The Mooj Weekly Standard is published semi-weekly by The "New" Friends of Mooj Society, Dundalk, Md. All material published in The Mooj Weekly Standard is considered the intellectual property of The Mooj and may not be reproduced in any manner, shape or form without the expressed written consent of The Mooj or one of his non-paid interns. The Mooj Weekly Standard is an officially registered trademark and is published by and for the Mooj family of minions. This newsletter is in no way intended to be a substitute for other forms of literature, which might have substance and/or add meaning to the lives of personnel not normally affected by the world at large. Mooj.com, an affiliate of the The "New" Friends of Mooj Society, is registered as a non profit organization under the bylaws of The Religious Freedom Act. Donations are always welcome and are considered tax deductible (by The Mooj, not necessarily the government).
First Things First: Greetings minions etal. As the spring slowly turns to summer and the winds begin to blow warm, The Mooj is reminded of his boyhood back in Uzbekistan, when this time of year meant a trip to the Aral Sea to help fight toxic waste fires. As you know from my previous mutterings my parents were forced to work as environmental engineers for the Aral Sea Conservation Corps back during the Stalin years. Had I not escaped from the USSR back in 1964 (when I defected with my fellow Soviet National Olympic Ice Hockey Teammates in Innsbruck, Austria) I, too, would probably have been forced to work as an environmental engineer. For 35 years now I have traveled the world in search of wisdom and spirituality and am now on the last leg of that journey. I am not alone on this trip for I take with me all of you, my humble and loving minions.
So where are we going next? I have no idea! Hopefully by this time next week we will finally be out of the Azores and headed to some place nicer. Don't get me wrong, the Azores are quite nice if you have lots of money. When you work in a fishery for $6 a day it sucks.
This newsletters promises to be a great one! My two new interns have promised me that they should have at least a dozen or so new minion numbers recorded and put into this week's edition. They also told me that they intend to post three poems and at least one short story by our old navy pal Jules Vermilion of Odessa, TX. (Boy, that guy sends in a lot of crap, doesn't he?) Last but not least, our old pal The Buray Bengali stops by again to pay a visit. All in all, this should be a great newsletter so I suggest you begin reading it now.
Dear Mooj,
A few months ago our dog Fluffy became ill and my husband had to take him to the vet. When my husband returned he said that the vet was worried about Fluffy and wanted to see him every day to make sure he was getting better. So everyday like clockwork my husband rose at the crack of dawn and took Fluffy all the way into Omaha to see the vet. Yesterday, when he and the Fluffy were late for lunch I got worried and called the vet to see if they had left already. The nurse told me that neither Fluffy nor my husband had been in their office for months! When my husband finally arrived home I confronted him and he tried to deny anything was going on but I knew he was lying. We ended up having a huge fight and he and Fluffy took off. Three days later he phoned and admitted that he had been seeing another woman and begged me to take Fluffy and him back. As far as I’m concerned those two dogs can sleep out in the gutter if all I care!
Cassie Hanson-Morgan
Uehling, Nebraska
The Mooj is unsure why you are punishing poor
Fluffy. The Mooj doubts that Fluffy knew anything about the affair;
hell, he was probably given some Kibbles and Bits and then put outside
in the backyard while your husband and his co-adulterer did what they were
doing. I suggest you forgive both your husband and dog, starting
first with the dog.
Mooj or Lance,
The prison chaplain told me that you guys came around regularly to visit me while I was in my coma. Last night I came out of my coma and was finally moved out of the infirmary back into my putrefied cell. The doctor told me that it was a miracle that I survived my ordeal. According to him they had to remove sixteen bullets from my body, including seven from my head and five from my chest and back. I have no idea what happened. Did you guys by some chance try to break me out of jail without first telling me that you were going to do so? All I know is that I was rousted from my slumber by armed guards, who shot at me and two fellows that had tunneled into my cell. Thanks to whoever it was I have now been charged with attempted escape and had another 395 years added to my life sentence. Oh well, life totally sucks and I don't care anymore.
Jeff W.
Sao Miguel Jail
The Mooj is sorry about the botched jail break. In retrospect Lance and I probably should have tipped Jeff off before we tried to break him out of jail. Our hearts were in the right place; our brains weren't.
Mooj,
My husband and I are expecting our first child and we can’t decide on a name. We know from the ultrasound that we are having a baby girl and I want to use the name Marcia. My husband refuses to use the name because he says all he can think about when he hears the name Marcia is Marcia Brady from The Brady Bunch. Then he does his stupid, “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,” voice. I'm furious and can’t see why he has to be so immature about something as important as our daughter’s name. Both my mother and grandmother were named Marcia and I would really like to use the name. My husband is a big fan of yours so please admonish him about his foolish behavior. It will break my heart if our daughter cannot retain an important part of her heritage because of my idiot husband and his teenage TV viewing habits.
Janet Olivia Zucker
Emersonville, CT.
Years ago The Mooj worked with a lady named Marcia and everywhere this poor lady went people would say,“Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.” She eventually went insane. Since The Mooj grew up in another country The Mooj has no idea who Marcia Brady was or what she stood for but she must have been evil since no one has used "that" name since 1974. (If you don't believe me check the U.S. Department of Vital Records.) I'm afraid The Mooj has to side with your husband on this one.
Hey Mooj,
I want out of this whole Mooj minion thing. A few years ago I became a minion and now fear that my political enemies might use it against me in my upcoming election. I am currently running for Queen Anne's County Dog Catcher.
Lord Peter Billingsly
Mooj Minion #1065
Kent Island, Maryland
Your minion # has been officially retired.
If after the election you wish to reconsider, The Mooj will personally see
to it that your original minion # is returned to you. Since you didn't
ask about the outcome of your election The Mooj won't tell you whether
or not you win or lose. The Mooj will, however, tell you that your
opponent has more dirt on you than you think. Being a Mooj minion
is going to prove to be the least of your problems once his team of muckrakers
get hold of your secret past. I might add that you are one sick perverted
freak and not even I would vote for you!
Great and Loving Mooj,
I just met a girl that I want to ask out on a date. Her name is Janet and she lives in my building. I see her every morning when she takes her dog for a walk. I follow her and make note of everyone she talks to and everything she does. I also go through her trash regularly to see what things she buys and eats. Sometimes when she’s at work I break into her apartment and snoop through all her personal things. I have also taken a complete inventory of all her clothes and undergarments and photographed myself wearing them. I’m pretty convinced that she is normal and would make a good girlfriend. How can I get to know her better? Do you think she likes me?
Pallus Cañada
Upper West Side, NY, NY
Oh, I agree..., the girl probably is normal and probably would make someone a great girlfriend; however, that person isn't you! The Mooj suggests that you keep looking. There are plenty of unstable psycho women out there that would love to hook up with a guy like you. The Mooj suggests letting this person find you (if you really live in NY, NY then this will happen sooner than you think).
Dear Mooj,
I just started reading your weekly (or should I say monthly) newsletter. I enjoy the Mooj Mail section the best. I don’t have any problems, sexual hang ups or psychic questions; I’m just writing in to see if my letter makes it into the newsletter. If it does then that will prove that The Mooj Weekly Standard is a real newsletter and that The Mooj is a real person.
M. Fuller
Fountain Valley, CA.
The Mooj is confused about your letter.
Yo Mooj,
The voices in my head keep whispering things to
me. Because of all the loud acid rock music that I listened to as
a teenager I’m partially deaf and can’t hear them. Can you tell me what
the voices in my head are saying? I hope I don’t have to kill anyone
again. I hate when the voices in my head tell me to do that.
Lost in Outer Space,
Fhjorja Fhjangji
Culver City, CA
Hey, it's our old insane pal Fhjorja Fhjangji!
Once again this person has decided to grace our newsletter with his mindless drivel. I was beginning to think that Mr. Fhjorja Fhjangji
had fallen off the face of the earth (since he hasn't written to me in a while).
No Mr. Fhjorja Fhjangji, the voices in your head are not telling you to
do anything bad. They are probably telling you to get a job.
El Mujo,
He recorrido al agua para ver mi reflexión. Qué veo es un hombre hermoso. Qué deseo ver es una mujer hermosa con los pechos grandes.
Jose D.
El Paso, TX
How lucky can we be? First Fhjorja Fhjangji writes in and now Jose D. It's been a while since our old pal Señor D. has graced us with his nocensico Española. I was beginning to think that this reflective Spaniard had also fallen off the face of the earth. Hopefully, someone out there in Mooj.com land can translate this profound message for The Mooj so that I can benefit from whatever it is Jose D. is trying to tell me.
Back when I graduated from John Carroll High School my guidance councilor told me that I was a loser and wouldn't amount to anything. She was right. Then a few years ago I got hired on as a short order cook at Denny's and am now working my way up to be kitchen manager. Up until last night I was content with this life and thought I was set. Then I saw a show on TV that changed my life! It was called Iron Chef! Holy [cow] Mooj, now I want to be an Iron Chef! Cooking is my passion and I simply must go to Japan and train at Kitchen Stadium! For the first time in my life I am driven to be the very best, the best there ever was! I cannot fail!
Troy Van Bibber
Edgewood, MD
The Mooj is happy to see your transformation
from nothingness to extreme culinary perfectionism. The Mooj will
chant and meditate for your success.
This week's light hearted story comes to us from our old ex navy pal Jules Vermilion of Odessa, TX. Jules served aboard the USS Enterprise (CVN 65) from January 1986 to March 1990. He was attached to Reactor Electrical Division and worked in 4 plant. Perhaps those of you who also served on The Enterprise might remember him. Jules is Mooj Minion #551 and is a proud member of the Elite Moojistani Literary Guard.
I don't know why I remember all these stupid stories but I do. Most of these stories [that I send into Mooj.com anyway] are about people I knew in the navy while serving in Reactor Electrical division (onboard The USS Enterprise). I guess when you live and work with the same bunch of guys for four long years you get real close to some and certain ones stick out in your memory. Brad S___s was one of those persons. Brad was from Oklahoma and loved to be a pain in the ass whenever the occasion to be one presented itself. I remember one Westpac (1988) when it was time to take our cruise book photos. Our division was notorious for pulling one stunt or another during the cruise book photos (look at the '86 cruise book and you'll see that we are all wearing the same pair of nerd glasses or check out everyone's long bushy side burns in the '90 book) and so we rarely had anyone skip out on them. During the '88 cruise, however, there was a low turnout and the ship's captain became angry and shared his displeasure with all his department heads. The Reactor Officer (our department head) was outraged that anyone in Reactor Department would skip out on having a cruise book photo taken and ordered everyone in his department to be photographed or else! A memo was quickly drafted by his assistant and it was sent to all divisions within his department with a list of all the un photographed offenders. Our division had only one person identified as a missing: Brad S___s. Our division officer at the time was a fellow named Mr. Lee. He was new to our division and politely asked Brad to go and have his picture taken as soon as possible. Brad, being his usual wise-ass self, told Mr. Lee that he couldn't have his photo taken because he was an “American Indian” and that “it was against his tribal teachings to have his spirit captured by the evil white man's photography.” We all knew that Brad was full of crap but poor Mr. Lee didn't and reported to his immediate supervisor that one of his men couldn't be photographed for “religious reasons.” The request was then passed up the chain of command until it landed back on the Reactor Officer's desk, whom promptly called Mr. Lee and ordered him to personally escort “whoever the clown was” to the photographer. Somehow the Chaplain got wind of this affair and vowed to save the poor Indian sailor from having to take his picture. The Chaplain asked the captain to officially excuse Brad from the cruise book photographs and censure the Reactor Officer for being so insensitive about a crew member's cultural heritage. From that day forward (up until his last day in the navy) Brad had no choice but to look and dress like a real Indian. We gave him his official Indian name: Squatting Bull. |
By Albert Einstein Asmus (Age 6) Ode to Spring upon a Young Man's Graduation from Kindergarten after an Excruciatingly Long Year, in which the Young Man was Bored to the Point where he Stuck a Pencil in his Own Eye to Relieve the Boredom he was Experiencing due to the Teacher Explaining Over and Over and Over Again to the Slower Elements in the Class that Primary Colors are the Basic Colors, which when Combined, Create all the Other Colors and that there is No Talking Allowed During Nap Time and that First Grade was Going to be a Whole Lot Tougher so We Better Get Used To It. (I'm sorry that the title is longer than the poem; however, since the poem may not make sense at first glance I wanted to provide a backdrop in which the events leading up to its creation could be put forth to aid the reader in understanding the crux of the piece.) Spring Sprang Sprung
Sit Sat (Soot?)
Ching chang chong
Ping pang pong
Flip flop fly
Mooj Note: Minions! I think we have found the winner of this year's (nea! millennium's) Poetry Showdown. Although The Mooj usually doesn't play favorites when it comes to minion poetry, this poem by young master Asmus was just too much for The Mooj to absorb in one sitting. This is only the third time ever (since The Mooj has been publishing harassing and otherwise entertaining newsletters) that The Mooj has been awestruck by a fellow poet. Poetry At Large....Revisited This week's second poem was submitted by "aphid" Whither I Left Her Alone, Naked and So Satisfied with My Love Whoooo be the man?
Whoooo be the man?
I say whoooo be the man?
Me, that's who.
Mooj Note: I'm not sure who this "aphid" is but he sure ain't no Albert Einstein Asmus! Poetry At Large....Revisited Again! This week's third poem was submitted by an anonymous woman living in Northern Virginia [Title omitted due to its vulgarity] I met you at a moving party and you moved into my heart
But now you say you’re leaving, going back home to stay?
I am but a simple girl with a heart that's made of glass
[Poem was truncated due to space limitations]
Mooj Note: Again, no Albert Einstein Asmus here. |
One of the first
things The Mooj asked us to do when we began administrating to his website
was to assign minion numbers to the hundreds (actually it was more like 50)
of applicants that had been abandoned by his previous interns.
This, of course, would be a stupid thing to do since it would take too long.
Steve (the other intern guy) and I decided that it would be better to pick only
15 new minions per week and reject all the others. If you don't rank
minionship in your first try then try again. Steve and I have no
acceptance criteria other than you must make us feel enriched after we
read your minion essay and/or look at your picture. Good luck!
| Name | Vital Statistics | In his or her own words..... |
| J. "La Bamba" Moralez, #1166 | Claims to be a 4th grade teacher from the LA Unified School District. | Here in the barrio there is no hope. Together we can reach the children. Viva El Mujo! |
| Ramundo Vamos, #1167 | Claims to be a Sari-Sari store clerk in Quezon, Philippines. | I am a student of karma and I am very grateful to have found your website. Hopefully this spiritual journey won't be as painful as my last one when I got busted and had to spend six months in a Turkish prison. |
| Umesh Bhotti, #1168 | Claims to be a taxi cab driver in Washington D.C. | This site is a real good one. I learned a lot about what it means to be a Punjabi. Before I read The Mooj Weekly Standard I was ashamed of my heritage. Now I am only ashamed of my ignorance. |
| Carrie Ann Wesley, #1169 | Claims to be a high school senior from New Castle, DE. She works at The Gap and her boyfriend's name is Corry. She says that Corry likes Kid Rock and Limp Biscuit. She and Corry are going to get married next June if Corry can get a job. | OM HARI OM Forever. I am thinking of you Great Mooj. How
wonderful you are, in this form... I bow before your feet, you who selflessly
gives forth his beacon of light in the night. How can one repay a moment
of your Darshan? OM OM OM TALLY OM.
|
| "The Rug Man," #1170 | Claims to be a hair stylist from Bensonhurst, NY. | Salutations and Prostrations unto thee Most Wonderful Mooj...May your vision and energy inspire all! Make me a minion and I shall forever rage with wonder. |
| Gary Marx, #1171 | Claims to be 3rd generation Californian and resides in Ojai, near The Six Million Dollar Man complex. | I know that I am Mooj minion material because I drive an electric car and compost all my garbage and coffee grounds. I also voted for Barbara Boxer. |
| Anonymous, #1172 | Lives in Daly City, CA, near the BART station. | About 20 years ago I met you at the Ashram in Rishikesh. It was a great and very spiritual time for me even though I got real bad diarrhea and almost died of dehydration. |
| Jeff G., #1173 | Claims to be a software engineer from Port Royal, VA. | I want to be a Mooj minion because I am almost 40 years old and still haven't decided what to do with my life. |
| "PJ," #1174 | Has asked that all personal information be kept private. | Most Revered Mooj - What a surprise and a delight to find you on the Internet. Since the time I attended your self realization workshop in the Chester County Jail, your teachings have inspired me. I send you pranayams for your good health. I am now a free man, living a clean and moral life. Too bad the same cannot be said for you! |
| "Gus," #1175 | Claims to be a college student from Knoxville, TN. He has a big orange "T" tattooed on his stomach. | dear sir i'm a sankritist, particularly javanese sanskrit. would you send me a copy of your book The History of the Umbababbaraba Family: From Ancient Mohenjo-Daro to Uzbekistan, a Journey of 4,000 Years and 600 Miles. and if there are any other books about great punjabi thinkers, would you send them too. by the way, i have been making a research about you in my yogyakarta class. thank you for your attention and i hope to become a minion. |
| Charles Harper Lee, #1176 | Claims to be a self-made Internet billionaire from Santa Clara, CA. | A man can only live in one house at a time. In that house a man can only sleep in one bed at a time. In that bed a man can only sleep with one of his domestic partners at a time. So it all comes down to that: time. Not money but time and time is the one thing I can't buy. Oh Mooj I am so bewildered! Guide me through the rapids, the storms and the fog! |
| The Galloper Family, #1177, #1178, #1179, #1179, #1180 and #1181 | They all live in White Hall, AR, right across the street from the Razor Back Grill. | We are good people. Just like the Clintons. Make us minions and we shall serve you as we have served The Clintons. |
| C.T.S., #1182 | Claims to be a member of the Boumi Temple. He has asked that his identity be kept secret. | I'm drunk. |
Once
in the tiny village of Jandiala lived a small boy named Moolraj Sheety,
who was extremely talented and loved to play cricket. By the age
of fifteen he was the best bowler in all the land and scouts from all over
India and Pakistan came to watch him play. Many of these scouts tried
to lure Moolraj away from his tiny village with promises of fame and fortune
but Moolraj turned down their offers because he had promised his mother
that he would finish his education before deciding on a life of sportsmanship.
Then one day an unscrupulous scout learned about this promise and approached
Moolraj's mother with a deal. He told her: "Joh marna nehi seekha,
us ko jeena nehi ayaa!" He then handed her an envelope full of
money. Moolraj's mother had no idea who this man was and mistakenly
thought that he was one of her suitors (for she had just been widowed).
Flattered by the man's offer she told him: "Riste mein to ham tumhaara
baap lagte hai? Lekin log mujhe Shahenshah kahete hai?" The scout
was confused by this counter offer but figured if it would help sign Moolraj
to his cricket team then he would gladly do anything. Later that
night the scout returned to the house as promised and ate dinner with the
family. After the meal the mother sent away all the children including
Moolraj and told the scout: "Aapse milkar khushii huyi phir milengay!"
The scout quickly pulled out his contract and pen, thinking that's what
the mom meant when she said she wanted to see "the goods." When he
looked up, the mom was completely marna seekhna jeena and told him
to follow her into the bedroom. The scout crumbled up the contract
and threw it in the garbage pail, saying:
"Janmadina mubaarak ho? The kid's good ... but he ain't that good!"
It
has been said in the scriptures that Man is born of original sin, stemming
from his inherent greed and lack of trust in God. That is why Adam
and Eve were banished from Paradise. The Mooj and I are living proof
that sometimes greed can be all consuming and that spiritual focus can
be easily diluted by self doubt. Eight weeks ago we arrived on this
island in search of great riches, only to find that in the end we already
had what we truly needed. Instead of being satisfied with our daily
affirmations of friendship and joy we succumbed to our voracity and abandoned
the principles of harmonious living to search like fools for a treasure
that was unattainable, while forgoing the one that was within reach.
Perhaps this is the story of all mankind? Perhaps mortals such as
we are doomed to this fate for eternity? Perhaps most of all The
Mooj was an complete idiot for writing about the Inge Svensson treasure
before he and I actually dug it up. I vote for the latter!
Before I conclude my short 200 word essay I would like to thank all my
friends and co-minions out there for all your cards and well wishes. My forearm
is healing nicely and the scab should be off sometime next week.
