Net: All rise, this…

Net: All rise, this court is now in session.
In the matter of Minister of Concurrence vs. The Kingdom of All That is Decent and Holy, the people of Networkia have spoken.
Before we open the sealed envelope — now in the hands of a burly, somewhat churlish representative from a nearby back-alley sports book — let us say that your Net did not take this matter lightly.
We spent the better part of the last 24 hours in seclusion, surrounded only by close personal friends and trusted advisers. We pored over the numbers, broke down the demographics and watched several episodes of “All in the Family.” Indeed, it was a trying time.
But at last the Minister‘s time has come to face the jury of One and learn of his fate in the court of public opinion.
May we have the envelope, please?
In the above-entitled action, the oft-lucid but only occasionally reasonable people of Networkia voted 13-7 against clemency for said Minister.
Order in the court! Order in the court! One more peep and we’ll clear this courtroom!
Alrighty then.
Although the people have spoken, Net, our heart heavy, must set aside this verdict. The MOC shall be allowed to re-enter the hallowed gates of Networkia with one caveat: He must be open to disagreement, if only on a limited basis.
Yes, it’s good to have a yes-person at one’s beck and call. But ’tis far better to have a trusty sidekick whose reason for existence goes beyond mindless subscription to the thoughts and feelings of his rightful and bona fide superior.
Welcome back, Min‘. Don’t let it go to your head.
From La Familia: Trouble is abrew. La Familia is quite disturbed at the recent condition of the section of the paper known as “Network.” We are afraid that the poor individual who runs this organization has gone astray. The Network in its glorious prime has power. Net: We’re merely feedin’ off the vibes of our kingdom, dig? Tunin’ in the groovy frequencies and turnin’ off the bad, dig? Ain’t nothin’ but a groove thang, dig? On any given day the Network could have the frat boys and gutter punks at fisticuffs, athletes and nerds at each others throats, tree-huggers threatening to refuse soap and water for another year, anarchists hunting for pyrotechnic Web sites, Abercrombiers stabbing J. Crewers, role-players casting spells on anyone who had been to first base, West end squirrels performing hits on East end squirrels, and butch lesbians promising to pummel everyone.
But now, the Network has become a little chat site for Network and his five friends. Net: Net has not friends; Net has only partners in the search for truth, colleagues united against oppression, and Rollerdiva — she’s useful for distracting the butch lesbians with her come-hither gaze and scent eerily reminiscent of Detroit in mid-August. If this MOC was floating under the Washington Avenue Bridge, Net: He might well be. We have yet to hear from him since last week. nobody would be the worse for it, and all your readership is quite tired of supposed “divas” who we know for a fact aren’t cute, Net: Who said anything about cute? If we wanted cute, we’d solicit letters from toothless six-year-olds and spend their time at Weisman social events hitting on freshman boys and drunken stragglers. When Network is finished with its little coffee chat, we would be happy if it would resume with the people’s voice. Net: In all seriousness, Net welcomes any and all submissions. The only rule is have a take and do not suck. Late.
From Whipmebaby: I am just your average Joe. Net: Well, hello, Joe. Nice weather, eh? I, one of the meek Net: And ye shall inherit the Net. Or something like that. readers of this fine establishment, would usually never write in, never be so bold as to mock the institution. But the time has come.
What could have raised me to this level of agitation? Net: A butch lesbian pummeled your pet kitty all the way to the happy scrappy scratching post in the sky? That might do it. It is that physician down on the basement of this same page. His name proclaims his expertise on love, but I think it is time to sue for malpractice.
When I came here as a freshman, he had all the answers. How could you forget the two-week series on cunnilingus and fellatio? Net: Sounds like a Vegas variety act. Actually, it probably is. Or anal sex? His writings were tight. Net: No pun intended, we assume. But now what has become of it? All you sorry clowns out there writing in, stop it. Here, let me summarize the last month for y’all:
Dear Dr. Date,
“Hi, I’m pathetic, with normal problems that have incredibly obvious solutions. What should I do?”
— Ugly and Stupid
And then Dr. Date would reply:
“You’re not pathetic. Get out there and get ’em, slugger.”
I’m not saying there is no hope. When the column has such promise, we can’t give up that easily. Bring in the kinky, the dirty and the wet. We’re all adults here. Net: We couldn’t agree more. Dr. Date used to have us foaming midcolumn; now we’re merely moist. Ho-hum.
Net: And who says we don’t need an insider’s guide to professors? If this wouldn’t have you scrambling to click on the drop button, nothing would.
From Panthro: If you will, my fellow Networkians, etc., I would like to inform those of you whom are not enrolled in Anth 1001, etc., Professor Guy Gibbon, etc., Net: All apologies, Guy, but you, it seems, might have, perhaps, brought this on yourself, in a manner of speaking, so to speak is one of those guys, etc., that just has a way with words, if you will. He is so profound and interesting, if you will, while speaking to a 400-plus seat class, etc., that it is a joy just to attend his class to hear him speak, if you will. Those of you whom are free Tuesdays and Thursdays from 11 a.m. to 12:15 p.m., etc., should stop by, enjoy the comfortable seats of the Willey, etc., read the Daily, of course, if you will, and witness a master linguist at work. Net: Here’s a tip: Every time The Guy says, “If you will,” raise your hand. When he calls on you, simply state, “I will.” That’ll keep The Guy on his toes.