FFFFFFFFF M M EEEEEEEEE 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 F M M E F M M EEEEEEEEE +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The Writers (in no particular order): Renee Elrod (aka XX or Xavier Xerxes): email@example.com Melissa Hoffmeyer (aka DP or Dr. Pepper): firstname.lastname@example.org 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 email@example.com 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 firstname.lastname@example.org 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 email@example.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 firstname.lastname@example.org or email@example.com. Send all general comments to either firstname.lastname@example.org or email@example.com.