Dear Mooj,

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.

Mooj:

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.     

Mooj,

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.

-Unsigned

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. 

Mooj,

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:  

Click Here----ADULTS ONLY!!!!!

Sincerely,

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!  

Signed,

Fredd Godshock      

Thanks Fredd but I already knew that.  But, perhaps, some of my minions didn't.

Dear Mooj, 

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?

LISK,

JoJo

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. 

Mooj,

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.   

Sincerely,

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!

Dearest Mooj,  

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).