Issue #15, 29 January 1996

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F               MM     MM       E               Farm Macheenery
F               M M   M M       E                 (exploding)
FFFFF           M  M M  M       EEEEE              Issue #15
F               M   M   M       E
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F               M       M       EEEEEEEEE


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Writers (in no particular order):
Renee Elrod (aka XX or Xavier Xerxes):  re11@uwrf.edu
Melissa Hoffmeyer (aka DP or Dr. Pepper):  melvan@pressenter.com

Extra staff:
Andy Hoffmeyer (aka MM or Marvin the Magnificent)
--DP's brother & computer expert
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Friends, aliens, countrypeople, lend me your spleens...  We hope y'all
know by now that DP is at a new email address-- it's listed in the section
above.  Please don't send anything to her old address, okey-dokey?  Unless
you want it to be permanently, hopelessly lost in cyberspace....

And now for a new FME column-- it won't be a weekly column, but that
doesn't make it lose any of its columness, does it??

We here at FME present to you...



OH SNOP!!!!
...a journey into life's
little annoyances...



(for those of you who don't know, "Snop" is the official "bad word" of
FME)

DP's complaint:  MM's mouse (computer, not living, echoed by MM).  The
mouse is very stubborn and doesn't want to go where you want it to go when
you want it to go there.  It needs a good slap upside the head, only we
don't know where its head is.  I guess it doesn't help any that it's had
numerous unidentified liquids spilled on it....

AS THE TRACTOR BURNS


The Characters:
Raul:  played by Jim Varney
Esmerelda:  played by Roseanne
I.M. Gilty: played by O.J. Simpson
Howard Stern: played by Barney the Dinosaur
Al Rightithen: played by Jim Carrey
Buffy:  played by Princess Di

Last week on ATTB...

I.M. & Buffy talk to a blonde receptionist at the taxi garage who can't
tell them anything about where Raul & Esmerelda are, but suggests that
they call the police.  We last left them trying to figure out the phone
number for 911...

Meanwhile, in the taxi...

Raul:  Are you really sure you want to take us to that filthy
horse barn?
Driver:  (picks his nose, looking furtively around, hoping no
one notices) Well, I guess I could let you out where you want to go.
Raul:  Did you torture small animals as a child?
Driver:  I'll pretend I didn't hear that!
Esmerelda:  I was kinda looking forward to the smell of horse
dung...
Driver:  Okay, I'll take you wherever you want to go.
Raul:  Great.  Let's go home.

Back at the bakery...

Al:  (screaming in the street)  HEY!!! DOES ANYONE KNOW THE
NUMBER FOR 911???
Buffy:  Oh, boy.  Al, shut up!  The number for 911 is 911.  I
guess those years I spent in college *did* pay off!
Howard:  I'll call 911.  What's the number again?
Buffy:  (smacks Howard with her purse)  911, you idiot!
Howard:  Oh.  Right. (dials)
911 Operator:  Hello, national psychic hotline!  (laughing
maniacally)  Hahahaha!  Just kidding!  This is my last day on the
job and I've always wanted to say that.
Howard:  You @*!?$!&% 911 operator!  We have an emergency!  Our
friends have been kidnapped!
911 Operator:  Sheesh!  Have a cow!  Fine, I'll help you.

Join us next time as the off-her-medication 911 operator helps the gang
find their friends, who have been returned to their homes.


We here at FME proudly present...

Pick Your Phobia!

fifty-fiveaphobia:  the irrational fear of being stuck driving behind
someone who's going *exactly* 55 mph on the highway, and not being able to
pass that person, due to a steady stream of cars going the opposite
direction

*55 mph is about 85 kilometers per hour.

Commentary by XX:  Gee, thanks for that bit of trivia, DP!

Response by DP:  yeah, well, the rest of the world uses metric.

Response to that response:  They all sniff too much koolaid dust.

NOTE:  DP apologizes to everyone in other countries who use the metric
system who may be offended by XX's comments.  However, XX did comment that
she likes the colorful fire hydrants in Ontario, Canada.

Quadrophobia:  The fear of the number 4.

Phobiaphobiaphobia:  The fear of being afraid of being afraid of phobias

Wise Sage

**Do you have one of those questions that keeps you up at night,
  wondering?  Ask the Wise Sage!  email re11@uwrf.edu with your questions

Dear Wise Sage,

Um.. why am I in California?  I didn't used to be here.. help me
understand these strange things happening in my life!

-- Sean

Sean,

Hmmmm... you are quite possibly suffering from State Awareness Disorder
(S.A.D.) wherein you suddenly realize you are located in a state that you
weren't previously in.  (Ack!  I ended my sentence with a preposition...
so sue me.)  People all over the United States are suffering from S.A.D.,
realizing that they are living in a new state, and feeling *quite*
disoriented.  For example, Mr. Nonexistential all of a sudden realized he
was living in Iowa, and promptly went insane.  (okay, that was a very rude
slam on Iowa... we here in Wisconsin are real good at doing that sort of
thing...)  One thing all S.A.D. sufferers have in common is the state of
confusion.  This is a temporary condition in most cases, and eating large
amounts of grape taffy seems to help.

Wise Sage

What is Spam really made of?

Mike Betzel

Mike,

Do you ever wonder what happens to roadkill?

Wise Sage

The Section Where Other People Write

**To see your original, funny stories, poems, ideas, or whatever in this
  section, email melvan@pressenter.com

Postcards from Potato Land

Everyone is undoubtedly in a bad mood because they didn't get to read
"Postcards" last week.  Smile.  It's back.

Potato Land is white with snow these days.  No more dog doodoos.  No more
deer hides on the door step.

Ebbie, the Labrador, has survived two January spaying specials.  The first
time she ripped her stitches two days after coming home.  So she went back
to the doctor.  He sewed her up. The doctor bill was three times higher
than the original special.  She wore a plant pot on her head for 10 days
and scared off horses, thieves and people.  The incision healed.  Rambo
and Baby Horse broke through the barnyard gate on a quiet Friday afternoon
and pranced up and down Great Northern Road.  Neighbors chased them home
and chastised their owners who were absent that day.  Malcolm, the
exploding cat, had an accidental explosion near the window sill last week.
Yuck.

The used car lot at the end of the drifted driveway means lugging chips
and dip in three feet of snow through a blinding blizzard.  Lots of
television.  No way to escape the Super Bowl.  We in Potato Land still
want the Packers to win.

Happy Week!!!

May your drifts go shift in the mist.  Or something like that.
pg

The following poem was written by Ben Ohmart (I hope I spelled it right).

The Wet Land

i was watering my grass
when all of a finally
it started to rain
so i had to go get a sweater

URGENT FME NEWS!!!


The new address is up and running, and the old one is no longer being
used.  Please send all mail for Dr. Pepper to melvan@pressenter.com

----------------
Dumb Poetry in a
Card Type Trash
----------------

Chicken
-------

A poem
about
a chicken.

DP (inspired by XX & her uncle Ted)

:):):):):):):):):):):):):):)

FME is on the web at http://www.pressenter.com/~melvan/fme.htm

This document is copyright 1996 by Renee Elrod and Melissa Hoffmeyer,
except for the material submitted by other people, in which case the
copyright belongs to the original author. Feel free to distribute this
document far and wide (especially wide)  as long as it is not changed in
any way.  To subscribe to Farm Macheenery (exploding) magazine, email
melvan@pressenter.com or re11@uwrf.edu.  Send all general comments to
either melvan@pressenter.com or re11@uwrf.edu.

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