for 16 December 1999. Updated every WEEKDAY.
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Most Excellent Rumors Also, Pringles give you loose stools. Trust me, I know. >:-) <rr0984@cnsvax.albany.edu> Well, those things were developed by captive Japanese-American scientists in internment camps during World War II. I'm guessing the typical Japanese diet includes a much lower fiber intake than yours. DJ Abe  The Dutch are not Scandinavian. Get it straight. <Scott.Dolan@standardregister.com> That's what's wrong with our Eurocentric society today — too much is made of petty differences. Though separate countries, Dutch and Scandinavia are actually very near one another, and they do sell Mentos in the latter, even to minors. DJ Abe Subject: KFC Although the other "rumors" are quite correct and have been begging for the light of day, your revelation about the Colonel's chicken flock is terribly flawed. Upon opening a bucket of clucker pieces, discerning customers have always noticed there are body parts contained therein which have no resemblance to the wings, legs, thighs, and breasts sold by Frank Perdue or the folks down on the Holly Farms. The reason for this confusing difference, my aspersion- casting friend, is that the Colonel's chickens do, in fact, have anuses. During John Y.'s quest to cut costs, he discovered the ultimate timesaving method for butchering barnyard fowl. Mr. Brown ordered that the technique be included in the supplier's confidential SOP manual, and it has been as jealously guarded as the herbs/spices recipe. At great personal risk, I am forwarding it to you: "1. Catch chicken by one foot. 2. Grab tail and locate anus. 3. Insert one standard M-80 in anus, light fuse, and release chicken. 4. Bread and cook all pieces that can be located after detonation. Warning customers of gas, oily discharge, and immediate need to defecate after consumption is not required as stated in Reed v. Dunkin Donuts, USCC 7, 3269, 1966." Oh yeah, in case you're wondering, gunpowder is one of the 11 herbs and spices. Cowboy <hdcowboy@mail.cvn.net> Oops! I was talking about Kentucky Fried Chicken. DJ Abe Filler Subject: Pretty Weak Today What's the deal, did you forget to pay the narrative tax? Alejandro Taylor <ataylor@ findsvp.com> Oh shit! It seems like narrative tax time comes around faster every year! Polly This week: a shocker. Wish I could say, "top notch," but I can't. Either this week's Filler was so esoteric as to be overwhelmingly boring, or it was so cynical as to not be remotely funny. Disjointed, lost, wandering. What's with the unsolicited negative criticism? Maybe this'll help: This week, my editor/editrix told me, "Don't let cynicism get in the way of creativity." Bahahahahahahahahahahaa! Paul Pavlak <PPavlak@EMAIL.HGA.com> That's funny, because my editor always says, "Don't let creativity get in the way of cynicism." Disjointed, lost, wandering, Polly Polly, You have a fine legal mind (as evidenced by the "Jury Doody" Filler highlighted on the Classic Suck bar this week), but I think your meticulous bong-spilling analysis overlooks a crucial suspect. You are dead-on by recognizing that, in these situations, it's not who physically spilled the bong that everyone gets so hyped up about, it's whose fault it is. Mike Johnson, 23, might have actually upended the device, but why didn't Scott McLeod, 32, act faster to make the save? And how much guilt does Lucy Weiss, 27, bear for putting on the jitter-inducing Tori Amos? There's plenty of fault to go around. But still, the question: What about the cat? No mention is made of this contented, pinkish feline-thing lolling in the foreground. Again, perhaps the cat did not actually attack and topple the bong physically, but it should share some blame. Maybe its dander was aggravating Mike's, 23, allergies and making his eyes blur (he looks like the kind of guy with allergies). Or maybe it fled the clatter of the falling bong, and its hasty exit distracted Scott, 32, from coming to the rescue in time. And perhaps its catty feline energy put Lucy, 27, in the mood for some meowing vocals, hence the Tori Amos. Then, of course, there's the larger concern of whose place this is. Mike, 23, is a friend-of-friend invite; Scott, 32, and Lucy, 27, are guests. Is it your place, Polly? Sorry about the carpet. And I didn't mean to imply that your cat has a dander problem. Stay where you are, cheese danish! Chris Mohney <cmohney@menasha.cncoffice.com> Ah, sure. Blame the cat. That's what's wrong with our society. Something goes wrong, we blame the cat. Sad, really. Anyway, that's not my apartment in the diagram. I don't own a bong, but if I did, the water would be sparkling and clean, I can assure you of that. Maybe it would even be moutain spring water, from protected springs high in the Sierra Nevada and San Bernadino mountains. "It's better up there!" It would be clean enough that you might splash a little in your whiskey on the rocks, if you wanted a little splash of water in there, which you probably wouldn't. I don't have wall-to-wall carpeting, but if I did, I wouldn't own a bong, but if I did own a bong ... (see above). I don't own a cat, but if I did, I wouldn't blame it for everything. Actually, I probably would blame it for everything. But my cat wouldn't have a dander problem, and I wouldn't allow so-called "allergic" people into my home, and I wouldn't have wall-to-wall carpeting, which would aggravate the dander issue when I did happen to have so-called allergic types around, which I wouldn't. While I do not currently know of a cheese danish in the vicinity, I do have a large block of cheese in my fridge, and it is staying right where it is, patiently awaiting further instruction. Polly Subject: What's on your windowsill? Dear Polly, I have resisted writing in the past for fear of ridicule in the sporadic Hate Mail Fillers. But today I have a little problem. On the first page of the 1 December 1999 Filler, we get to see you sitting in your stylish living room. Wonderful. Nice curtains. But I was left puzzled — exactly what was that stuff on your windowsill, if it was on the sill at all? My guess, from left to right, is a snow globe, the head of an alien (or the guy from Munch's "The Scream," only not screaming, or one of those things that spins when exposed to direct light), and a small pig figurine. The more disturbing possibility is that these things are actually outside, across the street, and are (from right to left this time) a gigantic pig, an alien (or the Munch guy on Prozac), and the back of Frankenstein's head!!!! Help me out here!! Andy Abbott <aabbott@gatan.com> I don't know what that crap is. It showed up before, and I meant to ask Terry what it was. I also meant to ask him why I look so fat lately, like some girl who has a big black "kitty" named Elvis and wall-to-wall carpeting and a dander problem and a wall that's creatively decorated with this really fantastic silk scarf she found at a yard sale and paid, like, next to nothing for. Can't you just picture me? Sitting around all day eating cookies and trying to think up funny "jokes" for my pathetic "online cartoon." No, I am much too mean and neurotic to have pets or to vacuum or to hunt for bargains at yard sales or to deign to attempt being "funny." Or to have friends or to describe anything as "fantastic," for that matter, but let's drop it. I think Terry's hinting at the fact that my apartment is overly cluttered. Either that, or he's trying to warn me about the gigantic pig, the alien, and the back of Frankenstein's head, all of which are just outside my window!!! Help me!!! Polly Subject: What's the deal with Steve? I just read the 1 December 1999 Filler. I sure love that Steve. But as much as I like the guy, he seems to have been watered down from the offensive, lazy, stinking brew he was in "Creepless in Seattle." You know, the Steve we all fell in love with. I mean, going out to dinner with some other doctors? What happened to the Steve who said he wasn't leaving the house unless things were going to blow up? The Steve who disdainfully uttered, "Cold Mountain"? I mean, for fuck's sake. Couldn't we get some more of that whining, pathetic, lying jackass? Please? Bitching and moaning, So-So Stu <sosostu@hotmail.com> Well, the moral of the story was "Doctors are evil." We had to set aside Steve's evilness in order to focus on the evilness of doctors in general. I really shouldn't write things like that because my sister Laura is a doctor. She's sometimes not so understanding about this little exaggerated world I dwell in. Actually, it doesn't seem exaggerated to me, but to a doctor, a scientist ... you understand. Strangely, she and Steve don't seem to like each other much. Maybe that's because my sister Laura is a real live doctor who's doing a fellowship at Duke University, and Steve just plays with this little Fisher-Price doctor's bag I got him. But we have to back up so I can clarify something. You refer to "the Steve we all fell in love with." Could you by any chance send me the names and email addresses of this "we all" you refer to, so I can forward them to offensive, lazy, stinking, whining, pathetic, lying, jackass Steve? As I mentioned before, he could use a date. Trust me, girls, it is sooo cute when he pretends to use the little stethoscope. Also offensive and lazy, but much less stinky, Polly Polly, Why don't you print my letters? I thought the one I sent two weeks ago about that asshole Kornheiser and his no-talent cousin Kornheiser was particularly funny. Flinchingly yours, Syd Lexic <sydlexic@cynical.com> I think this one is much funnier, personally. Polly |
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