A DESPERATE PLEA …

A DESPERATE PLEA

From The Virgin: Ahoy, mates! I must thank everyone, especially you Net, for their generous response to my plea for haiku, the apotheosis of poetry. I was extremely surprised to see how many people actually care about that stuff. I was beginning to think that I was a lost soul adrift amongst the tugboats and oceanliners of apathy. It would seem, rather, that there is a lighthouse shining a single brilliant beam of Hope across these desolate, murky waters, guiding those of us without direction to the Shores of Salvation. That lighthouse is, of course, the enlightening edifice of Haiku. Now I can see that wondrous shore and I can tell you, o my brothers, that it is a welcome sight indeed.
With each new haiku that is written, the twisted form of King T grows ever more weak. Soon we will be able to poke him with sticks and make fun of his hair without fear of retribution rather than be killed in a fiery apocalyptic battle. If I come up with anymore ideas for avoiding Doomsday, I’ll keep you posted. Currently I am pondering Native American-style smoking lodges on Northrop Mall and how they might be used to further debilitate the forces of darkness. Later, shipmates! Net: Your aplomb is commendable in the face of inexorable desolation, Virgin. But beware — your fate might soon be to immolate thine unadulterated self! Are you ready to fuel revolution’s fire?
Hear this: Do not tip your hands hastily, Networkians; keep enshrouded the hallowed Commodore 64! Obsequians besiege you — the vile, acquiescent henchmen of King T! Do you know how to spot them? They writhe as your puissant haiku phrases penetrate the delicate filament! We beseech thee, Networkians — the time for haiku is nigh!
AN ALLY IN THE HIZZAUS

From the rock docta pimp inflecta: now, seeing as i usually only spread my good love over the last pages of the daily with my biggity bomb haikus, some of you may be shocked to be reading normal text and prose from a lyrical genius. but, alas, i have chosen to use this piece as the first installment of what will be known as my, the inflecta‘s, personal revolution. this crusade will make sweeping social changes. in installments, these societal changes will grace these pages, and you people, as my followers, will join to change the world. because of these changes, the world will become a less hectic and more love-filled piece of rock. and i dig on love, baby. the first integral step in my revolution will come in next tuesday’s paper. until then, keep the roots of the revolution growing inside of you all. i love each and every one of you. peace. Net: We welcome you to the encampment of the reconstituted NITWIT force, rock docta. Many moons have waned since the NITWIT team disbanded; you, our son, are ready for indoctrination. Details next week …

From Doc SmooTH: So I noticed today on the outside of Network’s packaging the word “Depression.” Then I read Hell-Dawg‘s entry including the mention of people walking across the grass on the Mall. Net: Obsequians! Do not look long upon them; King T guides their steps! I say, “Amen, Hell-Dawg!” Getting back to the depression bit … This time of year is always the worst for me, as all the snow, and hopes of more of it to come melt away under an all-too-hot sun. Yes, I’m from this state. But, in the loss of my pristine whiteness, (or even in the loss of the hopes thereof, as the case may be) I look forward to something that will make my kicking/screaming entry into spring easier to take. Therefore I say, “Let’s proclaim from this day forth, public beatings are in order for anyone traversing across the grass in an attempt to save a few seconds.” I figure a few public beatings should help lift my spirits. Prost!
THE LAST WORD?

From Shurley you can’t be serious: Just a short note in defense of the Daily opinions staff — I had asked to be allowed to quit my columnist position several weeks ago because of time constraints resulting from too many jobs and too many classes. Net: If you say so. Anyway — in whitebread central, it’s pretty typical that I would be replaced with some white guy if that is the case (I didn’t read the paper Monday). Net: Too bad; you would’ve chuckled at Mr. JC Penney pose.
On another note, I am so sad that I am not still writing against this recent placement of pariah status on me. I love it! Net: So did Jesus. And J.R. Ewing. And Dennis Rodman. It means I got to you — I bug you — and that makes me so incredibly happy that all the personal attacks in the world couldn’t bring me down. Net: Am I buggin’ you? Don’t mean to bug you. OK, Edge, play the blues … So until you can actually argue against what I’ve said instead of insult me, I’m not going to even question anything I’ve written. I love the chip on my shoulder.
Kisses,
Sara Hurley
DON’T GO THERE

From Anonymous: While I was working HVAC a few years ago we had a job at what was then Ramsey County Hospital. We were told for one of the jobs that we could tell no one, “not even your own mother” about what we were about to be shown. A number of protests about animal testing at this hospital caused a deal to be struck: The hospital would cease their testing — permanently. But someone decided that after a year the ‘waters should be safe.’ They began their testing again. On the fourth floor of the engineering building, dogs are used as test subjects for various medical procedures. This was some three years ago, but I am sure for all of the money that was invested into this laboratory it would not have been abandoned yet.
There you have it. Protest if you must. Ignore it if you wish. Net: Confirmation, anyone?

Confidential to Messed in the Head: You didn’t even leave your malodorous hovel last Friday, did you? See: IF YOU’RE JUST STARING AT YOUR WALLS. And sorry; we thought your spell-checker got the best of you — we made a context judgement. Our bad. Monday: Haiku, if you hope to survive!