It’s come to our a…

It’s come to our attention that a few of you haven’t been paying enough.
Attention, that is.
In other words, several Networkians are as of yet unacquainted with our part in the fight to save the world from destructive forces — forces that became apparent at the beginning of 1999 — threatening to alter the course of history and bringing the world to its knees.
But there is hope.
As we speak, vague battles are being fought in ethereal domains, with dragooning weapons of mass duplicity.

The Players:
The King of Terror, or King T: Formless and cunning, King T insinuates his influence throughout the world, preparing for large-scale invasion. Originally detected by Nostradamus in the 16th century, preliminary reports indicate King T will act before September of this year.

The Obsequian Order: Serving only King T, Obsequians, no longer distinguishable by their blue Columbia jackets, walk among you every day. Many are unaware of their forced indoctrination. Some are squirrels.

Citizen: Adversary of all that is evil, Citizen, shrouded in obscurity, works around the clock to keep King T‘s Obsequian onslaught at bay. Amid losses suffered last weekend, Citizen reported a breakthrough into Obsequian influence — wethinks the string of defeats was merely a clever ruse to breach Obsequian security.

NITWIT: Formerly the Network Investigative Team Working for Indisputable Truth, members of NITWIT disbanded in 1998 and were secretly trained by Citizen to slow the progress of King T‘s arrival. Reformed in February of this year, NITWIT re-emerged as the Network Initiative to Whip Impending Terror. Some Networkians have been recruited to be NITWIT operatives; others have pledged their allegiance to the cause. The rest are suspected Obsequians.

The Commodore 64: Heralded as the last great hope for all that is salutary, all that is good. It is said that in a secluded location, far away from the influence of King T, a child — formerly under the guardianship of Citizen — works to produce the code-breaking number prime that will allow NITWIT to infiltrate and dismantle King T‘s machinations.

We hope this clears things up for y’all. Direct questions through the regular channels; we assure their security. Onward, to the letters …

From Phlegm of Discontent: It’s finally starting to look like spring around here. The trees are budding, the flowers are sprouting, the squirrels are mating like crazy and the students are mating like crazy. Net: Stipulated. But the weather still sucks. As for me, I’m pondering the greater mysteries of life, like how I’m going to get some and how to do this physics homework. I was riding to class on my Bike of Doom, intentionally ramming into pedestrians (though it is getting hard to pedal with bent wheels), when all of a sudden, an ARAMARK van almost hit me. I was lucky not to get hit, but another student wasn’t so lucky. Net: You make your own luck, Phlegm. I knew it wasn’t one of my arch-nemeses, because I had chopped them up and fed them to the late, lamented Mr. Crapflinger. A couple of men in white suits hopped out and tossed the carcass into the back of the van, where I saw several others. It was obvious that they were to be used in ARAMARK’s various “meat” dishes. Having escaped the evil clutches of ARAMARK last June, I no longer worry about the food quality. But as a somewhat concerned citizen, I must protest this unhealthy activity. Students are far fatter than squirrels and pigeons. While this cuts back on costs and speeds the fattening of other students, the parents of the missing students might object, and would drain money from other programs like my lab. So, before I get mad, please start aiming for the pigeons (tasty) and squirrels (except the nuclear-powered ones, that could get messy) and occasionally Vegans. We’ll all be happier that way. Now, I must plan my next night of meat-eating, alcohol-fueled, treehugging-hippie stomping debauchery. Rollerdiva, you’re invited to come along. It’ll be jolly good fun.

From Evil Grin: Last week I noticed an older man hanging out near a women’s restroom. I immediately thought, “Hey, it’s the Walter Lab Pervert!” — which COULD have been true. Net: So could Whitley Streiber’s “Communion.” Either way, it’s creepy. The problem with this conclusion is that I had spotted four other “Walter Lab Perverts” that same day. I don’t want to go around thinking that every crazy-eyed older man who roams the campus without books is the mole man. Net: Or the president. Can someone give me a better description of him?

From Mulad: Now, I don’t know about y’all, but I like clothes that don’t look like they’ve been washed a hundred thousand times, yet I don’t exactly like to pay a whole lot (basically rules out both ends — Goodwill and Abercrummie). Where do I go to get clothes? Target. Yes, Target (well, the occasional Dayton’s run — but it’s all the same company, IIRC). Did you know that you can actually get clothes that don’t have the names of the manufacturer plastered on the front and back? Net: You mean the ones with the concerts or sports teams? Yeah, we’ve seen those. It’s absolutely amazing how much those names seem to cost.
Oh well, enough of my spiel. Don’t fear the Penguin. Peas out.