***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ************* ************* ************* ************* ** *** ** ** *** ** ** *** ** ** *** ** ********* ********* ********* ********* ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ***** ***** ***** ***** SBI-Submarine Pens Proudly Presents: ####========================================================#### THE PURPLE THUNDERBOLT OF SPODE VOL 2, 40 ####========================================================#### "One year and REPLIES TO: HailOtis@socpsy.sci.fau.edu still going strong" * PPPPPP U U RRRRRR PPPPPP SSSSSS *** P P U U R R P P S ***** P P U U R R P P S ******* PPPPPP U U RRRRRR PPPPPP SSSSS ********* P U U R R P S *********** P U U R RR P S ***** P UUUUU R R P SSSSSS ***** ***** ***** ***** * **** * *** *** *** **** * ***** ************************************ **************************************** ************************************ **** ***** ***** *** ***** *** * ***** * ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *********** ********* ******* ***** *** * WRITE TO: IGHF/955 Massachusetts Ave., Suite 209/Cambridge, Ma 02139 ####===================================================================#### INTRO ####===================================================================#### This time around I'm writing the intro before I put together purps. It's been a while so I thought I'd ramble on and mention some of the stuff I'm attempting to do at my end to make Purps better. We still are experiencing mailer problems. In order to fix that I'm going to start doing two things. First, Purps will be mailed out VERY SLOWLY. I take all the purps and put them on a queue. They get mailed out over a long while. This means that if someone you know got purps and you didn't, your's is probably still in the slow queue somewhere. Of course you could get this person to mail you a copy and then you could just dump the copy that comes to you door step. Second, I'm going to try to keep purps down to some reasonable size. It's summer time and I hope that means I'll have more time to work on purps thus making bigger and more purps. For example, with this issue I have about 3 times as much material for a smaller issue. So I'm saving the other stuff for next time. Essentially, the policy is 1000 lines of stuff and then what ever Otisian hand made submissions I have laying around. This issue should contain a couple or three stories and another installment of the glossary. Right now I have enough material for at least one more issue so another one should be out soon. I still need lots of submissions though. Purps is at its finest when loads of submissions come pouring in. Anyway this will all be good news to you. Purps hopefully is going to emerge from whatever slump it was in and come out once every two weeks like it is supposed it. I may make it come out even more often depending on how much inspiration and spare time I have. ####===================================================================#### SQUIRREL CONSPIRACY ####===================================================================#### From: cla04@seq1.keele.ac.uk (A.T. Fear) Subject: Re: squirrel conspiracy Date: 19 May 92 10:43:09 GMT > > I think the squirrels are up to something! You tell 'em Ken, I agree. Our campus is crawling with the little grey vermin, and that shifty way they look at you and then run away means there's got to be something going on. And where do they go in winter, don't believe all that hibernation nonsense they're plotting something alright. Is there something about about the NWO we don't know, like it's the squirrels that'll inherit the earth. Act safe I say, defend humanity, shoot a squirrel (or two) today. Andy Fear ####===================================================================#### THE "STATE" OF IDAHO: THE CASE FOR OPEN DEBATE ####===================================================================#### From: alu@cbnewsk.cb.att.com (Alan Lustiger) Subject: THE "STATE" OF IDAHO: THE CASE FOR OPEN DEBATE Date: 19 May 92 20:43:49 GMT THE "STATE" OF IDAHO: THE CASE FOR OPEN DEBATE If you would ask any schoolchild how many states there are in the United States, you will get the same answer: 50. Fifty states in the Union. It is simply an accepted "fact." If you would disagree with this supposed "fact," you would be branded insane or worse. However, mounting evidence shows that there are in fact only 49 states in the US, and the "state" of Idaho is a baseless myth. We have been trying to distribute and publish this information for over *two years*, but our scholarship has not been given any respect. We have been censored, vilified, ridiculed and spat upon by the "traditional" geographers and historians, but WE WILL NOT BE SILENCED! All we ask is that the existence of the state of Idaho be debated, as every other historical and geographic "fact" can be debated. Time after time, our opponents have refused to debate us on the FACTS. This alone should tell you something about the people who support the "existence" of this "43rd state." Please read the following evidence VERY CAREFULLY, and you will be astonished at the veracity of our cause. THE POPULATION MYTH Do you know anybody from Idaho? Do you know anybody *who knows anybody* from Idaho? According to the 1990 "census," there are over one million (1,000,000, or 1 x 10^6) people living in Idaho. But if there are so many Idahoers, where are they? Some people have come forward and claimed that they were born and raised in "Idaho." But *every single person* who made this claim have been shown to be frauds and charlatans. These "Idahoan wannabes" are invariably inconsistent with each other about the size (in square miles or square kilometers) of "Idaho," about various town and village names, and even about the names of "Idaho's mighty rivers." THE SIZE FARCE According to traditional geographic sources (created entirely by people who believe in the existence of Idaho, and probably the Tooth Fairy, also) the "State" of Idaho is more than twice the size of Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Connecticut and Massachusetts *combined.* Isn't it strange that a state with such vast land resources has so few people? And even of you look at a map (created by the Idaho-centric cartographers) the "State" of "Idaho" is dwarfed by its much larger neighbor, Montana. SATELLITE EVIDENCE Recently declassified weather satellite information, showing the entire continental United States, shows absolutely *no evidence* that there is any state where "Idaho" is supposedly located. Noted experts in the field of interpreting these pictures unanimously agree that, from outer space, it is impossible to determine the borders of this elusive "state." Yet meteorologists and cartographers routinely overlay these satellite pictures with the outline of states that would seem to indicate Idaho's existence. PHOTOGRAPHIC "EVIDENCE" Many people, skeptical of the clear evidence that Idaho does not and never did exist, point to photographs that they've seen in encyclopedias and postcards seeming to show parts of the state of Idaho. It is important to note that a photograph without a caption is often meaningless. A picture of people in boats surrounded by mountains could have been taken in Colorado or Nevada, but when the holy *caption* says that this is a picture of the "Salmon River" in "Idaho," gullible readers tend to swallow this information whole *without any further examination.* We have examined literally hundreds of these "photographs," and the ones that are not outright fakes are all clearly taken in other parts of the nation. ASK THE JAPANESE It is well known that Americans are woefully ignorant about geography, which is one reason why it is so easy to fake an entire state here. Not surprisingly, most of the effort to create the illusion of Idaho has been expended in the USA. But if you would ask a typical Japanese or French schoolchild about what he/she knows about Idaho, you will usually get a blank stare. People who are much better at geography than Americans have never heard of this "great state." THE POTATO MYTH Any given supermarket in the United States has sacks of potatoes clearly marked "Idaho Potatoes." People make the assumption, that when they are buying these potatoes, that they were *grown* in the "state" of "Idaho." Actually, "Idaho" is a type of potato, just like "McIntosh" is a type of apple. The FACT is that *many* states have potato crops, as well as foreign countries, and potatoes that say "Idaho" on them are no more from Idaho than Baltimore Orioles all come from Maryland. SO, WHAT'S THERE? Nothing. THERE IS NOTHING THERE. We have been so brainwashed by the traditional mapmaking community to think that if Idaho doesn't exist, then there must be some sort of vacuum there instead. This is nonsense. The very shapes and positions of the states, and indeed of every nation on the planet, is only known through "information" provided by cartographers. It is akin to asking "if Santa's house isn't at the North Pole, then what's there instead?" THE CARTOGRAPHER CONSPIRACY The *only evidence* that there is a state called Idaho comes from maps. Everybody has maps, in almanacs, in encyclopedias, and on the walls of every elementary school classroom in America. Astonishingly, *over 99%* of all maps are created by *cartographers!* If any clearly defined set of people would control any other important industry to that degree, everybody would be up in arms about the undue influence given to a meager few. However, for some reason, Cartographers are immune to such criticism. Any mention about the Cartographer influence over the mapmaking industry (and, as a natural extension, OUR VERY THOUGHTS!) is dismissed as "lunacy." As an indication of how insidious is this influence, just think: have you ever questioned a map? Maps, being graphical objects, require much less effort to assimilate into our very psyches. Behavioral studies show that people can much more readily understand maps than printed descriptions of geographical areas; in fact, the images on maps tend to go directly into the subconsciousness of Man (Homo Sapiens) without the critical thinking that accompanies reading. In a very real way, Cartographers are the *real* Thought Police. But they do not work in a vacuum. There are much too few of them to do their real damage unaided. Mapmakers have conspired with the editors of almanacs and encyclopedias to create a fantastic illusion of space where there is none, people where there aren't any, and ski resorts where none exist. ONLY THE BEGINNING This is only the tip of the iceberg. We have much more material on this conspiracy, and we have yet to uncover one iota of evidence that Idaho has ever existed. All of the so-called "evidence" is a mixture of falsifications, coercions, lies and exaggerations. The Cartographers would like nothing better than to silence us. If you do not see any more postings on this subject, then you have clear evidence that their Conspiracy of Silence on Idaho has succeeded, and that Freedom of Speech has been curtailed by the Cartographical Thought Police. What can you do? All we ask is that you be open minded. Of course, you cannot trust any of the second-hand evidence that you would find in libraries, maps (!), airline schedules or street signs. All you can trust is what we have written here. We are confident that once you evaluate all of the valid evidence, you will be angered by this conspiracy, and motivated to do something about the scum who perpetrated this hoax. ####===================================================================#### OTIS IN MIRRORSHADES ####===================================================================#### OTIS IN MIRRORSHADES by trudy rucker The thick smoke in the canteen created a dense, close atmosphere. The sweat on the bodies of violently dancing people and the vitriolic stench of watered down $12 tequila sunrises combined to form the smell of panic, the smell of desperation. The smell of the city. From across the sea of faces, I saw HER. Her hips were swaying to the throbbing beat, but her eyes were businesslike as they passed over the crowd. I saw the thin wire attached at the base of her skull, running down her neck and down the back of her jumpsuit. The suit appeared to have some sort of large multicolored amoebas with curlicued flagellum all over it. I was intrigued. Slowly I sidled over to her. I would have to think of some subtle way of drawing her out. I leaned over and gently whispered in her ear, "Hey, baby. What's your sign?" She looked at me inquisitively. I could tell she was interested. "Sign?" she asked. "Sign? What the hell are you talking about? I am Heether, Goddess of Paisley-and you're standing on my foot." I looked down to observe that I was, indeed, crushing the goddess' instep. Quickly, I stepped back. "Uh...pardon me,"I stumbled out. "'Scuze me. Heh. Sorry 'bout that." She waved away my apology. Her eyes were back on the crowd. "Looking for somebody?" I hypothesized aloud. "Yeah," she muttered. "Yeah, I am. You'd better beat it outta here quick, while you still can. This place is REALLY gonna be jumpin' soon." I set my jaw rigidly. I squinted my eyes defiantly. I flared my nostrils furiously. "Then I'd just as soon stay right here," I informed her. She glanced at me, then continued scanning the crowd. "Suit yourself," she shrugged. I drew myself up to my full height of 5'6". "See, in MY line of work, I deal with death on a daily basis. I've learned to laugh in the face of the Grim Reaper. I thumb my nose at the Angel of Death. I-" "What line of work are you in?" She was looking at me, now. At last, a connection. "Well, Heather, let's just say I-" "It's HEE-ther." "Huh?" "H-E-E-T-H-E-R" "Oh. OK, HEE-ther." "Some call me GOP, short for Goddess of Paisley. You may call me that if you wish. But please..no elephant jokes." "Wouldn't dream of it. Anyway, Heether...have you ever given any thought to your future?" She lowered her eyelids suspiciously but remained silent. I plunged on. "Because what I offer is peace of mind. Protection from the unforeseen. Tragic accidents occur all the time, taking lives...why should they also RUIN so many others? Have you ever thought about what would happen if, God forbid-" "Dammit!" she practically spat out, venomously. "I knew it! You're a-" "-an insurance salesman," I finished. "An Angel of Mercy offering comfort to people in their time of need. Why, the low monthly premiums are a small price to pay for the comfort that comes from knowing that-" It was all I had time to say before I was interrupted by a loud barrage of gunfire. Heether and I turned simultaneously to see a man cutting through the crowd of the canteen with his fire. He was of tall if not imposing stature with dark hair cut short and conservatively. What I noticed first about him was not his old fashioned yet extremely tasteful three piece suit. Nor was it the oily Vitalis like stuff he had combed into his hair until it glistened. The thing I noticed first was his unlit pipe clenched between gleaming white perfect teeth, forming the most glorious smile known to man. As he mowed down more and more screaming people, the smile stayed glued in place, seeming to mock the charred smoking corpses on the floor before him. Eventually he stopped, and the silence was deafening. He handed his weapon to a man on his left, presumably a flunky. The flunky wore a ten gallon hat and cowboy boots, and looked a bit like a Texan cattle ranger. The man began walking towards us, and it was then that I noticed that he had made a path of bodies between us and him. He wasn't picking his way carefully along, but rather striding purposefully upon the cadavers as if they weren't there. Finally he was standing next to us. Ignoring me, he stretched his hand out to Heether. This must have been the man she was looking for. Thanks to me, he now had the drop on her, instead. I knew if we both got out of this alive, there'd be hell to pay. "Why, hello there, Heether!" he exclaimed, polite as could be. "Spode help me," she muttered through clenched teeth, then stretched out her hand in return and shook his, her eyes brimming with hatred as she greeted him with, "Hello, BOB." TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT EXCITING INSTALLMENT OF "OTIS IN MIRRORSHADES" ####===================================================================#### GULPED TO THE KNEES ####===================================================================#### From: dw@unislc.uucp (Dan Wright) Subject: Gulped to the knees by a grouper Date: Tue, 19 May 1992 23:16:21 GMT Here's a deep sea diver legend. My friend Dave Browning worked as a diver in the Gulf of Mexico for a couple years and he says this story is told among the seasoned pros, though rarely attributed to a particular person or place. A diver was tightening bolts at the base of an oil rig. He noticed a huge grouper nearby, 10 or 11 feet long. Groupers are territorial, and the big fish was probably thinking the diver was trespassing on HIS oil rig. The grouper approached, and knowing which end was the "head", slurped the diver into its mouth by brute force, all the way down to the knees. The diver still had electronic communication with the surface. You can imagine what he said into his mike, "What the f*ck! Diver emergency! Get me out of here!" etc. The crew sent another diver. When the second diver got to the bottom all he could see were legs and air hoses sticking out of the monster's mouth. At first he couldn't imagine what to do. Then he spied the yard-long Crescent wrench which the first diver had been using to tighten bolts. He took up the big wrench, hauled off, and bopped the grouper on the nose. The beast startled, spit out the diver, and slowly backed off. As they watched, it seemed to them that it retreated in disgust and indignity rather than in fear. ####===================================================================#### WHO NEEDS POLITICS WHEN YOU CAN HAVE SCARY VAMPIRES ####===================================================================#### Date: Fri, 29 May 1992 02:46 -0500 From: MATTHEW GREENWOOD From: IN%"ACC00LTR@UNCCVM.BITNET" "Leonard T Roberts" 8-MAY-1992 15:58:19.85 Subj: Vampire News INTEREST IN VAMPIRE NEWS OUTWEIGH UPCOMING VOTE MANILA, Philippines (AP) - Filipinos will choose a new president and thousands of elected officials next week. But in the squalid barrios of the capital, the big news is there's a vampire on the loose. For weeks, the slums of Manila's Tondo district have been abuzz with rumors that a "manananggal", a supernatural creature similar to a vampire, has been terrorizing the area. According to Filipino folklore, a "manananggal" (pronounced Ma-na-NANG-gal) appears as a woman who can cut her body in two. The top half flies around at night searching for babies to devour. The top half must return before daybreak to rejoin the rest of the body and move around like regular folks. Occult activities, including faith healing, fortune-telling, and rampages by spiteful ghosts, enjoy a wide following in the Philippines and are often taken seriously. No one knows how the latest rumor got started, but it was picked up by most of the tabloids, which titillated readers with the demon's latest exploits. Soon, the manananggal had replaced the May 11 presidential election as the hottest topic of gossip in local public markets, where housewives and vendors trade stories. "It's scary," one housewife told a vendor in the crowded Divisoria market as she paid for fresh fish. "That's why I don't sleep alone at night." The largest circulation tabloid, People's Journal Tonight, even published what it said was an interview with Martina Santa Rosa, who purportedly battled the demon last week. "She attacked me. I was just lucky I was able to get free. I saw half of her body. It was naked. She had long, scraggly hair, long arms, nails, and sharp fangs. The newspaper reported that the woman's account was "corroborated" by her neighbors. ####===================================================================#### BEST OF THE WORST ####===================================================================#### Date: Fri, 29 May 1992 02:48 -0500 From: MATTHEW GREENWOOD From: Davis Farnsworth From Melinda.Cheung@Corp Thu May 21 12:10:37 1992 Date: Thu, 21 May 92 12:14:15 PDT Subject: best of the worst >From the San Jose Mercury News (5/20/92), reprinted without permission - BEST OF THE WORST RECOGNIZED IN ANNUAL BAD FICTION CONTEST by Alan Garthright Like a humongous fungus, oozing across the land, word of the winner of the 10th Annual Bulwer-Lytton (Bad) Fiction Contest slithered 'round the globe Tuesday. Sacramento's Laurel Fortuner triumphed as the best of the worst opening sentences: "As the newest Lady Turnpot descended into the kitchen wrapped only in her celery-green dressing gown, her creamy bosom rising and falling like a temperamental souffle', her tart mouth pursed in distaste, the sous-chef whispered to the scullery boy, `I don't know what to make of her.'" "I must've been hungry when I wrote that," said Fortuner, 35, an interior design student at Sacramento State University. Asked for other inspiration sources, she cited a teen-age obsession for bad Gothic novels and raising four young sons. "I read too much and I don't get enough sleep. It's warped my brain." San Jose State University sponsors the contest in honor of Edward Bulwer-Lytton, that Victoria peddler of ponderous prose who penned the infamous opening salvo: "It was a dark and stormy night..." Fortuner will be given "a cheap word processor," said Professor Scott Rice. Winning in the Purple Prose category was this entry by Cynthia Baran of Cambridge, Mass.: "The sun crept up into the crack of dawn like cheap underwear." Melinda 8^) ####===================================================================#### OFF WITH THEIR HEADS ####===================================================================#### Date: Sat, 30 May 92 20:03:37 MDT From: eiverson@NMSU.Edu Date: Sat, 30 May 92 19:31:45 MDT From: sabbott@NMSU.Edu From: mathew@mantis.co.uk (mathew) Date: 28 May 92 15:28:49 GMT Organization: Mantis Consultants, Cambridge. UK. Off with their heads! by Terry Jones [ Yes, *that* Terry Jones ] Guardian 1991-03-09 [ Reproduced without permission ] Since President Bush announced the dawn of the New World Order, there has been universal agreement that it has dawned, but a certain amount of uncertainty as to what, exactly, it is. Our job, here at the New World Order Advice Centre, is to help World Leaders, Heads of State, Presidents, Prime Ministers, Sheiks, Tin-Pot Dictators, Tyrants and Power-Crazed Usurpers of whatever nationality, to understand better what President Bush has in mind. The first principle of the New World Order is clear. In place of the old, discredited methods of "negotiation" (in which men and women suffer the torture of hour after hour of tedious discussion around an uncomfortable table), President Bush now offers us the exciting new concept of "Blowing People's Heads Off". The idea couldn't be simpler. Two teams called "armies" are lined up on either side and, under the direction of "generals" (so called because they generally keep out of harm's way), the two teams or "armies" try to see how many of each other they can kill. The side that succeeds in killing the most is deemed to be "morally superior" and to have shown that "force cannot succeed". The second important principle enshrined in the New World Order is each nation's inalienable right to kill as many innocent people as it thinks fit. This right is demonstrated by the fact that when Pol Pot killed one and a half million Cambodians in the Seventies, he went on to receive $85 million in aid from the United States in the Eighties. Similarly, when, in 1988, Saddam Hussein disposed of 5,000 inhabitants of the village of Halabja, with hydrogen cyanide and mustard gas, President Bush opposed Congress cutting off aid to him. Indeed, if the right to kill people had not been enshrined in the New World Order, how on earth could the US itself justify the fact that it killed some 7,000 civilians when it got rid of Noriega in Panama? We at the NWOAC would emphasize that the only alternative to President Bush's visionary initiative is sanctions, and as well all know SANCTIONS DO NOT WORK. What's more, they must be seen not to work! After all, if sanctions were seen to work there might be a temptation to use them instead of military action. Indeed, even American voters might start to question their spending 30 per cent of their national income on warfare. They might even begin to doubt the wisdom of spending fourteen times as much of their national budget on Blowing People's Heads Off as they do on educating their young. The plain truth is that sanctions are a real thread to the survival of military spending as we know it today. Back in 1986, the argument against sanctions was put fairly and squarely by Mrs Thatcher: "There is no case in history that I know of," she said, "where punitive, general economic sanctions have been effective to bring about internal change." Of course, she wasn't to know that by 1991 Apartheid would have apparently crumbled, and that, according to Pik Botha, this would be due to two factors: (1) that it was morally wrong and (2) that "we could no longer afford it". The other argument, which we at the New World Order Advice Centre have used to some effect, is the humanitarian one that sanctions create unemployment - as Mrs Thatcher continually had to remind those who wanted to intensify sanctions against South Africa no matter how many poor black men would be put out of work. Blowing People's Heads Off, on the other hand, actually creates work. This could not be better illustrated than by President Bush's surgical strike. First there is all the work created by the need to rebuild the shattered remains of Kuwait City, of Baghdad, Basra and so on (a lot of which will hopefully go to American companies). Then there is the massive amount of work involved in clearing the Gulf oil slick that Saddam promised to unleash if he were attacked, and duly did. There is even more work created in capping all the oil-well fires that were yet another result of the engagement. Then there will be all the work created for the relief organizations in helping people as far away as India, whose lives may be wrecked by the pollution from the oil fires of the failure of crops due to the clouds of smoke. And on top of all that there will be all the work available in burying the 6,000 civilians who, according to the Red Crescent, died in Baghdad from bombing - not to mention the 6,000 who died from disease after the collapse of the sewage and water systems. None of this work would have been created if President Bush had simply relied on sanctions. All this finally brings us to the real beauty of President Bush's New World Order. Any nation is now free to sell as much weaponry as it possibly can to potential aggressive dictators. Then, once these dictators have been built up into a Real Threat, the same nations can bomb the shit out of them, and destroy everything they sold them in the first place, all ready to start again... It is, in its way, a kind of perfection. One word of warning, however. It is essential not to rush in and save a country from the evil despot, whom you've helped to create, until you are sure that the country in question can pay for being saved. The principle is exactly the same as in road accidents in the States, where the first thing the ambulance men check is the victim's wallet or credit card - so they can see if he can afford medical treatment or not. So there you have it. At the New World Order Advice Centre we try to make clear the start choice between Sanctions and Blowing People's Heads Off. With the one you have the horror of year after year of argument and economic frustration - with only empty order books and job losses to show at the end of it. Whereas the other gives you a minor economic miracle and at what cost? A mere 145 allies dead and probably no more than one or two hundred thousand Iraqis. If you were a World Leader which would you choose? mathew [ "Can you say 'Serbia'? Can you say 'U-turn'?" ] ####===================================================================#### A RANT ####===================================================================#### I've also bought this book called _From Sphinx to Christ_ by Edouard Schure. It's essentially an "Occult History" I.E. the creation of the world up until the time of Christ. Take angles, Bible quotes, and the theory of how the universe was formed from clouds of gas and you've got it. I'm fascinated how this guy drew it all together. It was written around 1900 or so. They talk about such things as "Solar Back Rays" and "Ether". Oh yeah, they have the war of Heaven in there with Lucifer and his archangels. Pretty neat stuff. Hmm, they also tie in the tarot. No mention of Otis though. Well, Otis still has been popping up in my life. Take for example the movie "The Cocanuts"(I think). The main character, a hotel owner played by Groucho Marx, is named Otis P. Driftwood. Also I believe a while ago on the Andy Griffith show Otis the Drunk was trapped in a cell in the jail and some kid had to open it for him. He was the son of a lock smith and Andy made him do it to give him confidence. By the way, as a historical note, this child was also one of the various monster children in the old Star Trek. I think the one on the planet where all the adults had died. I suppose this ties into the Peter Pan syndrome. I just saw that movie and I was quite amused by how irresponsible Peter Pan really was. Or maybe he had brain damage or something because he'd keep forgetting to carry through with this or that task. I suppose he was a likable enough fellow considering he had pointed ears just like Mr. Spock. There must be some connection there. Mr Spock connected with Peter Pan you say? Well, both are someone that people want to be. Both are sort of alien entities. While Peter Pan has Captain Hook (a father figure of sorts since he has the same voice as Wendy's father.) and Mr Spock has Dr. McCoy. Mr. Spock has his sort of conscience or secret guilt of being partially human while Captain Hook has a more visible form of conscience in the form of the crocodile who announces his presence with a ticking noise. The eternal grinding and ticking of time. Still making another leap in logic Pinocchio had Jiminy Cricket. A small insect. In all three cases, the character has a guardian angel or sorts. Or perhaps a spirit guide. Granted they are not always the most positive forces, but they are still there as more or less constant companions. They all fulfill the function of guiding the character on their destiny. How does this fit into Otis you ask? Well, let's go back to Otis the drunk. He has his guardian angel. Actually he had two. Andy Griffith and his bottle. I suppose in this case he has a sort of Mutt and Jeff or Good Cop, Bad Cop, or Devil and Angel kind of spirit guide set up. With the bottle doing evil and Andy doing good. Still looking at Andy closer we see he is more like an archangel since his influence tended to be over all of Mayberry rather than just one person. In other words Andy was a more powerful being, than say the crocodile of Captain Hook or the bug of Pinocchio. Then again, we could compare Andy Griffith perhaps to the "Blue Faerie" in Pinocchio who was also a much more powerful being than Jiminy Cricket. On a side note let's examine the "Blue Faerie". Why exactly did the "Blue Faerie" help Gepetto and/or Pinocchio? Did Gepetto in some early time render some service unto the Faerie? Perhaps this is something Disney should look into for a later movie. Or perhaps Gepetto has to perform some task during the movie for the Faerie. Did he? The only thing he did was get caught in a whale and twaddle about until Pinocchio came along. What is so important about Gepetto? Perhaps he is a far more powerful figure than we are lead to believe, as in a similar sense is the supposed "swine herd" Odysseus meets when he returns to Syracuse. Occasionally stories get translated wrong after all. Perhaps Gepetto and his puppets make him a high priest. Perhaps even of Otis. Perhaps Pinocchio is yet another allegory of the four main deities of the Otisian Pantheon. Gepetto, Figaro, Cleo (the fish), and of course Pinocchio. Now back to Andy Griffith. We've yet to take into account the Don Knotts figure. If we examine this relationship we can see the classic Hero and side kick archetype. Andy and Don Knotts, Don Quixote and Poncho, The Lone Ranger and Tonto, Batman and Robin, Holmes and Watson, etc. We also need to take into account here the fact that it has been documented that Don Knotts was a one time consort of Eris. Perhaps Don Knotts is the hero and Andy is the side kick. ####===================================================================#### EVIL PRO-DRUG PROPAGANDA ####===================================================================#### Date: Sun, 25 Feb 90 11:36:31 MST From: From: spluge@athena.mit.edu (Nigel from Hell) Subject: Truth is stranger than I am Date: 25 Feb 90 04:33:26 GMT >From the New Musical Express, 17 February 1990 : Launching a campaign that has shocked the music industry, a top BBC disc jockey is claiming that pop groups like New Kids on the Block are spreading "evil pro-drug propaganda". Chris Morris - who has a show on both the BBC's Greater London Radio and BBC Radio Bristol - had his attention drawn to "backward masking" by a Manchester clergyman who played him a backwards recording of Queen's 'Another One Bites the Dust'. Chris claims that the words "smoke marijuana" were clearly audible. This led him to check out records on the current BBC playlist. The results, he says, are "horrifying". He now plays backwards recordings of chart hits on his show and asks the audience to make up their own minds as to whether or not the songs contain "drug messages". "The real danger is that these messages are being put into the heads of young kids," he claimed. "If you play certain segments of Madonna's 'Dear Jessie' backwards you can hear her say quite clearly 'Have another sniff, you'll like it'. This is clearly a cocaine reference." Morris claims that hidden messages - common practice amongst overtly Satanic heavy metal bands for over a decade - are now increasingly common in pop singles. "You know at the end of the chorus on New Kids on the Block's 'Hangin' Tough' where they go 'Ruff ruff ruff'? If you play that backwards it sounds like 'Hurry hurry hurry' - getting louder. And when they sing 'Hang Tuff' - spin that backwards and it sounds like 'I snigger' or possibly 'Ice Nigger'. This betrays the intelligence behind the hidden messages because it's a phonetic pun. 'Ice' is the new form of smokable meta-amphetamine, and 'nigger' is clearly either a gratuitous racist insult or a code word for dealer. Originally the 'Ice Nigger' was the black dealer who sold you the stuff on the block." 'Block' is also slang for the drug Beta-blockers. Morris also claims that the single contains the hidden message "Your days go whizzing by when you're on heroin". "Did you know," asks Morris, "that Madonna's name backwards is Annodam? And that Annodam is pig-Latin for The Year of Damnation?" Other acts that are dabbling with hidden messages, according to Morris, are Jason Donovan and Kylie Minogue. Morris's campaign has proved popular with listeners - many of whom have sent him records which he intends to smash up on the air. His refusal to play those records which he claims to be "tainted" has, however, brought him into conflict with the management at GLR. "It's limiting my field of choice as a DJ. I don't think I could ever play the Carpenters again for instance." On last Sunday's GLR show Morris claimed that he was visited in a dream by Karen Carpenter who warned him that the song 'On Top of the World' contains the backwards message "See that dog. Bite its head off. Ha ha ha." "The human brain is capable of picking up these messages," claims Morris. CBS press officer Graham Hill was outraged at the DJ's attack on New Kids on the Block. "He should keep his lying, straw-sucking yokel mouth shut!" he said. "New Kids on the Block were launched at an anti-drugs party and were solid supporters of Nancy Reagan's 'Just Say No' campaign. The group are totally opposed to drugs." Nigel from Hell I can't make up stuff this good ####===================================================================#### AN ANCIENT STORY ####===================================================================#### [The following text has been translated by Doc Simpson for your edification. I'd like to specially thank Doc Simpson for sending this along to us. As always his submissions are of the highest caliber and very enlightening. Here is an ancient Otisian story.] In the days of King Demopo[Demopo is said to be the grandson of Qasireu the Great and therefore probably flourished c. 11340 BCE.] a great plague fell upon the land. So the King sent his wisest ambassadors to the shrine of Nepha on the summit of Mount Dubedubedu. They implored the Goddess to give them a sign so that they might end the plague. And the Goddess sent four butterflies to spell out the name of the herb that could cure the people. But Spode, quickest of the Gods, sent a raven that gobbled up the butterflies and defecated upon the ambassadors.[See Ars Otiosa XXIII.6.1 were a pig sent by Spodos Kulikon defecates on the ambassadors of Choireokopros.] And when the soothsayers had interpreted this new sign they told King Demopo that the Goddess had decreed that a girl of noble birth must be sacrificed each year to the Housecleaning Gods. But in fact, this was a lie, for the soothsayers were confused by the oracle and had just made something up so they would not get in trouble. And Spode was greatly pleased. And King Demopo decreed that a lottery should be held amongst the girls of noble birth to decide which was to be killed. But he declared that his own daughters were exempt. And Duke Maseturuqate, who had a beautiful daughter, Ereketija, complained that this system was not fair and declared that his daughter would not participate unless the daughters of the king did too. And King Demopo was greatly angered by Duke Maseturuqate and caused the beautiful Ereketija to be sacrificed without the lottery. Duke Maseturuqate hid his anger and pretended resignation to the King's will. But in his heart, Duke Maseturuqate prayed to Rhotos to turn His Mighty Eye upon the King. And so Duke Maseturuqate let four years pass without showing his anger to the King. And on the fourth year he declared to the King that he would be having a dinner party at his estate on the plain of Leng. But the King sent his daughters ahead for he had pressing matters to attend to. On seeing the King's daughters unattended, Duke Maseturuqate chopped off their heads with an axe and poured their blood into an amphora that Otis had once stuffed Brow into when he got too rowdy at a bar-mitzvah. And when King Demopo arrived, Duke Maseturuqate invited him to sample some of his most recent vintage. The King drank the blood but when he learned what had happened his was mightily pissed off and had Duke Maseturuqate and the amphora tossed into the ocean. Because of this, the sea turned wine-dark for many years and this portion of ocean was named "Atlantic."[In the language of Ancient Atlantis the words for wine- jug (ojinoko) and the Atlantic Ocean (ujikuji) were pronounced similarly.] The Gods were so offended by Duke Maseturuqate's deed that they blasted the plain of Leng so that no life grew there for four thousand years. But Spode took the heads of the daughters of Demopo and invented the sport of bowling. And it came to pass that Arani thirsted after the great kingdom of Rhotos and spake "I thirst after the great kingdom of my brother, Rhotos, and do greatly desire to rule that dark and cold land." And so Arani took leave of the other gods and journeyed below the surface of the earth. At the outer gate of the Kingdom of Rhotos, Arani was approached by Gurzakizukigak who appeared unto Arani as a very large blue earthworm, covered in eyes, and spake unto Arani thusly, "O Arani! Woe to thee for thy pride! To pass this gate thou must surrender thine outer garment unto me." And Arani spake, "Yea, though I am loath to part with it, I will give mine outer garment unto thee." At the second gate of the Kingdom of Rhotos, Arani was approached by Liz who appeared unto Arani as a very large purple frog with no eyes and spake unto Arani thusly, "O Arani! Woe to thee for thy pride! To pass this gate thou must surrender thine crown and sandals unto me." And Arani spake, "Yea, though I am loath to part with them, I will give mine crown and sandals unto thee." At the third gate of the Kingdom of Rhotos, Arani was approached by Paddiwak who appeared unto Arani as a silver fish with six legs and spake unto Arani thusly, "O Arani! Woe to thee for thy pride! To pass this gate thou must surrender thine rings and jewelry unto me." And Arani spake, "Yea, though I am loath to part with them, I will give mine rings and jewelry unto thee." At the inner gate of the Kingdom of Rhotos, Arani was approached by Hhuhuhuhhohi who appeared unto Arani as a glowing red bat with three eyes and four noses and spake unto Arani thusly, "O Arani! Woe to thee for thy pride! To pass this gate thou must surrender thine frilly undergarments unto me." And Arani spake, "Yea, though I am loath to part with them, I will give mine frilly undergarments unto thee." ####===================================================================#### THE BEAK TEXT ####===================================================================#### From: pb1p+@andrew.cmu.edu (Peter Glen Berger) Subjec: BEAK <-> SLACK Date: 2 Sep 89 17:25:30 GMT BEAK Book 1 CHAPTER 1 In the sunshine of time, mankind says to refresh the clouds in the banks and care child in hand using thine eyes and beak for dirt which thine lips for water which may run and tumble in the fields of life and sky to thou papyrus sirens to keep in thine own grasp. All boundaries in my life are not affected or moved. For when history is performed or foretold, flamboyant artisans in villages, known mainly as fiber are transformed and strained from material, objects which are more complicated and bright that a complete story: rolling, tumbling, and irrational. Though goals are not possible and have control, cloth compressed and folded are present. This can be only a symbol for things like this as stated in wisps of clouds. As the darkened skies ward a group of futuristic youths into the sheltered vents of yesterday. As life and time moves on: blinded sands, too thoroughly engulfed and completed with rains where holders of dark are found, known as space and clouds. Of animals and drink is the full history, the pages in mind which scramble and come as though fidelity is the prophet in his eyes. Hard to think is darkness as the screen covers the projected soundbox, and because metal specks are nothing but attracted in a large complement of weeks do the leaflets wind up into the spools of his property. Deleted is the day as it ends, or it is real. As sophisticated as it can be, flushed virtues in the lands of media are quiet and impatient. Dried can be mud, from the spokes to the dish container which holds light and immediate thoughts. The section of flesh draws one color and the philosophy of it radiates a unit of sound. CHAPTER 2 A CANISTER OF EVERYTHING The prospect is a base of wire, formed, and it is engraved in thin, light cloths burning on the stake of life. For it is the sky. For it is a stick. Unoccupied and uneducated are the leaves in the pond, for they nothing but a canister of everything and that makes it all clear to the eye. CHAPTER 3 LOOK THROUGH A TREE "I can't find it but when," he never did say as he locked a stump from a beach onto the bank. "It could only be it," he could have whispered, "for sands of mankind are unto the stream which refreshed child to man with grace which animal eyes for ciphering, unto you with fine days." Isn't it curious that dust can encounter movements in life. Isn't it curious that the child was never involved or never told of the virtues in a planet. Isn't it curious that varying demands in subordinate cultures set themselves upon sound which flexes from the pond in a year, which can only be found in the breast of man. The work is fun, but in sacred days of the tree do we separate the desolate sky from the boundaries of ink. This compatible statement has only one real statement, and that is the spot. Counting the fertile sands in nonrkable forests is like a floating bell in that tree, translated and disposed of. These figures are foretold in nonexistent papyrus sirens, a material grouping in the annals of the column. To find these programmed outputs in beginning, he must not begin an operation, but rather screen out the complex matter is soil. Mystery it is, but finding nothing in place where it isn't also. CHAPTER 4 DUST INTO RELIGION With sands of a bright day, the brook with banks shall refresh in its own eyes and that fields of time and please shall touch the rolling clouds unto man to child in his very own grasp, which is a part of it too. Questionable variables in our space are minutes printouts of the hand. It can be said hat individual complements in time cut off the end of the path. That is not included, like dust into religion and numerical terms found in the findings. CHAPTER 5 SOPHLICH IS NINE So do we meet the kind. So we can't. CHAPTER 6 JOINING A MIDDLE The topic recorded in the dark casket of truth is not only predictable, but convincible in every way. The person expressed the afterthought but cannot fulfill the length of time given to him as gratitude confides with thought and foretells questions of the ground, the strange yet fortunate virtues peeled and wasted away in his grasp, a story of the encounters, which don't exist anyway. With nothing submerged and nothing vaporizing, the thoughts of his shelter seem to come at hand. The time of marriage or family strokes in whips by the rolling clouds of virtues that shall be refreshed in ways that grass only can foretell. Something in the key of this has no steadiness, which it never was anyway. Never is proportions. Same as to the light on the stand. Not to be is the only answer. CHAPTER 7 THE PROPELLED BACKUP Is there a simple barrier on covered creeks of the man? Continuing structures in forgotten beats are nothing of the sort, just like smoke emerging in forms of washed writing of yesterday. Child is into the man as all saturated beings in earth are. What is strange is not the question but so is every sound and hope. Torn is now beak but nothing exists. Book 3 CHAPTER 1 THE HYPHEN As I circumvent the substance of time I remember the thrill of the weeping clouds in the crazed impressions of a cave. In these disputable talents of the child, a man can foretell creatures in the abiding employment often mentioned in three of the malevolent phrases. Curious enough, each white leg of the rolling book does not master the papyrus sirens. Instead, it creates an intensified chore, a mass only which can be strained from the rocks in life. Not only can man be into the child, he can find the path in foggy eternity. If the tight greens can't blow through the brook, everybody will be afraid of the mean, yet amusing catastrophes in wooden floor found only in the book of a back yard of an also preserving shield, known as the cup. Since most were terrified, the aromatic minutes in the lawn were achieved, as they are today. "So is it as of tomorrow," the hyphen will have said, "Funny, yet fortunate," he could have added. I didn't. CHAPTER 2 KING IN THE CLOTH "Wait," I said. "In the progressive sand boxes of the future, can the paint in his life rewrite the scriptures more than once? The numbness of this fact can be placed almost entirely in the wood. Though worked and redone several times the original story is nowhere but in the chairs of tomorrow. `Am I binded?' he asked himself. If every child is, can he be conditioned from it? A rubber or plastic tunnel will be the dangerous heights of a lesson, but is it day in the sound of metal or is it corroding in general that leaves us yesterday in the jar surrounded with the sky holding our enemy?" CHAPTER 3 THE CRATE WITH I Two more days is the bird, a subsiding picture in the fortress of the sirens. Because of the cage, the wool is not possible or likely to hit tis part of the path. But as the time light flies past the minute hand, so do the long strands for they are what actually cause the mistakes. If the heed is not told within child when born is torn, I will never maybe be told. His grace for the rope lingers on. The discolored page soaked on the floor is of particular if the considered key is churned out of the cloth. So is the crate. Why should man fright for food and drink in a field of dark in sky? Time can queen fun unto bread which refreshed the sands in beaches, and streams expert smoke by the downfall of child and man for miles in years is plagued in silence for infinite and on in thine own eyes and fists. For while the mirror prepares the mind in sky, the roof conceives initial patterns from the river, for when continued structure forms, the aggravated one dissolves, leaving chambers found where the leaves, positioned with bulk, stay in hearing when man is onto chid, because an absolute standing will remain after the achievement of the animal. CHAPTER 4 FOLLOWING IN DISC To foretell is the part of strain, for it is the thought of mankind which brings the ship from water. It is that, is it, that it is it, which tells which that it tells. CHAPTER 5 THE HAIR IN SAND Only the box is considered clear for the ground flows. It is the main holder in the cause and every siren is the box though none can be seem, nothing will tell in the legend except for the grass, which frames the bank and holds insight of the bearable man. So holds the child, for illusions are kept, which makes that easy. CHAPTER 6 SILENT FENCE "Strangely enough is the color of trees," he is whispering as the figures in the glass call the envious ink, fortresses scattering the sea. "She is two," it will say yesterday. "And I am not." it already did. These creatures smash water as does the yellow moss in years. Humorous that beak nine; foretold two hairs, expressing the mirror, which could not be as do the lungs in senile but furious greetings. Can it be it isn't the question, which is very material anyway, but nature flying can spread is the question, even when the statement is fictional and stationary. True enough, can it be, that it is true. "I said yes yesterday," the photograph displayed in a yell. Just when enlarged, is the notion of hate the prophet though. So is the finding of beak. CHAPTER 7 A PEDAL EAR The form of beak is it, but why can't it be? Found, yes, but not solid is the symbol. A statue is the possible time, place, and motivation if it is so. Altered is a paper, burnt and terrified, as is collar (The coated liars in the blue winds, imagined by man), inlaid with soil, only the covered ind in its heart, which a variable of the rock, a strange formulation for smoke, is complete in every way. Unfortunately it is, but what is? If and when thrice the reasons are performed over the age of man can we review the cause, which may seem imaginary but has a solid base, just like earth in yesterday; to be remembered as long as the papyrus sirens are into the child. Is that beak of sustained columns, or of complete cloth? It is both. So is beak. ####===================================================================#### QUESTIONS ABOUT SPODE ####===================================================================#### Date: Thu, 4 Jun 1992 08:48 EST From: GARBETT@utkvx.utk.edu Subject: SPODE Dear Otis, I have an interesting question for the great almighty Otis of the fuzzy elevators. I recently got a new dog and in an inebriated state named him Spode. Since then the dog quit sleeping and runs in circles biting his tail. When I go to bed he is waiting at the door. When I wake up he is still waiting at the door. He also developed the habit of rolling in excrement at every chance. Curious, I looked up Spode in the Dictionary, Spode is a china pattern, but more interestingly Spodium is dried excrement. How does all this relate? Where is the connection? What should I do with the dog??? confused HAIL OTIS!!!! [It sounds to me oh seeker of wisdom as you have misnamed your dog. You have essentially cursed this canine with a name which is far above it's lowly station. Its soul knows this and so causes the outside organic dog body to rebel. To fix this problem I suggest you rename your dog to a name more suitable of its station. Of course it's not so simple as renaming the dog. You'll need to perform a ceremony to do it right, or the dogs name will never stick. There are several methods to make the dogs new names stick. I'll give you one, and you can write to the IGHF for others. What you'll need is a large wash tub big enough to submerge your dog in, a compass, enough fruit salad to fill the tub, white clothes, four candles, and straight razor. First use the compass to determine four cardinal points. At each point place a candle. Be sure to light the candle at BOTH ends. You'll probably need to make stands out of something. I suggest you try your hand a soap carving. Next use the compass to test the washtub. If the tub is magnetic you'll need to get a new tub. You need a metal tub however so no cheating with a california redwood hottub or something of that nature. Now that you've got the area set up. Put on those white clothes. These will be your ceremonial robes. If you wish, you may write in crayon on the robes any official Otisian sayings. If you wish, you may also first send your white clothes to the address listed at the top of Purps for a blessing. Blessed clothes are much more powerful than the nonblessed kind. You may need all the power you can get with the symptoms your dog is going through. Now take your dog and walk it 4 times around the circle made by the candles with the tub placed in the middle. It is VERY important at this time NOT to put any of the fruit salad in the tub yet or the dog may get the idea that something is up and run away. Now lead your dog to the tub. You should begin the consecration chant you were taught in your introductory lessons of Otisian initiate. (If you haven't gotten those you'll have to get them from the IGHF.) Your dog should become very calm and docile and may even smile. It is a good sign if it tries to pee on your leg. Let it. It will consecrate the robes more and possible save the fruit salad from contamination. Now that you have calmed your dog. Begin the second convocation chant. You dog should go into a trance and you should be able to do with it what ever you want. Now place the dog in the tub. Take the straight razor and carefully all the dogs fire off covering it's backbone. Try to make the shaved line as neat as possible. After all divine forces will be making a visit to you and they appreciate such things. Also ragged edges along the shave may snake any astral energy that will go shooting into the dogs spine. If this happens could end up with something worse than what your dog is experiencing now. Finally begin the naming chant. Use the catch all chant provided in the auxiliary mystical wisdom booklet. Substitute in the word dog where necessary and the dogs new name where necessary. Since this is a chant for a dog. Chant to the tune of "How much is that doggie in the window." Be sure to concentrate on what you are doing, or you will have to do the whole thing all over again. If you are doing things right you'll know. You'll have some sort of divine visitation. Don't be surprised if it's in the form of an angry neighbor or a law enforcement officer. Divine forces in these modern times can be very whimsical. After you have done the chant, run around the tub anticlock wise four times then fill it to the rim with fruit salad. If the dog floats, push it under. The dog must be totally immersed. Then pull the dog out and give it a hug. That's the end of the ceremony. Be sure to clean up the mess. Also keep in mind throughout the ceremony the idea is to name the dog, not to get rid of it. So no harm should come to it. The fruit salad should be divided up among all those who attended the ceremony and eaten. If any of the divine appearances want any be sure to give them as much as they want. Above all the fruit salad must be eaten or disposed of in a similar manner. If, after the ceremony your dog continues to experience the symptoms you mentioned chances are it didn't work. You may wish to repeat the ceremony several more times. If this still doesn't work, you'll have to contact the Pope. As for your question about Spodium. That word was originally invented by the enemies of Spode to describe what the missionaries of Spode were preaching. They actually date of it's invention is shrouded in mystery but goes at least as far back a pre-Hellenic times.] ####===================================================================#### EXPLODING CACTUS ####===================================================================#### From: AXM22%PSUVM.BITNET@VM1.NoDak.EDU Subject: Re: Scorpions and Cactus? Or how about this version: "The colossal cactus Maxine Wood bought for her new home turned into a Stephen King-size nightmare. Just days after it was planted in the atrium of her $400,000 house outside San Bernadino, California, the trunk of the 15-foot monster began heaving and slowly moving from side to side. And, as the 46- year-old divorcee watched in horror, it EXPLODED . . . showering out thousands of squirming TARATULAS." It turns out that Maxine noticed the moving plant before it was too late, called 911, and told the police dispatcher the problem. The dispatcher warned her to get out of the house right away. An accompanying photograph shows someone who is supposedly Maxine kneeling in front of a cactus. Caption: "Maxine feels safer sticking to plastic plants." Source: "Tarantula Horror as Cactus Explodes!" _National Examiner_, April 14, 1922, p. 5. (Those unacquainted with this publication may want to know that it's one of the weekly tabloids commonly found near the check-out line in supermarkets here in the U.S.) Any other versions out there? Alan Mays Penn State Harrisburg ####===================================================================#### PRESIDENTIAL ANAGRAMS ####===================================================================#### Date: Tue, 30 Jun 92 12:05:05 MDT From: eiverson@NMSU.Edu Date: Tue, 30 Jun 92 13:31:22 -0400 From: rdonahue@ursa-major.spdcc.com (Bob Donahue) Subject: onefor you From: monty@proponent.com (Monty Solomon) Subject: the environmental president? Keywords: topical, smirk Date: 26 Jun 92 08:30:03 GMT >From my friend, Mr. Machine Tool, here are his latest anagrams: environmental president panders to lenient vermin [best of the bunch] pander to silent, riven men reminder: planet isn't oven Mr. Nineties: don't ever plan miser: "Don't intervene; plan" I pretend: lament environs ponder: Neil or investment? [sell your own son?] even lend Nips "Terminator" I spend: alert environment! Mr. Pretend-intensive-loan development: inner strain planet interred: venom, sin intend prior enslavement spend, enliven terminator prevention: men slander it I slander prominent event [Rio?] preserve land... in ointment the environmental president never planned to interest him please vomit dinner, then rent [deal making, Japan-style?] Rio: investment planned there native rodent replenishment darn the simpleton, intervene [Competitiveness Council?] ponder "earth investment" line intention: halt, mend, preserve developer sentiment ran thin drier planet: hone investment [profit from desertification] rent planet; horsemen invited [four of them, perhaps?] dental hint: see Mr. Prevention North Vietnam led in pretense entertainment: proven shield [bread and circuses?] transient Rhine development don't even plan his retirement Yrs for a "new word order" ####===================================================================#### MORE ENTRIES IN THE OFFICIAL OTISIAN GLOSSARY ####===================================================================#### Ancient Illuminated Rosicrucian Anti-Masonic Elder Knights of OTIS: one of the most dangerous and frightening of all of the Secret Societies who are really running the world today. The Elder Knights now have agents in virtually every major government on Earth, and have recently become the real power behind the Gnomes of Zurich. "And a large Orange Drink": A phrased used in a similar way to "Amen." AntiChrist: A being of immense power who will one day rise up and attempt to take over the Earth for its unearthly pleasures. The only thing that stands in its way is Elvis. Aliens: A general group of non-human, non-terrestrial entities who have played both major and minor roles in the history of Otis. Throughout the ages, various government agencies have attempted to intercept them before they contacted one Pope or another. [Refer to the Roswell incident for more detail.] Bill: An important and symbolic character in Banquet of the Gods. Bonanza: A T.V. program space aliens use to learn English with. Bowling: According to the Ancient Sumerian balag lamentations (see Rhienhart) Otis was a fantastic bowler. Brown Bucket: An Otisian heresy or off shoot, or perhaps something all together new. They hold the Brown Bucket sacred and refuse to discuss that which was contained therein when they found it. The bucket is also Fez shaped. [Refer to the Brown Bucket Papers for more detail.] Cicciolina: Otisian Patron Saint of bringing good clean fun to politics. Clem: A maverick Otisian Missionary. Also an intelligence agent. Confused: Something the typical Otisian usually is. Diller, Phyllis: A suspected Knight of Otis. Doc Savage: A crime fighter who has mysterious ties to Otis. Some believe his very existence in every shape and form carries the word of Otis. Dogma: It cannot be a whole without its Catma. That which is shrouded in secrecy by the Otisian Elders. That which is whispered across the desert sands by the Knights of Otis. That which requires the sending of money to discover. Eight: A sacred number of Otis (2 X 4). ELF: Elvis Lives Forever. The motto of the Society of the Love Children of Elvis who carry his dna. Their aim in life is to continue his spawn forever. Frop: An unspeakably toothsome herb of the Tibetan mountains. Gentle Persuasion: A book by OTISian Preacher Tim Howland. Gem Stone File: The document containing the real truth about the JFK assassination. Remarkably, to this day all references to Otis have been omitted. Geoffe, Pope: See Jeffe, Pope. Gilgamesh: One of Otis' drinking buddies from the old days. Goofy: Otisian symbol of economics. GRA: Gastronomic Road Accidents. Every year over 15,000 people are involved in Gastronomic Road Accidents (GRA's), many seriously damaging their vehicles or persons. Groundhog Love Hodgepodge Extravaganza: A radio show of Otis that preached dogma to the masses and saved many individuals. Haystack Monument: Site of Pope Jeoffe 1 of the Infinite Spellings and Preacher Tim of the House of Blue Light's first vision. HEETHER'S HERNIA: An Otisian Oath. Ho-ho: An ancient Otisian greeting for times of crisis and sorrow. This was at one time a secret until leaked to the general world by the traitor Nik who to this day must suffer the "Curse of the Red Suit" because of his crime. House of Blue Light: A mysterious structure of no real defined purpose. Sacred to Otis as Mecca is to Islam. Mentioned in a novel by Mick Farren. House of Holiday Foods: A temple of Otis where one must know certain mysteries to enter. Spode is said to have been part of this House. Isis: A model goddess who through her divine powers ended up having her own Saturday morning t.v. show. John: God/dess of mediocrity John, Rev.: Otisian Luminary and presidential candidate. Official Keeper of Humpy the Stumpy Bear. Spoken of in the Ancient Otisian Prophesies. Kalighat: Temple in Calcutta. Otis manifestations have been seen here during the Durga Puja. Manifestations always wear a big white hat and an apron. In one hand Otis sometimes hold a long metal scepter with a wooden handle at one end and a large metal plate connected to the other. Kenyon College: Location of the Gates of Hell. Property of Disney. A land similar to Sumeria. Otis flourishes here. Knots, Don: One time consort of Eris Esoteric. Lingam: Ancient religious symbol seldom used in modern times. Its keepers supposedly showed it to the founders of America. Madonna: A symbol that appears in visions. Marmota Monax: An important church elder. Nan Shan Mountains: Site of an ancient Hun burial. Among the plunder that was buried here were a set of clay tablets containing a number of prophecies by Onomacritus the Seer which were made just before his execution by Darius of Persia. These prophecies are written in a cipher only the Ancient Knights of Otis can understand. Net, The: The newest realm of Otis' influence. The trail was blazed into it by Pope Jeffe who will go down in history for it. POPE'S B-DAY PARTY: The most important celebration of the OTISian year. Usually a good opportunity to witness an assassination attempt on the Pope. Robb, Reverend: Keeper of the Lemur Spirit Screaming Prophets of Otis Triumphant: A sect of Otis who shun the House of Holiday Foods. Spontaneous Human Combustion: One of the Otisian mysteries or sacraments. Subliminal neckties: Looks just like an ordinary tie until you put it under the magnifying glass and see the subliminal messages imbedded in the weave. You'll be subliminally testifying for Otis every time you walk up to a heathen. Sumeria: Ancient land where the worship of Otis flourished. Some consider this time the golden days of Otis. Ted: God of Normalcy "Utinam Brow rosum gardum proprium tuum visitant": May Brow appear and stay in your rose garden! "Utinam OTISiani spatium proprium tuum invadant": May OTIS invade your personal space! WALT DISNEY: A mysterious figure of Otisian legend. He is not dead at all as the media would have the world know. Supposedly at one time he tried to buy Kenyon as well. In fact, Kenyon may be run by Walt Disney now. Yak Dung: A substance which is smoked in pipes. Is said to bring clear thinking. Zipper: A fastening device invented by Otis to help hold Papal Robes together. ####===================================================================#### TRAFFIC TICKETS ####===================================================================#### Date: Sun, 5 Jul 92 14:35:10 MDT From: eiverson@NMSU.Edu From: kbrunell@NMSU.Edu Date: Mon, 1 Jun 92 13:39:21 MDT From: henke%tonedeaf.lanl.gov (Douglas Henke) Subject: my traffic ticket Apologies in advance for any typing errors, as I am so weak (with illness or perhaps laughter) that my hands tend to shake. Wishing to spare you the sort of dreary deathbed scenes of which you of course have no doubt I am capable, I will proceed to the point forthwith: I just got my phone call returned by the magistrate court. (Keep in mind that "magistrate" has its root in words such as "majesty," and keep your sense of irony fully in hand. This will become important later on.) Lengthy aside: My mother dealt with the same court (and indeed, the same judge -- or, properly, magistrate) some weeks ago regarding an unrelated matter. She went in person, and spoke to the court clerk. The clerk said she could not answer her question, but that the magistrate could. My mom, naturally enough, asked if the magistrate were busy at the moment. The clerk, after a moment's uncomfortable silence, allowed as to how the magistrate likely was not. Upon further inquiry, it was revealed that this same clerk was cast in a double role as clerk and justice of the peace. (Does one address her as The Honorable Nobody Q. Important, or "Hey, you!" ? The means of resolving this social crisis will become clear in a moment.) My mom, still in full command of her dignified and somber bearing, repeated the initial question. The clerk stated that she would be happy to answer in her second role, but that she needed to get something from her office first. (Initially, this "something" was assumed to be court records of some sort.) In fact, "something" turned out to be the judicial robe, which (apparently) must be worn at all times by someone functioning in the role of magistrate, but never by a mere court clerk. Propriety, after all, must be maintained. Hilarity, though inevitable, was delayed until mommy dearest had left the building, doubtless saving heavy fines for contempt of court. Back to the original story: My call was returned by an individual who introduced herself as the court clerk. I (wishing to spare delicate feelings, especially of those in authority) pretended ignorance of the full implications of this particular instance of that title. I explained who I was, and what my business with the court involved. Further, I asked whether I might be able to save the court's valuable time by entering a "guilty" plea (bear in mind, this is a $10.00 fine) by telephone, and mailing remittance to the court office. The clerk listened patiently, then said that I needed to speak to the judge. I was put on hold for several tens of seconds (about, by coincidence, the amount of time needed to don a robe), and then answered by the magistrate herself, to whom I explained the problem a second time (using, verbatim, the wording I had used initially). My request was graciously granted. I am still liable for $16.00 in court costs, however. Presumably this is used primarily to pay for frequent pressing and starching of the judicial uniform. Yr. most humble & obt. svt., DGH ####===================================================================#### THEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHE ####===================================================================#### --SUBINK 1992