Net: Order in the court! Order in the court!
We’ve always wanted to say that. Rusty the Bailiff from “The People’s Court” has long held a special place in our heart.
Anyway, as of Wednesday evening the sun fell below Moos Tower for the third time since the plight of the Minister of Concurrence was made known here in Networkia.
For those of you who might have missed the last few episodes of the show, here’s a quick rundown:
ù Way back when, the MOC betrayed Net and its kingdom of All That is Decent and Holy.
ù The MOC was … given the bum’s rush?
ù Doug Llewellyn (also of “The People’s Court” fame) was hired, for no particular reason, to interview Networkians as they finished reading editions of Network.
ù Peace, tranquility and good will toward freshpeople returned to the land. Oh, and Rollerdiva started wearing leather-and-rhinestone teddies.
ù The MOC — a sorry excuse for quasi-humanity if ever there was one — requested clemency in hopes of returning to Networkia.
ù Net fired Llewellyn in a fit of rage.
ù Net, being ever wise and benevolent, opted to consider the MOC‘s request, but first opened the matter to the public. Concerned Networkians were granted the opportunity to share their opinions until a third sunset came and went.
ù The results of said hearing were enclosed in a sealed envelope by a representative of Price Waterhouse yester-evening.
ù Llewellyn continued to phone Net headquarters, speaking in a gravelly voice and threatening a haircut and cosmetic surgery.
OK … now that we’re up to speed — except for Phlegm, who is still trying to make his way phonetically through “Llewellyn” — many of you likely came here today in hopes of learning the fate of said Minister.
But today shall be reserved for statements in the Minister’s favor — largely because this is a kangaroo court, and we have no interest whatsoever in due process — and tomorrow the MOC will at last face a jury of loyal Networkians to learn what the future holds.
PABLUM, PUKED
From Rollerdiva: I swear there is a computer conspiracy out there, denying me and my natural-born talent for witty Network entries the right to send e-mail. Net: But you’ll always have your health. Or at least a doctor. Well, maybe just some cheap meds you bought from the inside of some guy’s grubby trench coat. Twice now have I made an effort to declare my opinion on the matter of the Minister, and twice now has my mission been stalled by crashing University Internet connections, the scary web of anti-MOC students who vowed never to let the 411 I have to be discovered, and the fact that I really, really, really partied way too hard last weekend, and everything is so damn fuzzy. Net: Yeah, a Gophers football victory always throws our lives into a frenzy, too. Thank goodness the preseason is over … we can get some rest!
So, now, fearing for my life and all, I must let you know about the stash of hot babes the Minister has stashed up on the North Shore. He keeps them up there, all sex-starved and half-naked, for parties he throws every other weekend. Net: Sounds like fodder for some solid late-night TV. And he has a house full of hotties, too, each and everyone of them as manly as Thomas Jane, who I’m sure all you ladies will remember from this summer’s thriller, “Deep Blue Sea.”
So, like, don’t you think the Minister wants to share with his ol’ Network chums for voting him back into Networkia? Net: Second dibs on the Minister‘s harem? We’d rather floss with a tapeworm.
Isn’t the Minister also pretty intelligent? Doesn’t he understand the complex subtleties and subtexts so common in (my) Network entries? Net: Complex and subtle indeed, much in the way the joining of a nut to a bolt is difficult to understand. I could always expect that from the Minister — unlike so many other lowly lost souls who have yet to fully learn how to read whole sentences (i.e. Screech) — so, yeah, I think the Minister would like to extend an invitation to all, upon his re-establishment into the Network institution, to his party compound on the North Shore for a wet and wild weekend.
Net: (Sniff, sniff) Very moving, Rolla. But the deck is stacked against you and your Minister. Only a truly powerful statement by the defense could bail an … extradited? … Networkian official out of a hole this deep.
HE DINT DO IT, Y’HONAH!
From The Man Known Only as Baron: Hail to thee, almighty Network, it is I once again, master of the holy sword Darlack and the arcane art of reed-fluting, smiter of all things naughty and Prince of the southern lands of Eagan. It is I, Baron.
A warning to all of my fellow Networkians: I am about to express views that might be unpopular. Allow me to take the stage and defend the recently plighted Minister Of Concurrence, since it seems so few others will. Net: Networkia needs ditch-diggers, too.
I ask you, my fair fellow Networkians, What is a man — or woman, to be politically correct Net: Watch your language. Is he not an imperfect being trying to make his way through an imperfect world? Net: We couldn’t really relate. Omnipotence is cool like that. Please allow me to be the first to admit that the accused MOC has on occasion been most annoying with his limited vocabulary of responses and inappropriate usage of capital letters. But he is only imperfect as any man — or woman — can be. Net: Again, you’re really losing us here. This word, “imperfect,” is lost on us.
Is it not then wrong to attack such a poor and pathetic being because of things entirely out of his control? Net: Only if you’re a megalomaniacal dictator hell-bent on world domination. Or a kid kneeling over an ant farm with a magnifying glass. I ask you, my fellow Networkians, would you have the MOC’s current fate befall one of you? To be drummed out of the Network and be sent into the void that exists outside?
Net: Thank you, counselor. You’ve given us plenty about which to think. Stay tuned, Networkians … an exciting future lies ahead.
Take that, Wapner, you hack.