FFFFFFFFF M M EEEEEEEEE F MM MM E Farm Macheenery F M M M M E (exploding) FFFFF M M M M EEEEE Issue #19 F M M M E F M M E F M M EEEEEEEEE +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The Writers (in no particular order): Renee Elrod (aka Xavier Xerxes or XX): email@example.com Melissa Hoffmeyer (aka Dr. Pepper or DP): firstname.lastname@example.org Extra Staff: Andy Hoffmeyer (aka Marvin the Magnificent or MM) --DP's brother & computer expert FME on the web: http://www.pressenter.com/~melvan/ +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Hello. I'm Bill the Cat, and I'll be your intro this evening. First, for your reading pleasure, we introduce an email conversation between DP & XX, the illustrious writers of this fine publication. DP: If you're going crazy, how long does it take to get there? XX: First take your i.q., multiply it by 2--divide by your height in inches, and *that's* how long it takes to get there! DP: Minutes or hours? Or days or months or weeks or years or seconds or decades or centuries? XX: Ounces. DP: What would that be in metric? XX: Standard Weevil Units (S.W.U.) DP: So for me, that would be... 4.3333333333333 standard weevil units. XX: And now, I have a question for you... if someone is driving you crazy, are they considered a chauffer? DP: Sure, but which side of the road do they drive on? XX: The up side. DP: What if your life has been turned upside-down? Do you drive on the bottom side then? XX: No, the wrong side. DP: I see. (said the blind man as he picked up his hammer and saw) XX: You forgot about the deaf wife! !!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh Snop -or- a journey into life's little annoyances !!!!!!!!!!!!!! **"snop" is the official "bad word" of fme Today, XX will complain about her pain-in-the-butt car! *blink*,*blink*,*blink*,*blink* "Confound that stupid turn signal!!" Yes, that's right. As I was driving home one night, the turn signal switch BROKE! *blink*,*blink*,*blink* ...which meant I had to drive for MILES with the signal light blinkin'! Aargh! Here I am thinking that everyone behind me was thinkin' "What an eediot! She won't turn her signal light off!" And then, of course, there was the time my car went thru that whole stalling phase. (*wailing in agony* "please, please let the light be green, or my car's gonna stall!!") ...but that's an entirely different story... ##################### 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, all of the characters died due to their spleens exploding. Hahahahaha! Just kidding. Actually, I don't remember what happened. Scene: Beautiful sunny beach. There are beautiful palm trees swaying in the breeze. Baywatch babe: Oh no! Look! There is someone drowning in the bay! Baywatch dude: Hey! Like put her down right now!! Howard: Hey, how did we get here? Buffy: I don't know. I'm just glad I.M. isn't here. He's so annoying. Howard: Where's Al? I.M.: Hey, who's the monkey? Buffy: What monkey? Howard: I don't see a monkey. Al: Huh? I.M.: I swear, I see a monkey! Buffy: I don't care!! Kiss me, you fool! *grabs I.M. and kisses him* I.M.: Mmmmmf! Meanwhile, Raul and Esmerelda are in the phone booth, calling the taxi service... *all of a sudden, the Blues Brothers drive up and jump in the phone booth. A lady blowtorches the phonebooth, and it shoots up into the air* Director: Cut, cut! That scene was all wrong!! Let's see it again! *all of a sudden, the Blues Brothers drive up and jump in the phone booth. A lady blowtorches the phonebooth, and it shoots up into the air* Director: CUT!! That wasn't quite right, let's try it one more time... *all of a sudden, the Blues Brothers drive up and jump in the phone booth. A lady blowtorches the phonebooth, and it shoots up into the air FORCEFULLY* Director: YES! That was perfect! Let's break for lunch. Join us next week on "As the Tractor Burns"!!! You never know who's going to show up next... *************** * 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, I was intending to contact the "Wise Sage" and ask how I can tell if my buttermilk has gone sour.Hmm? edsel of amery Dear edsel of amery, Ask yourself this question: "Does my buttermilk have chunks in it?" If you answer "yes" to this question, it's quite likely your buttermilk's gone sour. Wise Sage Dear Wise Sage: Why do I feel compelled to watch Monster Truckin' on television? Can this be explained scientifically? Mud Flap Maniac Dear Mud Flap Maniac, Your brain is filled with chemicals. When any one particular chemical gets out of whack, your behavior is affected. For example, there is one chemical in particular called flapamine that has been linked to obssessions with Monster Truckin'. When too much of this chemical is produced in your brain, you will feel an uncontrollable compulsion to watch this on television-- thus causing the excess chemical to evaporate out your ears. Wise Sage dear wise sage, tell me about rogaine? what the heck is this stuff? jock itch powder? what don't they ever SAY WHAT IT IS??? your man with very long hair, ben Dear ben, Rogaine is really another name for Spam. The reason they never tell you what Rogaine *really* is on those strange tv commercials is they are trying to get rid of the world's excess Spam. If you call the 1-800 number they flash up on the screen, they will send you a lifetime supply of Spam. If you rub the Spam on your head, it will kill all your hair. Wise Sage ----- DP has just finished work on her biography, titled "I'm 20 years old and have never eaten Spaghetti O's". We are proud to include an excerpt for your reading enjoyment. I was born a long time ago (not really). I live on Earth (that's debatable). I have eaten Spam. I have eaten Macaroni & Cheese. I have eaten hot dogs. I have eaten Alphabet Soup. I used to drink my parents' cold coffee when I was VERY young. But I have never eaten Spaghetti O's. I was a deprived child. I will need therapy for the rest of my life on account of my never having eaten Spaghetti O's. When XX discovered that I have never eaten Spaghetti O's, she nearly fell off the couch she was sitting on. She then forcefully dragged me into her kitchen and spoon-fed me a Spaghetti O's-like substance, which actually wasn't Spaghetti O's, but sorta close to it, so she made me eat it and I promptly threw up. Not really. Actually, no part of this story is true (except for all of it). Every time I look in the mirror, I'm looking at the depressed face of a person who has never eaten Spaghetti O's. I will recover, really, I will. Not really. ************************************ 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 Potato Land will not let go of winter. We would gladly to let go of winter because we'd like to see the pussy willows and the ducks instead of the driveway drifts. During the early spring, the wetlands splash and ripple as dozens of noisy Mallards and honkers take off and land. Cars stop by. People gaze. But not too many folks get the whole show. Every year at least one Mother Duck takes her string of young 'uns for daily field trips across the road to another pond near the railroad bed. It's fun to think about ducks and geese and much too early to get excited about the Kildeer screech--!--screech!--screech! But it's not to early for the French invade Potato Land. Pierre, Aurore, Aude, Elodie and their friends from Caen will go to Spud High until March 12. They will bowl and ski and watch the great Spud High grapplers fight toward another state championship. And, of course, they'll eat Spud High French fries. February ends, and anticipation of the wonders of spring begin. Soon we'll be heading to the Co-Op for a bag full of tubulars and Walla Walla onion sprouts. May your spuds go thuds in the mud. pg Here's a luvlee poem from Marvin, the staff fme computer expert, and talented belcher. Yet Another Identity Crisis --------------------------- I snop. Am snop! An snop? Identity snop: Crisis MM **note for the uninformed: "snop" is the official bad word of fme. ------------------ URGENT FME NEWS!!! ------------------ Regarding an FME convention on IRC... We think it would be extremely "groovy" to have a permanent FME channel on an irc server. To do this, we need a bot. We have absolutely no clue how to get or use a bot once we have it. So we're leaving that up to you. If you have (or can get) a bot and know how to use it, please let us know. Or just look for melvan on us.undernet.org. For those of you who have been to the FME website in the last week, you probably noticed some very strange things. Like heartburn. Not really. All of DP's web pages are under construction right now, and hopefully by this weekend they'll all be in working order again. Be patient. When everything is back to normal (har), they will look much better, with an online signup form, more pictures, and other stuff. Unfortunately, the Dumb Poetry page has been lost hopelessly, so I (DP) will have to retype the whole thing again. ---------------- Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash ---------------- Obsession* --------- I have to have them... I have to have them... I have to have them... I have to have them... DP *this poem is about two brand-spankin' new cds that came out this week that I have been dying to get for weeks, and I finally got them yesterday. Life is good... :):):):):):):):):):):):):):) FME is on the web at http://www.pressenter.com/~melvan/ This document is copyright 1996 by Renee Elrod and Melissa Hoffmeyer, except for the poems, stories, and letters sent by other people. Feel free to distribute this document far and wide as long as it is not changed in any way. FME reserves the right to edit any material sent in (in regards to punctuation, spelling, content, AND bacon).