Net: We knew you were out there, first-timers. See how easy it was? As for those of you still waiting for some kind of divine inspiration, the lesson is simple to grasp: One need not be funny, talented, acerbic, loquacious, good looking or even particularly interested to appear herein. Just write and send.
Hell, you don’t even have to be truthful. Make something up, make something happen, make someone’s day (ours!).
It beats the tar out of the clothing wars. So keep it up, newbies — we promise you prime real estate for the days to come. As for you regulars, well … you know we can’t resist you.
And now, for something (and a few somebodies) completely different …
JUST ONE TREATMENT
From luvlygrrl: Oh mighty, benevolent Network, I feel your pain. The interminable debate over Abercrombie & Fitch, Net: It’s over. The verdict: A&F is dead. The new look for summer? Nudity the insipid but mildly amusing discussion of Rollerdiva‘s adventures in decadence Net: Decadence? More like debauchery and the incessant whining of undergrads looking for Mr. Goodbar in Centennial Hall have been steadily threatening the few brain cells left to me after spring quarter with total annihilation (an event that I fear has been sped up by sitting through “Eyes Wide Shut”). Net: See “The Blair Witch Project” … that’ll put some life in ya. So, after composing that endless sentence, I have decided to do my part to shift the bitch-fest to something new. Net: Hooray! I realize my limited resources will probably not allow me to come up with anything strikingly original or even amusing, but what can I say? Net: Say ‘hooray!’ Nobody says ‘hooray’ anymore. It’s gone the way of ‘huzzah!’ Something must be done. My philanthropic side compels me to take a shot at it.
Anyone notice the most conspicuous advertiser of the Women’s World Cup? Net: Xena, the Warrior Princess, Inc.? There I sat at Stub & Herb’s watching the finals, getting revved up with the collective pride of my gender as a group of cute, ponytailed, but deceptively strong power-houses barrelled around the field, when I noticed the sponsor’s banner next to the score change to … MONISTAT. The aforementioned balloon of pride suddenly deflated with the reminder that, of course, the only people who would be watching this historic sporting event are women and that the foremost thing on our minds would, of course, be that pesky yeast infection that just won’t go away. Net: Especially Kim Alexis’. That poor woman could start a bakery — sheesh.
Please!! To anyone who’s ever watched daytime TV (which I never have since, as a diligent student, Net: Yeah, sure I study all day and all night and therefore don’t have the time; Net: Uh-huh I have less dedicated friends that tell me this stuff Net: This parenthetical doesn’t exactly launch you into the credibility stratosphere, lvly) this could be no surprise. It seems that all programs targeted at women must be accompanied by ads for feminine hygiene products, diapers, cleaning products, Net: Yeah yeah we understand — household appliances, romance novels, pantyhose, hair coloring, knitting supplies weight-loss programs and the ever-present yeast infection medication. But for some reason, I in my naivete thought that the vindication of women’s athletics displayed by Scurry and Hamm might rate a sponsor which is concerned with an area above the waist, perhaps even above the neck! Net: Hair coloring, romance novels, knitting supplies … But wait, this is advertising, and nothing reaches above the elastic waistband. But the least they could do was give us some halftime beer commercials with gratuitously exposed beefcake! Net: No ‘Just for Men’ commercials? I mean, let’s get our priorities straight.
One more thing. To WeePeePee: Shut up and just get out of the state already!
YOU’RE OUR ONLY HOPE
From Obi: O Glorious, Grand, Great … Um, err, no. Ain’t gonna try that approach. Net: Aw, c’mon! What’s wrong with a little groveling?
As you have noticed my nickname is Obi and this does bear some resemblance to the name of that wise old Jedi we know and love. Net: Your powers are weak old man. I, however, do not bear any resemblance to him or so I am told. So then why am I called Obi? Watch out — new topic potential here. Why does anybody have the nickname they have? Net: We’re called Network ‘cuz it’s ambiguous and computerish. OK, OK, I know for some it’s ’cause of a peculiar trait or ability. I guess in my case the fact that I can cause small objects to float and that I have the power of a force (not The Force), might help. Net: Ooo! Ooo! You have minor kinetic powers? Could you demonstrate? But really, do people just randomly assign themselves nicknames or something? What are your stories, people? I wanna know! Well, that’s all for now. Watch for my story later — if it gets printed that is. Hope this stirs up something other then Abercrombie and … I won’t even start.
THOSE DAM-N CAT-LICKS
From Aeon: You printed a rant by the infamous Rollerdiva Net: We can’t help it. She has some strange power over us about her July “Lental Suffrage.” Well, I support her 100 percent on this issue. We need to fight for our right to vote during Lent, dammit! Net: There’s an election during Lent? Those Catholics have stood in our way long enough; it’s time to assert ourselves and rise up. I applaud you, Rollerdiva, for your devotion to this noble cause, but I was wondering — why you are observing Lent in July? Net: You can’t go around nude in March Lent ended almost five months ago. I’m sure that God appreciates the gesture and all, but if you were to ask our beloved religious expert, Brother Jed, he’d say that you’re going to hell anyway, so what’s the difference? I say enjoy yourself and pleasuring yourself in front of lesbian porn! Net: That’s an interesting … imag — erm — innuendo … I must add that lesbian porn is definitely one of the finest flavors of pornography there is, and to lend some insight into Net: OK, you’ve jumped from pious observances to ‘lesbian porn.’ You, our new friend, are all OVER the place the mystery of why guys fancy this form of girl-on-girl erotic amusement, here’s my take on it: If two breasts are good, then aren’t four (or six, or even eight, oh my … but definitely not seven, there’s just something plain wrong there) better? Net: We all want what we can’t have, weguess. See you THURSDAY, everybody. Good morrow.