Written and Edited by Mujaputtia Umbababbaraba, Naturalist, etal. 

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.  If you would like to contribute to The Mooj Weekly Standard then do so using the appropriate submittal form.  Personnel wishing to elicit free psychic or other worldly advice from The Mooj can do so by using the Mooj psychic advice form or by calling the special Mooj minion hot line (currently disconnected).  Mooj minion numbers are still available.  If you desire official standing in The Mooj minion family then apply for your minion number using the appropriate minion application form.  All-in-all, being a Mooj Head is an important step toward self-realization and a lot of fun as well.  I gladly encourage everyone and anyone to partake in this wonderment of joy.   
ab absurdo, ab aeterno, ab asino lanam 
First Things First: Greetings my gentle and humble minions.  Since I don't want to waste time making frivolous small talk I won't.  Instead I shall jump right into this week's newsletter. First, however, I would like to point out that next week's Mooj Weekly Standard will be our 200th issue.  The folks at Mooj.com headquarters (which is actually just a couple of non-paid interns right now) have decided to make a big deal out of this and are asking for your help.  It would be nice if everyone (minion, ex minion, or loyal non minion) shared with their fellow minions a special memory or two and explained how The Mooj Weekly Standard has changed their life.  The deadline for submitting your special memories is July 15 at 6:30 a.m. GMT.  Without spilling the beans let me just tell you right now that next week's newsletter is going to be the best one ever!  This week's newsletter isn't too shabby either (lots of minion mail, stories and poems to go around) so enjoy it!
"Mooj Bag o' Mail" 
It has been said by those more wise than I that email is the oil that lubricates the soul.  If that is true, and it probably is, then Mooj Mail must be like Schmaltz.  This week, like all others, The Mooj takes time out from his busy schedule to address the grievances, problems and special petitions of his loyal and loving minions.

Dear Mooj,
 
I have been reading with great interest the stories sent in to your newsletter by Jules Vermilion.  Not that it matters to anyone but I can personally vouch for the accuracy of these stories (The Great Capri Car Theft, Smoking Joe, The Ballad of Randy S___, Squatting Bull, etc.) since I also served in Reactor Electrical division between 1985 to 1989.  The one thing I can't do, however, is tell you who Jules Vermilion was.  I suspect that "Jules Vermilion" is a pen name for some dude trying to hide his real identity.  I have no problem with that since the guy probably has a wife and family to consider.  Since people like navy stories I thought I'd share one myself.  I hope you accept it.  If you like it I can send more.

Thanks,

Dennis Dominguez
Downey, CA.

Thank you for your letter and story Mr. Dominguez.  The Mooj has placed your story below in the story section of the newsletter.  I suggest everyone read it at least once. 

My Dear Mooj,

Thank you so very much for your "encouragement" during a most strenuous time for me, the Miss Universe Pageant.  I could not have made it all the way to the crown without you!  You have been a very faithful mentor to me and to my humble family, dating back many centuries in India. Yes, I guess many of your followers do not know that you have had many more lives than Shirley McClain.  May the spirit of  Japa Sadhana be ever with you.  Na-Mash-Day to you my good friend Mooj.

Lara Dhutta
Miss Universe 2000
Mutachar, India

Thank you Miss Dhutta for your kind and compassionate words (if this was really you that sent this in).  May you have success this year representing India as Miss Universe 2000 and Na-Mash-Day to you, too.    

To The Mooj and his family of minions,

I'm not exactly what you would call a Mooj Head since I only just found your website by accident.  I was doing a word search for "USS Enterprise" and wound up reading the stories about the 'prise (or Pig E, as we called it) in your newsletter by the mysterious Jules Vermilion.  Whoever this guy is he sure didn't serve in RE Div on the USS Enterprise between 1986 and 1992 because I did and there was no one named Vermilion there.  

When I read his the story about R.S. in the April 29, 2000 newsletter I nearly shat myself laughing because I knew R.S.  Vermilion didn't really do this person much justice because he left out so many interesting things about him.  For example, the thing I always remember about R.S. was that he was always squatting on the deck of our berthing compartment stark naked.  His nickname was "Tweety Bird" because he had a yellowish look to him, almost like he had jaundice or something. Whenever he got up out of his crouch there were always these two little wet spots on the deck where his "things" had been resting.  During the '86 Westpac R.S. bought a giant Persian rug in Pakistan for about a $1,000.  It was huge!  I mean it was at least 10 ft wide and 20 ft long!  It was so big that there was no place for him to store it and so he wound up sleeping with the damn thing rolled up in his rack.  We all thought R.S. was complete imbecile for spending so much money on a stupid rug.  When we got back to the states R.S. took the rug to a dealer and sold it on the spot for $5,000!  (According to the dealer the rug was handmade by some famous Ayatollah dude's mom.)  We all felt like idiots and wished that we, too, had bought big expensive Persian rugs.  R.S. got out of the navy about 1987 and then disappeared.  I forgot that some guys saw him in the Philippine wilderness a few years later.

That Greg B____  guy  mentioned in the April 1, 2000 newsletter (the car thief on the isle of Capri) was actually my boss.  He was a real squared away guy as far as I ever knew.  I had no idea that he beat up some old woman and stole her car in Italy.  Had I known that I never would have let him date my sister. 

That "Hong Kong Joe" guy mentioned in the March 10, 2000 newsletter was definitely worth a few short remembrances (if you don't mind).  He was called "Smoking Joe" because he always had a lit cigarette in his mouth.  Smoking Joe couldn't go an hour without smoking (even when he was asleep).  Just about anyone who lived in reactor berthing during the mid to late '80s can attest to the shock of seeing that half naked, full bodied, dude sleepwalk through the aft lounge puffing on a cigarette.  Joe arrived on the ship shortly after I did and was among the dozen or so electricians that were sent down to RE division during the '86 Westpac.  I would guess that Joe was probably among the last of the guys to arrive during that Westpac.  RE Div was a very small division back then and getting so many new guys in such a short time was really quite a shock. The first few of us were useful, but many coming down later, like ol' Joe, were absolute slackers and no one seemed to notice or care.  As the years wore on, the harder working guys rose to the top and the slackers, like Joe, remained in limbo while newer, more ambitious, guys came and moved up and over them into positions of authority and leadership.  Joe advanced to E-5 (Petty Officer second class) by re-enlisting in 1986 and was eligible for advancement to E-6 (Petty Officer first class) in 1989.  Those three years came and went pretty quickly and when it was time for him to take his first class exam Joe was in trouble. All those years of being a lazy, shiftless, good for nothing bug reflected badly in his evals and he literally had no prayer of being advanced.  I was his boss at the time and wrote his 1989 evals.  I was very kind and [I thought] generous, but it still wasn't good enough to Joe.  He begged me to change his evals and give him “perfect” scores and I told him there wasn't anything I could do.  He went next to our division chief and pleaded his case there.  Of course the chief laughed in his face and told him to [omitted] off.  Joe begged the chief and told him that he was a new man.  The chief finally made a deal with Joe: if he could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was indeed a "new man" then the chief would issue him special evals just in time to take the next E-6 exam, six months later.  "Smoking Joe" then became "Super Joe."  Everyday he did something even more amazing than the day before.  Anytime there was trouble or equipment failure Joe was there before anyone else to lead the charge and put things in order.  He became known as the miracle worker.  Joe was promptly made a duty section leader and allowed to do anything he wanted on his section's duty days. After a while there was no work left for any of the other sections.  Before we knew it the six months were up and true to his word our chief gave Joe the perfect evals that he had so rightly earned.  Joe took the E-6 exam, passed it, and was then advanced with no problem.  The minute Joe put on his first class petty officer’s crow he became the biggest slug to ever walk the planks of any warship in the history of any man's navy.  "Super Joe" became "Pulled A Fast One Joe" and our chief was so upset that no other guy in our division was given a second chance for anything ever again!

I wish I had the energy to continue with my remembrances but I don't.  In closing let me add a little to the Squatting Bull story found in last week's newsletter.  One thing Vermilion didn't really do is explain how big of a mess B.S. got himself into.  I was in the office the day our chief told Brad about what had been going on behind the scenes.  Poor Brad just about crapped his skivvies when he heard that the Reactor Officer got nailed for "being so insensitive" and that the chaplain and CO were fighting hard to preserve his "culture."  Brad was no more Indian than Custer!  There was really nothing funnier than seeing that smart ass (and tormentor of so many) have to pretend to be an Indian for the rest of his enlistment to save his butt.  Quite frankly we were all surprised that he was able to pull it off.  We gave Brad other Indian names too, like: "Smells like Goat," "Dances with Filipino Hooker" and "Dog in Heat."   

Peace and Love,

EMCS (SW) B.W. Rickoven
Naval Reactors,
Washington D.C.
 
The Mooj is happy to hear from you EMCS Rickoven, whoever you are.  Thank you for your long and informative letter.  It seems like many ex-Enterprise sailors, like yourself, are finding refuge here at Mooj.com.

Dear Mr. Mooj,

A few months ago I applied for and was granted a minion number (#1153).  Last week I met another minion at the supermarket and we both had the same exact minion number!  I checked and discovered that in your February 3, 2000 newsletter you screwed up and issued both me and this other person the same number.  Can one of us get issued a new number?

Thanks,
Gayle Serber
Ruby Ridge, Idaho

You are correct!  As of now you are minion #1065.  (That number just opened up last week.)  The Mooj apologizes for any inconvenience that you or your fellow minion may have suffered due to this unfortunate time.  The blame lies wholly with my two former interns, who didn't seem to care a lick about their work. 


Mooj,

As I write this email to you I find myself in a tragic situation.  I am currently flying somewhere above the U.S. in a Piper Cub J3.  I decided to take flying lessons and this is my first time up.  Unfortunately, as soon as we were airborne lightning struck the plane, killing my instructor and nullifying all our instrumentation.  The radio doesn't work so I can't even call for help.  The only thing that is working is my Palm Pilot and I am amazed that I am able to log onto the Internet from up here.  I don't think I have much fuel left so it's pretty much certain that the end is near for me.  As you can imagine many things are going through my head right now, like I should have been a better listener and helped my ex wife out more.  I should have probably gone to church and given more of my money to charity.  I also wish I took more time to get to know all the kids I sired out of wedlock and maybe should have called my mother more often, especially after I put her in the old folk's home.  But my biggest regret is that I wasn't a good Mooj minion.  I just pretty much took it for granted and never did anything to help my fellow minions when I really could have.  As I close this letter (the plane is now starting to sputter) let me just say that I (oh oh, there goes the engine) that I

So tragic!  Our thoughts and prayers go out to whoever this Mooj minion person was and his family.    

This week's light hearted story comes to us from Dennis Dominguez of Downey, CA.  If you would like to see your story appear in a forthcoming newsletter then, by all means, send it in and The Mooj will look it over.  Hell, if crap like this (see below) can make it in, just about anything is possible!

AN ABSOLUTELY TRUE STORY.... (or say he says)  
    "Captain Lucifer"   

    There was once a Skipper on the USS Enterprise named Robert L. L_____ner.  Everyone unlucky enough to serve under this bastard hated him.  He was so unpopular that the crew even nicknamed him “Captain Lucifer.”  Luckily for me he was relieved of command a month before I arrived and his replacement was a much nicer guy. The old salts in my division (veterans of L___ner’s rein of terror) had many horror tales about the vilified skipper and here’s one you might find to your liking:  

    One day during the ‘84 Westpac, the USS Enterprise was steaming somewhere in the Indian Ocean.  The following radio message was received from one of the escort ships:  

    “Enterprise! We picked up the man who fell off your ship.  He is safe and sound!” 

    This message was read to Captain Lucifer, who angrily scolded the radioman for bothering him with such nonsense and told him to send back a message stating that the Enterprise had not lost anyone at sea.  

    When the escort ship read Captain Lucifer’s reply, she promptly radioed back:

    “Are you sure you didn’t lose anyone overboard?  We found this guy floating around in the ocean about 30 miles off your stern. He says he’s from the USS Enterprise.” 

    Again Captain Lucifer was adamant that no one had fallen off the ship. It was next to impossible in his mind that anyone could fall overboard in broad daylight and not be heard (screaming) or seen (splashing) by the dozen or so watches stationed along the catwalks and sponsons. [Note: a “sponson watch” was stationed on every sponson to watch for people falling off the ship – and maybe, perhaps, look for submarines and mines.]  When the rescuing ship confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that the man they had pulled from the ocean had all the markings of an Enterprise man (hat, ID card, airwing patch, etc.) Captain Lucifer decided to call a man overboard drill. When the muster was totaled, the Enterprise was short one man and Captain Lucifer was furious.  In fact, he was so angry that he had every sponson watch relieved on the spot and thrown in the brig!
  
    Remember that guy named Veejay Gupta, who proudly proclaimed himself to be the Madman of Missaukee County, Michigan?  Well, this talented person has sent in another story about his dad.  He claims to have been inspired by a story written by [Mooj minion] Jeffrey Alexander, called Little League Mom.
    Little League Dad 

    By Veejay Gupta 

    One summer day when I was a kid I had a little league game.  My mom was running late so she told my dad to take me and that she would catch up with us later.  When my dad and I arrived at the ball park both teams had already taken the field.  The game, however, had not yet begun because the umpire had never shown up.  After waiting for a while the coaches asked my dad to umpire the game (because he was the only man present).  My poor dad didn’t know what to do because being from India his knowledge of baseball was very limited.  He finally agreed to umpire because there was no way to get out of it. 

    To compound the situation, my dad—a very honorable man—was afraid that the other team might accuse him of being biased towards my team so he purposely slanted the game in the other team’s favor.  When my mother finally showed up and took her customary seat beside the other team mothers, she asked: “How’s the game going?” 

    “It would be great if it wasn’t for that damn umpire up there!” replied one of the angry mothers.  My mom was then told how the umpire was calling every pitch a strike against our team (even when their pitcher bounced the ball before it crossed the plate) and a ball for the other team (even when their kid swung and missed).  My mom joined the other mothers in booing and harassing the umpire when she witnessed for herself some outrageous call against my team. 

    When my mom realized that the man behind the mask and chest protector was my poor dad she was horrified.  But she had to continue to boo and harass him so as to prevent the other irate mothers from discovering that she was in anyway connected to him.  My poor dad was never the same again after that.

 
 Parade of New Minions
 

Name Vital Statistics In his or her own words.....
Steve McClellan, #1183 Claims to have three children and a lovely wife named Kimberly.  Kimberly won the Miss New Jersey Pageant in 1977.  She was awarded a full scholarship to Salem County Community College and a brand new Datsun 200SX. Your poetry is very inspiring, most wonderful and full of peppitones.  I sense that you are more holy than you know!  May I join you on your spiritual journey?
Trevor Wilson, #1184 Is a proud member of the UAW, Local 239 in Baltimore, MD.  He is currently out on disability due to a pulled groin muscle. I am a frequent visitor to your web-site and I take away from it more than I return.  Is that so wrong? 
Davor Pavic Milocivich, #1185 Is a 17-year-old student from Bjelovar, Croatia.  He plays bass in a local heavy metal band called Schtömp Röcket.  This is most enlightening website I ever found; Ja, its even better than [URLs omitted since they refer to porn sites].  Will being minion cure my acne? 
Ralph M. Anderson, #1186 Runs a respectable family business in Silverton, OH. 'Belcan, Belcan, Belcan do! Belcan me and Belcan you. Belcan, Belcan, Belcan who? Belcan, Belcan is what we do.' That's my motto and I sing it to myself everyday while I'm taking my morning constitutional.
Javier Ruiz, #1187 Claims to live in Calgary, Alberta. He works for Kraft Foods and drives a '92 Honda CRX. What an auspicious blessing for a seeker like myself to have access to your knowledge in the form of this newsletter. I promise I will use it well.  I also promise to help my fellow minions and minuets.
Gung Hay Fat Choy, #1188 Claims to have been a back up singer for the band Lynerd Skynrd. I cannot put into words how important this is to me so I won't.
Roger Evens Campbell, #1189 Claims to have sailed around the world all by himself in a tiny 6-ft sloop.  He currently lives in Foster City, CA and is the proud award winning author of the novella Sylvia, the Wicked Temptress of Huxtable Park.  Ohm Daddio! This web site is a treasure of knowledge, except that somebody picked the lock and stole all the contents.  Ha ha ha, just kidding Mr. Moojimoto. 
Daniel Bowden, #1190 No information given. Greetings from Texas!  While at work in my office today I just sat here surfing the Internet looking for stupid stuff.  I found your homepage and boy did I hit the jackpot!  Make me a minion please. 
B. Jackson, #1191 Claims to be a 48-year-old housewife from Columbia, MD.  She is currently undergoing the "change of life" and admits to having liked the movie Eyes Wide Shut.  With humble prostrations I bid thee hello.  I was given your web address from a close friend of mine who thinks you can help me in some small demented way. 
Becky Hefflin, #1192 Claims to be a 31-year-old mother of four from Lemont, PA.  She likes to listen to Rush Limbaugh and sing in local talent shows. I was fortunate to read your book on Red Sox outfielder Tommy Harper.  I found the book informative and helpful, while at the same full of irony.  You're right, Harper should have been elected into the Hall of Fame! I also think Bud Black, Pete Rose and Jose Uribe should be there too.
"Quasar," #1193 Claims to be a 29-year-old Delphi programmer from San Mateo, CA.  He is a huge San Jose Sharks fan.  Nothing pisses me off more than those idiots out there who have that decal on their car back window showing that boy (Calvin?) peeing on the number 24.  What the hell's that all about?
Thomas Barron., #1194 No information given. When I was in the 3rd grade I saw a movie called The Red Balloon.  It was about this little French boy who chased a big red balloon all over Paris.  I cried Mooj, I cried.  I'm still crying! 

Great News!  Our pal The Gaelic Versifier has sent in another one of his Celtic poems.  The Mooj cannot be held responsible for the content of this poem as The Mooj doesn't understand the Irish language or Irish ways.