The day wasn't a total loss, however, since one of the ladies sitting in on my parole board came up to me afterwards and asked if it was still possible for me to introduce her to one of the remaining eligible bachelors from last week's How to Meet and Marry your Prison Pen Pal Seminar. On short notice we were able to retrieve and clean up "Sasquatch" Sammy. I'm happy to report that these two hit it off in splendid fashion and are now "official pen pals." Score another hit for the Mooj Matchmaking Service!
Here's a random sampling of this week's mail:
"What is a Mooj??" (Ron H.)"Who the f__k is Mooj and what do I have to do to make him stop sending me e-mail!!!" (Mr. Willem)
[Editor's Note: Hey, this is a family oriented newsletter. I think we'd all appreciate it if Willem cleaned up his language!]
"Although I have no recollection of meeting the Mooj, my husband thinks they may have once had a torrid affair and wishes her to be back on our e-mail friend list. Therefore, I have been instructed to remove the block. She'd better not be pregnant by him." (Betsy C.)
[Editor's Note: There must be some confusion here on the Mooj's gender. The Mooj is and has always been a man. I think the writer of this e-mail message might have read some of the Mooj's gender transposing poetry. Due to my superior omnipotence I sometimes transpose my poetry so that it appears to have be written by an old Irish woman (see my poem in The Mooj Poetry Archive entitled, Irish Breakfast Poem.) If there is still confusion on this aspect of my poetic style I'll probably have to limit my gender transposing omnipresence.]
"Mooj. My tax guy says we still haven't received a contribution receipt for our 1998 support of Men of La Leche. Please forward to us via e-mail or directly to my tax guy. I'll send more money as soon as I find another check book." (Bret M.)
[Editor's Note: To all those who have been sending in donations for the various Mooj Social Awareness and Political Action Programs, tax receipts will be available soon. We are still uncovering some book keeping irregularities (that's putting it mildly).]
"I like the Mooj now--it's okay to bother me with your brilliance." (Lerner W.)
[Editor's Note: Another Mooj Head is born! People often thank me for ignoring their initial pleas to stop sending them email.]
"Dearest Mooj, How can I thank you for accepting my humble poem? All of my life I have tried to get my work published. You have given me the confidence to quit my job at the toothpaste factory in order to pursue my heart's true desire. Thank you Mooj. My hero. My mentor. My guru. My brother!" (Poonam U.)
[Editor's Note: The ever humble Mooj enjoys nothing more than to help his Mooj Minions out, especially when they're family members.]
Taco Dogs: Instead of using a regulation hot dog bun when eating hot dogs use a taco shell instead. Renaldo tells me that he can't think of a food that's more authentically "Mexican American" than that. Yes, Renaldo de Sud, I believe you are correct!
Hey Mooj, one night I got called to the scene
of a car accident. When I got on scene I saw a Chinese guy sitting
in what was a double parked car. The rear end of his car was destroyed.
("Boooooo-lashed," is the technical term for anything that is f__ked up.) Anyway, "Chinese-guy" spoke mandarin and all he knows was "big
truck clash into my cal." At this point another Chinese girl approached
me on foot and said: "I was standing on the corner and this white Isuzu
pulled up to me. There were 3 girls in it. The driver threw
an egg at me and it hit me in the stomach. She started to laugh and
point her finger at me and then sped off. As she drove away, she
continued to look at me. She didn't see the double parked car and
she slammed into it." The Chinese girl then pointed at the Isuzu
that was parked down the street. The egg hit the girl in the stomach
but it didn't break on her because she was wearing a puffy jacket.
It bounced off of her and broke on the ground. Well, I went to go
to talk to the driver of the Isuzu..., her car was BOOOOOOOOOOOOO LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLaaaaaaaashed,"
Airbags went off, windows smashed, fenders pushed into tires, smoke, coolant...and
yes, almost two hundred eggs smashed to bits. Fortunately, after
the crash, her doors wouldn't open and she couldn't get out and run.
The title of my report was: "Traffic accident, 1 injured. & battery,
with an egg." All the batterer could ask after I gave her her tickets
was: "Will this affect my chances of getting into the police department?"
My response was, "You retard. Shut the f__k up. Sign the tickets
and press hard cuz there are four copies."