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The Purple Thunderbolt of spode Volume 1 Issue 6
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THE PURPLE THUNDERBOLT OF SPODE VOL 1, #6
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"Kenyon's Very Own Non Alien Run REPLIES TO:VAX004::PURPS
Electronic Magazine" PURPS%VAX004.DECNET@VAX001.Kenyon.edu
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SOMETHING WHICH MIGHT, IN THE CORRECT FRAME OF MIND, LOOK SORT OF
LIKE A TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction: The First Actually On-Time Thunderbolt Ever!
News: People Eat Bugs!, Air Force Worries Over Pregnant Horses,
Reasons to go to Church, Reasons to do a Good Job at Work, Letter
From "Dessert Shield", MORE!
OTISian Rants: BANQUET OF THE GOD(ESSE)S, Spooky Aliens Stuff,
"Ben and Jerry's" Flavors Which Never Made it Past R&D
Other Rants: Newest OTISian Initiates Speak!, Innocent Purps.dis
List Member Fed to EVIL OTISian god in Grotesque Ceremony!
(Friends say she wasn't paying close enough attention to THIS
MAGAZINE!), Smilies Return!!, Cheesy Art!, Dis.list EXPANDS!
----------------------------------------------------------------
INTRODUCTION
(The First Actually ON TIME "PURPS" ever!)
LIBATIONS FOR OTIS!!!!!!!!!!
NEXT Saturday (Nov 3rd, I think, not halloween party
weekend) from 8-10pm (i.e. before the more interesting stuff on
this campus starts) The_Purple_Thunderbolt_of_Spode will be
sponsoring the first ever OTISian libation party! OTIS is
obviously not pleased with us (just look at, oh, I don't know,
the weather) now, so we are going to attempt to PACIFY HIS/HER
MOST SACRED SELF. Which means that for the first half of the
party we will run around pouring cheap wine on trees and things,
invoking his/her most divine eminence and generally creating
mayhem. For the second half we will libate ourselves by drinking
the leftovers. RSVP, or don't (I don't care, if you don't show
up I'll go off and do this MYSELF) to VAX004::PURPS. Non-
alcoholic libations will also be available to douse other things
and self with. We don't want OTIS to get TOO drunk after all.
The last time we did that Sen. Helms got himself elected. HAIL
OTIS!!! and see you there or I'll end up VERY drunk all on my
own.
All right! Now that that's been done, it falls on me only
to say that this is one of the longest Thunderbolt's to date, so
I'm going to skip most of the introductory stuff. Welcome,
BRIEFLY, however, to our New Members. New Members seem to be
massing around Purps like "flies to slime" (as Scott put it). We
are glad to have you here. Fair warning, 'though, the following
pages contain virtual HEAPS of deranged strangeness compiled
together for the specific and sole purpose of FREAKING YOU OUT.
Although, judging from some of the mail you new 'uns have sent
me, it may be a little late for that. Feel free to take full
advantage of the benefits conferred to all Purps members, fiddle
with the archive program (more on this later) to learn STRANGE
and interesting stuff, read the attached dis.list list to learn
the names of the other members of this fast growing group of
abnormals (and please feel free to volunteer the names of others
who may be interested in what we do, the more the merrier here at
Purps), SUBMIT neat stuff to be reprinted here (anything odd will
do) and REVEL in the strange looks other people will give you as
soon as they know you belong here.
HAIL OTIS!!!! HAIL CREIZA!!!! HAIL SPODE!!!!
"POPE" Jeoffee I
----
"Purps" is now a bi-monthly publication. You will not see
one until the week after next. Really.
_______
News
-------
>>PURPS STUFF
The Purps.Arh program, "@Purps.arh", is being
constantly improved. The type function now page scrolls (ctrl-c
skips to the next file if you're doing a bunch), every option
accepts wildcards (use them sparingly, huh?), two new functions
have been added, Print and List New Files, and now the mail
function lists everything as coming from your username, not Purps. I
don't know who did this last one, actually, but don't be
confused...
>>OTISIAN NEWS
MERCHANDISE WARS!
Official OTISian merchandise is a beast which rears it's
head only upon serious demand. That means that I print up only
as many t-shirts, badges, etc., as I think I can sell quickly.
So, after dumping off the last of the old batch of t-shirts (the
ones I couldn't sell, no one seeming to want large or medium
sized "T"s) for free, I had no set plans to whip up any more.
HOWEVER, it seems that in the "seriously ravage the bag on Jeff's
door" free-for-all which followed my announcement of free "T"s, a
lot of people got trampled by the more aggressive crowd behind
them and had to veer of the path to room 403 to get medical
attention. When they returned, the "T"s were all gone.
Since then I've gotten several complaints.
AND, more importantly, and offer from Domminic Fucci (a
professional artist in Oregon) to crank out as many T-Shirts as I
ask for for no more than $7.00 a shirt, maybe less.
So, here's the deal; if you failed to get a shirt in the
last free-for-all, or are a 700 pound gorilla and only got a
"adult medium", and you are willing to shell out NO MORE THAN
$8.00 for a red and black version of the original OTISian "T" (or
other colors, send your votes), send a mail message NOW to PURPS.
If I get enough responses, I'll do another run. THIS time XL,
XXL, and XXXXXXXL (well, maybe not the last) will be available,
so when the d-mn thing shrinks in the drier, you'll still be able
to wear it. Other styles may also become available if this
works.
ALSO: (OTIS, does he EVER SHUT UP?) I can get more watches like
the one you have all seen me wearing and admired, for $22 a pop,
men's or women's styles. Real leather, real gold, "real good".
Japanese quartz accuracy (none of this fancy swiss stuff), and a
lot of fun. For this one I need money up front I'm afraid. If
YOU have something you want put on a similar watch, I'll give you
an address of a co. who'll do it for $15.00ish. Up to six people
can take advantage of this offer, or 12 or more. Again, write
and ask.
>>OTHER NEWS:
Oregon State University entomologist Michael Burgett reported in April that the
average American eats about a pound of bugs a year-- the aggregate of bug parts
that appear in certain foods and that are too costly to remove. Burgett said
that bugs generally provide more protein than an equivalent amount of other
food.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Chinese government executed 12 male and 6 female factory managers by
firing squad at a refrigerator plant just outside Beijing in October because
the poor quality of their products constituted "unpardonable crimes against
the people of China." Customers had complained for years about waiting five
years for refrigerators that were unusable when delivered.
_____________________________________________________________________________
University of Florida researchers revealed in March that the U.S. Air Force
is paying $100,000 for a study to show whether low-flying F-4 Phantom fighter
jets affect the health of pregnant horses that live near military bases. The
researchers will use simulated noise rather than actual jets.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
James L. Bowman, 43, pleaded guilty in Delaware, OH, in May to having bilked
an elderly woman out of $90,000. Asked why he committed the crime, Bowman told
the judge, "I feel I have a need to buy things. I don't know why I buy."
_____________________________________________________________________________
A 34-year-old Saint Paul woman was arrested recently for slugging her husband
with a cordless telephone because, she said, he had fallen asleep during
church earlier in the day.
[That'll teach YOU not to go to church!]
____________________________________________________________________________
[An Interesting little something snatched quietly from the official 'zine of
the MOOSE Illuminatti. PJ]
{This letter was originally submitted to the POLITICS list by Harl0ck. His
introductory remarks will explain more.}
This morning's "Central Michigan Life" [Sept. 28] had an interesting
article concerning what was going on in Saudi Arabia. Briefly, a mother of one
of the soldiers in SA received this letter. For reasons that will be clear
when you read it, it enraged her, and she's been going public with it, because
she fears for her daughter's life. The letter was printed in its entirety in
CM Life, and it is from that I'm taking what is below. The mother's name is
Bobbie Slockum, and her daughter (the soldier who wrote the letter)'s name is
Debbie, although Debbie's last name is different from her mothers. No spelling
errors in the letter were corrected.
-------------------------
Mom,
I was really hoping I didn't have to write this letter. I didn't want you
to know what was really going on - cause I didn't want you to worry about me
any more than you already do.
I hope this letter makes it to you - I don't know if they go through our
mail. But I feel that our families have just as much right to know what we're
up against as the soldiers do.
About four days ago, they took all our ammunition away from us. They
said they didn't want us to hurt each other. We're sitting ducks. Five to
seven thousand soldiers in one building - and no ammunition.
They've rendered the whole division defenseless. I think that's really
stupid. Mom, I'm really scared. I can't remember a time in my life I was
more scared than I am right now.
Our commanders finally decided to tell us what's going on. And it isn't
pretty at all. I don't know what the news is telling you back home - but I'm
gonna tell you how it really is.
This is one of those "you better sit down" letters. There has been
several known terrorist groups found inside our perimeter. Something that
wasn't supposed to be able to happen. They are planning to hit two (that we
know of) places where U.S. soldiers are at.
King Fahd International Airport - which is where we are at (with no
ammunition) and Da-ha-ron Airport, where all our equipment and supplies come
in. That we could figure out. We're prime targets.
Yesterday they found a terrorist *inside* our building where we sleep.
He was carrying blueprints to the building. They were marked where all our
air missiles are located - where all the units are located inside and where
all the officers sleep. We were told that the shit could come down any day
now.
This isn't summer camp. I could lose my life - and I don't wanta die.
I don't want to be here. And I don't want to die. Mom - I'm scared.
Please pray for me. Pray for all of us over here.
I didn't want to cry before - cause I didn't want to look like a fool.
I'm crying now. I don't want to die - and I might not get to see my family
again. If that makes me look like a fool - then I'll be a fool.
I love you Mom - and I'm gonna do what ever it takes to come home alive.
P.S. Please pray for Becky, too. I love her very much.
[Some scary stuff, indeed...]
_________________________________________________________________
OTISIAN RANTS
-----------------------------------------------------------------
(in which everything worth knowing about absolutely everything will be
revealed.)
THIS WEEK: BANQUET OF THE GOD(ESSE)S!
It must have been well past 1:00am with the rain pelting down and the
rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers becoming increasingly annoying, when I
saw the sign. I had just crossed the boundary from Idaho (the "Plenty o'
Parking Space" state) and had made the decision to pull over at the next
available rest area. A cold night in a cramped car didn't appeal much to me,
but the Delco had busted, and the prospect of driving the remaining 700 miles
with nothing to keep me awake but the whine of AM static did not entice me.
The sign was for a Holiday Inn, one of those big electric monstrosities
which hums if you get close enough to it and has space under the logo to put up
lettering. The sign itself was a relief; the lettering was a shock. I had to
read it twice before it made any sense "BNQT OF THE GODS/ESSES" it said,
"WECLOME OTIS ERIS BOB(c) AND FRIENDS." and then, somewhat lower, "ELKS DINNER
TONIGHT! HPPY 50th ELMO!"
"Are you with either party, sir?" The desk clerk was a shortish bored
looking man, who barely seemed to be able to muster the energy to speak over
the dull roar emanating form the twin ball rooms behind him.
"No, actually. I'm on my own."
He gave me a pitying look. "Well, I'm sure you could walk right in if you
wanted to. They're all too drunk to notice the difference anyway. Here we
are, room 235, just up the stairs...." He jerked his head in a vague
direction. "Have a nice night. And there are automatic fire alarms on the rear
exits so be careful when you use them." (They always seems to peg me.)
"Help you carry your vestal garments, sir?"
"Sure", I said, without turning around, determined not to notice a bellhop
who didn't show until I was halfway up. I continued to trudge the remaining
stairs and acknowledged his presence only when we arrived at the door. He had
brushed straight passed me and had begun to fiddle with the lock. It took a
few moments, but the door finally opened, and he hastily shoved what looked
more like a long thin piece of wire than a skeleton key back in his coat.
"Aren't you a little old to be a bellboy?" I asked. The point of fact
being that he was old enough to be my father, and looked like a father too,
only with strange wild eyes bulging out from a face that could have been
mistaken for Ward Cleever's.
"Actually, I'm not a bellboy", he said taking the tip from me "I'm a guest."
He plopped down on the bed, put a quarter into the magic fingers machine,
tossed off his shoes and lay back, taking deep drags on a pipe which hadn't
left his mouth yet. "This" he said "is the life."
"Uh-huh" I said, "Would you mind dousing that? It stinks."
"Hmmm? Oh, the Pipe. It doesn't go out. Sort of perpetually lit."
"What's in it?"
"Yak dung, actually. I find it helps me think."
The thunder outside had gotten so loud that even the smaller windows were
shaking.
"Quite a blower." I said.
My uninvited guest was silent for a minute, then snorted.
"He's just mad 'cause I beat him in poker. See?" He pulled out a large wad
of bills from nowhere "now _that_ is a nice heap o' slack."
I started to ask him to go, but he seemed suddenly fast asleep, so I grabbed
a few of the higher denominations from his hand (Church donations) and wandered
my way down the stairs.
As I rounded the corner, the desk clerk was anxiously shouting down his
phone. "That's _Weishaupt_ _W_E_I_S_H_A_U_P_T. What? No, I'm the eighth. My
father died last year in a freak yachting accident..... Listen, just tell them
that 'They're all here and the time is ripe.' That's right, all of them. I
think even Pope Geoffee just--" Seeing me he slammed down the phone, and
resumed his bored look. "Awful, isn't it?" he said, jerking his head towards
the noise. "Next week it'll be the Rotarians."
"Jeoffe! Gepheee! Jeffee! Is that you?"
I turned to face a tall impressive being of indeterminate sex, with a lamp
shade over his/her head and a rubber chicken dangling from a loose belt.
"OTIS!" I said, awed, dropping to one knee, "OTIS! OTIS...." I breathed in
and nearly passed out "OTIS you're drunk."
"Yeah", said his/her most benign benevolence. "I'm beginning to suspect
that Eris spiked the punch. But that's not important. Glad you're finally
here!" (S)he took me by the arm and started to drag me towards one of the twin
double set of ballroom doors. "There are some beings here you just have to
meet."
On that (s)he shoved the doors opened and I found myself looking a large
room with four long tables in it, clearly set for a formal dinner. The tables
were covered with used dishes, crumpled paper napkins and food scraps and the
silverware was in disarray. Around three of the tables sat elderly men, all
adorned with fezzes decorated with antlers and all staring aghast, towards the
raised table in the front of the room. Some seemed to be bowing in submission.
One had apparently passed out.
There, behind the table, lit by an eerie light, was a most impressive
figure. A ten foot high perfectly formed human being whose head was clearly
that of an adult elk sat hovering two several feet above the ground, with his
legs in a lotus position, and a huge pyramid topped with a glowing eye behind
him.
"Futhermore" he was saying, "You must return to your homes and DIVORCE YOUR
WIVES, remarrying instead to someone named "Moon Glow", then, you must quit
your high paying accountant jobs and move to the woods to eat granola and do
subsistence farming. There, you must build for yourself a large bathtub, and
it must constantly remained filled with gold fish. You must never wash there,
but take long showers instead, explaining to your friends that it is for
"aesthetic" value. Your house should be built WITHOUT WINDOWS, and should
contain nothing with in it that begins with the letter "r". No door, but a
large hole in the roof--"
"Opps", said the deity at my side "wrong room. SPODE! Cut that out!"
"The figure turned towards us, widened its eyes and melted into a perfectly
normal looking business man. He trotted over to where we were standing.
"You" he said to OTIS "never let me have ANY fun. Hello, Pope."
As we closed the door I heard the muffled crash, as someone fainted and
their chair toppled over.
{To be Continued}
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AND! WEIRD ALIEN STUFF!
From: VAX001::WINS%"<BARKER@ACC.FAU.EDU>" 21-OCT-1990 08:27:42.72
Subj: Space aliens
From: IN%"bwdavies@rodan.acs.syr.EDU"
[This one, folks, requires a little explanation.... It's a highly abbreviated
account of a "conversation" (really mail messages going back and forth, for you
non-tekies) on one of the Net's many news groups. I've dropped little notes in
explaining what's going on. Sorry this is so long, but it was TOO FUNNY to be
missed. Of COURSE we have the full text available, it's called ALIENSLAND.ARH
"POPE" Jeofeee1]
Just something I thought you should be aware of. Something happened here and
our newsrc got trashed so I started over and this popped up....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[The conversation starts out nice and simply, with a little bloody infighting
on a pointless topic, then, this thing appears...]
Organization: University of New Mexico, Albuquerque NM
Attention all alien visitors! Hello.
This is not a trick although you may think so. We are looking for
others like ourselves. We come from Alderon. We are of the Molven
Clan and we need help. We have but a short time to complete our mission.
We are looking for specific entities as well as any general help.
The names are:
Nimbelphoote
Domonic
Frederic
Johnathon
Jessica
Ailden
Sharon
Gwendolyn
Timiten
Karin (Karen)
What is happening here is real, although its appearance might be
misleading. We have taken a serious risk by posting this. Only
serious responses will be required. We have many questions and
many answers. Please feel free to ask anything.
Sincerely,
Frederic and Domonic Molven
- CUE -
PS: The names mentioned above were pre-arranged with the individuals
needing to be contacted.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[For a while, sane people ignored the message, seeing no green, bug-eyed
strangers among us, they assumed everything was alright. Then, one got
curious...]
>From: RBURNS@MAINE.BITNET
Newsgroups: alt.alien.visitors
Subject: RE: Help Needed
Organization: University of Maine System
Ok...I'll bite....
*How* did you get here, what is your mission, and what sort of help do you
need? (excuse me while I change into overalls and adopt an okie accent)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Apparently the 'OKIE ACCENT' inspired our friends, they responded...]
Subject: Tonight at Ken's Pancakes on El Camino Real in Redwood City
Sender: bR'gnth@near.mars
Hi y'all. Well gosh durn it, I hope I got this here'n accent right.
We've been watching your TV show Bonanza over and over to try and
learn how to speak right. We received some BBC broadcasts and were
trying to figure out what they were saying, but couldn't. ?What is
a douche? ?We thought that is what you say when you are fencing?
The real reason I am writing is to let you know that we'll be landing
tonight in the Bay area, after which we'll go for pancakes at Ken's.
We'll sit at the counter, right next to the cash register. Please
stop by and say hello. Also, we're a little short of local money, so if
you could give us some samples so that we can program our replicators
to make some more, we'd appreciate it. Large denominations are prefered,
and of course we'll make some for you too.
Please, this is serious, we have injected this message into the alt.net
using our superior technology as proof of our serious intentions.
Thank you for your support.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
[One Skeptic apparently didn't BELIVE that Aliens would willingly model
themselves after out dated camp television personalities. Or maybe he's
serious; at this point it's hard to tell...]
>From: jlhaferman@l_eld09.icaen.uiowa.edu (Jeff Haferman)
Before you visit Ken's, visit us. We can make your stay here more
comfortable. Who are we?
ASHLAASQWWIOIQ
The first and last word in Extra-Vehicular Active Wear. We've been
a consistent leader in supplying space aliens with portable life support
systems and attire for: the tennis court, swimming pool, golf course,
just about anywhere you would want to enjoy while visiting planet earth.
Winner of the Venutian Space Station Freedom Award 4 years running.
(makers of the Uranus Wiper)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Ah, yes, Brad Zaller, never thought I'd see him again. This is the guy who
helps run "Alink", Apple's once in-house, now in the "real world" network. A
long time ago I tried to set up an OTISian weirdness discussion board there.
The Big Wigs thought that "Apple wouldn't appreciate that kind of thing on it's
system." I put it up anyway. Brad wrote and congratulated me. Later, I found
him in an "ILLUMINATTI" discussion corner, I think.... Skeptical he is, but
also a very amusing man. Mostly, of course, this message has nothing but
sentimental value for me....]
>From: brad@Apple.COM (Brad Zaller)
Subject: Elvis
Organization: Apple Computer Inc., Cupertino, CA
Hey, Elvis is reading this newsgroup, isn't he?
___________________________________________________________________
Bradley C. Zaller | "See this glass of milk? Well, to you, it
Apple Computer, Inc. | would be like swimming in fog."
brad@apple.com | -- Tim, talking to Gertrude the fish
___________________________________________________________________
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
[The Aliens chose to ignore Brad, and, for their own saftey, get out of the Bay
Area. They went to Chicago.]
>From: bR'gnth@near.mars
Subject: Tonight at the 50s/60s McDonalds in downtown Chicago
Well, the other night at Ken's was such a great success, we're going
to do it again. We'll be sitting under the picture of the Beatles
on the sixties side. In order to satiate our enormous appetite for
McDonalds Big Mac Wrappers, we would be pleased if you would drop
off your expired wrappers so that we don't have to dig them out of
the trash. We are also intrigued by the idea of Sushi, does anyone
know of a good place in Chicago for some?
Those of you who brought the large denomination currency are much
appreciated. We desire very much for a shopping trip through the
famed Water Tower Marshall Fields; we would be very pleased if some
of you would lend us your Marshall Fields credit card so that we might
partake of this great American institution. As usual, we'll reciprocate
in kind, say a birds eye view of Chicago from our spacecraft.
re: the kind offer of extra-vehicular outer wear. Thank you very much
for your kind offer. Regret that we are oxygen breathing, carbon based
life forms, and as such find that our regular garments suffice quite well.
Please, this is serious, we have injected this message into the alt.net
using our superior technology as proof of our serious intentions.
Thank you for your support.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Of, course, it wasn't long before some academic got a GREAT idea for his
comps.
("OZ", by the way, stands for Australia.)]
>From: paul@surf.sics.bu.oz (Paul Davis)
Hi,
I appreciate this new group as I am short of information on et subjects.
Specifically, I was wondering if any of you visitors could clue me in on
some transportation techniques. I would love to do some travel off-planet
and it seems that if you guys made it here we might do some sort of
exchange program. I've got a research semester coming up in May, and if
I could spend 3 months (earth time) visiting some of you visitors' home
planets I would be most grateful.
Any pointers or other travel tips appreciated.
Yours sincerely,
paul
[and that's all for now...]
________________________________________________________________________
Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream Flavors which Never Made it Past the R&D Phase
Marvelous Mushrooms
Chock Full o' Anchovies
Broccoli By-Product
Squid
Cheeseburger Supreme
===============================================================
OTHER RANTS
===============================================================
(in which absolutely nothing will be revealed at all)
[First off, some promising youngins who have seen the glory of OTIS!]
From: VAX001::KOEHLERS 9-OCT-1990 01:21:20.00
Subj: what is over is done, what is to come is also done just on a different
day.
The most simple way of examining insanity is to become insane. My roommate
is completely secure if he knows that his pillow is over his face. Thus, the
complexity of the systematic destruction of the human race though the casual
use of the word "drit", which Berke Breathed points out in "Billy in the
Boingers Bootleg", is a racial slur to most tahitians, is personified by the
abscure but very important fact that tree frogs are not only OTIS most favored
creature, but the symbol of the newest and most scary age. "...For hard-core
behavioristic psychology, such altered states have approximately the same
status as demons or ghost; indeed for behaviorism even the exsistance of mind
is in serious doubt." so, wlth the discovery of legless reptiles in the local
fishing hole, our conscious mind is merely as phantom, of our prior exsistance.
There are likewise several completely unabtrusive nigerian field mice living in
my mothers freezer. (they're dead of course) How is it then that Spode can
withstand the onslaught of under 3yr-old cats and household flies.
"when we simplify the complex, do we complicate the very simple"
The center of being is where?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: VAX001::BUSH 10-OCT-1990 21:24:53.15
Subj: harmonious religious conversion
Open my eyes to the glory of Otis, amazing Otis how sweet thy sound, shall I
quote more cheesy religious phrases? Oh prophet of the true faith of
fruitcakes and master of sucking the marrow out of life, show me the heavenly
ways. Let every sky look like the front of a Sunday morning bulletin, with
'Otis is love' spelled out in big, white, friendly letters. Let the beer
foam up like the fountain of knowledge. Anyway, tell me about the church of
Otis. Will it make my girlfriend love me more, will it press my suits for me,
and will it tell me if eagles really dare or are just moved by the necessity
of being winged predators? Or will it be a wild ol' time of religious ceremony
and celebrations in the best and most f--ed up sort of way? Fill my vacant
ears with thy knowledge. Thanks man.---Karl Bush, insane or inane freshman who
is proudly displaying the name of Otis on his back.
=============================================================================
[Hey, hey, hey! Had enough of this joke yet? Well, Mr. Chadwick hasn't and
if I have to read this stuff I see no reason why you shouldn't have to, too.]
From: VAX001::CHADWICK "DM of the Purple Stardust (Which is Pure
Emptiness)"
Subj: More smily stuff
!-) User is winking
¡-) User is blinking
<:-| User is a Conehead
*{:-) User is wearing stocking cap with a poofy tassel on top
:#( Someone just hit user in the nose with a meat tenderizer
I-+ User has a hare lip and wears glasses
I-C User hates glasses jokes
*-I User is a Cyclops
&-) User is wearing a Mardi Gras mask
ß-) User is wearing another Mardi Gras mask
ßop User got really drunk at Mardi Gras
ßo@ User mouthed off to someone while drunk at Mardi Gras and got a fat lip
:¿) User has big nose
§:-) User is wearing a sprinkler on top of head
-X-b User was just impaled by falling girder
=X-b User was just impaled by two falling girders
| 5000-lb. elephant just sat on user
.............................................................................
[And hey, what issue of the Thunderbolt would be complete without a cheesy
submission to our ASTERIX ART COMPETITION? Certainly not THIS one, anyway.
Aren't these cute? Print them out and wrap fish in them or use them for dart
boards or affix suction cups to them and stick them to the side of your
computer
or something....]
VAX001::BEEBA "There is just one God/ there is just one Man/ who can
make us laugh/ who can make us grow/who can make the love between us flow"
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[This magazine swore, once, long ago, never to be "Politically correct".
However, and article called "If Men Could Menstruate" [ARCHIVE: HUMOR,
MENSTRUATE.ARH] by Gloria Steinem was funny enough that when KLEINSR requested
I add it here, I couldn't resist. I'm Sorry this 'zine has gotten so long....
PJ]
A while minority of the world has spent centuries conning us into thinking that
a white skin makes people superior-- even though the only thing it really does
is make them more sensitive to UV rays and wrinkles. Male human beings have
built whole cultures around the idea that penis envy is "natural" to women--
though having such an unprotected organ might be said to make men vulnerable,
and the power to give birth makes womb-envy at least logical.
In short, the characteristics of the powerful, whatever they may be, are
thought to be better than the characteristics of the powerless-- and logic has
nothing to do with it.
What would happen, for instance, if suddenly, magically, men could menstruate
and women could not.
The answer is clear- menstruation would become an enviable, boast-worthy,
masculine event: Men would brag about how long and how much. Boys would argue
about the onset of menses, that longed-for proof of manhood, with religious
ritual and stag parties.
Congress would fund a national Institute of Dysmenorrhea to help stamp out
monthly discomforts.
Sanitary supplies would be federally funded and free. (Of course, some men
would still pay for the prestige of commercial brands such as John Wayne
Tampons, Muhammad Ali's Rope-a-Dope pads, Joe Namath Jock Shields-- "For Those
Light Bachelor Days", and Robert "Baretta" Blake Maxi-Pads".)
Military men, right-wing politicians, and religious fundamentalists would
cite menstruation ("_MEN_stration") as proof that only men could serve in the
army ("you have to give blood to take blood"), occupy political office ("can
women be aggressive without that steadfast cycle governed by the planet
Mars?"), be priests and ministers ("how could a woman give blood for our
sins"), or Rabbis ("without the monthly loss of impurities women remain
unclean").
Male radicals, left-wing politicians, and mystics, however, would insist that
women are equal, just different; and that any woman could enter their ranks if
only she were willing to inflict a major wound every month (you _must_ give
blood for the revolution), recognize the preeminence of menstrual cycles, or
subordinate her selfless to all men in their "Cycle of Enlightenment".
Street guys would brag ("I'm a three pad man") or answer praise from a buddy
("Man you lookin' _good_!") by giving fives and saying "Yeah, man, I'm on the
rag!"
TV shows would treat the subject at length. ("Happy Days": Richie and Potsie
try to convince Fonzie that he is still "The Fonz", though he has missed two
periods in a row.) So would newspapers. (SHARK SCARE THREATENS MENSTRUATING
MEN. JUDGE CITES MONTHLY STRESS IN PARDONING RAPIST.) And movies (Newman and
Redford in "Blood Brothers"!)
Men would convince women that sex was _more_ pleasurable at "that time of
month." Lesbians would be said to fear the blood and therefore life itself--
though probably only because they needed a good menstruating man.
Of course, male intellectuals would offer the most moral and logical
arguments. How could a woman master any discipline that demanded a sense of
time, space, mathematics, or measurement, for instance, without a built-in gift
for measuring the cycles of the moon and planets-- and thus for measuring
anything at all? In the rarefied fields of philosophy and religion, could
women compensate for missing the rhythm of the universe? Or for their symbolic
lack of death and resurrection every month?
Liberal males in every field would try to be kind: the fact that "these
people" have no gift for measuring life or connecting to the universe, the
liberals would explain, should be punishment enough.
And how would women be trained to react? One can imagine traditional women
agreeing to all of these arguments with a staunch and smiling masochism.
("The ERA would force housewives to wound themselves every month" Phyllis
Schlaffy. "Your husband's blood is a sacred as that of Jesus-- and so sexy,
too!": Marabel Morgan.) Reformers and queen bees would try to imitate men,
and _pretend_ to have a monthly cycle. All feminists would explain endlessly
that men, too, needed to be liberated from the false idea of martian
aggressiveness, just as women needed to escape from the bonds of menses-envy.
Radical feminists would add that the oppression of the nonmenstrual was the
pattern for all other oppressions. ("Vampires were our first freedom
fighters!") Cultural feminists would develop a bloodless imagery in art and
literature. Socialist feminists would insist that only under capitalism would
men be able to monopolize menstrual blood...
In fact, if men could menstruate, the power justifications would probably go
on forever.
If we let them.
____________________________________________________________________________
[And, finally, the Dis.list has grown again. We're 39 strong now...]
asaro
barth
brentzel
broadie
chadwick
chamberb
dailinge
fitzgera
gregory
griffins
hamrick
hopkinsm
hillv
holdcraf
jj*
keeling
kinge
kleinsr
koehlers
kurelljj
lane
liza*
mal*
margaret
matusek
matzke
model
murray
neffa
nowell
pomper
reehal
schroeder
shutt
simpsons
stevensj
tucker
waddell
zecchin
*Net people.
________________________________________________________________
THE PURPLE THUNDERBOLT OF SPODE ISSUE # 6
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Neither censored nor edited. Deal.
