To Angry Gopher f…

To Angry Gopher from Pretty Boy: You must be a bando or a homo. Anyone who looks forward to the cymbal player’s antics must also look forward to his tight jeans Net: Or polyester uniform, whatever the case may be. I know I haven’t been tied to a tree before, but I am sure you have been tied down by your boyfriend many times, and I am sure you love him for it. Net: Bondage has a way of bringing people together. Or something like that. I also thought I was worth a little more than $40. Net: Bando/Homos are notoriously frugal when it comes to black-market info-trading. I am sure that some sissy bando would pay more than that to get his/her hands on me. Come and get me.

To Angry Gopher from Happy Gopher: My friend, I know where your nemesis lies — or stands, as the case may be — during games. Section 112, Row 10, and I won’t tell you the seat number. Net: No problem. Just gun down the whole row. If you’re man (or woman) enough to do something about it, then I expect you to come over to our section and demand to know who wrote the Network entry. And I want my $40 — send it to the Daily and, kind Network, please relay that to me. Net: Oh, yes. Please send that in immediately — only 11 shopping days left! … umm, we mean, we promise we’ll pass it on.
A couple more ideas for you, Angry: First, you are taking this WAY too seriously — the cymbal guy is only mildly-to-somewhat amusing on his very best day. The rest of the time he is just annoying Net: Which pretty much sums up our existence as well. Only people in the band think differently (part of your identity has now been revealed). Net: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome guest Networkian, Angela Lansbury. And secondly, do you really think a letter to Network affects whether or not a member of the band decides to jump around at games? If you do, I’ve got some investments that I’d like to tell you about. Net: Just don’t get caught up in that refrigerators-for-Eskimos scam, Angry. That gets us every time.


From Earth Mama: I am fed up! If I see one more auto advertisement featuring some J. Crew poster-boy four-wheeling it in some gorgeous, digitally remastered wilderness Net: That’s the best kind. It gets rid of all the creepy crawlies. or parking his SUV in a “pristine” trout stream, I’m going to vomit first — and then join the revolution. I understand the appeal, comfort and safety of these vehicles, but this is the worst possible combination of conspicuous consumption and nostalgic drivel! Net: Second only to the long line of Ronco products, shamelessly huckstered by hopelessly homely Ron Popeil himself. The age of wilderness is long since past, as are the days when men were Men, and there were more trout streams in Montana than strip malls, suburbs and two-car garages. Net: Sniff, sniff. It’s enough to make us want to move into a backwoods shack and mail bombs to intelligent people. It’s bad enough that there are already a couple hundred fisher-people for every decent undeveloped stream. The last thing in the world I want to see is some jerk parked on the edge of the stream, dripping engine oil and antifreeze into the water Net: Unless it’s Brad Pitt, and you can see his nipples poking through his wet T-shirt.
If all 6 billion of us here on the planet drove these dinosaurs only 10,000 miles per year, we’d have to pave the rest of the Earth. Net: Yeah, and if we were all women, the urinal industry would go out of business. Your point? We’d pump 2 billion tons of CO2 per year into the atmosphere, noticeably speeding up global climate change. Net: Warm is good. World annual oil consumption would increase by more than 5 times, and we’d be out of oil in less time than it takes a kid born today to reach voting age. Net: Perhaps. But what a wild, free-wheelin’, 18-year, off-road party it would be! Please, there’s already enough pavement in the United States to make road maps look like graph paper. We don’t need to go off-road to carve up habitat, wreak havoc on vegetation, and litter the highways with the carnage of dead wildlife. Net: We need only create more devastating pesticides. They’re much more efficient than SUVs when it comes to mass destruction. These people drive these hulking vehicles as if they were invincible, endangering the lives of those of us in slightly more globally sensible vehicles Net: Like that bumbling blue truck with the house built on the back, for example. For the love of God and Earth, tell people to be responsible: drive Net: Your bicycle safe, and stay on the road.


From Piss Pal: Here’s a li’l treat for you male denizens of Networkia. (We deserve one, right?) Net: Yeah, the men miss out on all the menstrual fun. Try this, you’ll be delighted. Get yourself to the bathroom in the basement of Anderson Hall, right across from the CLA computer lab. Choose the urinal second closest to you once you’ve turned left to approach the stalls and urinals. Net: Why don’t you just draw a friggin’ map? Unzip your pants and go about your business as usual. Net: You left the door wide open there, buddy. There is an interesting anomaly with the lighting at that particular spot. You will see a shadow of equal intensity on both sides of your urine stream. Net: And before you know it, you’ll think you are Peter North! It will look as if there’s a three dimensional “T” emanating from your penis! It’s most curious, and most thrilling. Now go and try it, but don’t form a line. Do keep your urinal etiquette in mind, please. Net: For the uninitiated: 1) Always leave an empty urinal between you and your fellow urinators. 2) Stare straight ahead or straight down, but never in the direction of a fellow urinator. 3) Don’t talk, whistle or hum. 3) Stifle the peegasm. 3) Don’t shake off the leftovers too vigorously.