Issue #19, 26 February 1996

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):
Melissa Hoffmeyer (aka Dr. Pepper or DP):

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

FME on the web:

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
a journey into
life's little


**"snop" is the official "bad word" of

Today, XX will complain about her pain-in-the-butt car!

"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...


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

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
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
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

*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

*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 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,

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

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

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.

Here's a luvlee poem from Marvin, the staff fme computer expert,
and talented belcher.

Yet Another Identity Crisis



**note for the uninformed:  "snop" is the official bad word of


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

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


I have to have them...
I have to have them...
I have to have them...
I have to have them...


*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

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).