my two non-paid interns Becky and Bonnie Yaksuba.  Please refrain from sending such garbage in the future.   



Mooj,

I’m a big fan of Nostradamus and have read just about all of his famous quatrains.  It was originally thought that he only wrote 492 such “prophecies” but last week I saw in Le Monde that someone found his 493rd quatrain wedged between some old manuscripts.  It was translated as follows:

In a thousand years from a thousand years from the birth of Christ:
From the Sea of Aral, shall come forth a wise man, wiser than Solomon
A rage will come upon the land and all shall align with this sentient being,
Those among the doomed shall be without this fortune: the others, blessed with wisdom.

I wonder if Nostradamus was talking about you?

Muez Gustov,
Auxerre, France

Yes, he just might have been since I was born very near the Aral Sea (or what was once the Aral Sea).



Mooj,

I know I'm probably being irrational about this but lately I've been finding "things" stuck under my couch cushions.  I won't say what these things are (but let's just say they "offer protection" when used properly by two consenting adults).  I suspect these objects are being used and then carelessly deposited there by our (newly arrived from Sweden) Au Pair.  I don't want things to get out of hand so perhaps I should nip this thing in the bud and let her know that I found these "things" and don't approve of that kind of behavior in my house.  I would read this girl the riot act except that it is nearly impossible to find a good Au Pair these days.  What do you think?

Melissa Bottle,
Dabney, IN

The Mooj thinks that you're better off just not leaving the Au Pair home alone with your husband anymore.



Hey Mooj,

What ever happened to that guy that ripped you off (Gayson I think his name was)?  Did that Merryweather Jr. guy ever find him and get you your money back?  How come the FBI isn't chasing you around anymore?  Aren't you still a fugitive?  What about The Predators?  Did they ever win any games after your inspiring poem?  Just curious.

Abraham Leemer,
Lindenhurst, NY

To be honest The Mooj has no idea what's going on with J. Edgar Gayson or Merryweather.  As far as why the FBI isn't bothering me anymore, I have no idea.  Maybe they just don't care anymore.  Or maybe they have bigger things to worry about rather than a petty Uzbekistani-Punjabi criminal like myself.  As far as The Predators go, I have no idea what's going on with those sorry-ass losers.  I'm getting tired of their thoughtless and otherwise ilk provoking attitude toward me and my goodwill poetry.  I might just have to find another ICHL team to harass (like The Raptors or Ice Hawks—at least those guys know how to have fun).  Anyway, The Mooj can only tell you that he is still alive and kicking (so that's good news anyway).



Dr. Mooj,

I saw you in Vegas last week.  You smelled really bad and looked like you haven't eaten in a while.  Is that anyway to treat Prince Mooj?  Ha Ha Ha!

Anonymous

Very funny Anonymous.  It is true that The Mooj is "down on his luck" of late but all that will change once Jeff W., Trent Handjoy and myself find the long lost treasure of Inge Svensson in The Azores.  Then who'll be laughing?

If you have not yet registered as an official Mooj Head (or re registered as the case may be) then you're totally missing out!  Hurry or you'll get left off the bandwagon.  Last week 9 more minions pledged their allegiance to the family of free thinkers known throughout the world as Mooj minions; let's all give our new Mooj Head friends a big "cyber" hug.

Doug Redhand, Mooj Minion #1110 is a familiar name to most long time Mooj Weekly Standard readers since he graces the Mooj Mail Bag often with thoughtful and reflective barbs.  [And sometimes he even makes sense!]  He currently yields from Kingman Reef (wherever the hell that is) and claims to be an importer/exporter.  Doug was born in Sexton, Iowa and has red hair.  His response to why he would make a good Mooj Head was: "Because."

Skeeter Donegal, Mooj Minion #1111 hails from Los Gatos, CA and claims to have a Ph.D.  His response to why he would make a good Mooj Head was: "Because I took a [dump] at The Winchester Mystery House when no one was watching."

An anonymous female now known as Mooj Minion #1112 claims to be dyslexic.  Her response to why she would make a good Mooj Head was:  "I evol uoy jooM."

Teach Lusby, Mooj Minion #1113 is is a waterman from Hollywood, MD.  (I recognize the name since he, too, is a frequent letter writer to The Mooj Weekly Standard.)  Teach claims to have some high schooling.  His response to why he would make a good Mooj Head was: "Because I to [sic] sometimes be on the run from the law."

Sister Mary O'Farrell, Mooj Minion #1114 is a nun from Sunnyvale, CA.  Her response to why she would make a good Mooj Head was:  "No clue... must be all the bubble water I drank as a child."

Santa Claus, Mooj Minion #1115 is a delivery man from the North Pole.  His response to why he would make a good Mooj Head was: "I have given you everything you ever asked for. If I don't get to be a Mooj Minion I won't be stopping at your house for a long, long, long time."

Abby Porter, Mooj Minion #1116 is a housewife from Elgin, IL.  Her response to why she would make a good Mooj Head was: "I want to make you feel like a real man again..., even if it hurts!" (Note to minions sorting Mooj Head applications: send this lady my secret email address.)

Ronald Hibbey III, Mooj Minion #1117 claims to be heir to the Taco Bell fortune.  His response to why he would make a good Mooj Head was: "I talk to the wind and it says: 'Mmmmagumbo.'"

"Dixie," Mooj Minion #1118 is a housewife from Red Lick, Mississippi.  Her response to why she would make a good Mooj Head was: "I may be 800 pounds but I can still [omitted] [omitted] [omitted] like the best of them!"

This week's poem is a softer, gentler poem that I composed as I lay sleeping last night.  It might be construed as another bold attempt to share with you a part of my soul that is usually hidden.  (Plus, it also serves as filler for this week's newsletter Poetry Section.)

Sourdough Jack

Sourdough Jack was a lofty man,
Wandering all around with his frying pan

In the summer heat he'd sit and stare
Squatting on his porch in his underwear

From the Jackson line to the Amador pike
He'd hang out loosely on a Harley bike
 
All the Lords and Ladies with civic pride
Hoped and prayed each day that off he'd ride

But come every summer in the Sourdough parade
Naked he'd march glazed in marmalade

This week's story comes from Andy Coffucci of Dover, MA.  It's a true story (or so he says):

The Secret Christmas Tree Garden (A True Story)

A long time ago on a beautiful winter day my grandpa was driving home along a deserted country road.  He took a shortcut and was passing through an area that he had never traveled before.  As he drove along he admired the scenery, for it was extremely pleasant – just like a Currier and Ives lithograph.  As he drove along he thought to himself that this would be the perfect place to stop and cut that year's Christmas tree.
 
He pulled over to the side of the road and got out of his truck.  He then scouted the woods and found the most perfect of the trees and chopped it down.  After securing it to the back of his truck he thought:

"What a wonderful spot to find a Christmas Tree. I can't wait to tell all my friends about this place!”

He was very excited and couldn't wait to get home with his big surprise.  His smile grew even wider when he began to think about how the following year he would bring the entire family out to this special spot and they could all find their Christmas tree together.  When he reached the end of the road and turned onto the main highway his smile slowly fell from his face as he noticed and began reading a large sign posted by the side of the road that read:

"Christmas Tree Lot – Private Property, No Trespassing!"

Good News!  Since my Amish grandparents are still shunning me I decided to join The Mooj and his pal Jeff W. on their trip to the Azores to hunt for the missing treasure.  According to Jeff W. I'm supposed to meet him (and the others) in College Park, MD on or about December 16th.  Jeff W. thinks he knows a cheap way for us to get to the Azores, but it will require us enlisting in the Portuguese navy.  Since I got nothing better to do with my life I figure why not?

Also, since I have your attention I'd like to dispel a nasty rumor that has been going around.  For years there has been speculation that I play "Steve" on Blue's Clues, the popular children's TV show.  Well today I’m going to officially put an end to that ridiculous rumor: No, I am not Steve from Blue's Clues.  Anyone who has checked out my website knows that I'm much better looking (and more muscular) than that guy Steve is.  The whole reason this rumor got started in the first place was that in many of my older movies I wore a green and tan stripped rugby shirt like that guy Steve does on Blues Clue's.  So, if you can, please stop spreading rumors that Lance Worthy is “that guy from Blues Clue's.”  Thanks.

From reading Lance Worthy's so-called "essay" [above] I see that he, too, plans to accompany Jeff W., Trent and myself on our adventure to the Azores.  I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not.  Oh well, I guess the more the merrier, as they say!

I know from reading your feedback reports that the Travels with Mooj section is a favorite among many Mooj Heads so I say with a tone of sadness that there won't be one this week.  That's because there really wasn't any "traveling with Mooj" to speak of this week since I pretty much confined myself to wandering the streets of Las Vegas (pan handling, washing car windshields and break dancing for pocket change).  Sometime this afternoon Trent Handjoy's parents are supposed to wire me $50,000 because I'm taking their child prodigy son to The Azores with me to keep him from enlisting in the Chechen Rebel Army.  As soon as I get the money I'll head straight for the airport and get the hell out of here.  My plan is to meet up with my new pal Jeff W., Trent (and now I guess Lance) on or about December 16th in College Park, MD.

I would continue writing but that I just noticed that J.J. Bigsby has entered the public library where I'm loitering and typing this newsletter.  I don't think he has noticed me yet so I will say a quick good-bye and get lost.  Until next time.....Take care.