Issue #7, 27 November 1995

FFFFFFFFF       M       M       EEEEEEEEE
F               MM     MM       E               Farm Macheenery
F               M M   M M       E                 (exploding)
FFFFF           M  M M  M       EEEEE              Issue #7
F               M   M   M       E
F               M       M       E
F               M       M       EEEEEEEEE
The Writers (in no particular order): alias DP or Dr. Pepper alias XX or Xavier Xerxes

Howdy, folks!  We do hope that our American subscribers had a marvelous
Thanksgiving on Thursday.  And we hope our non-American subscribers had
a wonderful weekend wherever you are.

Recently, a lot of people (2 to be exact) have asked me how we came up with
Farm Macheenery (exploding) Magazine.  We addressed this question in the
very first issue of FME, but since our readership has grown substantially
since then, I (DP) figured it'd be a good idea to tell the story again.
The following is ripped directly from the first issue.

A brief history of Farm Macheenery...

Farmers started using farm machinery before we were born.  Loooong before.
And it continues to this day, when tractors in the middle of cornfields will
spontaneously combust, given the right circumstances.  For instance, if a
water buffalo tramples the corn, leaving nothing but husks, the corn will
definitely be destroyed and transported to the fourth dimension.

Oh, you want the REAL story, do you?  Well, about seven years ago, we were
bored one afternoon, so we came up with this idea to make a really weird
magazine.  It was appropriately named "Weirdly Magazine".  The name was later
changed to "Duh! Magazine".  That name stayed for years and years and years
and years and years and years...well, you get the idea.  Then we figured
"Hey, this magazine needs a new name."  So we renamed it (again) to "Kazoo
Magazine".  This consisted of three highly experiMENTAL issues which fell
into the hands of a menacing villain who wished to burn them.  However, the
villain suddenly disappeared down a dark drain, never to be heard from again,
and the issues were saved.  I can hear you cheering.  Anyway, after that
horrendous episode, the name was changed to "Farm Macheenery (exploding)
Magazine", a literary quest for the big green thing.


We have a dilemma here at the Farm Macheenery (exploding) corporate
headquarters (that's wherever we are at any given time).  Since the holiday
season is quickly approaching, many of you will be going home for a month or
more and won't have opportunity to check your email.  Soooo....we want your
feedback (and no, I don't mean the stuff we gave you to feed your cows--ha ha,
bad joke).  Do you want us to keep writing FME every week and just send out a
bunch of back issues when schools resume classes, or should we put it on hold
for a while?  You be the judges.  We'll let you know what's up when we know.

And now we have wonderful news to report.  We are up to 56 subscribers!
Before you know it everyone will have a subscription to FME!

And as you've already probably figured out, this is our seventh issue online.
Which is a number that just happens to coincide with the number of years we've
been doing this magazine off-line.

The next bit of news is a very important one to announce, which is a
forthcoming new address for FME.  As soon as DP pays up some money,
the magazine will be coming to you from a new address.  We hope that will
be soon.  And with this address change may come some more technical
difficulties that we experienced in our first couple issues,
but they will subside as time passes.

*this ends our boring fme news section.*

So now onto something much more interesting.

I am having problems typing at the moment because I'm using
my brother's computer in my basement and it's cold and I'm
wearing my old band gloves and I'm trying to play a cd on
his cd rom drive and it won't play the first song, so I'm
ticked off.  But alas, through my hardships, I will not be
discouraged from writing this stuff.

Here is something XX wrote roughly a year ago when we were
putting together "The DPIACTT, DUH!, Weirdly, & Kazoo
Treasury".  It is appropriately called, "Reflecmoot".

1.  Aunt Edna waterskis.
2.  Uncle Joe eats prunes.
3.  Chipmunk eyeballs make good stew.
4.  Good stew sinks in water.
5.  Water is made of wet stuff.
6.  Wet stuff kills people.

Conclusion:  Aunt Edna and Uncle Joe have been planning to
drop a chipmunk bomb on the mortuary on First Street* for a
long time.  Fortunately, John Hancock shot them down with a
kazoo.  The end.

Commentary by DP:  What the heck?

XX:  Pickles?  Yes, please.

*NOTE:  When XX wrote this, she *meant* to write "First
Street", but instead wrote "First First".  Needless to say,
it was pretty funny.

Once again, it's time for our favorite section in FME, aptly titled:

The Section Where Other People Write

It's time for another excursion into Potato Land!!!

It's a grey Thanksgiving Day in Potato Land.  Clouds mask the mountain
outside our Western window.  Beautiful Black Lab Ebbie has become a lady in
waiting as she stands smack dab in the middle of Great Northern Road,
longin' for some handsome male canine to come callin'. She'll be callin' on
the vet here pretty soon.
  We've already nibbled homegrown bacon, and Potato Land hashbrowns are
sizzlin' on the grill.  Exploding tiger kitty Malcolm lounges on his
kitchen throne, hoping for a handout.  College guy,  William the III, is
stretched out on the sofa watching the CBS segment on James Bond, while the
forester, William the II reads the fat pre-shop-til-you-drop-day newspaper.
Potatoland Free Net Queen Annie, snoozes in her room down the hallway.
Black Rambo and Baby Horse are pacin' the barnyard wishin' for pocket
girdle lady to come throw 'em some timothy.
  It's a laid-back lazy day for giving thanks.  Thanks for the great life
in potato land.  Thanks for family.  Thanks for all carrots and cabbage and
Walla Walla sweets and, of course, red russets that thrived in this year's
garden.  Thanks for a year of memories, including a trip to the Big Apple,
the Liberty Bell and Bubba's place. Thanks for the Pocket Girdle following.

Thanks for lots of days of fun, friends (especially email buddies)  and new
experiences.  And, of course, thanks to Farm Macheenery (exploding) for the
forum to say thanks.

May your spuds go thud in the mud.


This Dumb Poetry comes from Quixotic Quack.


It's a living,
I don't care much for giving.
It's when I try to take
A slice of the late cake
that I find
somewhere in my mind
I think
therefore I am
but others should not
so they would not eat my cake.

Quixotic Quack

Our next bit of advice comes from Alicia, XX's email/lunch pal.

Helpful tip:
problem: you have new, white carpet in your house,
and a belligerent relative won't take his boots off.
XX's solution:  When he's not looking, slip magnets into his boots,
and suck them off his feet, with a powerful electromagnet.
(Thanks to Alicia, for inspiring this idea)

Dumb Poetry in a
Card Type Trash


"Tell me about your father"
no, I just want to pop popping paper
"Tell me about your mother"
no, I just want to pop popping paper
pop. pop. pop.
"Tell me about your childhood"
no, I just want to pop popping paper
I JUST want to POP POPping paper.
Can't you live with that?



Dying words of Buzzy the Bee





at the top of the phone pole
at the top of the phone pole
to hiss
and spit
at the cat on the ground






And now, for a short movie script,
written by the always demented XX


(The title reflects a new grammar rule we came up with,
that each word starting with s ought to have a p before it)

scene:an old warehouse

June Bugg: What am I going to do, George??  If I don't
keep removing spleens at the rate of one per hour, a bomb,
hidden in this warehouse is going to explode!!!

George: Let's go to Disneyland!

scene: Disneyland: a huge, renegade accountant has dropped
a 1,000,000,000 pound calculator on Disneyland.
June Bugg and George waddle, accordion-like off into the sunset.

Credits roll off the screen and kill the audience.

And now comes the very, very sad time when we have to say
goodbye to all you readers out there.  However, we don't
*want* to say goodbye, so instead, we are going to say
"elephant".  This idea comes from the tv show "Bobby's World".
DP came up with an icon for elephant, so here it is...
Oh, just one more thing, if any of you want copies of past
FME issues emailed to you, just email
with your requests.  This is also the email address for if you
want to subscribe.

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