Great One,
I was peeved when I saw how rude and obnoxious minion
1107 was to you last week! The nerve of some people! I happen to think
that you do a fine job as editor and it doesn’t bother me that you
never use new paragraphs when you're supposed to and avoid all together
using semi-colons. People just need to understand that you’re a poorly
educated Punjabi-Uzbekistani immigrant! You can’t help it if you’re
a moron! Keep your head up and be proud of who you are! I will fight and
die to preserve your honor great swami! Om Bari Om Bari Om!
Your #1 Devotee,
Danny Jeep, Minion 776
Columbia, MD
Thank you for your kind words
minion #776. In passing, however, I couldn’t help but notice that even
though you claim to be loyal enough to fight to the death to preserve my
honor, you’re still too cheap to fork over $15 to buy my official Mooj
minion T-shirt. I’m not sure what that’s all about.
Mooj, this letter is for Dennis Hollinsworth of San Bruno,
CA:
Sir,
I saw your letter last week in The Mooj Weekly
Standard about your old Nash Rambler. I loved it! My dad used to
have an old ’58 Nash Rambler and it was a true gem. One night he let
me borrow it for a date. I can’t remember my date’s name; but, boy,
was she fine looking man! Her sister was a nun if I remember correctly.
Anyway, I took this girl up to "inspiration point" to watch
the "submarine races." Every town had an inspiration point and
ours was up on Bear Creek Mountain. It was warm that night so I put down
the top and then soon thereafter my date and I started kissing while the
car radio was turned on softly. (It was a very romantic setting, just
like the one you saw in all those movies about the 50s.)
Just when
things were about to get interesting the local constable drove up and
shined his big search light on us. The constable turned out to be a good
friend of my date’s father and he made this
big stink about finding her up there. He told her that he was going to
tell her father and my poor date started to cry. Because I was such a
rebel back then I told the constable to kiss my royal Irish ass and then
did this huge burnout in front of him and drove off. In my rearview
mirror I saw the constable run back to his car to give me chase. Pretty
soon I had that old Nash Rambler up to about 100 mph (top speed I’d
have to guess) and I was literally flying down that mountain on two
wheels! The constable stayed right on my tail the whole way down until
we got back into town and I took my chances by cutting him off at a RR
crossing just as a train was coming. Needless to say my date was
pretty upset and wouldn’t speak to me the whole rest of the night. I
never saw that poor girl again because she pretty much stayed on
restriction the whole rest of her life!
Yours Truly,
Garry Bradford (minion 965)
If Dennis Hollinsworth of San Bruno,
CA is reading this newsletter then I am sure he will see your letter.
Otherwise I don’t know what to tell you.
Mooj,
I’ll never forget my 13th birthday party
at Shakey’s Pizza Parlor when Randy Goodman told me that he loved me.
I laughed. I liked Randy as a friend but I certainly wasn’t in love
with him. Back then I was in love with Donald Drake; he was the dreamily
15-year-old boy that lived up the street and looked just like Bobby
Sherman.
All through high school Randy Goodman was my best
friend. I told him everything. During my freshman year we must have
talked on the phone a million times because I was so in love Donald
Drake (by then a senior) and Donald didn’t even know I existed. Randy
was such a sweetheart that he would actually write love poems for me to
slip into Donald’s locker but Donald just threw them on the ground
without even reading them.
Then during my sophomore year I fell in love with
Billy Allen Preston. Billy was my first boyfriend and looked just like
Shawn Cassidy. When Billy dumped me for my best friend Crystal I was so
devastated that I cried for almost three weeks. Randy actually sent me a
teddy bear every day during that whole three-week period because he knew
how sad I was and wanted to cheer me up. He was such a good friend.
During my junior year I fell in love with Joey
Trattoria. Joey was the junior varsity quarterback and was extremely
handsome. His dad was super rich and owned all the Italian restaurants
in town. Joey turned out to be a major jerk just like Billy Allen
Preston and dumped me for my friend Sarah. I must have cried every night
for a month after that and I think I even stopped eating for a while,
too. But Randy, bless his heart, did everything he could to cheer me up.
I still laugh when I think about how Randy let the air out of Joey’s
tires in the school parking lot and wrote "I Totally Suck" on
his windshield with a magic marker to get even with him for me. One of
Joey’s friends saw Randy and poor Randy really got his butt
kicked for that afterwards.
During my senior year I fell in love with Danny
Seton. Danny was the starting center on the varsity basketball team and
was by far the best looking boy in the whole school. Randy again put up
with all my late night phone calls because Danny was so mean to me. A
week before prom Danny actually had the nerve to break up with me so
that he could take my friend Darby instead! I was totally devastated and
didn’t know what to do because I already had my dress and everything.
Randy knew I really wanted to go to the prom so he told me that he would
take me. I agreed but then Albert Berry asked me and Randy was totally
understanding about me going with Albert instead. Then on prom night
Albert Berry never showed up! He got drunk with a bunch of his friends
and passed out somewhere. I was totally embarrassed and humiliated! My
mom must have called Randy because Randy came right over to take me (I
guess he still had his rental tux or something). Believe it or not I
actually had a blast that night; I certainly had more fun than I ever
would have had with Danny Seton or that drunken idiot Albert Berry.
After we graduated from high school I went away to
college and Randy went to work in the local steel mill. Even though I
was over 500 miles away Randy would always drive up to see me whenever I
needed him. I can’t tell you how many times I called him in the middle
of the night because I broke up with one of my boyfriends or failed a
test or something.
After college I married this guy named Steven Dixon
from Mobile, Alabama. Randy came down for the wedding and was his usual
jolly self; he was so happy for me. Because my father had passed away I
asked Randy to walk me down the aisle. I remember that as we walked
toward the altar Randy told me that I looked beautiful—more beautiful
than he had ever seen in his life. He was so sweet!
My marriage to Steven Dixon lasted only six years.
Following the divorce my children and I were left virtually homeless and
without any means of support. I was desperate and called Randy; and,
yes, within hours Randy was there to help us. For the next two or three
years I had severe financial difficulties and came close to being
evicted and having my car repossessed dozens of times. But somehow
someone would always save the day and pay my rent or car payment if it was late. I know that it was probably Randy but he always denied
it. That was just the way he was; he was so good to us.
I remarried again in 1987 and that marriage was a
total disaster. My second husband was an alcoholic and spent every dime
we had on his ridiculous inventions that he swore would someday be worth
millions. I finally had enough and left him for good in the spring of
1990. I was pretty much an emotional basket case by then and started
hanging around with people that were a very bad influence on me. By 1992
I was hooked on cocaine and didn’t even care about anything anymore.
Somehow Randy found out and came out to get me into a
drug rehab center. Within months I was clean and sober and then Randy
saw to it that I got my kids out of foster care. As always Randy made
sure that we had food, shelter and clothing. He was truly a saint and
without a doubt the best friend I ever had.
I got married again in 1995 but that marriage also
ended in failure. My third husband was a major idiot and wound up losing
every dime we had in the stock market crash of 1999. And yes, when I
needed him most, Randy came through and helped my kids and I get through
some really tough times.
Then last night while I was sitting at the kitchen
table having a drink I remembered something my mother told me back in
high school. She said that guys like Donald Drake, Billy Allen Preston,
Joey Trattoria, Danny Seton and the others were a dime a dozen; but
Randy Goodman, he was one-in-a-million because he had a heart of gold.
She then went on to say that it’s what’s inside a man that counts
most, not how he looks, how he dresses or what kind of car he drives.
She told me that I’d search my whole life trying to find a man that
was not even one-tenth as good as Randy Goodman. I finally
realized that after 25 years my mother was right!
I quickly called Randy and asked him if he remembered
my 13th birthday at Shakey’s when he told me that he loved
me. He said that he did. I then told him that I now realize that it was
him that I love and that I wanted to be his wife. He laughed and turned
me down because he said I had too many problems. He then hung up on me!
I was flabbergasted! Mooj, why are men such bastards?
Marcie Martin-Silver
Norwalk, CA
I wish I could tell you that
one day you’ll find true love but you won’t—not with the kind of
bad karma you've got! If at all possible can you send me Randy Goodman’s
address so that I can send him a free Mooj T-shirt? I think it might
help erase some of the pain that he may have suffered through during his
lifetime.
Mooj,
I have a confession to make. I hope you don’t think
less of me but here it goes: Back in 1978 I broke into this grocery
store and stole a loaf of bread. I wasn’t starving or anything; I was
just stoned and had the munchies. Oh Great Guru—forgive me!!!!!
-Unsigned
The Mooj might forgive you for
stealing food but not wasting his time with your stupid letter.
Dear Mooj,
I can’t tell you how surprised I am to see that
mooj.com is still around. I haven’t been on your web site in almost
three years. Reading through some of your most recent newsletters
reminds me of the good times I had while traveling with your freedom
convoy back in July 1999. I joined the auxiliary entourage in South
Carolina near the South of the Border complex. Back in those days I was
an aimless drunk without any direction in life; I guess I was a prime
candidate for your type of mass movement. I traveled with the freedom
convoy for about three days and got busted in Kissimmee, FLA at the
Green Briar Trailer Park.
Man, those were some wild times on that tour
bus, let me tell ya! I was on devotee bus #4 and the people on that bus
were totally wild! For example, every day while we were driving along we
had these massive orgies. They would last for hours! The only thing that
would have made it any better is if we had women on board. Oh well.
Anyway, glad to know that you’re still out there spreading your good
works and good karma.
Benjamin Yoder
Henderson, NV
Yes, as I recall you people on
bus #4 were a bit odd. As always it’s nice to hear from you again
(whoever the hell you are).
I got a great idea. You know how people drink Slim
Fast to lose weight? Instead of drinking Slim Fast, I drink Guinness
Ale! It has all the nutrients and natural ingredients as Slim Fast; yet
it doesn’t taste like crap! I’ve been on the Guinness diet for
sixteen years now. I haven’t lost any weight but, man, who cares!
Johnny O’Keats
The Gaelic Versifier’s brother
Thank you for your letter. I
have no idea whether you’re being serious or not. But if you
are I can only say that it seems fitting that you’re the Gaelic
Versifier’s brother. Where is that guy anyway? Why hasn’t he sent in
any of his award winning Irish poetry lately? Tell him we miss his charm
and wit.
Great one,
Three days ago I was stirred from my peaceful slumber
by the sound of someone digging in the woods behind my house. I got out
of bed and went to the window to see what was going on. Through the
darkness I spied a stranger silhouetted against the moonlight digging. I
put on my slippers and bathrobe and went outside to get a better look. I
got close enough to see that the person digging was my neighbor
Professor Rathbone. From where I was standing I could clearly see the
professor drag something very heavy into the hole. Professor Rathbone
quickly filled the hole and ran back to his garage and put his shovel
away. Very suspicious! Then he went into his house and turned off the
porch light. Again, very suspicious!
The next morning I did some investigating and found
out that Rathbone was telling people that his wife was "away to see
her mother." I asked the professor how long his wife was planning
to stay away and he told me to mind my own business. Odd, wouldn’t you
agree? I think Professor Rathbone killed his wife and then buried her in
the woods! What do you think?
R.P.
Harleysville, PA
I think you’re a nosy
neighbor and should mind your own business!
I have a dilemma that only you can help me with great
and loving swami. Next year I’m supposed to go to college but I don’t
want to. I’d rather take a few years off to see the world and discover
myself. My mom and dad say I have to go to college. When my grandma
passed away last year she left me over a million dollars and I feel that
I should be allowed to use that money any way I see fit. Surely I would
learn more traveling around then going to some stupid college.
-Unsigned
Yes, I guess you would at that.
But I can think of an even better idea than using that money traveling—send
it to your favorite swami and I’ll use it to help people (mainly
myself).
When I was 14 I was on my way out the door to attend
a high school dance when my dad said, "Be sure you don’t
dance with any Asian boys!" I didn’t think anything about it
until I got to the dance and the very first kid that asked me to dance
was Chinese. I had to tell the poor boy no. Years later I met and fell
in love with a Punjabi fellow like yourself. We are now married and have
4 children and let me tell ya, when it comes to loving—they’re ain’t
nothing like a genuine Asian lover!
MIT
Gunpowder, MD
Yes, The Mooj knows exactly
what you’re talking about!
To whom it may concern:
I have a great idea how to make all those Taliban
alkada terrorists talk. I read somewhere that none of them will
cooperate. Easy solution: make them sit and listen to Mannheim
Steamroller. After two or three days these guys will be begging to talk.
As far as that Johnny Walker kid goes, I think we should just strap him
down to a chair and make him listen to Mannheim Steamroller until his head explodes!
Even that’s too good for him!
-Unsigned
I have no idea what you're
talking about.
so...i was simply trying to find out more about the
new broader definition and expansion being sought by the already largest
used auto auction in the WORLD, THE MANNHEIM AUTO AUCTION, WHICH TOOK
PLACE LAST NIGHT IN THE AREA WHERE THESE PEOPLE WHO ARE OWNED BY THE COX
CORPORATION WANT TO AUCTION OFF MORE AND DIFFERENT KINDS OF STUFF I
PRESUME THIS MEANS THAT BEING THE LARGEST USED CAR AUCTION LOT IN THE
WORLD ISN'T WEIRD ENOUGH FOR YOU MENNONITE MOTHER F—RS! YEAH BABY,
YOU HEARD ME... GUESS WHAT... I AM SPENDING MY DAYS FERVENTLY TRYING TO
SELL MY SCREENPLAY WHICH IS A TALE OF MY TRUE-LIFE ADVENTURE. IF YOU
CARE, AND FRANKLY LANCE CAN KISS MY A—, I ALREADY KNOW HE'S A F—ING
MENNONITE.... OTHERWISE HIS GRANDPA, WHITLAW SHOW WOULD HAVE HAD HIM IN
SOME DNA CLONING EXPERIMENT A LONG TIME AGO.... GO TO
FREELISALAMBERT.COM THRU GOOGLE AND SEE HOW I CAME TO AMISH COUNTRY THEN
BACK HOME TO CALIFORNIA... SORT OF A REVERSE LANCE WHATEVER GIG... THE
WYETH FAMILY AND I ARE ACQUAINTED, LET'S JUST SAY, AND CHADD'S FORD IS
TEEMING WITH SECRETS, BODIES AND FOR A WHILE TONIGHT I ALMOST THOUGHT
THAT JOHN DUPONT HAD ESCAPED ...BUT WHOEVER THE MOOJ IS GOOD FOR HIM
.... HE'S UP ON THE TRUTH, ABLE TO LAUGH AT THE TRAGEDY OF INJUSTICE,
AND HELL, GO AHEAD AND CARE...SEE WHERE IT GETS YOU....LIKE ME,
GOING...MAYBE IF I WRITE A MOVIE ABOUT WHAT THE AMISH ARE REALLY UP TO,
THEN I CAN'T GET SUED AND I CAN CALL IT FICTION...AND YET.....EVER
WONDERED WHY WITNESS IS THE ONLY THING EVER MENTIONED WHEN HOLLYWOOD AND
THE AMISH ARE BROUGHT UP IN THE SAME EVENING...THEN ASK PEOPLE WHAT THEY
KNOW ABOUT THE MENNONITES....OUT HERE IN CA. THEY GO...THE WHO? ...
WHICH IS WHAT THE PEOPLE IN LANCASTER CO. WOULD SAY WHEN I ASKED THEM
WHERE THE CHURCH OF SCIENTOLOGY HEADQUARTERS WERE? THE WHAT?...AND
THEN...OH WAIT...ISN'T THAT THE CHURCH THAT JOHN TRAVOLTA GOES
TO?.....AFTER I WAS ABLE TO STOP GASPING FOR AIR I WAS LAUGHING SO HARD,
THEY (MOST EVERYBODY BORN AND RAISED IN THAT SURREAL F—ING COUNTY)...
WOULD SAY, WHAT'S SO FUNNY?...JESUS...A FEW MONTHS LATER, NO S—T, IN
ROLLS TRAVOLTA AND CO. TO FILM THE MOVIE LUCKY NUMBERS, WHICH WAS
BASED ON THE REAL LOTTERY SCAM THAT TOOK PLACE IN PA. BACK IN THE
70'S...BUT THANKS TO WILLIAM COSTOPOULOS, NOBODY GOT HURT....BUT ODDLY
ENOUGH, WHILE LUCKY NUMBERS WAS BEING FILMED, TRAVOLTA NEVER CAME TO
LANCASTER, (BOO HOO!)... AND THEN, WOW, JUST AS HIS ENTOURAGE WAS
LEAVING THE AREA NEAR PALMYRA AND OTHER FILMING LOCALES IN THE STATE,
SOMEBODY WON 17 MILLION DOLLARS IN THE LOTTO!!!!...TO THIS DAY, NOBODY
HAS COME FORWARD TO COLLECT IT... THAT'S SCIENTOLOGY WHEN IT SHAKES
HANDS WITH THE MENNONITES BABY./...RUMSPRINGA...AND YOU PROBABLY THINK
IT BITES LIVING IN AN AMISH PARADISE...BUTCH YUNKIN HE'LL BE NICE WHEN
HE GETS OUT OF PRISON AND WON'T THAT BE NICE... MS. MIRACK SHE TOO
DIED...BUT MIKE FISHER COULDN'T CARE LESS...CUZ .....NOW HERE'S A
QUESTION I POSE TO ANYBODY OUT THERE ...I'LL PAY YOU 200 DOLLARS... IF
YOU CAN TELL ME WHO BUTCH LAWRENCE YUNKIN'S BIOLOGICAL FATHER
IS......MOOJ...IF I SEE THIS LETTER IN IT'S ENTIRETY ON YER SITE...IT
WILL MAKE ME HAPPY...IF NOT, IT WILL MAKE ME JUST KEEP WORKING ON MY
SCREENPLAY... BECAUSE BEING AN AMISH CHILD IS ABOUT THE MOST MISERABLE
THING ON THIS EARTH....LOVE, HEATHER JOHNSTON...OH YEAH HERE'S ONE FOR
LANCE..."HOW DO YOU MAKE AN AMISH GIRL HAPPY?" ANSWER: GIVE
HER TWO MENN-O-NIGHT....."THEN IT'S TIME TO GET THE BBQ GOING
...YOU A—HOLE...WHAT'S BETTER THAN BIRD IN THE HAND.....YUNKIN IN THE
CAN...CHOW BABE!...NOT YOU MOOJ
HEATHER JOHNSON,
REDONDO BEACH, CA
Ouch, my eyes hurt. I'm
not sure why this person decided to use all Capitol Letters in her
letter. I'm
not even sure what her letter was about.
Mooj,
I met a man in September at a meeting. We have
e-mailed every day, phone calls nearly every day. We have been intimate
once and are planning on it again. I wonder if he is the one for me. I
am falling in love with him. My question is he the one? His birth date
is 11/13/58, Thank you.
S. Shontelle-Smith
Montpelier, Vermont
The Mooj senses that this may
be the right man; but one can never tell for sure, can one. I
suggest you take the Is My Man the Right Man quiz in the May 17,
1999 Newsletter.
I just logged on to this site. Not sure what it is all about. I like
the look of the t-shirt. How do I get one? I think I may have dated you.
Did you ever spend time in Alameda County, CA?
Pushpa Dail
San Bruno, CA
The Mooj welcomes all inquires
about genuine Mooj Minion T-shirts and hopes that you buy one. The Mooj
doesn't remember dating anyone named Pushpa Dail or anything about his
time in Alameda (except that whole Altamonte thing).