From Vther Pendragon: Networkia, it is I hailing to thee from my humble and war-torn land of Loegria, and it saddens me that I must send correspondence again so soon, Net: No big whup. Come on in. Like some coffee, maybe some Danish? for it is only on disturbing and gripeworthy occasions that I bestow upon you a most noble and worthy annoyance. Net: Kinda like menstruation … I find that the most ignoble and dishonourable Eliot Lippe (I must apologise for the redundance of the l’s in your name — my scribes are not used to writing with them yet) Net: And so they must be thrashed! Missspelllings will not be tolerated in Networkia! To the dungeons, the lot of them! has performed another abominable feat, and I must again smite him down. His outrageous claims that he is indeed Panda Horror must not be heeded for several reasons. Net: In which case, you must bury thy head in the sand whilst we dance merrily about. First, he claims that the most noble and sagacious Net has been in on his torrid scheme from the start, which is impossible, because Net, in its finite but damn impressive wisdom, succeeded in the witty and entertaining denouncement of his outrageous claims — apart from expressing surprise at the revelation of Lippe’s “secret.” Net: Our blushing cheeks — all four of them — aside, have you never heard of a “roast”? Poking fun for sake of doing so? Contemplate. Second, the impious vagrant called by the name of Eliot Lippe claims that “the Net was becoming a bit stale thanks to the likes of Vther Pendragon and his pedestrian band of Excitement Killas.” I ask thee, O Net, how he can possibly be qualified to make such a judgment, not being able to call himself a regular reader of thy rectangular wit? Net: We don’t care to discriminate against someone solely because of their general ignorance, if only because there’s a lot of that going around. Mock? Yes. Insult? Yes. Discriminate? No. If he does regularly sample thee, he must know that before yesterday I had not hailed to thee since December Net: Which was, like, six issues ago … when I found myself disturbed by the chronological ignorance of Phlegm of Discontent; that is to say, I cannot possibly be responsible for thy “staleness,” if such a quality exists in thee! Net: Only when we run out of twist-ties.
Furthermore, if it turns out that he, in actuality, is the Panda Horror, it is only continuing proof that Eliot Lippe is a mere punk-a$$ed fool who would disturb otherwise undisturbed people for his own pleasure, Net: At least he didn’t toot in public as well as tarnishing the already shady reputation of our most unholy and sagacious (did I use that one already?) Net. Net: Now, wait one goshdarn minnit! What happened to “finite but damn impressive wisdom?”
Eliot Lippe, I shall smite ye like I have smitten down the kings of Loegria, Albany, Cornwall and Kamber, and made their kingdoms mine own. Net: Yeah, what he said! Networkia shall not be free of trash until ye have been smitten! Net: Uh, we don’t know that.
Postscript: O Net, it will be a sad day in Loegria if I find ye have been in on this most unworthy show of perversity, but I must know! Did ye or did ye not approve of the fell deeds of Lippe from the start?
Net: We stand before all of Networkia, naked as the Coppertone baby, wearing only the leash and stiletto heels we borrowed from Rollerdiva, asking for the repentance that can come only from the cleansing touch (if not spit) of Networkians themselves, to whom we have dedicated our very soul and in whose presence we even wear antiperspirant, so that we might be freed from the oppression that we ourselves wrought, or something like that, and again walk among the masses, knowing all is right with our rectangle.
Translation: Forgive us, Vther; it was all in fun.

From Kung Fu Joe: Dude, the new style for Network is pretty sharp, and it’s good to see Elmo back. Net: Therapy is helping us deal with the pain and stress we’ve experienced since Elmo returned from hiatus — an excuse to be lazy is what it was — only to get a prime spot on the spankin’ new front freakin’ page! How can he grin when it’s 10-be-freakin’-low? But I must admit, I am not writing for such cheerful reasons. I read 4.6‘s entry yesterday: No good. 4.6, you are a dork; everyone in security is a loser. Net: Blanket statements about complete strangers are the best way to make friends. I have yet to see a security guard who looks like he or she actually provides security, except guards who carry guns — they are cool. You all walk around campus thinking you are bad-ass, but you are a bunch of (as our governor would say) “slack-jawed faggots.” Net: He wouldn’t really say that, would he? It’s not like he’s an intolerant boor. And we heard the lobotomy was successful. … In conclusion, everyone in security (unless you have a gun) can kiss my ass. Net: 4.6, et al., we have an e-mail address for this guy … but it’ll cost ya.

From Run-Down: Hello, Network. I have a gripe about one gold-Saturn-driving, muff-diving, crazy-driving sorority girl. Net: All at once? Impressive … It was about 11:30 Friday morning at the intersection of University Avenue and 15th Street. The pedestrians had the walk sign, which means I was not jaywalking (Ahem! University Police). Net: Do they actually get you for that around here? What’s next … no bike-riding on the sidewalk? I began to walk across the street when this chick comes whipping around the corner. She began to stop in the intersection, and the group of people started crossing, but she guns it, missing us by inches! Net: Drat! All I wanted to do was cross the street to get some cash out of the ATM and get into someplace warm, but instead, I am nearly killed by this psychotic lesbian sorority girl. And the really funny thing is, she actually started to laugh in her warm car as she nearly killed seven or eight people. Net: As if the muff-diving-while-driving trick wasn’t enough, we’re really starting to develop a crush on this little filly. Next time, bitch, I will walk in front of your piece of s##!t car and get you for all I can. Net: What a flirt you are.