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The Hogs of Entropy 0614
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #614
`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
888 888 888 888 888 "The Smart, the Wooden,
888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 and the Ugly"
888 888 888 888 888 "
888 888 `88b d88' 888 o by Kniht & Uberfizzgig [5/6/99]
o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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Once Upon a time there was an ugly young girl who repulsed her
kingdom so much that they locked her in a two tone Buick Sedan. She spent
her days organizing the glove compartment and listening to Barry Manilow
over the plush seventies eight-track quadraphonic hi-fi.
Griselda had been tormented for years by her evil wicked stepladder,
who had paraded Griselda's hideousness throughout the city one bright
afternoon.
The entire town had drawn back in horror as they looked upon her
and proceeded to throw items from their fresh harvest of veggies and
assorted woodland creatures. Chipmunks slapped Griselda in the face until
she begged her wicked stepladder to take her away from the horrid scene of
flinging raccoons and squirrel parts. The two made a pact that the wicked
stepladder wouldn't let Griselda out of imprisonment until a cure was found
for her disgusting appearance.
Meanwhile in Paris
a young Rousseau walked into the Instuit
Politechnique and slipped on an enormous raspberry slushy. As he lay on
the ground covered in iciness, he thought to himself of taking a vacation.
He would go out into France and discover the perfect desert: one which
could be eaten without disturbing the aesthetics of the streets of Paris,
preventing personal injury and contributing to greater liberty in the
social contract. He lay on the ground and wished to hide himself as an
Enlightenment jogger stopped near him, pointing and laughing.
And then Rousseau had an epiphany and uttered his famous phrase, "If
a paralytic man wills himself to move and an active man does not, they will
both remain where they are!"
Back in the Buick, Griselda was chiming along with Barry, "Oh Mandy,
you came and you gave without taking!"
She looked into her wide mirror and uttered, "Rearview mirror,
rearview mirror dangling from the ceiling, who's the one who can look at me
without their stomach reeling?"
"Ahhhh
this might come as quite a blow, but it is truly Jean Jaques
Rousseau!"
Suddenly the wicked stepladder was laughing and as Griselda turned
she heard her cackle, "That Frenchman will never make it here! I'll have
his head on the Buick as a hood ornament before he gets to you!"
Griselda turned away, tears pouring from her sickening eyes, "Oh,
and all I've ever wanted was someone who understood the complexities of the
new secular humanism!! Whatever will I do?!"
The wicked stepladder screamed, "You will never know the wonder of
the Social Contract! Only I can transmogrify!" And away she flew to the
Sargasso Sea.
Rousseau had been hurriedly tossing odds and ends into a travel bag:
some humanist theories, a couple of one liners, and a pair of tights. He
threw the bag over his shoulder and rushed downstairs to his official
authorized Juicomatic with optional wide slot for bagels. He grabbed the
last of his goodies and tossed the Juicomatic into his bag. As he stepped
out the door, the sun was beginning to rise. He got on his horse,
Gunslinger, and as the faint sound of the Bonanza Theme played in the
background, he headed west to parts unknown.
An Enlightenment Burger World employee stopped to point and laugh,
"Nice tights, baby!"
Meanwhile, the wicked stepladder had been hovering over a
fisherman's boat, "The S.S. Minnow". Inside she asked for directions as to
where she would find Jean Jacques Rousseau, and a nice young man by the
name of Gilligan, pointer her to the correct path.
As the wicked stepladder approached her destination she heard men
speaking in sporadic French.
"Ahh
heh, heh, oui
.ahhh oui. J'aime la poisson Monsieur Jacques!"
"Jacques," thought the wicked stepladder, "Rousseau is at sea!" And she
plunged down into the center of the boat among stunned Frenchman wielding
nothing but quick wit, video cameras and a shark cage.
"Excusez-moi! What ees thees ladder doing here?" Shouted the
director. "Pip! Move zat stupeed theeeng. Eeets blocking zee shot!"
Pip foolishly approached the stepladder with nothing but his wee
French hands. The wicked stepladder sat motionless, knowing the naiveté of
the French. Just as Pip reached for the first rung, the stepladder shouted
"Ayyyeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!". And she transformed, springing to her full eight
and a half feet of piney wood.
They fell one by one. Pip took a mouthful of splinters and careened
over the starboard side. The director yowled as he found an enormous scar
on his ass that read, "Binford". The two cameramen were hurled into the
air and straight down the mouth of a humpback whale wearing a bumper
sticker that read, "SAVE ME".
"Now it is time for you Rousseau!" screeched the wicked stepladder
as she approached the diver. She grabbed him and threw him into the shark
cage, suspending him over the plank. "Here you will spend your final hours
Rousseau!"
"What eez it you are talking? I am Cousteau! Zee famous
Oceanographer, I am not thees person Rousseau!"
"Curses," thought the wicked stepladder as the cage dropped into the
Sargasso, "foiled again!"
Rousseau entered the small town of Seedy Gulch, and moseyed over to
the saloon to get himself a beverage after his long long journey. As he
neared the door and slowed, he saw a poster with a picture of Griselda
smack dab in the middle. The caption read, "REWARD, $500. TO ANYONE WHO
CAN MAKE THIS GIRL LOOK PRETTIER THAN A NEW SET OF SNOW TIRES."
"Hmmmm
this might take my fancy tights," thought Rousseau as he
pulled the long purple beauties from his sack. "But first, whiskey."
He pushed through the door and the piano player stopped as all the
patrons turned to face the purple tighted stranger as he stood, silhouetted
by the noon sun. "I need something strong. I'm a gonna fix that girlie
y'all got locked up in that fancy schmancy Buick."
The bartender turned a skeptical eye to Rousseau, "You ain't from
'round these parts, is ya?"
"Nope. I ain't."
An Italian gentleman stood from his stool, "I'm gonna' fix that
girlie and get the reward money."
"And just who might you be Mr. Fancy Italian Leather Pantaloons?"
"Why, I'm Nicolo Machiavelli, they calls me The Prince. I'm the
fastest gun this side of Constantinople. I've got theories coming out of
my ears."
Just then Rousseau pulled his Juicomatic from his bag. "Eat
carrots, Italian boy!" And he shot a slew of shredded vegetables onto the
distraught face of Machiavelli.
"Noooooo! You'll pay for this someday Frenchie!" Machiavelli fell
to the floor. "Anybody else want some of my moves?"
Everyone stared at the ground.
Later that evening Rousseau staggered to the Buick in his super sexy
tights.
"Oh Rousseau! I thought my wicked stepladder had killed you!"
As Rousseau slid in the backseat the town sighed. Nobody really
knows what happened that night. All they saw were the windows fogging up
and the sounds of Barry Manilow, "Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl
".
And then the car sputtered into gear and the townspeople saw by the morning
light, a beautiful blonde giggling from the passenger seat, and a purple
tighted stranger smiling as he drove the car into the sunrise.
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[ (c) !HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #614, WRITTEN BY KNIHT & UBERFIZZGIG, 5/6/99 ]
