Written and Edited by Swami Mujaputtia Umbababbaraba, Swami to the Stars.
Happy New Year!
Hey Mooj Heads ... It's 2001 and, hence, time for a whole new volume of Mooj newsletters. Those of you whom have remained loving and loyal toward The Mooj over these last few years know exactly what to expect this year (as far as my newsletters go anyway) and all that I can say about that is, "Sorry, I will try to do better." Yes, even the humble and all-knowing Mooj knows crap when he sees it and, yes, as painful as it is for The Mooj to admit, the last few issues of The Mooj Weekly Standard (Vols. III and IV to be more specific) have been pretty lacking as far as self-realization and inner karma type stuff is concerned. I could blame others but because these are my newsletters and I'm the editor I feel that the brunt of the blame should rest upon my shoulders. The Mooj has been lazy and lackadaisical of late and The Mooj Weekly Standard has suffered because of it.
What will I do different this year? Probably not a whole-hellava-lot. After all, these newsletters are free and The Mooj doesn't make much money off them. In fact, I wouldn't even bother publishing them except for the fact that they help Mooj.com remain a tax exempt non-profit organization.
Whether you are new to The Mooj Weekly Standard or have been a life-long subscriber (I guess this applies only to 4-year-olds), this issue will serve as a kick off of sorts. A kick-off to a whole new way of life: a life of self-realization, self improvement and everlasting happiness. But The Mooj cannot do this all by himself! No, you, the reader must also share the burden. You the reader must open your mind and allow what little knowledge The Mooj spews forth seep deep into your heads. And of course you the reader must also continue to support The Mooj with all your generous donations and good vibes!
One thing The Mooj will try to do more of this year is add stuff that actually has something to do with self-realization and embodied collective consciousness. For some odd reason The Mooj has neglected his spiritual teachings over the last several years and so this year I will try to do better. After all, what good is a Swami who doesn't swami-ize?
The Mooj will also begin adding some more of his very own poetry to the newsletters. Some rude person recently pointed out to me that few of my latter-day newsletters actually contain original Mooj poetry. This person further insinuated that I was primarily relying on the submitted poems of family members, idiots, drunkards, insane people and children to fill up my newsletter. Sadly, in a way this person might have been correct. Could it be that the Mooj has become lazy in his old age? Perhaps. Don't get me wrong, not all of the submitted poetry of late was bad, just most of it. To remedy this situation The Mooj will now make an attempt to write new poems and include them in his newsletter, starting with this one (see below).
What about all those stories my minions keep sending in? Is there a place for them in this year's volume of newsletters? Sure. As far as The Mooj is concerned I will keep posting them as long as you minions keep sending them. For an added bonus, this year I'm going to recruit the services of Mooj minion 551 (a person who uses the alias Jules Vermilion) to write an adventure series about his life and times in the U.S. Navy. Jules served in the navy and has sent in many thrilling sea tales over the years. Most of them are true from what I can gather. Of course I haven't spoken to Mr. Vermilion about this yet and hope that he is reading this week's newsletter and will start submitting these adventure series stories ASAP.
Of course The Mooj will include his usual bevy of minion mail, since this is the easiest way for The Mooj to communicate with his forlorn and often troubled minions. The Mooj will try harder this year to weed out the fake stuff, though. The Mooj is very well aware that some letters are written by people pretending to be minions so that they can insult the intelligence and piety of The Mooj and his loyal minions. These letters are usually very easy to spot. Regardless, The Mooj will do his best under all circumstances to answer each letter and share any wisdom or insights that might be required. (Chances are, however, judging by what The Mooj usually receives in terms of minion mail, wisdom and insight won't be necessary.)
So in other words.... things will be pretty much like they were last year, only better!
|My First Official
Poem of the Year 2001:
The following poem came to me in a dream last night. True, I was drunk but I don't think being drunk had anything to do with the obscurity or randomness of it. Unlike most Mooj poetry this particular poem should not be construed as being deeply conceptual. It is meant only to fill space in this week's newsletter (since I promised to include an original Mooj poem).
On the Banks of the Messalonskee River
ad perpetuam rei memoriam St. Catherine
Yuengling, Yuengling, Yuengling
Oh how I love you so!
Yuengling, Yuengling, Yuengling
You set my heart aglow!
Yuengling, Yuengling, Yuengling
You’re pure as the driven snow!
Yuengling, Yuengling, Yuengling
Next to you, all the other lagers blow!
Lately I have been noticing that every time I buy Land O’ Lakes butter my 12-year-old son takes the box. Sometimes he even steals one of the cubes of butter too. Is there something I should know?
A Very Concerned Mother in Essex, MD.
I suspect that your son is up to no good. I can't give you any specifics but whatever it is it's got to be naughty.
Hello. My name is Molly. I am a nurse. I just met this really cool guy at a party. He used to drive a BMW until he got into an accident with a parked minivan when he was speeding to work (because he was late). Now he drives his mom’s car. Anyway, here’s my problem. This guy seems really cool except that he has a propensity to tell "tall" tales. For example, he says he’s 5’ 8" when I know for a fact that he is really only 5’ 7". I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal to you but it does to me. If I have learned anything in my 28 years it’s that when guys tell little white lies they are really hiding big fat ones. Please use your psychic powers to tell me what you can about this guy.
Uncertain in the Big City
The Mooj suspects that this guy is hiding a secret but that it isn't really all that terrible. It probably has to do with children he may have sired out of wedlock while he was working at his previous job.
The strangest thing happened last week. After my company’s Christmas party several co-workers and I went back to another co-worker’s house (it was located very near to where the party was). This person, who shall remain nameless, had dozens of nude pictures of his girlfriend hanging on the wall (she also works at our company). Most of us know this woman and were quite shocked by the graphic nature of this photography. Don’t you find that odd? I mean, shouldn’t this guy have taken down his girlfriend's photos before we all came over? Now every time I see his girlfriend at the office I get very uncomfortable. I’m a very modest person and I feel others should be modest too. Is that too much to ask?
Justin B. Franklin Jr., CEO and CFO of Franklin Plastics, Waterville, ME
I sure do! The Mooj suspects that this co-worker pal of yours is some kind of pervert. I suggest you keep an eye on him and his girlfriend.
Dear Mr. Mooj(?)
My name is Millie Bonnaparte and I work at the Johns Hopkins Juvenile Wellness Center here in Baltimore. I have been reading your newsletter poetry over the last few months and, quite frankly, am disturbed. While I realize that most of the poems were written by adults, physically if not mentally, there have been some that were written by children. For example, the four Asmus brothers (ages 6 - 12, respectively). I am very concerned about these boys. Please forward me their address so that I may contact the appropriate authorities in their area. These boys are troubled and need help! Could you also send me G.G. the Polish Stallion's address? Not that he needs help, I just want to meet this guy and see if he really measures up (if you know what I mean).
M. Bonnaparte, Baltimore, MD.
It is against Mooj.com policy to give out the addresses of anyone associated with this newsletter. This isn't done so much as for ethnical reasons as it is for safety reasons.
Hey, you have a really cool site there Mr. Mooj. I am on it a lot. I'm not the type of person who sends e-mail every time I come across a good site, I rarely reply, but I have hunted months for a good Punjabi-Uzbekistani poetry/recipe/self-realization site and yours is among the best. I can tell that you have spent many hours on it. I hope you keep up the good work.
Mahaaj Bhaahnchode, Kalamazoo, MI
Thanks Mr. Bhaahnchode. Your compliments were very well received here at Mooj.com. It is comforting to know that we provide at least one person with something of value.
To the Mooj,
For almost 20 years now I have been haunted by a horrible remembrance. Perhaps if I share it with you I will be able to sleep once again. Here’s my sorry tale:
Back during the summer of 1982 I graduated from CSULB and was hired by Disneyland to be the night shift cleaning crew chief. My office was located on Main Street, right next to the City Hall. (It looked like a fake office from the outside but it was a real office on the inside.) I remember my very first night I was so excited that I could hardly contain myself as I sat at my desk doing my nightly report. Getting to work at Disneyland was like a dream come true for me and I was so happy. But then something strange occurred. At about 3:00 a.m. I heard the most awful, gut-wrenching scream. I ran outside as fast as I could to see what had happened and saw one of my sweepers, a tall skinny kid named Matt, running down Main Street naked. When he ran past me he yelled: "It's Mr. Lincoln; he's trying to kill me!" I’ll never forget the look of terror on that poor boy’s face and it sent shivers down my spine. I never saw that kid again (he just kept on running and never stopped). Right after this happened my supervisor summoned me to his office and explained to me that many of the night crew cast members were unstable people and that this boy "Matt" was obviously insane. I was then asked to sign a pledge of silence, which prohibited me from ever discussing what had occurred again. Since I wanted to keep my job I did. A few nights later the same thing happened, except this time it was at about 4:30 a.m. and the kid running naked down Main Street was named Petie. Again, my supervisor made me sign a pledge of silence. I was confused but loyal and did what I was told. As the summer wore on I fell into a comfortable routine with my job and enjoyed it tremendously. There was just something magical about working at Disneyland, especially late at night when the park was closed to guests. Except for the occasional screaming sweeper running naked down Main Street claiming that a "Mr. Lincoln" was trying to kill them, most nights were peaceful and enchanting. Toward the end of summer, however, my curiosity began to get the best of me. I couldn’t help but wonder, "Who was Mr. Lincoln?" And worse yet, "Why did this Mr. Lincoln attack sweepers and pull all their clothes off when he tried to kill them?" Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore and asked one of the old timers about this. His name was Mr. Lloyd and he had been working at Disneyland since 1953. He was, in fact, my lead sweeper. When Mr. Lloyd heard my question he refused to answer it, saying only that the less I knew about "Mr. Lincoln" the safer I would be. He then made me promise him that I would never go near the Abraham Lincoln automaton located at the Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln attraction on Main Street, especially after midnight. Now my curiosity was really aroused. Was "Mr. Lincoln" the Abraham Lincoln automaton? I just had to find out. So later that night when our shift was over I pretended to exit the park with all the other night crew cast members but instead pulled myself up and into the latticework of the Main Street Train Station, where I hid in the ivy until the last person left the park and the thick iron gates were locked shut. I knew I had exactly two hours to investigate this matter before the morning crew arrived. I wasted no time and quickly made my way back toward Main Street and ran along the Omnibus tracks to the Opera House (where the Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln attraction was located). Using my master key I unlocked the front door and entered the building. What occurred next I shall never forget! I’d like to tell you all about it except that I can’t. You see, the terms of my financial settlement with Disneyland (which I made with them after I got out of the hospital) strictly prohibits me from discussing this matter ever again. In fact, I have probably already said too much as it is. Please disregard this email.
If there is anything The Mooj hates it's stupid letters like this one! I would have omitted it altogether, except that up until the last part it was actually pretty interesting.
I couldn't help but notice that some concerned mother wrote in this week to ask why her neo-pubescent son was taking [and hiding] Land O' Lakes butter boxes. Since you are an immigrant you may not know the answer to this question because you probably never experienced the great American male rite of passage known as discovering the Land O' Lakes Indian lady's secret. I know it might shock a few of your "fuddy-duddy" readers out there but I will reveal the secret anyway:
Patrick Kerry (your web host administrator)
The Mooj thanks you for your help but must admonish you for reading my minion mail without my permission! In the future please wait until The Mooj Weekly Standard is actually uploaded to your server before you read the minion mail.
To Mooj and my fellow minions:
I am now an old man, very near the end of my life. I've been told by my doctors that I have but a few more hours to live. I am even too weak to type this letter and am dictating this message to my granddaughter, who is sitting at my bedside with her laptop computer and modem as we speak. Before I leave this earth I want to share something with you and your minions that I learned as a young man in auto shop class. It has served me very well in life. It is a simple thing, yet few people know it. It goes like this: "Lefty loosy, righty tighty." By memorizing this simple phrase people can now know which way to turn a wrench. If you want to loosen the nut, turn left; and if you want to tighten a nut, turn right. I hope it serves you and your minions well as it has served me over the last 70 years of my life as an auto mechanic. I now bid you all farewell!
Thanks Fredd but I already knew that. But, perhaps, some of my minions didn't.
My "Penguin Pal" (don't ask) turned me onto your site. I totally love it and will spread your good word to all I see and meet. I'm actually considering naming my first born after you. First, however, I need to meet Mr. Right for the conception and subsequent birth to take place. Since you are a psychic, do you see Mr. Right anywhere in my near future?
The Mooj thanks you for your kind words Miss "JoJo." The Mooj sees a bright and wondrous future ahead for you. Mr. Right is actually in your life already. He is the man who came and fixed your sorority house toilet last month. (You may recall that you brought him a Pepsi and he thanked you.) He may be a "working stiff" but his heart is pure and he will be a wonderful husband and father. Remember, sometimes even the most common of oysters produces the best of pearls! I suggest you look him up in the yellow pages and get things rolling.
I couldn't help but notice that some old dude sent in a letter this week telling everybody that by memorizing the simple expression, "Left loosy, righty tighty," that they could always know which way to turn a wrench when they were either loosening or tightening a nut. I must warn your readers that this information, though true most of the time, is not true all the time. For example, if you own a mid-60s to early 70s Mopar, then you should know that the driver's side lug nuts are actually screwed on counter clockwise and one would actually need to turn the lug wrench to the right to loosen the bolts. Conversely, one would need to turn the lug wrench to the left when retightening the lug nuts after replacing the wheel. Some genius at Mopar came up with this scheme because he was worried that the lug nuts would loosen due to the positive moment on the lugs when the wheel was turning counterclockwise (as it does when a car is moving forward). Later, however, testing proved that the car would actually have to be going 500 mph before the wheel was actually turning fast enough to really loosen the lug nuts (and most Mopars can't go that fast). Anyway, just thought you and your readers should know that.
Patrick Kerry (your web host administrator)
The Mooj thanks you once again for your input but must admonish you once again for reading my minion mail without permission! If this continues I will have to consider finding another web site host! Just because you have access to my email before I download it doesn't entitle you to read it!
I never heard of you until your name was vilified by my fellow sorority sisters last week. For some reason or another you have caused quite a stir around here. I won't go into details but let's just say that there are many here among us that think you're evil and a crook. But I don't. I think you're actually kind of hip in an outlandish sort of way. If anything, I suspect that you are probably just misunderstood by my fellow sorority sisters. I would be glad to join your rank of minions. How does one become an official Mooj minion? My violet sis and I are thinking of joining up (if it doesn't cost any money).
"Delta Pi Daisy"
Thank you for your kind words Delta Pi Daisy. Becoming an official Mooj doesn't cost a cent and 99% of all officially registered Mooj minions don't even send in donations. This doesn't bother The Mooj because The Mooj isn't in this for the money; he's in it for the good karma. The Mooj only asks that his minions repay him with good deeds to humanity (or animals and trees, where appropriate). As far as submitting an application for minionship, click here. Someone (probably me) will process your request and issue you an official minion number within a few weeks. I should point out to you, however, that not all applicants are accepted. The Mooj doesn't have very strict standards but they are applied haphazardly and some people are rejected numerous times before actually gaining acceptance (but this is usually due to the fact that they have included insults and/or foul language along with their application).
|After reading Mooj minion 894's
story about The Kung-Fu Kid last month, Mooj Weekly Standard
regular reader and sometimes submitter Andy
Coffucci (minion #808) has sent in his very own Kung Fu story. It's
now yours to enjoy.
Like most kids growing up in the 1970s, my pals Mike, Todd and I were totally into karate. This was primarily because of the Billy Jack movies and TV shows like Kung Fu that were popular at the time. During our junior year in high school a karate studio opened up in our neighborhood and we joined up as soon as we could. Soon, karate totally consumed our lives and we went to our studio almost every night. During this period of our lives we perfected—to a tee—a staged karate extravaganza. We loved to perform this routine in front of people whenever a good opportunity arose. A good opportunity usually took place late at night when we saw an elderly couple sitting on a bench (in the park) and no one else was around. This is how it usually played out: one of us would walk past the couple (appearing to mind his own business) when the other two, hiding in near-by bushes, would jump out and then a karate battle from hell would ensue. Usually our staged fights involved numb chucks, spears and whatever else we could dig up. Our moves were choreographed down to each blow, kick, and kee-ah. The couple witnessing this Kung-Fu fabrication would usually just sit there with their mouths hung open. When the great battle was over the three of us would then run off in separate directions and then met up again somewhere else to yuck it up. It was a harmless prank (or so we thought, anyway).
This stupid prank only backfired on us once. It was when my pal Todd had a hot date and was trying to impress his gal pal with his bravery and skills. We pre-arranged a fight in the park at a given time and location. Mike and I pretended to be robbers and jumped from the bushes when Todd and his date strolled by. (We even had cap pistols that looked like real guns.) Todd beat us up pretty bad with some heavy-duty karate moves and won the girl’s heart. Unfortunately, an undercover cop witnessed the whole thing and Mike, Todd and I avoided going to jail by revealing (in the girl's presence) that it was all a set up to impress the girl.Needless-to-say, the girl wasn't too impressed after that.
My Newest Minions
|Well That's About It
I wish I could give you more in this very first issue of Volume Five but I can't. I'm just too tired. Next week I promise to include a short narrative about my recent adventures. As of this posting I am still heading west across New York and am now nearing the Lake Erie coastline. Within a matter of days I expect to be passing through my old adopted state of Pennsylvania on route to Ohio. If you live in Western Pennsylvania or North Eastern Ohio and your address is listed in the latest minion roster, then expect to hear from me as I pass through your town looking for a place to sleep and eat.