From Vther Pendragon: Most keen and sharp-witted Net, I bid you good cheer and merry sacking. Net: No sacking to speak of, we regret … Rollerdiva has yet to make a calling. I also wish to submit for publication a most relevant and worthy gripe. It is as follows: Elliot Lippe, sophomore, undecided, must never breed, and if he does, none of his offspring may come even to a kingdom as far away from mine as Orkney, Net: A foul place if ever there was, for it reeks of suck in the very most profound of ways, to be sure for he is indeed a most dishonourable and wily sort of man. He has dishonoured himself, thee and all those who call Networkia their humble home by surpassing thee and submitting a most unworthy gripe to the editor of your fine publication. Net: What the hell does this “editor” puke know, anyway? That hack thinks a stylebook is a fashion magazine. It is unworthy for two reasons: first, while attempting to denounce the rather lewd and explicit description of a dream published in Thursday’s Network, he quotes the gross and most unappetising letter several times. Net: Fine literature needs to breathe like a fine wine, so that its subtle undertones can waft over the senses … If he is attempting to speak ill of thee, O Net, then why is he tarnishing his own complaint by repeating the words himself? Net: Occasionally, redundancy is occasionally redundant. Also, it was most dishonourable of him to take any problem of his with your formerly Net: ? rectangular wisdom to any entity other than thee, was it not? Should he not have directed his gripe at thou? Net: Only if we wanted to be ripped unmercifully before the masses. Which makes him an appalling wuss. Perhaps he does not remember the lessons his mother taught him about tattling when he was simply a wee prat. Net: Or maybe he just really liked “Diff’rent Strokes.” But I do tend to ramble, and so I must close. If you happen to chance upon Loegria, my kingdom, know well that ye will be most welcome there. And don’t forget to sack a village or plunder some peasants or something on your way out. Net: We’re not into rape, thankyouverymuch, but we totally dig pillaging.
From Yngwie: Network, what is wrong with you? Net: Sorry … we had pesto last night. You seem to print any drivel that contains some ass-kissing aimed at you. Well, to break this trend, I say this: Network, you stink. Net: This message brought to you in the interests of fairness and equal time. Huzzah! With that out of the way, let me congratulate you on your one recent bright spot. Net: We are thinning out a bit up top, but it’s nothing to write home about. Yes, I’m talking about Gary Coleman. Not only did you scare the hell out of thousands of people by printing that unsavory description, but you have brought the wrath of the “Letters to the Editor” page. Net: That page would be a lot more interesting if some anonymous, witty entity — we could call him “Ed” — would interject comments in the letters. Only then we’d have to kick Ed’s ass for stealing our idea. Good job. Those religious fascists think that anything more progressive than “Father Knows Best” will be crushed soon. Would their heads explode at the sight of a “Jesus jerked off” bumper sticker affixed to a slightly dirty Jeep? Net: Ka-BOOM! Probably. If I were you, Network, I would sell tickets to such an event. Perhaps you would be able to pay off your large medical debt. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody what part of your body you got, ahem, enhanced. Net: Gluteal augmentation is nothing of which to be ashamed. Two years have passed since Nixon tore around Northrop Mall, spreading his message of “Compassionate Neo-Nazism,” but that doesn’t mean he and his compadres have disappeared. No, they are still planning their takeover, and on the side, they amuse themselves by shooting their big guns at old cars on some damn farm. Net: Yee-haw, Cletus! Dagnabbit if’n ye din’t tear tha’ there mirra right offa the damn Studebaker! Take heed, Network, for I am warning you. Soon they will rise again to the cry of those third-year sophomores: Four More Years!
From Billie Joe: Attention all students in the crowded course-packet section in Williamson on Thursday at about 11:30: IT WAS ME!!!!
From Pretty Boy: Well, Net, I am not dead. Net: Quite possibly one of the most upbeat introductions to a letter we’ve ever received. I am quite disappointed that I never got confronted at any of the Gophers games. I guess the Angry Gopher was too sissy to find me. Net: Actually, it’s not too uncommon for anger to be expressed in overt sissiness. Maybe he “pissed himself” as he was watching the cymbal guy. Anyway … I was reading our Net: We didn’t realize you were on the payroll!? fine paper the other day, and I noticed that some homo, going by the name of Elliot Lippe, was complaining that Net had no taste. Net: He’s right, you know. As much as we try to convey a certain worldliness, we’re really nothing more than a two-bit wordsmith who wants nothing more of life than beer specials and a tan. I suggest if the queer wants more taste from Net, he can suck my salty balls.
Before I go, I would like to send my regards to the baton twirler. I am sure she cried herself to sleep on the night of the Purdue game. It must hurt to be replaced by a bunch of drummers during the half-time show, especially after she gets herself all dressed up in sequins. Net: Now you know how we felt when Elmo jumped to the front page. That smug little bastard, with the wee beady eyes and know-it-all attitude. It was kind of like when she went to prom by herself. No one appreciates her talents anymore. Net: You won’t let that happen to us, will you, Networkia?
