Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash

The Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash was actually Renee's
idea. She wrote the first few poems, then she thought it would be cool if
we both wrote a bunch of dumb poetry together one night, so we did it.
The first of my poems had many political themes interwoven in them, and I
later realized that they were really stupid. So I didn't put those on
this page. Anyway, read and enjoy. Do not take any of these poems
seriously. We don't want to be responsible for your psychiatric care if
it comes to that.

Landmark Poems

The BGT Poem


The Cemetery



The Identity Crisis Series


Pepperoni and Sausage


This is the poem that really started all the
dumb poetry. After Renee wrote it, she showed it to me and I read it. I
just about died laughing at it.

The BGT Poem

The sunset

fades on the

distant shore

the abstract



as if undecided...

You come to my

mind, as you

wave your big green



After this poem was when Renee thought of the Dumb Poetry
issue. So we wrote a bunch of dumb poetry for a couple hours, then stapled
the pages together and turned over the product to our audience, which at
that time consisted of five other people: my brother, my parents, Renee's
mom, and Dory, a friend of both families. These are the best poems from
that first issue of Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash.


I ponder the

great questions

of life...

the blooming of the rose...

the workings of the ant...

the twinklings of the


and the fact that

Superman always

wears the same underwear


The Key

Many ponder the

meaning of life...

I hold the meaning

of life

many will



I hold the key to the


but I just swallowed it.



The final rays of

sunlight drift

across your uplifted face...

dancing, like elusive wood fairies

how do you hold a moonbeam

in your hand?

Perhaps the answer will never

be found, or perhaps the

answers to the great

questions of all time will

be discovered--

on the side of a milk carton.


Renee likes this next poem. Short and to the point, sorta
like this intro, don't you think?

The Cow

A flower in the garden


The cow in the pasture




The twisted amoeba







about the

huge eye always

on the



This next poem has taken on a life of its
own. It will live forever in our minds as one of the (for lack of a better
word) grooviest poems ever written.


I feel the pain

deep down...

I have felt this pain


it is indescribable,

but I know you have

experienced it also...

It calls to me in an

exquisite voice, and I

know I must go--must

go and find a bathroom immediately.




I stare as I walk

I trip

and fall on the floor

the junk has broken my fall

but I still cannot get up


The Radio

The radio burbles happily...

secretly regarding the listeners...

and spying...

the shadows take you...

piece by piece...

as memories from the


climb into your ear...

and you happily

shove fish into your ear...


Too Late

It takes you...

you howl in terror...

but there is no escape...

you violently inhale glue,

but it's too late...


After this issue of DPIACTT was finished and reviewed
by our critics ("You guys are insane!"), we decided to make another issue
that same night. So we stayed up late writing more poetry, some of which
made absolutely no sense the next morning (which is perfectly okay, since
we laugh at just about anything anyway).

The Eye

I saunter into the

school cafeteria...

receiving my plate,

and sitting at a

lovely blue table...

as I stare at my food,

it stares back at me...

the Tuna ala Blech regards

me with an unflinching

green eye...

and it is then that

I realize...

It is the eye of the

Lunch Lady


My brother has an Amateur Radio license. There was a time
when that was all he thought about, talked about, or did. He was always
talking about how he was going to get a better antenna, or how much the
antenna he had then sucked, or something on that order. Renee & I picked
up on that and started writing poetry about antennas. We had an ongoing
joke about worshipping antennas. Here is one of Renee's excursions into

The Fawn

The unsteady fawn

wobbles on stilt-like legs...

she tumbles, unheeded to

the hard earth,

and is

impaled by




The next poem is one that I wrote, but
never thought funny. I was half asleep (or more) when I wrote it. Renee
read it and thought it was hilariously funny. I didn't understand what
she thought was so funny about it. Since then, it has become another poem
with a life of its own. Enjoy.



Lawn ornaments

are defeated.

Nothing can

stop it.

Don't try.

It's useless.

The billowing billows

billow in the billowing billows.

I sleep on my pillow.

My pillow is punctured.

Defeated lawn ornaments.

They die soon.



The skinny life form



he picks bugs happily of

his brother's back,

and regards them


suddenly he erases himself,

and the world collapses...



The piercing shriek,

emitted from a

button-popping fat man,

hovers, undecided,

and plunges down

the nearest toilet.


Here is a sorta political poem written by Renee...now,
bear in mind that these poems were written in 1993, just after the
inaguration...if you're not from the United States, you might not get it.
If you're a liberal, you might not like it.

The Nothing

The nothingness




our civilization watches

with trepidation...

the nothing sucks

the life out of those


we scream in terror...

our existence is threatened...

but, alas, he will be

gone in 4 years...


There are not enough words in the English
language to describe the effect that this next poem has had on us.
Renee was going through a phase in her life where she loved to make fun
of those pink flamingo lawn ornaments you see everywhere. We have
beaten this poem to death. It has had about five sequels.

The Cemetery

The tears fall


from my eyes

as I stare at the cold

slab of cement that

marks your final

resting place...

I recall the times we

spent together...

the hideous pink lawn

ornament screams in



These next few poems are from a more recent collection
called "The Lost Volumes of DPIACTT". Most of them were written in the
church van on the way to a youth group skating activity. The first of
these is derived from another act of my brother. He was subscribed to
numerous mailing lists in which he received parts catalogs (for computers,
radios, etc.) almost every day.


It beckons irresistably...

the eye of the tomato

promises me great things,

I choose to believe,

and thus I sacrifice

my parts catalog.


More antenna dissing...


The kite flies.

In the vast emptiness

the kite floats.

looking up, I observe the kite

I cry, as the kite

lodges in a black hole...

then it happened!

The antenna.

eener & melvan

I wrote the next poem, left with no title. Then Renee
added the title.


As I ponder and wander,

I wonder

if pondering and wandering

makes one wonder.


A moment of truth...


The elegant Siamese


stretches and yawns...

he arches his back...

and contemplates the mouse...

the traveling salesman

screams in agony...


These poems are from the third issue, which was
written five months after the first two. As you will soon tell, our
writing skills had improved immensely by this time. For instance, Renee
signed her name as "Alias Rear Window defogger...not!"



Dentures are twisted.

They clatter in the cup--

slurping up glue

and Pepsi--

vowing that someday

they'd travel under

20,000 toilets.

Dead. Skeleton. Rancid.



Open--it welcomes

the public...

people swarm

over its black tiled


people pay to ogle--

the flying butresses--

a century has passed--

and it's too late

for Matilda.




Spittle--Mr. Meow.

He nods in agreement,

but still questions the




The misty blue

of the ripe blueberry

tempts me to

pluck it from the stem...

Mary had a little lamb

whose fleece was white

as snow,

e-i, e-i, o.



A blanket covering the world--

it enfolds me in

soft white beauty...

the same,

yet all different--

the bungee cord

resembles a snake

as it strangles the


just as it was about

to burp up the

secret of life



Etched in stone

are the markings of

cavemen from

centuries ago.

Their final resting place

is none other than--

Excess water in the bathroom


The next poem is another one that sticks
around. You'll soon see why.


Confusion presides

in the enlosed space...

the last moonbeam fades

in the red sky--

the structure crumbles

in the distance...

as the viewers came to

the conclusion that

the structure, was indeed,

Elvis in his second life--

but alas Herbert

has outsmarted them all.

plop. plop. plop.



The volcano bubbles,

and rumbles in a

threatening way--

and yea it did spew

forth the contents

of the deep--

which did contain

the Devil's dirty dishes--

bong. bong. bong.


And one of my personal favorites...


The young pine tree





unable to be seen...

we question its existence--

but yet we smell it--

the final fragments

stick to the dead chicken's


never to be seen again

Spaghetti, toad, armadillo.



You look at me

with no hope left in your eyes.

Perhaps because--

you have no eyes...



She ponders

the lifeless body

full of foot adornments.

The victim eyes

the bloated big toe--


melvan & eener









The next volume of Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash,
due to a clerical error, was also called Volume Three.

Picnic Basket

Courageously, she faces her opponent

he stands, tall and grim,

etched against the moonlit sky...

In the distance

a bombshell explodes

and screams of agony

join the chorus of crickets--

his facemask falls away

only to reveal

the picnic basket of death.

Banana. Orange. Apple.




I am innocent!

My third cousin

is a salesman.




a ripe red strawberry

hangs from the

lush green plant

in the middle of a field

in the middle of a farm

in the middle of a town

in the middle of Iowa



Shimmering icicles

hang from the

eaves of the house

a single droplet of water

journeys down the icicle

and onto the waiting snowbank.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch,

Herbert is trying to

conjugate verbs

at a frightening speed.



I wonder

can I trust you,

or will you let me down?

I think I've found

the answer

and then it disappears

in a puff of smoke

and then comes a whisper

in my ear

"If you build it, they will come"


my eye inscriber

is out of order.



They line up against the wall--

the alligator man,

the kazoo man,

and the firefighter.

They have all come here

for one purpose--

They have come to

retrieve the Spleen of Dindor.

eener & melvan

A spoof on a very annoying television commercial, at least
to us.


They smile at the viewers


bald men with fake hair.

One of them seems to

be in charge

He smiles at the camera

and says:

"Remember, I'm not only

the Hair Club president,

I'm also a big fat dork."


The fifth volume was titled "Volume
Something-or-Another", because we both forgot which issue it was. How's
that for teamwork? The first is about a popular musical artist, whose
name we will not mention, since you'll probably be able to figure it out
for yourself anyway.

A Tribute

It doesn't matter if you're

black and white


Or if you're on drugs


Or if your hair looks like

a lady's


Or if people mistake you

for your sister


As for me...


I'm black and white,

a lady and a man at the

same time!



Eagerly he

approaches the

concealed being...

The exquisite voice calls

as he advances...

suddenly, the being

chokes on--what?

It violently thrashes about as

he peeks around the corner...



Another semi-political poem by Renee. Again, if you're
liberal, you probably won't find it funny, but I could be wrong.



the congressmen pickpocket

the commoners

at breakneck speed

They sign bills hurriedly

And they even signed

Bill. His face is easy to read.


These next three poems come from Renee's and my
experiences with the high school band. We both played clarinet (and bass
clarinet for one year). Band members are a totally different breed than
the rest of you out there. If you've ever been in band, you'll
understand. If you haven't, don't think about it too hard...your brain
might blow up.


With a wild look in her eye,

she snapped the long

clarinet into playing position--

with spit flying, she played

a furious rendition of

"Christmas in Poland"

only to realize later

Her mouthpiece was



And if you've ever played bass clarinet,
have you done what this poem is talking about? The title is Fiends.
Actually, when Renee was writing it, she meant to write "friends", but
left out the r.


The two fiends

played long black instruments

in small square cubicles

with backwards door handles,

they conspired--

and put their feet

at odd angles

into their horns.


This one is about going back to playing a regular B flat
clarinet after playing a bass clarinet for the whole concert season.


He obviously is in a bad mood.

Yelling at trumpets.

"You lost two whole letter grades!"

Blat blat blat.

"Faster! Slower! Louder!"


Someone shrunk our horns!


Of course, being from Wisconsin, we have to include a few
complaints about our seemingly permanent winter weather. Here it

Wisconsin version of "Little Boy Blue"

The pigs got out of the pen

the cows broke the fence

the sheep are in the corn

Where's the boy who

looks after the sheep?

He's under a haystack,

froze to death.


The next issue was also called "Volume
Three". I had mentioned to Renee that I thought it had been about a year
since we started the Dumb Poetry, so when she made the cover, she added
the phrase "Ten Year Anniversary Edition". The first poem is one that has
taken on new meaning since I started working at Pizza Hut.

Pepperoni and Sausage

My tennis shoes

are an environmental threat

crustless little triangles

hop on the piano keys

performing "Chopsticks"

the end of the world is coming

while teethless hockey players

attack skaters.



Next we have a poem about a certain object that I had in
my room for a long time. It's still there, it just doesn't have any
batteries. Actually, I just figured out what it was about a few weeks
ago. It is a clock that says "This room has been declared a disaster

Disaster Area

Tick tock

tick tock

tick tock

tick tock



Old, faded photographs

tell stories from the past


hold sandwiches together


These next two poems revive an old phrase we used when we
were in first grade. Neither of us remembers what it means anymore.


He asks, "What is the

secret to your success?"

The wise sage ponders a

moment, then carefully,

deliberately, he answers:

"Sneelock Harn"



She asks "What is the

secret to your powerful

political career?"

The politician doesn't think,

but simply says

"I killed Sneelock Harn"


These next poems come from the second
off-line edition of FME. Renee and I wrote them back and forth,
responding to the last one written.

Identity Crisis

Are you

my pituitary gland?


The Answer


I am





Identity Crisis II

I want to be

an Oscar Mayer Weiner.


Identity Crisis III

So do



Identity Crisis IV

I want to be


Identity Crisis.







Identity Crisis, the sequel


I'm dead.



Brush my teeth

and go to bed.


Categories: Farm Macheenery (exploding)
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Issue #78, March 21, 1998 - May 20, 1998

The Intro

by melvan & eener

Quote of the Issue (from Elkvis): "If it ain't fixed, don't broke it!"

Hello, folks! This is the first issue of FME for 1998. And it's a long one, folks! It's been so long since we sent the last one that we're overflowing with creativity...or stupidity, you be the judge.

Unfortunately, it's also the last issue of FME for 1998. That's right, this is the very last issue of FME. And this time we're not kidding. Really. We have decided that since eener and melvan both have other things to do that don't make room for writing FME, we are ending the magazine. There is no "April Fools!" at the end of this issue. That would be pretty silly. It's not April. Of course, as long as it's taking to write this amidst melvan's computer troubles lately, you COULD be reading it in April. Perhaps at a later time one (or both) of us will write something else, and you'll read it.

And since this is the last issue, and since we haven't written it for five months, there's a lot of stuff going in it. Therefore, we have broken it into several parts so you don't get too bored reading a really long issue. The second part will come to you sometime in the next couple of weeks, and the third part will follow that by a week or two.

And also, since this is the last issue, we would like all past contributors to write something for the grand finale. So if you have some spare time and can write something, please send it to melvan@win.bright.net

The official web version of the grand finale issue is http://www.melvania.net/macheen/finale/ (if melvan ever gets around to writing those pages). You can get there from the Macheen Shed. Which has moved. http://www.melvania.net/macheen/

Continuation of the introduction: written by Joe "The Killer" Smith. Ha ha! Just kidding! Actually, this is eener's contribution to the introduction. It's January 24th, 1998, the day after melvan's birthday!! Isn't that great? She's here with me in Stone Mountain, GA. She flew in yesterday to spend the weekend with me. Woo hoo! So if you hear on the news of strange occurrences in Stone Mountain, you'll know what's going on. We went yesterday to IHOP (International House of Pancakes) to celebrate melvan's birthday. Darin, my sweet, wacky little hubby, mel and I all went. We happened to mention to the waitress that it was mel's birthday. Later on in the meal, after we were all stuffed, the waitress brought us a huge sundae and some helium balloons. melvan sat there holding the balloons with an expression on her face, which, if I had to interpret it, was saying something like "Uhhhh....these waitresses are singing "happy birthday" to me...and I have these balloons in my hand and I don't know where to put them...AND I have a cockroach on my head!" Well, maybe not the cockroach part, but anyway, we didn't know where to put the balloons. So we told the waitress we would let them float up to the ceiling and get them later. Most unfortunately they became entangled in the light fixture on the ceiling, never to be recovered. And then a terrorist ran into the building and screamed "I'M GOING TO KILL ANYONE WHO'S HAVING A BIRTHDAY TODAY!!!!" Do you know what his name was? Ted "The Assassin" Smith. Well, maybe not. A good time was had by all. Needless to say, it's fun to have melvan here.

Hmm...okay, this intro is long enough n o w.

NOTE: I think melvan wants to make this intro even longer. She scrolled up to the top of the 'zine, went under the last line, hit the space bar a few times, and then sat and stared at the screen. She stared some more, obviously experiencing writer's block. She then hit the back-space key a few times, and decided not to make the intro longer.

Note from melvan: Nah, I was just going to write about mail trucks in rush hour on Sundays...

eener replies: don't even THINK about it.

melvan says: Too late, I already did. :-) Now if we could just remember what it was your hubby said yesterday that was so funny....

As the Tractor Burns

With the last issue of FME comes the end of ATTB. After this issue, the burning tractor will be but a smoldering pile of metal parts. This being the last episode ever, you better believe it'll be a doozy.

Raul: Esmerelda, will you marry me?
Esmerelda: I told you before, I used the metric system once!
Raul: Yeah, well, there's something I've never told you. I secretly used the metric system when I morphed into Ross Perot that one time.
Esmerelda: Really? Wow...I'm not the only one.
Raul: (exasperated) So will you marry me or not?
Esmerelda: Sure. I'm not doing anything else for the rest of my life, why not?

(After watching this exchange, I.M. gets an idea.)

I.M.: Buffy, will you marry me?
Buffy: You have GOT to be kidding.
I.M.: I'm not.
Buffy: You're named after the metric system!
I.M.: Yeah, so? Doesn't mean I use it. Raul & Esmerelda both used the metric system before. You should be disowning them, not me!
Buffy: But they're not annoying like you. Besides, if I married you, my name would be Buffy Gilty.
I.M.: I'll buy you a really big diamond!
Buffy: (looking interested) How big?

(I.M. pulls out a ring with a diamond the size of a small orange)

Buffy: WOW! Okay, I'll marry you. (Al and Howard look on as their four friends celebrate engagement.)
Howard: Al, Will you marry me?
Al: Uhhh......sorry, I just proposed to the blonde receptionist.
Howard: So who am I supposed to marry? There's nobody left!

(Howard starts to cry, and all of a sudden the Baywatch Babe appears in a poof of smoke)

Al: Whoa...cool effects.
Baywatch Babe: Howard, marry me!
Howard: Okay.

(Suddenly the characters find themselves in a huge vat of cheese)

Esmerelda: How the hick did we get here?
Raul: I guess the writers thought the script was getting too cheesy.
Al: Wow...cheese! (starts eating the cheese)
Howard: Hey! Save some for me!

(The bridgekeeper from "Monty Python & the Holy Grail" suddenly appears in a poof of greenish bluish reddish smoke.

Bridgekeeper: Wow, cool effects!
Director: CUT! That's not in the script!
Bridgekeeper: Oh, sorry. fumbles with his script Umm...where were we?
Director: WHAT...is your name?
Bridgekeeper: I'm the bridgekeeper.
Director: You moron! That's the line!
Bridgekeeper: Oh yeah. WHAT is your name?
Al: Al.
Bridgekeeper: Just Al?
Al: Yeah, just Al.
Bridgekeeper: Okay...WHAT is your quest?
Al: How should I know?
Bridgekeeper: I don't know that -- AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!

(The bridgekeeper falls into the Gorge of Eternal Peril)

Esmerelda: Wow.
Buffy: Huh?
Raul: Hmm...
Howard: Hey, where'd the old guy go?
I.M.: I didn't do it!
Al: Uh-huh. Whatever.
Evil Taxi Driver: Boo.
Narrator: We interrupt this program to annoy you, and generally make things irritating for you.

Suddenly, the characters find themselves on a huge ship in the ocean.

Buffy: How the hick did we get here?
I.M.: Those editors are messing with our brains again!
Esmerelda: You don't have a brain.
I.M.: So?
Passenger: We've hit an iceberg!
Al: Huh?
Passenger: I said, WE'VE HIT AN ICEBERG!

(Leonardo DiCaprio runs by)

Raul: Uh-oh, we're on Titanic!

Suddenly, the characters disappear in a poof of smoke and reappear in the basement of the FBI headquarters in Washington DC.

Esmerelda: Whew, that was close!
Howard: Ow, I hit my head.
Buffy: Yeah, we know. When the aliens abducted you as a baby.
Howard: No, I mean just now. I hit my head on the wall.
Buffy: Oh.
Mulder: Did someone say aliens?
Al: Yeah, Buffy did.
Buffy: Yeah, Howard was abducted by aliens as a baby.
Howard: Yup.
Mulder: Nevermind that. Hey Scully! Come look at this!
Scully: What is it?
Mulder: These six people just appeared out of nowhere.
Scully: That's impossible. People don't just appear out of nowhere.
Raul: But we did! We were just on Titanic.
Scully: And then what happened?
Esmerelda: Then we disappeared in a poof of smoke and showed up here.
Mulder: Six people from the Titanic disappear and reappear decades later in the basement of the FBI headquarters? Sounds like an X-file.
Scully: They're delusional.

While Mulder and Scully are debating the possibility of six humans appearing out of nowhere, our heroes (if you can call them that) disappear in yet another poof of smoke.

Mulder: Did you see that?
Scully: Yeah...what was that?

Meanwhile, the gang has appeared back outside the bakery from Episode 1.

Raul: These day-old liver donuts look good.
Esmerelda: Sure, why not? Hey, look over there!

Esmerelda spots I.M. Gilty and Buffy in a heated argument.

Buffy: How dare you suggest that my ant farm is disorganized! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!
I.M.: I didn't do it!
Buffy: You did and you know it!!
I.M.: I didn't! I'm not guilty!

Fade out.


Fruit Bats in Your Toilet


Weird Alex has written two parodies for the very last ever issue of FME.

The Complacent Whiner's Song
Parody of "Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba
Lyrics by Weird Alex

I get knocked down, and then I stay right there
You ain't never gonna get me up
I get knocked down, and then I stay right there
You ain't never gonna get me up

Singing the night away, singing the night away

He has a water drink, he has a juice drink
He has a soda drink, he has a milk drink
He sings the songs that remind him of the bad times
He sings the songs that remind him of the worse times
"Don't tell my heart, my achy-breaky heart"

I get knocked down ...

He has a water drink, he has a juice drink
He has a soda drink, he has a milk drink
He sings the songs that remind him of the bad times
He sings the songs that remind him of the WORST times
"I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world..."

I get knocked down... (to fade)
The Shoe Song
Parody of "Wonderwall" by Oasis
Lyrics by Weird Alex

Today is gonna be the day
When I'm gonna go and buy some shoes
By now, you shoulda somehow realized it's what I have to do
I don't believe that anybody needs new shoes much more than I do now

Wet feet, the word is on the street that my feet could put a fire out
I know you've heard this all before, but this time there is just no doubt
I don't believe that anybody needs new shoes much more than I do now

Cause all the roads I have to walk are winding
And this pain that is in my feet is blinding
And there are many things that I would like to say to you
Other than OW!!!!!

Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me
Cause after all, you're driving to the mall

Today it really was the day
When I went out for to buy new shoes
By now, you should have somehow realized it's what I had to do
I don't believe that anybody needs new shoes much less than I do now...

Chronic Stupidity Syndrome

From the Grinch:

I just got part 1 of the last issue of FME, and I thought I'd drop you a juicy little tidbit I wrote. If this one is too long, etc., there's plenty more at my stupidity page, http://www.buffnet.net/~grinch/generalstupidity.html. Hope you enjoy it!

-------Begin Craziness-------------------

Do you get lost in your own house? Do you talk so fast that you say things you haven't thought of yet? Have you ever forgotten your name or where you live? If you said yes to any of these questions, you may have Chronic Stupidity Syndrome (CSS), a condition which torments millions of Americans each year. Because its symptoms have traditionally been attributed to laziness and lack of motivation, many people afflicted with this disease don't even know it exists. As a long-term sufferer myself, I was relieved to find that my foolishness was not actually my fault. Stop feeling depressed about your idiocy, and learn to use CSS as an excuse to escape from your responsibilities! As a victim of CSS, you are entitled to certain privileges not available to the general, non-stupid public. Take, for instance, the much-coveted handicapped spaces at the mall. As a CSS sufferer, you are permitted to use these spaces to lessen your chances of forgetting what kind of car you drive. And if, by chance, you do accidentally drive off in the Oscar Meyer WienermobileTM, the law provides more lenient penalties for the intelligence-impaired. In school, you can enjoy some of the other benefits of CSS. Next time you are assigned a long essay, politely explain your condition to your teacher, and he may authorize you to repeat every third third word you say say to help you meet your word quota. You may even be allowed to use stupidistic adjective forms. Here's another chunk of good news: New York State recently approved legislation to lower the passing grade on Regents exams to three points for the chronically stupid, two of which are awarded for signing your name. The use of CSS as an excuse...er...handicap can alleviate a great deal of stress in your life. The causes of Chronic Stupidity Syndrome are still under investigation. Preliminary results indicate that although genetics may play a part in the disease, the underlying cause of CSS is stupidity. [EDITOR'S NOTE: Duhhh!] Although CSS currently has no cure, there is hope. A number of effective treatments exist, the most reliable of which is a swift blow to the head with some sort of blunt object. Also, I find that a good ten hours' sleep works wonders, even if you have to get it during class. Unfortunately, no CSS vaccine is currently available, but research continues. (Of course, there is always studying, but that's a bit drastic, isn't it?) As the world becomes increasingly devoid of common sense, us CSS victims will feel more and more at home. But until reason dissolves completely, "normal" people will always be envious of our lower standards. So, the next time you pour orange juice on your cereal, remember these valuable tips for dealing with the trials of perpetual idiocy.

--------Ha ha! The craziness never ends!-------------------

Dirtfelt Mundungus and the Snugpacket of Doom - Part I

And now, from New Zealand to Wisconsin to your computer, we proudly present..."Dirtfelt Mundungus and the Snugpacket of Doom", or "A Tribute to Farm Macheenery (Exploding)"

Note from the author: I'm a bit upset that this is to be the last issue of FME, because I've been spending months writing a story for it in several episodes. Like you, however, I have had other (better?) things to do with my time and it dropped lower and lower on my list of priorities.

It was originally inspired by Arthur C. Clarke's short story, "Wacky"; but there are definite Douglas Adams and Monty Python influences in there as well. And of course plenty of topics from all up and down FME. Even though it is unfinished, I have attached it to this mail along with a couple of notes as to how it would have continued. Its title is probably "Dirtfelt Mundungus and the Snugpacket of Doom", and is subtitled "A Tribute to Farm Macheenery (Exploding)"

Make of it what you will.


Morgan L. Owens

Episode 1. In which we meet our heroes and fail to explain an avocado.

Dirtfelt Mundungus was a man with many stains. Mostly down the front of his shirt, but a few in places where most people don't even have places.

People who did not know him called him Mundungus. His friends called him Felt and his wife called him Dirt. His mother knew of him as Archibald and the IRS believed his name to be Nancy Goldstein. We will call him Dirtfelt - except when we don't.

Dirtfelt lived in Detroit (unless you ask the IRS), ostensibly as a curry-station attendant (that's carpark sanitizer to the IRS) - but his real job was in actual fact curator at the local drive-through museum (IRS: curry-station attendant; wife: tax investigator).

One day, Dirtfelt was polishing the museum's "Toot 'N' Come In" sign and making an occasional swipe at his latest curry stain as it fluttered about his head refusing to settle between the third and fourth buttons. The phone rang and told him it would be in late. A man flashed past the window. Dirtfelt saw him and opened it. The man had a message, which he had duct-taped to his person so that it was within easy reach: "Edgeworthy will be in today."

Dirtfelt thanked him and gave him a tip: Never flash outside 18th-story windows.

Sure enough, Edgeworthy arrived soon after. He phoned from the lobby he would be in later in the day. Five minutes later, he knocked on Dirtfelt's door. Dirtfelt was impressed: Edgeworthy was still in the lobby and the door was still in a Tokyo rehab clinic recovering from a debilitating varnish addiction.

Farnborough Edgeworthy used to be the mayor of the small East Yorkshire town of Loose Chippings until the typing error was discovered. He preferred it if people called him by the shortened form of his middle name, Maximillian.

"Hello, Milli," Dirtfelt said as his visitor came through the wall socket.

"Oh, afternoon 'Felt. Didn't realise you were here."

Edgeworthy sat down and removed his spare tonsils, placing them in a small jar Dirtfelt usually used to break in new office equipment.

"Do you know what this is?" Edgeworthy said, taking something out of his left shoe pocket.


"Good," He put it back. "I have a problem." he continued.

"I thought you were receiving treatement for it?" Dirtfelt used Edgeworthy's tonsils to catch his currystain and place it between the third and fourth buttons.

"This is another one."

"So it's not your fear of heavy machinery?

"That was only because of the medication."

"Excuse me." Dirtfelt simultaneously apologised and warned Edgeworthy that he was about to leap across the desk. He leapt across the desk and, again using Edgeworthy's tonsils, scored a perfect slam dunk into the wastepaper basket.

"Got it!" he cried, and lifted out a now-battered fritter.

"It fell off my tie yesterday," he continued, placing it back in the named position, where it set off rather nicely his new curry stain.

Edgeworthy helped Dirtfelt extinguish the fire and accused the latter of delaying.

"Well, what is your problem?"

"Nerfwiggly Snugpacket."

"Nerfwiggly Snugpacket: scientific name for the outer petrel, a small undistinguished bird last smelt in Papua New Guinea in 1978; now thought to be extinct."

"He hates his name."

"I'm sorry: who hates his name?"

"Nerfwiggly Snugpacket."

"Who's he?"

A small avocado rose unnoticed in the corner of the room.

"My assistant kneecatcher."

"I didn't know you were a kneecatcher as well."

"I'm not, that's why I have an assistant."

"Ah. Any particular reason why he hates his name?"

"People keep thinking he's extinct."

"And is he?"

"No, he just doesn't wash very often."

"Well, you know me, Milli," Dirtfelt leaned back in his imaginary armchair. "Never get involved in personal problems or y- fronts."

"I thought it was personal problems or t-shirts?"

"It was, but I was younger then."

"I need your help on this one, 'Felt old buddy."

"Why doesn't he just change his name?"

"It's worse than that: he wants never to have been named Nerfwiggly Snugpacket."

"And how does he propose to do that?"

"Remember the time you lent me that lichen and I used it to build a needlepoint workshop?"

"Yes--" the implications immediately struck Dirtfelt. Helping the famous curator up off the floor, Edgeworthy jabbered about how he had left his notes on top of the refrigerator and how Snugpacket must have come across them while looking for a nosegay to pick. Or just a nose, if all else failed.

Shaking off Edgeworthy's helping armies, Dirtfelt blustered "To the Weedmobile!" and dived out the fire escape.

Edgeworthy took the elevator.

Dirtfelt Mundungus and the Snugpacket of Doom - Part II

Episode 2. In which our heroes go to Denver and we find out what is on the third floor.

The next episode sees our two heroes racing through the streets of Detroit in the Weedmobile, its whipcord snapping wildly at the feet of unwary cyclists.

"Did you have to bring that thing with you?" Dirtfelt shouted over the wind and radio, jerking his thumb at his extra passenger.

"I promised to it last time I visited that I would."

"Ping! Third floor: Danish pastries, goldfish boxes, nasal injuries."

Dirtfelt brought the Weedmobile temporarily to a rest at a snop sign while he tried to figure out what "snop" meant. He gave up after a moment and drove on.

"Where are we going?" Edgeworthy asked.

"We are going to your fridge," Dirtfelt explained.

"To look for clues?"

"No, I'm fresh out of milk, I was going to borrow yours."

"Oh, that's not necessary; I have some right here." Edgeworthy brought out a hipflask from under his armpit and handed it over to his companion, who passed it on to Dirtfelt.

Dirtfelt changed directions and the Weedmobile spun around, its whipcord snapping wildly at the cyclists of unwary feet.

They sped through the streets of Detroit, and very soon found themselves in Denver. This came as no surprise to Edgeworthy, used as he was to villages being crowded in three to the cricket pitch, but Dirtfelt was most disconcerted. He had thought he was travelling down the alphabet.

"Ping! Fifth floor: Dairy products, musical instruments, champagne-flavoured pillowcases."

"What happened to the fourth floor?" Edgeworthy asked the elevator.

"You know how people are superstitious about the number four." it replied.

Dirtfelt brought the Weedmobile to an ungainly snop outside a roadside diner called Boop's Cabin. He and Edgeworthy went in, while the elevator struck up a conversation with the payphone.

To be continued...

Dirtfelt Mundungus and the Snugpacket of Doom - Part III

Episode 3. In which broadcast media is important, and our heroes' meals less so.

"Oh, John. Is it true?"

"I'm afraid so, Marsha. They say that if they don't operate today Timmy could lose the use of his spleen forever."

"But that's _awful_!"

"Worse, his surgeon's wife is having an affair under the operating table with the series producer and his pool-cleaner has run off with the portable maid."

"And with good staff being so hard to find, too. John..."

"Yes, Marsha?"

"I have something to tell you..."


"You might not like it,"

"Tell me!"

"No, you really don't want to know."

"Yes I do!"



The scene faded out as music filled with strings and glue faded in. The waitress, obviously an experienced watcher of _Bionet General_, leapt aside before the closing credits rolling off the screen could hit her.

Edgeworthy banged the counter and yelled "Shop!" while the counter yelled "Ow!", lost his place and had to start over. Someone at a nearby table joined in the fun and yelled "Trashcan!"

The waitress was too busy watching the news, which she had just flipped over to.

"The sudden recent spate of firearms thefts in the outlying suburbs of the city has sent the police, the FBI, the FDA, the NRA, the NBC and the NBA into a frenzy of investigations and recriminations. Unconfirmed reports that similar thefts are occuring around the world have been coming in overnight, as well. We hope to have a more complete story as soon as we have a more complete story."

"Sounds like someone wants a lot of guns, John."

"It certainly does, Marsha. I hope that they don't use them near me!"

The newsanchors giggled uproarously at their hastily-scripted ad lib and weighed themselves while Timmy presented the weather.

"Shop!" Edgeworthy repeated.

"Trashcan!" the other person shouted.

"Hydrant!" someone called through the window.

An ad for porch missiles began, but was quickly cut short when the samples were stolen. It was replaced by a commercial for Chia Pet.




"Fire!" This one came distantly from outside, but was disqualified on the grounds that it didn't end with a consonant.

The waitress was having enormous fun with the channel buttons on the TV remote:

"And that was a tremendous goal scored by the wife of the Republican candidate, whom party sources describe as an old bag with six legs and a huge proboscis."

The customer who had insisted on shouting about trashcans leaned over to Edgeworthy and whispered in his ear. Edgeworthy tried his advice and broke the ascender on his aitch.


The waitress finally got bored with channel-hopping and wandered out, then came back in and approached her new customers.

"Yeah," she said around her cigarette.

"Two teas, please." Edgeworthy requested.

"And I'll have the purple pea." Dirtfelt added, tossing enough small change onto the counter to make him move to another table and start again.

"2T,S.O.S." the waitress called over her shoulder, then went to fill the order, extending a ridiculously long arm to scoop in the coins at the same time.

To be continued...

Dirtfelt Mundungus and the Snugpacket of Doom - Part IV

Episode 4. In which our heros learn something useful, and the elevator announces its engagement.

Outside, the temperature had dropped suddenly, and lay in murky red puddles on the floor. It was beginning to snop, and the Weedmobile had huddled around a vagrant's bonfire for warmth and sympathy. Sharing the fire was a huddled mass of indeterminate description. Its bluish fingers made continual twitching movements in time to an arrhythmic chanting emanating from near the top:

"/me inhales. /me exhales. /me rubs hands together. /me holds hands to fire..."

The Weedmobile moved further away from this disturbing creature. It had a lot to think about - especially the matter of trying to work out what the weather thought it was doing - but who's interested in the thoughts and philosophies of a mode of transport?

Far more interesting are the thoughts and philosophies of meteorologists, who at that moment were considering the matter of trying to work out what the weather thought it was doing. In the end they gave up and went home, so tomorrow would dawn with absolutely no weather at all. But that was a matter for tomorrow to worry about.

Today, inside the shop, Dirtfelt and Edgeworthy were learning some terrifying things from the customer with a peculiar affection for trashcans. Fortunately, few had anything to do with the search for Nerfwiggly Snugpacket or anything else that would prove of significance in this story, so the narrator feels it prudent not to disturb the sleep of his readers with a complete dialogue. Some of the things he said about frogs would make your eyes bug out, though.

"Do you know where and when was the last confirmed smelling of an outer petrel?"

"Of course," Dirtfelt answered. "Papua New Guinea. 1978. Shortly after breakfast."

"How do you know that?"

"Buffy's Big Bumper Book of Bunions, Bands and Birds, (2nd. ed.); p.47, just below the coffee ring."

"The Coffee Ring?" Edgeworthy chipped in.

Trashcan (it will do as well as any other for an alias) answered.

"A small sect popular last century, which had claimed that drinking coffee opened the door onto a higher state of consciousness. Especially when consumed as part of a healthy and nutritious breakfast."

He swung about and speared Dirtfelt with his gaze. After apologizing and helping to stich the wound, he said "Do you find that significant?"

Dirtfelt snopped his fingers, much to his own disgust. "Of course! I see it now!"

"You do?" Edgeworthy asked.

"Of course, Milli! The last known outer petrel was a member of the Coffee Ring! The reason why no-one has smelt it since '78 is because it had passed through the door into a higher state of consciousness! (Man, I'm good..)"

Trashcan glanced out of the diner's front window to where the elevator had gone down on one knee and given the payphone a ring.

Unfortunately, the story ends here. The author, however, left some notes as to what would have happened if it had been finished.


  • ... it turns out that Nerfwiggly Snugpacket is indeed an outer petrel, working under the cover of the Coffee Ring for the Animal Liberation Front which has aims to take over the world.
  • Remember to make it necessary for Edgeworthy to write his initials somewhere - to much merriment.
  • Driving down First Street, they passed the mortuary, scene of the infamous and scandalous Chipmunk Bomb Conspiracy. Dirtfelt considered his not being involved with that incident to be his second luckiest escape of all time.
  • (Dirfelt's luckiest escape was in connection with the Case of the Elastic-Sided Eggwhisk; an adventure he was certain he could not have survived had it ever occurred.)
  • The only legacy of that fateful incident was the fireaxe still embedded in the back of the badly-made and incredibly ugly flamingo statue on the front lawn.
  • They came across a sign. It had a map on it and a label that said "You Are Here." They decided to give up the element of surprise, as it was obvious the animals already knew where they were.

FME was my fault

by Dylan Behan

Way back in the good old year of 1995 (or was it 94?), [melvan notes: yes, it was 1995] I believe I sent a poem to Melissa, one of the creators of FME. Over the following months many poems were exchanged, each of them more absurd than the last, creating a war of words.

When we stopped insulting each other and exchanged actual words we began talking about our lives. At the time, my highlight was Dead Pig Digest, a e-zine written by my friend Sam and I and mailed out to people, the same way FME is.

Melissa was so inspired by this,she decided to go about with her friend Renee creating an e-zine, using much material they previously wrote together in high school. Years later, Dead Pig fell by the wayside thanks for commitments such as school and distance, while FME continued to grow strong, to the zenith of its popularity today.

With FME finishing it's prestigous run as one of the finest e-zines on the planet, I would like to say that without me it never would have started. It's all my fault.. Now, don't I deserve some money?

Funny Stories From eener

We were driving down the highway in Orlando, when out of the blue Darin says "milk of magnesia." For some reason, I didn't hear what he said properly and I turn to him and ask "Did you say Malcolm Eggbeater?!" And somehow he keeps his composure and says "Yes, that is what I said." But then he can't help himself and starts laughing and says "No, that isn't what I said!! Malcolm Eggbeater??" And we both get a huge kick out of it. But I still point out to him what a wacky thing it was for him to say "milk of magnesia" out of the blue anyway. He says it just came to his mind, and he said it. Heh heh heh....

Another funny thing that happened was when we were home in Atlanta. We were driving and listening to the radio. An advertisement was playing and the announcer says "This has been sponsored by the Tune-up clinic." For some reason I thought they said "The Tuna clinic." I found this humorous and turn to Darin and say "Hey, if the tuna clinic and the mayo clinic get together, we could have a great sandwich." He starts laughing and says "The tuna clinic?? They said the tune-up clinic!"

Hmm....perhaps I need to get my hearing checked, huh?


NOTICE: For those of you who use the phrase "When Hell freezes over" often, there is a town in Michigan called Hell which gets very cold this time of year. Just a warning :-)

NEWS FLASH! I (melvan) finally decided to go get new nose pads on my glasses. I figured that since they had turned green and one was half broken off, it was time for new ones....

Attention, everyone! Almost two years ago we ran a story by melvan about her never having eaten Spaghetti O's. We would now like to present to you

I'm almost 22 years old and have finally eaten Spaghetti O's.

Today, January 20, 1998, I drove to the grocery store and started shopping. My initial purpose in going there was to pick up a magazine. But I didn't have enough cash to pay for it, so I decided that I'd buy some other stuff so I wouldn't feel silly writing a check for only $3.00.

As I walked through the store, I wondered what else I should buy. I wandered into the canned food aisle and picked out two cans of beef stew. I then noticed the Spaghetti O's sitting on the shelf nearby. I looked more closely and thought to myself, "Should I?" I pondered it for a few seconds, then tossed the 7.5 ounce can into my shopping basket.

I arrived home and emptied the contents of the bag onto my bed. As I started putting the cans away, I realized I hadn't had much to eat during the day. I decided to eat the Spaghetti O's.

I took the tiny can to the kitchen and opened it. I began pouring the contents into a Correlleware bowl (the kind that last forever, unless they fall out of the freezer and break into a dozen oddly-shaped pieces). The noodles wanted to stay in the bottom of the can. I reached in the silverware drawer and pulled out a spoon, then scooped the remaining contents of the Spaghetti O's into the bowl.

It was then that I read the cooking instructions on the side of the can. I popped the microwave door open, stuck the bowl inside, and set the timer for one minute. Sixty seconds later, I heard the "ding" that would change my life.

My Spaghetti O's were done.

I opened the microwave door and took the bowl out. The reddish orange mixture was warm and steaming. I stirred it. Grabbing the bowl, I headed to my room where I sat down in front of my computer and started writing about my Spaghetti O's experience. Minutes later, I laughed at myself. "You're writing a story about Spaghetti O's!" I stirred the Spaghetti O's once again and took a bite. It was lukewarm from sitting on my desk for ten minutes while I had been typing. I ate fast, since I only had five minutes before work. Aside from the fact that I like very few foods with tomato, the Spaghetti O's weren't that bad.

Thank you.

Addendum: I, eener, asked melvan when she came to visit, if she had yet eaten Spaghettios. The date I asked her was January 23rd, her birthday. She affirmed that yes, she had. Little did I realize just how recent her Spaghettios experience had been until I read this story. Now her life is complete.

Attention again: melvan finally saw a cockroach for the first time in eener's house this weekend. And she finally rode on a plane. And she finally saw mountains.

Note: cockroaches suck. eener hates cockroaches. How do those little critters manage to sneak in here anyway? Arghhhh.... We hadn't seen any cockroaches around here in quite a long time, so melvan just lucked out and happened to see one while she was visiting. What luck!

NEWS FLASH: melvan has bought a new monitor!

That's right, folks. Today, April 5, 1998, I drove to Woodbury, Minnesota ("that other state") and bought myself a brand new monitor. This means that now, my parents have their own whole, working computer. However, this purchase was not made without a few hassles along the way. I entered the store and walked over to where the monitors are displayed. I looked at the monitors. The one that I wanted, which was in the ad I brought with me, was not there. I stood there, looking at the monitors and assuming that one of the salespeople would come over and say "Can I help you find anything?" or "Are you finding everything?" like they usually do when you don't want them around. They didn't. I waited longer. I thought I was invisible. (Hey, I'm an introvert, I wait for other people to approach *me*.) Finally someone came over and found my monitor. I bought it. I drove home. I hooked it up to my computer. I inadvertently bumped the power cables and turned off my computer. Twice. But I'm not really any better off than I was before I bought the new monitor, because my video card sucks. So that's my next purchase...and I thought I was done upgrading! Sheesh.

The Wise Sage

Dear Wise Sage:

Why does the refrigerator have a light but the freezer does not? ... And does the refrigerator light go out if the door is closed?


Dear WallPhone,

One time I slowly closed the refrigerator door....millimeter by millimeter.....and peeked into the crack to see if and when the light would go out. When I got it almost closed, I saw the light wink out. Tada! Abracadabra! So the answer to part of your question is YES! The light does go out if the door is closed. As far as a freezer not having a light-it's because the companies that manufacture refrigeraters are stupid. Yes stupid. (I've heard rumors that those companies use the metric system....) It sure is a pain to try to get ice cubes in the dark...they tend to go flying out of your hands and land on the floor. Well, they do this when the light in the room is on as well, but still.....

Wise Sage

Dear Wise Sage,

How does a boomerang work? And why does it have such a funny name?

Too Much Dr. Pepper Man

Dear Too Much Dr. Pepper Man,


Wise Sage

Dear Wise Sage,

Are you in anyway related to sagebrush?

Sincerely, Herb

Dear Herb,

My uncle's third cousin's roommate's best friend's grandfather is a travelling salesman who occasionally sells organic herbs. Does that count?

Wise Sage

Dear Wise Sage,

What word has the most silent letters? I'd bet it's French. Oh yeah: and should the air conditioner be doing that?


Dear ghkxaejvdn,

The word with the most silent letters is "TQWERTYHQWERTYEQWERTY." Actually, this is "The." but the qwertys are silent. Also, any word that a mime says has a lot of silent letters.

Wise Sage

These are some questions that were sent to the "Ask Marilyn" column. Apparently the reader who sent these questions to us thought the wise sage could answer the questions better. Since there were a lot of questions in the column, the wise sage only answered a few of them. Here they are. Enjoy!

"How do they fit all that hot air into blow dryers? Why don't they ever run out?"

The Wise Sage's answer: In order to answer this question, I must first bring up the movie "Honey, I shrunk the Kids." If you recall, in this movie, there was a machine that could shrink objects, including people. This resulted in a person floating around in Cheerios and almost getting eaten.

Now, if you carry this logic over to blow dryers, think of this: Auctioneers. Hundreds of them shrunk by this machine.

Blow dryer manufacturers couldn't figure out how to fit enough hot air into the dryers until they thought of this idea. They shrunk auctioneers and put them inside the hair dryers. Then they were instructed to behave as if they were auctioning off products, which produced an incredible amount of hot air!

"I say that a song popular during the 1950's went 'Oooh eee ooh ah ah wing wang walla bing bang, ooh eee ooh ah ah wing wang walla walla bing bang.' My boyfriend insists it went, 'Oooh eee ooh ah ah ching chang walla bing bang, ooh eee ooh ah ah ching chang walla walla bing bang.' Who is correct?"

The Wise Sage's answer: It's "Oooh eee ooh ah ah ching chang walla walla bing bang." What is even more intriguing than this, however, is the question of what are the real lyrics to "Louie Louie?" Even in all my infinite wisdom, I have listened to "Louie Louie," and all I can discern of the lyrics are: "Louie Louie, Heyyyy mumble mumble mumble...yah yah

"Could you please tell me the number of shades of green? After driving around and looking at the scenery, I've decided there must be many."

The Wise Sage's answer: You'll never know if you use the metric system.

"Is the earth at a different angle in the morning than it is at night? In the morning I have to put something against the front door to hold it open. At night, it stays open by itself."

The Wise Sage's answer: If you have small children, and start having a hard time hearing, they might've put glue in your ear. Yes, it's true! I heard a story once about a man that this happened to, and it was discovered that his toddler had squeezed super glue in his ear while he was sleeping. Crazy.

"I've heard that people have magnetism in their noses. Is this true?"

The Wise Sage's answer: I haven't seen people walking around with refrigerator magnets stuck to their noses lately.

"It appears to me that in the past 100 years, an overwhelming amount of progress has been made in the world. What did all those people do for the first 2000 years?"

The Wise Sage's answer: They were eating grape taffy.

"I do not understand women. Would the study of quantum mechanics help?"

The Wise Sage's answer: No, but it might help you to read Dave Barry's informative book: "Dave Barry is from Mars and Venus."

"If M&Ms melt in your mouth but not in your hands, what about your underarm? I want to test it, but my mom won't let me."

The Wise Sage's answer: Tell your mom you have to do it for a science project. She'll be so grateful that you aren't growing something scary in the fridge that she'll let you do it, and you will know the answer!!

Oh Snop!

The Jar of Coins

by eener

We have a jar of coins. It sat in our kitchen for a long time. Every time we got some extra change, it was put into the jar. After some time, Darin took all the coins and divided them into piles. Piles of ten pennies...ten dimes....etc. They were assembled in an orderly fashion on top of the dresser in our bedroom. One night we decide to head to Wal-mart. While we were on the way, I suggest we take the coins to Kroger, our grocery store, and put them through the coin counting machine they have there. So I stupidly toss all the coins back into the jar, disassembling all of Darin's orderly piles. We get to Kroger, only to discover that the coin counting machine has a service charge, which we decide we don't want to pay. The next day we're out and about and decide to stop by the bank. The bank is closed. It's Martin Luther King's birthday. Duh. So I decide I'll take them to the bank the next day. (By the way, this is a fairly heavy jar of coins, and the lid was missing, so it's a pain to carry around.) The next day, I bring the jar of coins to the bank. I stand in line, only to have the teller say..."You have to roll the coins yourself." ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH...by this time, I am HATING this jar of coins. She hands me some coin sleeves. I leave. I decide these coin sleeves probably aren't enough to cover all the coins. I go to another bank and stand in a LONG line. Of course they have no coin counting machine, but at least the teller gives me a lot more coin sleeves. I go home and try to put the coins in the sleeves, but they are stupid little sleeves, and require you to put your finger in one end while you're loading them. I get frustrated and give up...wishing I would have left the coins in the nice, sorted piles.

Cut to several days later. melvan's visiting, and we're shopping at Underground Atlanta. We go to the "Everything's a dollar" store, and in there, guess what I find? Better coin sleeves! They are already assembled, and easier to use. I buy a bag, and bring them home.

But we have yet to use them.

melvan's Computer Story

And now, yet another OH SNOP! from melvan, about her computer. I hope this story makes sense to those of you who know nothing about the inside of a computer.

On the Monday evening that I returned home from visiting eener in Atlanta, my brother gave me my birthday present: a Pentium 90 motherboard and processor. He told me all I'd need to buy was some memory. Tuesday afternoon, I was bored out of my mind (not a stretch, according to my brother), so I decided to go shopping. A few hours later, I returned home and started taking things apart.

I put the new motherboard into the case. It barely fit. Cables, wires, and cords stuck out everywhere. Some of them I found homes for; others weren't so lucky.

It was about this time that I realized I had no idea what I was doing.

I decided to wait till the next day when Andy could help me out. He suggested I put the old motherboard back in. After everything was back inside, I flipped the switches on the monitor and case. The fans came on, and nothing else happened. I tried it again and again, and still nothing.

By Thursday afternoon, I was getting desperate, not to mention bored. As a last resort, I decided to buy a bigger case. It was at my house when I returned from work that night. Unfortunately, it cost me $70.

For the third time in one week, I completely dismantled my computer. I took it back into my bedroom, turned it on, and was relieved to see words on the screen. My relief, however, was to be short-lived. It couldn't find the hard drives.

As if my week hadn't already been torture, Friday morning I woke up with a sore throat. After reconnecting the hard drive cable, I tried once again to find the hard drives, and this time it worked. For the first time in three days, I booted my computer without the aid of a foot.

Then, just as it was booting, it spewed errors everywhere. I rebooted to Dos. After checking my email and IRC, I booted Linux from DOS. This time, it showed no errors. After work that evening, I put a port in for my mouse. It didn't work. The errors returned. I gave up at 3:00 a.m. and went to bed.

Saturday morning when I woke up, the cold had hit me full force. My throat was sore and my sinuses were plugged. The computer still fought with me every time I tried to make it behave. I backed up my important files in preparation for a hard drive format, then my mom called me for supper. I shut the computer off and left the room.

After supper I pushed the power button on the computer and nothing happened. Try again. Still nothing. Try different outlets. STILL nothing. Frustrated, I left it and watched a movie on TV. When I couldn't keep my eyelids open anymore, I went to sleep.

Sunday morning, I took everything out of the new case, then put the case back in its box. Andy took the case back to his friend, the computer dealer. The next day he returned with the same case, saying that it wasn't faulty, but they did replace the power supply. I put everything back in the case.

Tuesday I was bored enough to use one of the library's computers. For the next week, I went without internet. Saturday I bought a new cdrom drive and borrowed my brother's Windows NT install cd. Before the installation was complete, we saw the Blue Screen of Death; that is, the screen that tells you about General Protection Faults and the like.

A few days later, Andy borrowed a Windows 95 install cd from his friend. Surprisingly, it did install. Unfortunately, my video card wasn't supported by Windows 95. I had no working computer. I had no parts with which to fix it. I had no money to buy the parts to fix it. I was stuck. By this time I was ready to sell the whole mess and buy a new computer that I knew would work.

Fast forward to Tuesday, February 17. I checked the mailbox and found my tax refund. I ran back to the house. Twenty-four hours later, my new motherboard arrived. I installed the thing myself (yes, girls CAN do that, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!)

And now that I have my computer back, I'm happy. :-)

melvan's Weather Rant

(written shortly after Christmas 1997):

For the last two years, you've all heard complaints about Wisconsin's seemingly permanent winter weather. But this year it's different. This year, we've hardly had any snow at all, while our neighbors to the south (Iowa & southern Minnesota) get dumped on an average of 3 times a week. I'm exaggerating, of course. We had a brown Christmas. We got some snow this weekend, and it stuck for a few days, but today it's all melting.

melvan's big feet

I have big feet. Any size between 8 1/2 and 9 1/2, depending on the style of shoe. I also have wide feet. I didn't realize this until a few years ago. I guess you don't pay much attention to that stuff when you're a kid. I don't care if I have big feet. However, the problem with wide feet is that it's very difficult and/or expensive to find shoes that fit! I've been through this scenario dozens of times: I go into a shoe store (or Wal Mart's shoe aisles), I find a pair of shoes I like, and though they are size nine, they're not size nine *wide*. Last night I found a pair of nine wides, but they were a little too short. I looked at the size 9 1/2 shoes. There was one pair, but it wasn't wide.

So I thought it would be a great idea to start a wide-sizes-only shoe store. I searched through Yahoo and found a place called Dave's Wide Shoes. Unfortunately, the prices of their shoes are about what I paid for my car. So I guess I'm stuck...

Work Stories

melvan's work stories

A couple months ago, Jason, one of the cooks I work with, cut his thumb while cutting some meat. He went to tell Jeanne, the manager, and she said "You have to go to the hospital!" He argued with her, but he went anyway. The next day, Jason was at work, telling everyone about what happened and showing off his battle wound. Later that evening, after we had decided what jobs everyone was going to do for the night, Wayne (another cook) said, to everyone, "If anyone else puts any pizzas in the oven, I'll cut your hand off." Jason replied, "Too late. I've already started."

A few days ago, a manager and a delivery driver were talking. The driver, Eric, said he wasn't sick anymore, but he was feeling a little sad. Michelle, the manager asked "Why? Did your girlfriend break up with you or something?" Eric said "Yeah, kinda." So Michelle said she felt really bad for him, then she asked him, "Does this mean you're available?"

eener's work stories

Well, most of you may not be familiar with eener's job, since she doesn't write any stories about it in this esteemed 'zine! melvan's not the only one with an interesting job...heh heh heh....

Without further adeu...er....adew....adiue? adieu....there we go.... Here are some stories about eener's job!

I work as an airline reservations agent, for an airline which I will not mention, but it has a large blue and red widget as a symbol. (Hmm...) My job is to take calls and book airline reservations for people. I work the midnight shift, so as you might imagine, we get some quite interesting people calling in...One of the weirder ones is the fingernail man. He tends to call about 4 a.m., and he calls OFTEN. So often that a lot of times when he goes on a calling spree, most of the female agents who are there on a given night will get him. (he doesn't seem to like talking to guys....) He'll start out by saying "How're you doing?" And then he'll say "I'm sitting here biting my fingernails." And at this point, if you've talked to him before you're thinking "Oh no... the fingernail man again..." And then he proceeds to ask you about the length of all your fingernails and if you bite your nails or not, etc.... really makes you wonder "Why in the hick does this man call an AIRLINE RESERVATIONS department and ask them about their fingernails?! What could he possibly get out of it??

Next in the line-up of strange callers is the "Kiss me" man. After you answer the phone, and ask "How can I help you?" He says "With a kiss!" And hangs up. Duh.

We also have the "Toe sucker" man. I've never talked to this one...shucks. Supposedly he calls and asks if he can suck your toes.

Also, we have the "Zipper man." Never talked to this one either, but he asks if you have zippers on your clothing. Ooookay?!

Of course, there are also the normal, day-to-day calls that are received. There are the people who call in wanting to know if the plane is on time. Then they stop. They expect us, as airline reservations agents to know exactly WHAT plane they are referring to. They never say where the plane is coming from...or where it is going to. I long to say "You have NOT dialed the psychic hot-line. Please hang up and dial again."

Along the same line, people call in and say "I want to fly from here to Florida. What's the cheapest fare?" DUH. First, we have to ask them, in a kind, patient, understanding voice: "WHERE ARE YOU LEAVING FROM??!!!!" And then..."WHERE IN FLORIDA DO YOU WANT TO GO??!" and then..."WHEN IN THE HICK ARE YOU GOING??!" Heh heh heh...

I know of one person who works in our international sales department who received a call about booking a reservation. When he quoted the fare to this person, the person tried to barter for the ticket with farm animals.


Final Comments about FME

First, we will hear from melvan:

(sure, put ME on the spot first! ;-)

Uhhh......(melvan stares blankly at the screen, wondering what the hick to type...)

OK, I've got it.

A reader asked me a question a few days ago. [Well, ok, it was actually in January. But I originally wrote this in January, so it actually WAS "a few days ago" then.] He asked if there would be any other publications that would come from FME. The answer is this:

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe melvan and eener will write a book. Maybe melvan will write a book herself. Maybe pigs will fly. Maybe staplers will grow out of our ears. Anything is possible.

Next we hear from eener:


No really, that's not all I want to say.

I am sad to see this end, but unfortunately, being thousands of miles apart makes it hard for melvan and I to create these wonderful collections of wit. (note from melvan: that should be "melvan and ME" :-) :-P <-- eener's reply. ANYWAY, as I was saying, we both have enjoyed writing this. It's very special to know that the things we write are read and enjoyed by so many people. (who must be mentally disturbed ;-) Thanks so much for reading the crazy things we write.

And now, we'd like to include a poem that sums up the last two years of FME:

(note: While transferring this issue to the new site, melvan realized that the poem is actually MISSING. We do apologize for this, and ask that if anyone still has an original email copy of this issue, please contact her so she can put it back in its rightful place. Thank you.)

Disclaimer/Copyright Info

The ever-popular Macheen Shed explodes in your face every day at http://www.melvania.net/macheen/

This collection of lunacy is copyright 1998 by Renee Werner and Melissa Hoffmeyer, except for letters, essays, parodies, poems, stories, and whatnot sent in by our clinically insane subscribers. FME reserves the right to edit any material sent for publication (if you can call it that), regarding spelling, punctuation, content, fishing lure earrings, AND fresh bananas. And sloths, and carp, and anchovies, and orangutans, and breakfast cereals, and fruit bats...

And bacon.

Categories: Farm Macheenery (exploding)
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Issue #77, 13 October 1997

^.^. farm ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan (melissa c. hoffmeyer) .^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan@win.bright.net .^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. macheenery ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. eener (renee f. werner) .^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. (exploding) .^.^.^.^.^. eener@juno.com ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. issue #77 .^.^.^.^.^.^. http://www.wildstar.net/~melvan/macheen/ ^

ATTENTION! If you did not want this magazine, please email
melvan@win.bright.net. I lost the subscriber list, and the last backed up
copy of it that I have is six months old. If you've unsubscribed since
then, please tell me to delete your address again. If you know someone
who has subscribed recently, please tell them to subscribe again. I
apologize for any inconvenience.

*** Quote from Elkvis (brother of melvan): "Needing help is okay as long
as you never get it."

Before we get on with the 'zine, we have an announcement. FME is two
years old today, the 9th of October. And there was much rejoicing (yay).
And yes, this issue is about 4 days late, but so what? At least it's been

This is the third attempt at FME Issue #77. Why? The reason deserves a
column all its own.

= OH SNOP!! =

life's little annoyances...

by melvan

Once upon a time I bought a new hard drive from my brother. And I had so
much space, I didn't know what to do with all of it. So I decided that in
addition to Linux, I'd put a DOS partition on the drive. I asked my
brother if formatting a partition of one drive would affect the rest of
the drive and he said "It shouldn't." So I proceeded to format the
partition. Not only did it format that one partition, but the whole hard
drive...and the whole other hard drive. So I lost everything I had.

By the time I got all the stuff back that I'd lost, I decided to try it
again. This time, I was a little more careful and did only format the one
partition of the one drive. But when I rebooted the computer and switched
back to Linux, I discovered that it had corrupted a very important
directory, that is, the /home directory. This is where half of my stuff
is stored, i.e. issues of FME, the subscriber list, my mail, parodies,
pictures, wav files, web pages that I'd been working on, Beward (an irc
bot), and more stuff that I've forgotten because I lost it.

Not only am I having hard drive problems lately. Here's more...

My cdrom drive won't work. So I took my computer apart to see if I had
any loose connections, and I cut my finger taking out the cdrom controller
card. So I'm trying to type with a band aid on my left middle finger. So
if you see any extra Cs, Ds, Es, or 3s in this issue, please excuse them.
And when I put it back together and started it again, the cdrom drive
STILL doesn't work.

The new-old soundcard I just got isn't working yet.

I dropped a 3.5 pound can of green olives on my foot at work last night
and have a big bruise on it (the foot, not the can). Later that evening
my manager told me I could leave after I'd put some stuff away. Ten
minutes later, just as I'm getting it finished up, he comes to tell me
"You're gonna have to stay for a while, there's a bus of 50 people coming

My "new" car has a leaky tire. And a radio that needs to be replaced.
That's right, I finally bought a car. For those of you who care, it's a
black 4-door 1980 Chrysler LeBaron with reddish maroonish interior. And
as soon as my license plates arrive in the mail, I can drive anywhere I

Only days after my mom put plastic in the air conditioner to insulate it
for winter, guess what happened? We got a heat wave and broke a 100 year
old high temperature record.

And that's all I have to say about that.

= What Happened at eener's Wedding +

Actually, a funny thing happened this week. After I (melvan) had already
written my version of what happened at the wedding, I received in an email
from eener her version of the same thing. So here we have two points of
view of Renee's wedding.

--- eener's version ---

Yes...I am now an old, married lady! :-) And loving every minute of it!
You can call me eener Werner. The wedding was great! Wish you all could
have been there. For those of you who didn't know, melvan was my maid of
honor. She looked just be-yoot-iful in the pink bridesmaid dress with
roses on it! [melvan notes: How dare you say such a thing about me!]
Here's a much abridged version of the wedding....

The day before the wedding....Yiiiiiiiiii! Freak out time! There were
several people from the wedding party who were flying in on the standby
passes that Darin (my hubby) and I get for working for Delta. In fact,
the preacher and the best man were a couple of those people! Yikes! To
make a long story short, the preacher got there late the night before
the wedding, and the best man got in about an HOUR before the wedding.
(or somewhere near that) Darin's sister and brother in law also flew in
on a pass, and by the time they got there they said we oughtta pay 'em for
coming! (they did get there in time for the wedding, luckily! Heh
heh...) I think we were possessed to have people flying in standby on
labor day weekend. Aw well! Happily, everyone who was supposed to get
there, got there! Hooray! (And there was much rejoicing) Oh! One more
note...the rehearsal was interesting, without the pastor...and without the
best man! Hahaha! We had Darin's dad be the preacher's stand-in...and my
cousin's boyfriend was the best man....whew! What a night!! (har!)

The day of the wedding went VERY fast! For any of you who've gotten
married, I think you'll agree with me here...it goes super fast. Friends
and relatives everywhere...and trying to talk to 'em all! It sure was
good to see everyone. Another special thing was that my grandparents sang
a song at my wedding! It was a very happy day! I married a very
wonderful man- caring,considerate, loving (*insert romantic violin music
here*)..and he's just as wacky as me! I told him I never would have
married him if he had been sane! (oh-and he's cute too! *wink*)

We went to Stuttgart, Germany for our honeymoon...very beautiful! Parks,
fountains, castles....very romantic!! The only things that we didn't like
about Stuttgart: Coke costs an arm and a leg over there! No...not coke
the drug, silly! Coke the beverage! (har har...) Also, in some places,
you have to pay to use public toilets! Phooey. Other than that, we
loved Germany! There was one experience that I should write up for the
"Oh snop" column though...naw, I'll tell you about it right now. (aren't
you excited?) We took a train all the way to Fussen, Germany to see a
beautiful castle. We got there in plenty of time before the castle tours
closed. However, by the time we figured out where to go to get to the top
of the mountain to see the castle, it was too late! And we rode on a
train for hours! Eeeek! Nevertheless, we made the best of it. We walked
up the mountain, on the road, and saw the outside of the castle. It was
beautiful...and we took lots of photos and video! Well, I could ramble on
some more, but let's get on with the rest of the 'zine!!

--- melvan's version ---

This is actually the third time I've had to write this (or maybe the
fourth? Whatever.) But anyway, I'm sure you'll all want to hear about

The wedding was Saturday, August 30 at 1 pm. I arrived at the church
Friday afternoon at about 4:30 to help decorate for the reception. Darin
was just leaving to pick Renee up from the motel, and he told me the

The best man was stuck in Dallas.
The pastor was stuck in Cincinatti.
Darin's sister & her husband were stuck in Cincinatti.
Darin's tuxedo hadn't arrived yet.

The rehearsal was to begin at 6 pm. We actually did have the rehearsal.
Darin's dad stood in as the pastor, and Renee's cousin Erin's boyfriend
stood in as the best man.

The pastor (Dave Hart, a FME subscriber) and Darin's sister arrived later
that night.

The best man arrived fifteen minutes before the ceremony started.

During the ceremony, Darin and Renee were supposed to light a unity
candle. So they took the matches and lit two separate candles, then they
attempted lighting the unity candle. But the candle had other plans. It
did not want to light. The base of Darin's candle fell of and made a nice
THUD on the floor. Finally after much trying, Darin turned around and
said "I hope we unify a little better than our candle." A few minutes
later, when Renee's grandparents were singing, Renee and Darin were facing
the audience and acting silly. And I heard Darin say "I'm glad they wired
me for the video, they're gonna LOVE this."

At the reception, Todd (the best man) stood up and gave a toast. He
finished it up with "Long life, long love, many children" to which Darin
responded "Can we talk about that last one?"

Renee threw the bouquet, and Amber (also a FME subscriber) caught it.
Later Darin said that when he tossed the garter, the only single guy he
could find was Amber's boyfriend....

After everything in the church was cleaned up, Darin told me "You haven't
lost your best friend, you've gained a pain in the butt."

And then when we all finally left the building, we spotted the rental car.
Renee's sister made a "Just Married" sign, and her brother blew up some
latex gloves and taped them to the back of the car. When they left the
parking lot, it looked like the gloves were waving.

And there was much rejoicing.


I (melvan) looked at a box in the freezer at work the other day, and read
"Grilled Cooked Dead Chicken." I thought that was kinda redundant, and
then I looked again, and it said "Grilled Cooked DICED Chicken." Silly

Then tonight (Friday), I looked at the name on an order I was making and
it said "Melissa." Hmm...so I'm ordering pizzas behind my own back now?
What the hick? And since when do I like mushrooms and black olives
anyway? I'll have to have a nice long chat with myself about this....

Oh...this column is for news, isn't it? Well, here's news...melvan's new
address is melvan@win.bright.net

= Wise Sage =

** The Wise Sage never rests! Well, actually she does, but "The Wise
Sage Rests" wouldn't be too good of an opener for the Wise Sage column,
now would it? Anyway, send Wise Sage questions to eener@juno.com

The Wise Sage has recently had a lobotomy...we appreciate your patience
while she grows a new brain....

This wasn't a Wise Sage question, but it was asked, so it deserves an
answer. Sean asked what the initials in our names stood for.

Renee Fred Werner
Melissa Cletus Hoffmeyer

Wait, that doesn't look right...

Renee Farley Werner
Melissa Caesar Hoffmeyer

Hmm, still not quite right...

Renee Faith Werner
Melissa Carrie Hoffmeyer

There...that's better.

= Fruit Bats in Your Toilet =

If you have lunacy you'd like publicized, we'll do it for free! Send
any stories, poems, letters, parodies, essays, ramblings, etc. to

Many many many thanks to Weird Alex, who sent me the following parody
three times after I'd lost it....

Cyber Geek
A parody of Jesus Freak by dcTalk
Parody Lyrics by Weird Alex

Separated, I cut myself free
From the network that lags me when I download big things
Been understanding this new IRC force
And a setup that replaced all the servers of course!

Saw a man there next to me with a big fat belly
It wiggled around like marmalade jelly
It took me a while to catch what he said
Cause I had to synchronize with the lag in my head
Download .wav's is what he raved
In a typical cyber-means
He hooked up to the net in the middle of the city
And he started having dreams...

What will people think when they hear that I'm a cybergeek?
What will people do when they find out it's true?
I don't really care if they label me a cyber geek
There ain't no disguising the truth

Kamikaze... it split again
So now I have to start downloading again
The athletic-minded see me as weak
Cuz I'd much rather be just a dull cyber geek, yeah

There was a man from the desert with spam in his head
He connected himself to the Net from his bed
The chats that he made made people assume
There wasn't much firing in the upper room
With crumbs on his shirt and crumbs on his face
He was a disgrace by the way that he ate
And everybody tripped when they heard him speak
Cuz then they too wanted to be cyber geeks

People say I'm strange, does this just make me stranger
That I surf the web like a lone ranger
(repeat bridge)
(modem solo)
(chorus out)
What will people think?
What will people do?
I don't really care
What else can I say?
Hacking is the way....

= Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash... =

I wrote this poem twice already, and this is the last time I'm going to
write it.

Car Ownership

Hello, rearview mirror I never again have to adjust...
Hello, driver's seat I never again have to move forward...
Hello, armrest I never again have to raise...
Hello, car I can drive anywhere and anytime I want...
Goodbye, money...



The ever-popular Macheen Shed explodes in your face every day at

This collection of lunacy is copyright 1997 by Renee Werner and Melissa
Hoffmeyer, except for letters, essays, parodies, poems, stories, and
whatnot sent in by our clinically insane subscribers. FME reserves the
right to edit any material sent for publication (if you can call it that),
regarding spelling, punctuation, content, fishing lure earrings, AND fresh

Categories: Farm Macheenery (exploding)
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Issue #76, 19 August 1997

^.^. farm ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan (melissa c. hoffmeyer) .^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan@wildstar.net .^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. macheenery ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. eener (renee f. elrod) ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. (exploding) .^.^.^.^.^. eener@juno.com ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. issue #76 .^.^.^.^.^.^. http://www.wildstar.net/~melvan/macheen/ ^

This is the last issue of FME. That is, the last issue before eener's
wedding. And just for the hick of it, and because of the fact that we
haven't had a survey for a while, we're going to put a survey in this
issue. Please send answers to melvan@wildstar.net or eener@juno.com

1. eener can't find a good lipstick. She's mentioned this before. So
she wants to hear from everyone on this list who uses lipstick...which
kind and color should she buy?

2. Who put the bomp in the bomp ba-bomp ba-bomp?

3. WHAT is your name?

4. WHAT is your quest?

5. WHAT is your favorite color?

6. Have you ever eaten a gfot?

7. Have you ever been eaten BY a gfot?

8. Where do the streets have no name?

9. Will you send us money?

10. Why not?

11. Do you have allergies?

12. Don't you hate them?

13. How many cats have you owned in your life?

14. Have you driven a B. E. L. lately?

15. Did it explode?

16. Why not?

17. Who shot JR?

18. In your own words, why is FME only coming to you once a month (or
less frequently) instead of each week?

19. Where HAVE all the cowboys gone?

20. Define the word "akoukahouma" (pronounced a-KOO-ka-HOO-ma)

Thus endeth the survey.

= OH SNOP!! =

life's little annoyances...

by eener

Here's a tidbit of advice to all you readers out there: Do NOT...I
repeat...Do NOT tumble dry a feather pillow. The clothes dryer here is
now full of feathers...ack!

Another OH SNOP!

by melvan

Yesterday morning I went shopping in Woodbury with my parents. Woodbury
is a city about 20 miles from where I live. They have just about
everything there, so I try to go there often. Anyway, when we came out of
Best Buy and were getting in the car, I opened my door and just barely
bumped the car next to us. Its car alarm started screaming.

Don't you just LOVE car alarms?

Yes, I really did only bump it, I was NOT trying to break into it.
Really. I was using the crowbar to...uhh...I was using it for an antenna!
Yeah, that's it.

= As the Tractor Burns... =


Jim Varney - as Raul Hackenspew
Roseanne - as Esmerelda
O.J. Simpson - as I.M. Gilty
Barney the Dinosaur - as Howard Stern
Jim Carrey - as Al Rightithen
Princess Di - as Buffy

Last time on ATTB, the Evil Taxi Driver, Raul, and Al ended up in Iowa.
Meanwhile, the rest of the gang is planning a party. But we've decided to
scrap that plot and transport them to somewhere else. The somewhere else
in question is, in fact, eener's wedding.

(The entire cast appears in a poof of borrowed bluish oldish newish smoke
in the back of the church)

Esmerelda: How'd we get here?
Al: Whoa...those special effects again...
(Al goes into a trance)
Howard: What's going on here?
Raul: Hmmmm...there's lots of people, they're all dressed up, and there's
flowers everywhere. This could only mean one thing...
Everyone: What?
Raul: My toupee is on backwards.
Buffy: Raul, your toupee is ALWAYS on backwards.
Usher: Quiet please! Follow me.
(The usher leads the gang to their seats)
I.M.: So what's really happening here?
Usher: It's a wedding.
Buffy: A wedding? Who's getting married?
Al: Haven't you been reading FME for the last few months?
Buffy: No.
Al: Well, if you had, you'd know who was getting married.
Buffy: Why should I read that stuff? It's so pointless.
Raul: gasp How dare you say that, Buffy! FME is full of relevant
information, you just have to dig a while to find it.
Esmerelda: SHHH!
(The organ starts to play "Here Comes the Bride")
I.M.: Hey look! It's eener!
Everyone: SHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
I.M.: Oh, right. Sorry.
(The Evil Taxi Driver takes something out of his pocket)
Howard: (whispers) Hey, what's that?
Taxi Driver: It's a pie.
Howard: Oh. What are you going to do with it?
Taxi Driver: You'll see.
(Suddenly, the Evil Taxi Driver stands up and throws the pie toward the
front of the church. eener ducks just in time, and the pie hits the
Howard: Wow! Cool! I wanna try that!
(Howard takes a pie from his pocket and hurls it toward the front of the
Usher: Hey! Stop that!
Al: Whoa...you guys are just TOO cool.
(Al pushes a pie in the usher's face)
Usher: That's it! You want a pie war? Well, you've got a pie war!

(The usher takes several pies out of his pockets and throws them at
wedding guests, and a world class pie war breaks out. Ten minutes later,
the church is a mess of whipped cream, blueberry, apple, cherry,
chocolate, and gfots.)

Buffy: Wow...cool.

Join us next time, when a large elephant is dropped from an airplane onto
the entire cast of ATTB!

= Editor's Reccomendations... =

We reccomend that you send us stuff to put in the 'zine! Otherwise we
have to write it all, and you know what happens when we do that....


Next Saturday, August 30, is eener's wedding.

melvan is drinking hot chocolate and cooking fish at this very moment.

It's raining in Wisconsin.

= Wise Sage =

** The Wise Sage never rests! Well, actually she does, but "The Wise
Sage Rests" wouldn't be too good of an opener for the Wise Sage column,
now would it? Anyway, send Wise Sage questions to eener@juno.com

Dear the wisest of the wise sage,

What does Spam smell like? I have never come into contact with it and it
bothers me that I don't understand the obvious joke that surrounds it. By
the way, the wise Sage is the wisest sage I know!!!!!!!!!!

Another wise something,

Dear Saturn,

Spam smells like ham that has been bathing in pink slime for approximately 2

Doo Wah diddy diddy dum diddy do,
Wise Sage

= Fruit Bats in Your Toilet =

If you have lunacy you'd like publicized, we'll do it for free! Send
any stories, poems, letters, parodies, essays, ramblings, etc. to

I glued my finger
that was dumb
I glued my finger,
and now its numb.

thank you, thank you very much.

Next is a contribution from "George"

hi melvan. ive got some lunacy for ya. theyre some of my "specail"
jokes. my friends say they dont make sense, and i say thats what makes
them funny. so here are some goodies for ya:

so there were two ducks in a bathtub and one said to the other, "pass the
soap" and the other said, "what do you think i am?.... chocolate ice
cream?" ha ha ha! was that funny or what?!

here goes another one: whats the difference between orange juice and dog
bones? jackets have no sleeves!

= Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash... =

Bubble Wrap




The ever-popular Macheen Shed explodes in your face every day at

This collection of lunacy is copyright 1997 by Renee Elrod and Melissa
Hoffmeyer, except for letters, essays, parodies, poems, stories, and
whatnot sent in by our clinically insane subscribers. FME reserves the
right to edit any material sent for publication (if you can call it that),
regarding spelling, punctuation, content, fishing lure earrings, AND fresh

Categories: Farm Macheenery (exploding)
Warning: Undefined array key "freetag" in /usr/local/www/www.melvania.org/templates_c/clean_blog/97/4d/17/974d1772a0f132f9bc461206f1966560fb6d5a8e_0.file.entries.tpl.php on line 173

Issue #75, 14 July 1997

^.^. farm ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan (melissa c. hoffmeyer) .^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan@wildstar.net .^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. macheenery ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. eener (renee f. elrod) ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. (exploding) .^.^.^.^.^. eener@juno.com ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. issue #75 .^.^.^.^.^.^. http://www.wildstar.net/~melvan/macheen/ ^

Hello, and welcome to the seventy-fifth issue of Farm Macheenery
(exploding) Magazine. This issue marks absolutely nothing except

1. It's July 13.
2. There's a thunderstorm in Wisconsin.
3. There was one yesterday too.
4. The number 75 coincides with the last two digits of eener's birth
year, which of course is NOT as good as 76, melvan's birth year :-)

--- little things to be happy about ---

Last week I went to Fleet Farm. For those of you who have never heard of
it, Fleet Farm is a store. Right. It's a store that specializes in farm,
auto, and household stuff. ("stuff", hmm, my English teachers would be SO
proud of me...) My mom asked me to buy some eyeglass cleaner while I was
there. I looked in the aisle she specified three or four times, and they
didn't have it. Anyway. I went on to the auto parts section and bought a
funnel. Yes, a funnel. Funnels are nice things, you know. You can put
them in a hole in your car so that the fluid goes into the hole instead
of around it. The last time I poured transmission fluid in my car
(well, actually it's not MY car, but it probably will be soon) I spilled
half the bottle trying to get the stuff into the stupid hole. This time
was no problem. I put the funnel in the hole (after removing the nice
little caps on both ends to prevent spiderwebs and such getting inside the
funnel) and poured the contents of the transmission fluid container INTO
the hole, and didn't spill a drop.

And then I drove back to River Falls.

= OH SNOP!! =

life's little annoyances...by melvan

Saturday night I was at work again. I stayed later than usual because we
didn't have enough cooks. Anyway...this lady ordered some mild wings. So
we made them. When she got them, she thought they were hot wings. So we
put in another order of mild wings for her. When those came out of the
oven, she thought THOSE were too hot. So the manager put one hot wing and
one mild wing through the oven so the lady could see the difference. Then
when she looked at them, she said "My Pizza Hut never had anything like
this." One of our drivers (Tom) said he wanted to go out into the dining
room and just stare at the lady. Or pretend to be a mobster. The scary
part is that he'd be really good at the mobster role.

= As the Tractor Burns... =


Jim Varney - as Raul Hackenspew
Roseanne - as Esmerelda
O.J. Simpson - as I.M. Gilty
Barney the Dinosaur - as Howard Stern
Jim Carrey - as Al Rightithen
Princess Di - as Buffy

Hmm...if I could remember what happened last time on ATTB, I'd write a
sequel. But since I can't, I won't.


Or maybe I'll just look up the last issue.

Or maybe I'm just too lazy to do that.

Or perhaps BANG thud

This episode of ATTB involves a paper clip, a Buick, and a pink flamingo
lawn ornament. Not in that order.

Last week, Raul, Al, and the Evil Taxi Driver disappeared in poofs of
gray, purple, and greenish bluish pinkish smoke, respectively. This week,
we'll find out where they've gone. And they have ended up in none other

Iowa. Again.

Al: What the heck? We're in Iowa?
Raul: Apparently we are.
Taxi Driver: But didn't we click our heels three times and say "There's
no place like home?" Is Iowa really my home?
Raul: Home? Iowa? I never thought I'd use both of those words in the
same sentence.
(Al, Raul, and the Taxi Driver get into a Buick and drive away.)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...I mean the crashed submarine...

Esmerelda: OK, now what do we do? Al and Raul and the Taxi Driver have
disappeared. Should we follow them?
Buffy: Nah, let's have a party instead.
I.M.: Yeah, what she said.
Howard: Yeah, what they said.
Barney: I love you, you love me...
Esmerelda: SHUT HIM UP!!!!!!
(Barney disappears in a poof of beigeish white smoke)
Buffy (chewing on a paper clip): I'm serious. Let's have a party.
Esmerelda: Why? We're missing two of our friends and a taxi
driver...come to think of it, are they really our friends? If they just
ditched us like that...
Buffy: Thanks, now you've gotten me depressed.
(Buffy starts sobbing uncontrollably)
I.M.: sniff They just left us?
Forrest Gump: Mama always said life is like a box of chocolates...you
never know what you're gonna get.
Howard: Oh...do I finally get a line again?
(Esmerelda beats Howard over the head with a pink flamingo lawn ornament)
So#m queen: Wymin rule and male-types drool!
Howard: Yeah, what she said.
Buffy: I'm going to legally change my name to Shoula.

And with that, we'll end ATTB forever.

We're kidding, of course. Or "of source."

= Editor's Reccomendations... =

Do not, I repeat, do NOT buy "Dave Barry's Book of Bad Songs." Although
this is a very funny book, if you read it I can guarantee you'll walk away
from it with all the world's dumbest songs bouncing around your brain.
Seriously, I left this book in the middle to go get some ice cream. While
I was in the kitchen, the only thing going through my mind was "Feelings,
nothing more than feelings" over and over and AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGH!!!!!!!!!


eener is going to be an old married lady in only a month and a half!

= Wise Sage =

** The Wise Sage never rests! Well, actually she does, but "The Wise
Sage Rests" wouldn't be too good of an opener for the Wise Sage column,
now would it? Anyway, send Wise Sage questions to eener@juno.com

Dear Guru of Sage

Does the company that makes Zambonis have a monopoly?

Signed, question person
(**a generic name invented by us, cuz the person didn't sign their name)

Dear question person,

Monopoly comments: get both Boardwalk and Park Place....and be the
scottie dog.

Wise Sage

Dear wisest of Wise Sages,

What is invisible fencing???? Is it a fence you cannot see or is it a type
of fighting that could get very nasty??? Can you use spam to make/do
invisible fencing??????

A not so wise questioner, Saturn

Dear Saturn,

Invisible fencing is a marvelous product! You can get yours today if you
send 3 low, low easy payments of $39.95 to eener and melvan today! Just 3
easy payments!!! And if you act now, we'll throw in a tractor Christmas
tree ornament ABSOLUTELY FREE!!!! This marvelous product vaccuums your
carpet...organizes your finances...and cooks breakfast for you every
morning!! Don't miss out on this fabulous offer!! Buy some today!!

Wise Sage

= Fruit Bats in Your Toilet =

If you have lunacy you'd like publicized, we'll do it for free! Send
any stories, poems, letters, parodies, essays, ramblings, etc. to

A poem from lucy1 (aka melvan's "little sis")

there once was a cat named face
who ran an incredible race
he went off the road
and killed mr toad
then folded his paws to say grace

Poems from wowness (aka Nina Garden)

Fried Chryslers

Oreo Speedlaggin
and endless orange flurescent dots
Lost in a pile of unmatched socks.
Frying Chryslers serenade
through broken headphones
telling of the death of Phil Long.
We pause to throw a keyfob on his grave.
The polyethaline dot trees grow rapidly.

Silly Putty-

Funnies printed silly putty
Through polluted air
Into the faces
Of unsuspecting mmmboppers.

The Illogical Song
Parody of Supertramp's "The Logical Song"
Parody by Weird Alex (who's been away from school too long)

When I signed on, it seemed that chats were so wonderful, a miracle, oh
they were musical, magical
And all the nicks on the chan, well they'd be sinfing so happily,
joyfully, dizzily typing me
But then I went home to a world that's so sensible, logical, responsible,
And I work in a world that makes me so dependable, clinical,
intellectual, cynical

There are times, when IRC's asleep,
The questions are too deep
For such a shallow man
Won't you please, please have me reassured,
No matter what I've heard,
There is a 'Net of Spam?

Now watch what you say, or they'll be calling you a radical, elliptical,
oh, quadratical squarical
Won't you write down your name, we'd like to think you're editable,
eraseable, oh grammatical-in-place-able!

At day, when IRC's asleep
The questions run too deep
For such a silly man
Won't you please, please have me reassured,
No matter what I've heard,
Spam tastes like Klik or Kam
Klik or Kam
Klik or Kam!
Klik or Kam!!!! (Spam whistle)
vegetable (1-2-V-8!)

= Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash... =

Boredom I

I'm so bored
I don't know what to write
I'm almost falling asleep
I've eaten two bowls of ice cream today
I'm listening to an 80's radio show
My fan makes awful noises when it's sitting on my desk
My printer sounds like it's falling apart
I haven't had a Dr Pepper in over a week
I'm totally bored with caffeine free beverages
They all taste the same
Especially since they're all 7-Up


The ever-popular Macheen Shed explodes in your face every day at

This collection of lunacy is copyright 1997 by Renee Elrod and Melissa
Hoffmeyer, except for letters, essays, parodies, poems, stories, and
whatnot sent in by our clinically insane subscribers. FME reserves the
right to edit any material sent for publication (if you can call it that),
regarding spelling, punctuation, content, fishing lure earrings, AND fresh

Categories: Farm Macheenery (exploding)
Warning: Undefined array key "freetag" in /usr/local/www/www.melvania.org/templates_c/clean_blog/97/4d/17/974d1772a0f132f9bc461206f1966560fb6d5a8e_0.file.entries.tpl.php on line 173

Issue #74, 15 June 1997

^.^. farm ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan (melissa c. hoffmeyer) .^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan@wildstar.net .^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. macheenery ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. eener (renee f. elrod) ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. (exploding) .^.^.^.^.^. eener@juno.com ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. issue #74 .^.^.^.^.^.^. http://www.wildstar.net/~melvan/macheen/ ^

Why do they call it rush hour traffic if it's so slow?
Why do they call them red onions when they're actually purple?
On headphones, they always say R for the right side and L for the left.
If you put them on backwards, does the music come out backwards?

Anyway...welcome to FME Issue #74. What's in this issue, you ask?

1. Nothing.
2. More nothing.
3. Still more of nothing.

HEY! eener flew up to Wisconsin this weekend and stopped to visit melvan.
The following issue may make no sense, but you're used to that, right?

But we start it all off with a dream melvan had on the morning of June 13,
1997. Perhaps the fact that it was Friday the 13th has something to do
with the strangeness of the dream...or perhaps it was because I was up
till 3 am and worked 6 hours the previous night....

It was renee's wedding. I was sitting on the bleachers (Bleachers at a
wedding? In a church? Hmmmm...must be a redneck wedding) by my aunt &
uncle (Renee & Darin have never met this particular aunt & uncle; why
would they be at their wedding? Hmm?) Then these snotty 13-14 year old
girls (I think they were supposedly my aunt & uncle's granddaughters; i.e.
my second-cousins) came & told me I had to move because that was where
THEY always sat. Then some of the people in the wedding party came out
(Darin came over to where I was sitting to have my aunt tie his tie or
something???) So then I left because I was part of the wedding party, and
I should've been with them in the first place. My mom was with the
bridesmaids and asked me where I'd been earlier because she'd been looking
for me. Had I come to the church straight from work? Yup. (Work the day
of the wedding? Uhhh...no thanks.) Had I been here the whole time? Yup.
(Funny that I hadn't even seen the bridesmaids' dresses till then...)
Then I was in the aisle in the church. Then the next thing i remember is
being in my house the next day telling my brother that I didn't remember
anything at all about the wedding. Then I remembered I had dreamed the
part about my aunt & uncle and the bleachers and everything. (A dream
within a dream...hmmmmm). Then I was at a bus stop, and there was a
person sitting on the bench who looked like a big plastic Barney, but
acted and sounded like Forrest Gump. And then Barney Gump walked away and
I couldn't remember what his name was.

What made this even more strange is that Thursday night while I was
cleaning out my computer desk, I found some old poetry, stories, & ideas
for FME. One was to put Forrest Gump in ATTB. Then I thought, "Forrest
Gump played by Howard (who is played by Barney)...uhhhhh......"

Perhaps it's a premonition? Do you all think I'm psycho yet? Don't
answer that....

= OH SNOP!! =

life's little annoyances...

by melvan

So anyway, I was at work on Friday the 13th. I got there at 11 am. Lunch
was pretty busy. Then it was dead till 4 pm. I was the only cook. I got
swamped with orders. I made about 5 orders and put them in the oven, then
more orders came in, and by the time I got them done, the first 5 orders
were getting backed up in the oven, so I had to go cut them before they
fell off the end of the oven. They do do that sometimes. Anyway, so it
took me about 10 minutes to get caught up on the oven, and by then there
were orders that were 10 minutes overdue...and of course everyone else was
busy too (waitresses & managers & drivers) so they didn't have time to
help cook. Then when other cooks showed up early, they couldn't clock in
early and help out, they had to stand in the back and talk & smoke.
Meanwhile I'm working my butt off trying to get all the orders done...

So finally the other cooks clocked in and we got caught up. An hour later
we were backed up again because one of our ovens is broke. We do have
another oven in the back of the store, but noooo, we couldn't turn that
one on and use it.... Anyway...we were stuffing pizzas in so close
together that you couldn't get anything in the little side door when you
needed to. And then, to top it all off, the guy who was doing the pasta
(a manager) came and told me that I would have to do pasta because he
didn't have time to do it anymore. I was very happy to get out of
there.... Oh well, at least nobody turned off the "Friday night time
machine" (aka the radio show which is all 80's music for 6 hours :-)

And now for another "Oh Snop" by eener....

Aaargh! I just wish to complain about the icky weather we've had in
Atlanta for two weeks straight. (Not to mention, I'm having a hick of a
time trying to type on melvan's keyboard!! Eeeeek...everything seems to
get jiggled aroumd and come out in the wrong orrrder) Anyway0 in regards
to the wethearrrja;sdl (oh fergit it...i'm tired of backspacking) (this
reminds me of lettersd melvan used to write me on a broken typewriter-they
were an endless source of entertainment for me...typos everywhere!!!!)
Ahem. Back to the point. We've had rain for two weeks straight!
Gloomy...no sun. We had one day with sun and 90 degrees, then it went
straight back to rain. I like rain...but not t29wo straight weeks of it.

comment from melvan: hey, it's fun watching eener try to type....

= As the Tractor Burns... =


Jim Varney - as Raul Hackenspew
Roseanne - as Esmerelda
O.J. Simpson - as I.M. Gilty
Barney the Dinosaur - as Howard Stern
Jim Carrey - as Al Rightithen
Princess Di - as Buffy

Last week on ATTB, the gang went for a trip through the human body in the
movie "Innerspace." Buffy, Esmerelda, and Al fainted when they met Elvis.
The Evil Taxi Driver reappeared to drive the submarine out through the
belly button.

This week on ATTB, something will happen, only we don't know what yet,
because somebody stole melvan's brain. Have you seen it? If found,
please don't return it.

Raul: (waving hands frantically in front of Esmerelda) Wake up!!
Esmerelda: Huh? Where am I?
Buffy: (waking up) Where did Elvis go?
Howard: Who cares, I just want to go home!
Al: Home?
I.M.: Home?
Raul: Home?
Howard: Yeah, I said I want to go home!
Esmerelda: Wow...this is the first time in the history of ATTB that
anyone has actually wanted to go home.
Raul: The second time. The first time this taxi driver kidnapped us,
Taxi Driver: Kidnapped you? That wasn't me...that was my evil twin.
Howard: You have an evil twin?
Taxi Driver: (looks puzzled) Yeah, doesn't everyone?
Buffy: Oh, of course! My evil twin is Granny from the Beverly
I.M.: My evil twin played football.
Esmerelda: I.M., you're your own evil twin.
I.M.: I am not! Take that back! I'm innocent!
(Suddenly the Evil Taxi Driver disappears in a poof of greenish bluish
pinkish smoke)
Al: Hey...where did he go? He was supposed to drive us home...
Howard: Close your eyes, click your heels together three times, and say
"There's no place like home."
Raul: Hmm, let's try it. It worked for Dorothy & Toto...
(Raul closes his eyes and clicks his heels together)
Raul: There's no place like home. There's no place like home.
(Suddenly Raul dissapears in a poof of gray smoke)
Al: Whoa! It worked! Let me try!
(Al closes his eyes and clicks his heels together)
Al: There's no place like home. There's no place like home.
(Al disappears in a poof of purple smoke)

Next time on ATTB, we'll find out just where Al, Raul, and the Evil Taxi
Driver have gone....

= Editor's Reccomendations... =

melvan was surfing the web and found some interesting pages...

** Dave Barry Archive - http://www.herald.com/tropic/barry/

Dave Barry columns, duh :-)

The Slightly Less than Official Spork Page - http://www.spork.org

Tells you exactly what a spork is, what you can do with it, etc.

** Gallery of Lawn Ornaments -

Pink flamingoes, dwarf bears, windmills, Elvis mailboxes...the only thing
I didn't see on this page was the "Yard Butt" (eener's term)

Virtual Bubble Wrap - http://www.mackerel.com/bubble.html

Everyone loves bubble wrap (or, as me & eener call it, "popping paper").
Unfortunately, since you need a Shockwave plugin to view this site, and
they don't make one for Linux Netscape (grrrrrr), I was unable to pop the
bubble wrap...

comment from eener: Ooooh! I LOVE popping paper!!

** The Geek Code - http://krypton.mankato.msus.edu/~hayden/geek.html

Perhaps you've already heard of it and figured yours out. If you haven't,
do so.

Bulletin Board -

This is the best part of the St. Paul Pioneer Press. So go read it!

recommendations from eener: don't hang plaster clarinets on your wall.

rebuttal from melvan: why not?

response from eener: if you had a bad dream in the middle of the night
and started sleep-walking around your room...you could run into the wall,
and the plaster clarinet would fall down and impale you. what a way to

response from melvan: i don't sleep-walk.

reply from eener: then it must've been your clone i saw walking down the
highway in the middle of the night....and attempting to play...a plaster
clarinet!! (oh never mind...this is going nowhere)

says melvan: you've been sniffing kool-aid dust again, haven't you? or
have you just been using the metric system too much?

conclusion: /////////


ATTENTION Anyone who would like to order the #Bannertape (aka the tape of
parodies Weird Alex recorded in the $1.39 studio) please send $4 to:

Rachel Elliott
4021 SE 115th
Portland, OR 97266

Also...melvan's dad bought a car this weekend (a 1973 Chrysler something
or other, it starts with an N, that's all I remember)...it's big, it's
maroon, and Elkvis named it "Bubba".

I'm glad my dad got a car before I bought one...because I want to name my
car and I DON'T want to call it Bubba.

Suggestions, anyone?

= Wise Sage =

** The Wise Sage never rests! Well, actually she does, but "The Wise
Sage Rests" wouldn't be too good of an opener for the Wise Sage column,
now would it? Anyway, send Wise Sage questions to eener@juno.com

The wise sage notes: I've had several intelligent and mind-bending
questions emailed to me recently. I have been pondering them with utmost
concentration for several weeks. I hope to print the answers to these
questions in this issue. I hope the truths that are revealed by the
answers to these questions move you deeply. (and if they do...buy
metamucil...or maybe pepto bismol)

Umm...well, sorry guys, melvan got a little excited and sent the issue
before the Wise Sage letters arrived. They'll be in the next issue....

= Fruit Bats in Your Toilet =

If you have lunacy you'd like publicized, we'll do it for free! Send
any stories, poems, letters, parodies, essays, ramblings, etc. to

This was sent to us by Kristi Cates.

Just a really stupid little thing I wrote the other day while in a
creative mood (or was that destructive? Oh well...)

It's a test for insaneness--is that a word? Here it goes!

1. Do you want to be an Oscar Meyer weiner? (yes; no; I would rather be a
piece of duct tape)

2. What does two plus two REALLY equal? (5; 3; an imaginary number, you
know, like that six figure job you keep expecting to get)

3. Are blueberries your friend? (yes; no; what are they)

4. If a Smurf were choking, what color would it turn? (pink; orange and
green; yellow with purple polka dots)

5. How much deeper would the ocean be if sponges didn't live there?
(approximately fifteen miles deeper; 79 seconds deeper; so THAT's where
they went to; I think a Smurf should turn white)

6. When your pet bird sees you reading the paper, does he wonder why
you're just sitting there staring at carpeting? (No; yes; MY bird is too
busy studying biochemical physics, what's YOUR bird doing with his time?)

If you answered all of the above with: "Aunt Ruth has the constipation",
then, yes, you ARE insane! (bet you're thrilled)

= Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash... =

Mattress Tag

I hide
in fear, as the
police invade
the house...
I hold the offending
the mattress tag
dangles from my quivering
forgive me...
My grandmother


We are rerunning the poem "Mental Hygiene" because melvan felt like it. :-)

Mental Hygiene

Today I bought some mental floss
And stuck it in my ear.
It came right out the other side
And now I cannot hear.
I then got in my little car
And tried my best to steer.
To my chagrin into the road
There ran a stoopid deer!
I swerved and swerved and missed him but
I stripped the steenking gears.
I swerved again and boom-de-boom
I knocked a mailbox clear
Into Iowa, where all the corn
Blew into a pier.
The farmer wipes away a tear,
Sips a beer,
And jumps off the pier.
The end is near
The end is here.
Do not fear.
Sit on your rear.
And turn that bug
Into a smear.

eener & melvan


The ever-popular Macheen Shed explodes in your face every day at

This collection of lunacy is copyright 1997 by Renee Elrod and Melissa
Hoffmeyer, except for letters, essays, parodies, poems, stories, and
whatnot sent in by our clinically insane subscribers. FME reserves the
right to edit any material sent for publication (if you can call it that),
regarding spelling, punctuation, content, fishing lure earrings, AND fresh

Categories: Farm Macheenery (exploding)
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Issue #73, 22 May 1997

^.^. farm ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan (melissa c. hoffmeyer) .^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan@wildstar.net .^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. macheenery ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. eener (renee f. elrod) ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. (exploding) .^.^.^.^.^. eener@juno.com ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. issue #74 .^.^.^.^.^.^. http://www.wildstar.net/~melvan/macheen/ ^

Here we are, slacking again...

We will begin this issue with a commentary about life at Pizza Hut (don't
you all just love these?)

We have big brooms at Pizza Hut. Every time we get a new one, somebody
writes something on it. So in the last year, we have had brooms with
names like "Big Man", "Velvet Snake", "Beast Master", and the newest one,
"Super Fly".

And now...new airlines from the mind of eener...

Air Garfield: All the planes are painted orange with black stripes.
Lasagna is served on all flights. All pilots are required to wear a Jon
Arbuckle suit.

Psycho Air: Tired of long, boring flights? Fly Psycho Air! All of our
pilots and flight crews are recruited from asylums, in an attempt to
lessen crowding in said asylums. With a crew like this, it'll keep you on
the edge of your seat - will you reach your destination??

P-n-B Airlines: P-n-B stands for Pinky and the Brain! This is their
latest attempt to take over the world...to monopolize the airline business
and make millions of dollars. Brain pilots the aircrafts ("Hello. I am
your pilot. I'm really a lab mouse in a plot to take over the
world...enjoy your flight.") Pinky provides in-flight entertainment as
well as performing flight attendant duties. ("Would you like something to
drink? NARF!")

Taylor Airways: Owned and operated by Steve Taylor, musical artist. All
the planes are designed with "John 3:16" logos - Bannerplanes! Taylor's
tunes are featured during the in-flight music - Taylor's videos are
featured on some of the in-flight movies. Passengers get a discount on
tickets if they sacrifice their copy of "Chagall Guevara".

Northern Southern Western Eastern Airlines: We couldn't decide which
direction we wanted to go, so we decided to compromise and name our
airline to cover all possibilities!

= OH SNOP!! =

life's little annoyances...

by melvan

Thursday morning I woke up with a cold. Sore throat, stuffed up nose,
backache, headache. Friday morning I decided to go shopping and get some
cough syrup. And some other stuff. So I got in the car and went to
Shopko, then to the grocery store and got some lunch. When I returned
home, I noticed the little light blinking on the answering machine. It
was a message from eener saying that she & her mom were in town and going
out to lunch, and that they were going to invite me along with them, but I
wasn't home...ACK!

= As the Tractor Burns... =


Jim Varney - as Raul Hackenspew
Roseanne - as Esmerelda
O.J. Simpson - as I.M. Gilty
Barney the Dinosaur - as Howard Stern
Jim Carrey - as Al Rightithen
Princess Di - as Buffy

Last time on ATTB, something happened, only it's been so long that we've
forgotten what it was.

This week on ATTB, the characters have been kidnapped and trapped inside
the movie "Innerspace", where they are (shrunk? shrunken? whatever), put
inside a miniature submarine, and take a trip through the human body. For
this episode only, As the Tractor Burns will be renamed As the Stomach

Raul: What the heck is going on? Why are we so small? Why are we in a
submarine? And why am I wearing two different colored socks?
Buffy: Because you dressed yourself in the dark, silley.
Esmerelda: Buffy? Why did you spell that with an 'e'?
Buffy: Because I wanted to.
Al: I'm a male-type.
I.M.: Whoa! Look at that thing outside the window! What is that?
Howard: I think it's a blood cell.
Raul: No, I think it's part of a braunschweiger & jam sandwich that this
guy ate.
Buffy: EEEEWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!
Esmerelda: I think I'm gonna throw up.
Al: If you're gonna spew, spew in this (hands Esmerelda a bucket)
Esmerelda: Thanks.
Raul: Hey, can we stop talking about stupid stuff and try to figure out a
way out of here?
Howard: Sure we can. How do we get out of here?
I.M.: Yeah, what he said.
Raul: I don't know, that's why I asked you guys to help me.
Esmerelda: What is this? A guy asking for directions?
Raul: What? No! Never! No way! I know how to get out of here! Now if
I could just figure out how to drive this submarine...
(Suddenly, the Evil Taxi Driver appears in a poof of blue smoke)
Taxi Driver: I know how to drive this submarine!
Esmerelda: Then get us out of here!
I.M.: Yeah, what she said.
Taxi Driver: Okay, hang on, we're going for a ride!

(The submarine suddenly shoots out through the belly button at light
speed, enlarges, and crashes into a brick wall)
Raul: Whoa...what a ride...
(Suddenly Elvis appears at the crash site)
Esmerelda: Wow...it's Elvis!
Buffy: Elvis! I love your music!
Elvis: Thankyou...thankyouverymuch.
(Buffy faints)
(Esmerelda faints)
(Al faints)
Raul: Sheesh, it's only a hologram...
(Suddenly Elvis disappears in a red poof of smoke)
I.M.: Wow...those special effects really move me sob choke
Howard: Um...yeah, whatever.

Next time on ATTB, maybe the women & Al will wake up...


AHEM...attention everyone, we have two announcements this week.

First of all, if you aren't going to have email over the summer months and
you'd prefer to unsubscribe, please tell us now. Thank you.

Second, eener is getting married in August, and melvan is going to be in
the wedding. So we'll both be pretty busy this summer, and FME may be
getting to you less often. I can hear you saying "Less often? Is this
possible?" Well, the answer is yes. It COULD be not coming to you at
all, so don't complain. ;-)

= Wise Sage =

** The Wise Sage never rests! Well, actually she does, but "The Wise
Sage Rests" wouldn't be too good of an opener for the Wise Sage column,
now would it? Anyway, send Wise Sage questions to eener@juno.com

Dear Wise Sage:

Madam Sage, whoooooooose idea was it to have such a drastic tupo as:

But then my business went bankrupt...and I was all
alone...with not even a pink lawn flaming to keep me company....*sob*

I mean, of course the Narrator's lawn business went out of business!
First, he decided that he would specialize (apparently) in Pink Lawns.. I
don't know about you, but I've never seen a pink lawn.. well, 'cept for
that crazy rich person's house down the street on valentine's day, but
that doesn't really count. Then he apparently decided that his idea of
lawn ornamentation was to flame them? ah, silley typical male-type.

The So#M Queen betrothed ALMOST as many times as you know whooooooo,
turned particularly owlish while speaking to Madam Wise Sage, to attempt
to match her intellegence.

PS.. if he disappears in a blue poof of smoke, does that mean he moved
from pink lawns to blue lawns?

Dear So#M Queen,

The Narrator actually specialized in regular lawns, but they looked pink
to him, because he was wearing rose-colored glasses!

P.S. I want a shrubbery!!

Wise Sage

= Fruit Bats in Your Toilet =

*** If you have lunacy you'd like publicized, we'll do it for free! Send
any stories, poems, letters, parodies, essays, ramblings, etc. to

There's nothing here this week.

= Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash... =


It's so cold
the thermometer
Snow drifts
I wash my hair
walk out the door
It freezes
I'm glad
I live in Atlanta

eener, who loves the south...except for the cockroaches


My wooden teeth
give me splinters
when I eat
Corn pone.



The ever-popular Macheen Shed explodes in your face every day at

This collection of lunacy is copyright 1997 by Renee Elrod and Melissa
Hoffmeyer, except for letters, essays, parodies, poems, stories, and
whatnot sent in by our clinically insane subscribers. FME reserves the
right to edit any material sent for publication (if you can call it that),
regarding spelling, punctuation, content, fishing lure earrings, AND fresh

Categories: Farm Macheenery (exploding)
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Issue #72, 27 April 1997

^.^. farm ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan (melissa c. hoffmeyer) .^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan@wildstar.net .^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. macheenery ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. eener (renee f. elrod) ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. (exploding) .^.^.^.^.^. eener@juno.com ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. issue #72 .^.^.^.^.^.^. http://www.wildstar.net/~melvan/macheen/ ^

G'day everyone!! We would like to welcome you to this week's Fme, which
has been lovingly hand-crafted and constructed in Hong Kong. (Hong Kong?
We've never even been there...hmm.....)

At this time, we would like to invite you all to join us as we celebrate
cultural diversity. Um...we're all different. Some of us like to blow
our noses on kleenexes. Some prefer toilet paper. Some will even use
paper towels. This is what makes the world so interesting today. So as
you go out into this exciting world...don't squeeze the Charmin!

days before Earth Day. Aren't you impressed?

**W A R N I N G**

Attention! The writers are either running low on creative juices or have
been inhaling pixi stix dust or they've been sniffing Kool-Aid dust.
ATTENTION! The following may confuse you. It may enrage you. It may
cause you to enroll in a Weight-loss program operated by aliens from
Planet X. It may cause you to jump up and down and scream like a banshee.
It may also cause you to join a convent or a monastery. (ha ha! eener
says: now it was MY turn to correct a tupo by melvan!!)

= OH SNOP!! =

life's little annoyances...

And this week we have yet another complaint by eener.

Hellooooo everybody! When I came and visited melvan in Wisconsin I
noticed something. Warmness. Lack of snow. Do you know what this
means? I can no longer tease her because I live in Atlanta, and she lives
in the frozen tundra...*sob*

= As the Tractor Burns... =


Jim Varney - as Raul Hackenspew
Roseanne - as Esmerelda
O.J. Simpson - as I.M. Gilty
Barney the Dinosaur - as Howard Stern
Jim Carrey - as Al Rightithen
Princess Di - as Buffy

Last week the cast (sort of) parodied "Gone with the Wind"....what
mischief will they get into this week?

Narrator: AHEM Okay...I hardly got to say anything last week, so I'm
making up for it this week. First of all, let me introduce myself. My
name is Izzy N. Sane. I once had a job as a cook at Kentucky Fried
Chicken...I chose to pursue other career options later on in life and
became a lawn ornament manufacturer.
Buffy: Who is this guy???
Esmerelda: I have no ideaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwnnnnnnnnn....
I.M.: ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....
Al: Um...I think I was supposed to be the sound effects person last week
and I didn't get a chance to do anything, so I plan to make up for it
this week as well!

Al: Hey, where did that come from? I thought I sold that...
Raul: Geez, this is boring. How about some cameo appearances or
Narrator:...after I became a lawn ornament manufacturer, things really
changed in my life....I was courted by rich and famous people....
Howard: Would someone PLEASE get a different narrator??????
Narrator:....*sob* But then my business went bankrupt...and I was all
alone...with not even a pink lawn flaming to keep me company....*sob*

Cast: Ding dong the wicked witch is dead...ding dong the wicked witch is
Scarecrow: If I only had a brain....
Buffy: I.M., over the course of this episode, I've
fallen in love with you! Will you marry me???
I.M.: Uhhh....but you dumped me last time when you found out my name
stood for In Metric!
Howard: Do I get to be Worst Man again?

...join us next time for the wedding of the century?...

= Editor's Reccomendations... =

We reccomend throwing your dog out your window. Just to see what happens.
Just be sure the fleas on its back aren't harmed. If they are, you could
be investigated by the F.B.I. (The flea bureau of investigation)


We have no news. We have no brains. We have no bananas. We have no
Kleenex. We have no carpet. We have no sphygmomanometers. We have no
ice in our freezers. We have no.

Oh, and eener can't type.

= Wise Sage =

** The Wise Sage never rests! Well, actually she does, but "The Wise
Sage Rests" wouldn't be too good of an opener for the Wise Sage column,
now would it? Anyway, send Wise Sage questions to eener@juno.com

= Fruit Bats in Your Toilet =

If you have lunacy you'd like publicized, we'll do it for free! Send
any stories, poems, letters, parodies, essays, ramblings, etc. to

To the tune of Piano Man (Billy Joel)
Parody by Weird Alex

It's eight pm on a monday night
The regular crowd shuffles in
There's a man, at a puter in front of me
Finding words that rhyme well with chin
I said, man, can you write me a parody
I'm not sure how to do one of those
Make it short, make it sweet
But please make it complete
Cuz I wanna sing one of those

La la la di di da
La la la la di di da da dum

Sing us a song, you on #bannerman!
Sing us a song, tonight!
For we're all in the mood for a parody!
And you got us feeling alright!

Now Beld, on the chan, he's a friend of me
He gets me my bots for free
He's slow to the chat, but quick with a clue bat
But there's someplace that he'd rather be...
He says, Qaz, I believe this is killing me
As the smile disappeared from his face
This chatting is fine that I do all the time,
But there's no Pepsi here in this place!

La la la di di da
La la la di di da da dum


Now eener's a ticket saleswoman
Who's too busy with her job for a life
But she doesn't care cuz pretty soon
Darin's taking her to be his wife

And the Iowans raving like lunatics
While melvan, she generates clones
We all spend too much time here on IRC
But it's better than being alone!


It's a pretty good crowd for a Monday night
And the chan ops all give me a smile
Though I know it's not me that they've come here to see
I think I'll just stay for a while
And the control-g's sound like a carnival
And elkvis, he smells like root beer
And the folks on the chan give each other a hand
And say man, sure is nice to be here!

La la la di di da
La la la di di da da dum...


= Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash... =


it covers the cars
in the parking lot.
My car,
which once was red is now
I sneeze when the pollen
invades my system. The pollen...
The phlegm...
It slides down my throat and my voice is





Snithering blinkets of

eener- who notes, obviously it was abstract art.

melvan notes: eener is insane.

eener notes: melvan collects...deo....dodaga...coins.
(no fair! Those words were put into my mouth..er...fingers)
(wordS? only the last one)


the piece of equipment
is flashed before my eyes.
It moves towards me...
My mouth is open.
Filled with wads of cotton.
And then of course...
he tries to make conversation
with me.
"So...how are you doing today?"
he asks?
The equipment buzzes and whirs...
I answer.
"Good to hear that!"
He enthusiastically proclaims.
The cotton is starting to feel
icky in my mouth
and suddenly my
starts to itch...
I obssess over it...
I MUST itch my nose.....
"So...do you have any fun weekend plans?"
He asks.
I answer.
"Great idea!" He answers back.
And then the entire scene disappears.
This poem is too long already.

eener...who spent lots of time with the dentist because of years of
wearing braces...oooo, fun


The ever-popular Macheen Shed explodes in your face every day at

This collection of lunacy is copyright 1997 by Renee Elrod and Melissa
Hoffmeyer, except for letters, essays, parodies, poems, stories, and
whatnot sent in by our clinically insane subscribers. FME reserves the
right to edit any material sent for publication (if you can call it that),
regarding spelling, punctuation, content, fishing lure earrings, AND fresh

Go away. There's no subliminal message this week.

Categories: Farm Macheenery (exploding)
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Issue #71, 20 April 1997

^.^. farm ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan (melissa c. hoffmeyer) .^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan@wildstar.net .^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. macheenery ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. eener (renee f. elrod) ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. (exploding) .^.^.^.^.^. eener@juno.com ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. issue #71 .^.^.^.^.^.^. http://www.wildstar.net/~melvan/macheen/ ^

"This is the beginning of the magazine."--quote from melvan, well-known
collector of deodorant containers.


****Thrilling, ain't it???****

(eener likes putting asterisks on either side of things like that)

Welcome to Farm Macheenery!! ****insert flashing neon lights here****

eener is in Wisconsin this weekend, visiting melvan! Whee! eener's been
draging melvan all around River Falls this morning doing wedding planning.
Photographers...cake bakers....reception sites....fresh bananas....

P.S. Have you ever wondered why "Arkansas" is pronounced "Arkansaw" and
Kansas isn't pronounced Kansaw??

= OH SNOP!! =

life's little annoyances...

by eener.

If you folks read last week's episode of "Oh Snop" you know that eener was
eaten alive by a huge chunk of chemically imbalance Spam. No really.
More like flooded out of home and so living in a hotel currently. (by now
you're probably thinking...sheesh, would she please get to the POINT?)
okay, so here's the oh snop for this week.

My mom visited me recently, at the same time Darin and I got flooded out
of our condo due to a wacked out sprinkler system. One of the days mom
was there (easter, to be exact), we wanted to go shopping at bridal
places, etc. We jaunted off to the shopping mall....got to the parking
lot......empty. Maybe one or two cars. Hmmm......something is wrong.
It's easter, ferpete'ssake!!! It hadn't occurred to either of us that
everything would be closed. Doh!! The end.

= As the Tractor Burns... =


Jim Varney - as Raul Hackenspew
Roseanne - as Esmerelda
O.J. Simpson - as I.M. Gilty
Barney the Dinosaur - as Howard Stern
Jim Carrey - as Al Rightithen
Princess Di - as Buffy

Last week, Qaz1 wrote us a hilarious parody of "Phantom of the Opera!" If
you all haven't read it yet...You've gotta!!!

This week...join us as we...............

This week...join us as we........................................

eener screams: I"ve got it! ARghhh...I hate it when a quotation mark
comes up instead of an apostrophe....let's do "Gone with the Wind!"

eener: Otay...let's do it!

This week...join us as we parody "Gone With the Wind".

Narrator: Hello. My name is Izzy. I'll be your narrator this evening.
Buffy: Oh great. We have a narrator named Izzy.
Producer: Places, everyone!!!!
I.M.: Uh...where do I go?
Producer: I don't care. Just go somewhere.
Esmerelda: I want to be Scarlett!!
Producer: okay, you can be Scarlett...now...who will be Rhett.....Howard!
I think that'll be your part.
Howard: Uhhh....does that mean I have to kiss Esmerelda? Eeeeww!
Producer: Al, you get to be Ashley, the man Scarlett is really in love
with....Buffy, you be Melanie, Ashley's cousin who bugs the heck out of
Scarlett. Um..who am I missing?
Raul: AHEM
I.M.: Hrrrrrmph!
Producer: Oh, okay- Raul, you can be....the sound effects person and
I.M., you can be Aunt PittyPat.
I.M.: WHAT????!!! I quit.
(I.M. walks off the stage)
Producer: Ok. Fine. Let's just get going on this, ok??
Esmerelda: Hey wait a minute...haven't we already done 2 plays already
already? And we screwed 'em both up pretty bad. Nobody follows their
Al: So?
Esmerelda: Nothing.
Producer: Okay...scene one! Take one!

The scene is a beautiful Southern mansion. The camera zooms in on
Esmerelda who is sitting on the front porch.

Producer: ***Suddenly realizing*** OH no! We forgot to cast someone in
Mammy's role!!! Who's going to be Mammy? Go get I.M.!

Narrator: HEY! I haven't gotten to say anything yet!
Producer: sigh Scene one! Take two!

The scene is a beautiful Southern mansion. The camera once again zooms in
on Esmerelda...and then zooms in closer to Esmerelda's eyes, which she is

Esmerelda: Let's start this play tomorrow. Because tomorrow is another
Howard: Frankly my dear, I don't give a flying fig.
Al: Figs fly? Hmm....Figs Fly in Fred's Face...
Narrator: I'm going to get a word in before we END THIS THING!!!!!!
I.M.: When figs fly!


= Editor's Reccomendations... =

A recommendation from eener: amusement parks! I recently acquired a six
flags season pass, since I now live in Atlanta. Roller coasters are
fabyouuuluss! I love hills. BIG hills. Loops are okay, but just not as
fabbbbyyyyouluss as hills. BIG hills. Big biggggg hills. The ones that
make you feel like your stomach took a left turn at Albuquerque. eener
does admit: the free fall ride at six flags still scares me though! Whee!
I mean...they bring you up to the top of this HUGE tower...hold you
there...you wait...in anticipation...and POW they drop you straight down.
Eeeeeeeek! I will go on it though. Sometime this summer, I hope to make
it over to California. At the six flags there, they have a roller coaster
type ride that gets up to 100 mph! It's another one of those freaky
straight drops though. Luckily my fiance Darin is a roller coaster phreek
too! Speaking of my fiance, just thought I'd let you all know...we're
getting married August 30th! Feel free to send us extravagant gifts!
(tee hee!) ***end of babbling by eener** (for now)


Note from melvan: we got new spatulas at work!!! woohoo!!!
(sorry, but when you work at a restaurant, you get overly excited about
little things like that)
Not only that, but we finally have a toilet paper dispenser in the
employee bathroom! The sink still doesn't work, but at least we have a
toilet paper dispenser!
(don't worry, there ARE other sinks in the building, and we DO wash our

note from eener: No WONDER that pizza tasted so weird....

note from melvan: eeeeeewwwwwwwwwwww!!

= Wise Sage =

The Wise Sage never rests! Well, actually she does, but "The Wise
Sage Rests" wouldn't be too good of an opener for the Wise Sage column,
now would it? Anyway, send Wise Sage questions to eener@juno.com

O, Wise sage,

I am a worried student. Is there any way I could gain some of your
knowledge and wisdom so that I may survive this school year? Is there
something I can buy or something I can do which could guarentee success?

Sincerely, Concerned

Dear Concerned,

Two words.

Wise Sage

***The Wise Sage apologizes for any unanswered questions you might have
sent her. Currently, the main computer she uses is dismantled due to a
broken sprinkler system and the whole incident involved in that...she is
using a laptop at the moment...and doesn't have all the questions readily
available! They will be answered ASAP** (gosh, those asterisks are

= Fruit Bats in Your Toilet =

If you have lunacy you'd like publicized, we'll do it for free! Send
any stories, poems, letters, parodies, essays, ramblings, etc. to

***Important Editor's Note***

Attention! Last week we included a marvelous piece of writing entitled
"BGT Parody," and we forgot to include the author's name. (doh!) We just
wanted you all to know that melvan has a plaster clarinet on her wall. No
really....the author of that piece was our wunnerful fiend...er

Actually, this is from Benjamin Parsons.Scandalon's little bro. I'm A
HUGEMONGOUSASOMEGREAT fan of Farm Macheenery Exploding, escpecially As the
Tractor Burns. The following poems are a sample of my, skeeter's,
insanity. By the way did eener's name get taken from machEENERy?


In shower
flops from hands
hits foot
out of tub
slides out
front door
running after
it stops
in street
hit by a
Mac Truck



Fury fuzzy
fat lazy
of tuna
I try
to pet
no more
he likes
finger food


That's all I have "write" now.
I"M GOING INSANYYYYYYY, OHhhh that reminds me of another poem,

Happy Jacket

warm strong
one sleeve
i get to
hug myself
wierd people
wear it
every night
makes me

(Break to Silage):
[I'm so darn,
really stinkin happy.
I'll pick some daisies,
put 'em in my hair and act crazy]

get to hold


= Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash... =

Untitled #wutg

hates it
i accuse her
of having
a deodorant container


Untitled #2387461238947512639847512347126354

deodorant container


Untitled #00000000001

melvan lies.
she is addicted to
collecting empty deodorant
i've seen them.
i've seen them.
the first stage is


Yeah right.

eener lies.
i have 2 containers
on my dresser
and they're
wal mart.
so there.


Fudge cookies

So what
melvan still has
a plaster clarinet on



that's right.
i happen
plaster clarinet.
so what
if it


The end


this wonderful ending poem
has been created by eener...
sponsored in part by....
The letter T...the letter H...the letter E...
the letter N...the letter D...and the number...
oh forget it.

NOT the end


melvan, who's been reading "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" lately.

Fudge Cookies #2

Uh oh.
I started a poem.
Intending for it to be a really
really really
witty ending poem for this 'zine.
The only problem is...
I can't come up with a single witty thing
to say...

it's istanbul, not constantinople.

eener and melvan


The ever-popular Macheen Shed explodes in your face every day at

This collection of lunacy is copyright 1997 by Renee Elrod and Melissa
Hoffmeyer, except for letters, essays, parodies, poems, stories, and
whatnot sent in by our clinically insane subscribers. FME reserves the
right to edit any material sent for publication (if you can call it that),
regarding spelling, punctuation, content, fishing lure earrings, AND fresh

Categories: Farm Macheenery (exploding)
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Issue #70, 16 April 1997

^.^. farm ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan (melissa c. hoffmeyer) .^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. melvan@wildstar.net .^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. macheenery ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^. eener (renee f. elrod) ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. (exploding) .^.^.^.^.^. eener@juno.com ^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^
^.^. issue #70 .^.^.^.^.^.^. http://www.wildstar.net/~melvan/macheen/ ^

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: "Wayne lies like a booger on a tie! I saw more rain
when i was on the ark ten years ago!"
(a cook at melvan's Pizza Hut, after someone told him it was "monsooning"

From an email from melvan to eener...

I was playing with an anagram generator tonight, and found the following:

Big green thing --> Bring the egg in

Dumb ugly witch --> Club. THUD. My wig!
Dug with my club

What the hick --> Whack the hit
Itch the hawk

= OH SNOP!! =

life's little annoyances...

by, eener

Last Wednesday, I came home from work around 4 A.M. (yeah, I have a
really weird evening shift! I guess that's what I get for having a low
seniority. I really wish I could at least have midnight shift where I get
off at seven in the morning- that's the shift my fiance Darin has, plus
you get more daylight that way! But that's another "oh snop" all
together! But I like my job, so I guess I can live with it...working for
an airline, you get free flights and all! That brings to mind all the
cool places I've traveled...but you don't really want to hear about that,
do you? You're probably wondering if you get airline discounts because
you subscribe to fme!! Well, unfortunately you don't...but you get lots
of wonderful humor in this FABULOUS publication!! Oh my...I'm certainly
digressing, ain't I??! Well...back to the story...by the way, this is the
end of the parenthetical statement) To get back to the story here...I
drove into the parking lot at the condos, and there was a loud alarm on
the building that was going off. My immediate reaction to this was
"EEEeeeKk! What does this alarm mean??" I was freaking out, wondering if
it was a burgular alarm or something. I scooted over to the door and
unlocked it and looked around. I didn't see any people in there, but
there was water EVERYWHERE! Turns out the alarm that was going off was a
fire alarm. Shortly after I arrived, some firemen came and looked around,
trying to find a fire. Apparently there was no fire! What happened was
the sprinkler system in the condo above ours broke and flooded the place.
The water flooded through our ceiling...came through wherever it
could...light fixtures, vents, you name it! It was flooded in several
rooms. In fact, the ceiling in one of the bedrooms was so saturated, that
part of it ended up falling down later on in the day. ("Honey...the
ceiling just fell down...") I freaked out and called Darin, who was still
at work at around 4 A.M. when it happened. He buzzed home right after I
called him. We went to work with wet/dry vacuums and tried to suck up
some water, but it didn't really do much good. Like our neighbor said,
"it's like taking out a thimblefull, compared to the water in there!" We
ended up having a company come and suck out the water, rip up the
carpet...and later on remove all the furniture, etc. We've been in a
hotel since last Wednesday. And get this...guess when my mom's scheduled
vacation to Atlanta to visit us was??? You got it! Last Wednesday! I
went to pick her up at the airport and told her our condo was
flooded...heh heh...welcome to Atlanta, mom! We still ended up having a
good time though. I guess I've rambled on long enough, so on with the
rest of the 'zine!

= As the Tractor Burns... =


Jim Varney - as Raul Hackenspew
Roseanne - as Esmerelda
O.J. Simpson - as I.M. Gilty
Barney the Dinosaur - as Howard Stern
Jim Carrey - as Al Rightithen
Princess Di - as Buffy

Guest Starring:
Weird Alex - as Qaz1

This week on ATTB, the plot makes even less sense than usual. But what
else would you expect from Weird Alex?

I.M.: So, what do you think?
Esmerelda: I dunno, what do you think?
I.M.: Well, what do you think?
Esmerelda: I have NO idea.
Howard: (shooting a gun into the air) Is there any point to this
I.M.: Is there ever a point to any conversation here?
Qaz1: CUT! (long pause for effect) Look, I'm writing this this week,
so I want you all to behave for me or else... understand? (Throws down
clipboard with frustration)
(The various characters exchange blank glances)
I.M.: Look, it wasn't my glove...
Qaz1: That does it...
(I.M. disappears)
Howard: Whose woods these are, I think I know, his house is in
the village though. He will not see me stopping here to watch his woods
fill up with snow.
Qaz1: Look... I'm sick of this... ok... umm... how about we do a musical?
Cast: WHAT?
Qaz1: You heard me, a musical. How about an As The Tractor Burns salute
to Andrew Lloyd Webber? "The Phantom of The Farm Tractor"... Esmerelda,
you are Christine, Howard, you're the Phantom, and... uhh... I.M.
disappeared... uhh.... Raul, you can be Raoul (I know it's a stretch, but
work with me buddy) and Buffy, you can be Carlotta. Al: you get to be the
narrator, ok?
Al: Allllllllrighty then.
(The house lights dim, and some eerie bluegrass music fades in)
Al: Lot Five-Hundred Fifty-five, then, an old beat-up John Deere, in
pieces. It's said that there's a ghost in the ol' tractor, but me, I
don't beleive it. Maybe, if there is a ghost, we could frighten it away,
with a little car-bur-a-tion, gentlemen?
(Eerie organ music fuses with the bluegrass for a rather spooky overall
effect, as the tractor sputters to life; then for some unknown reason we
cut to a stage where Christine is rehearsing her big production number
for the school musical.)
Esmerelda: (Singing) Think of these, think of these tractors when you
say goodbye, Remember these, remember these fondly, promise me you'll
try... we start with White, New Holland, and then Case, and then we move
on to some Fords, if you think of these old tractors, you'll never be
(Qaz1 has a blank look on his face as he realizes he's created a monster)
Raul: (Singing) Can this be? Can this be Christine? No way, no way!
Esmerelda: (Still singing) And on that day, that not-so-distant day when
all these tractors' engines seize, will you ever take a moment to stop
and think of these!
(Suddenly Esmerelda is accosted by the Phantom of the Farm Tractor (we
can tell it's him because of the really cheesy mask he's wearing, made
from the body of a beat-up International Harvester) and for some unknown
reason they begin to sing a duet (accompanied by slide guitar, 80's
synths, and pipe organ).)
Esmerelda: In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came, there with his big
green thing, don't know his name, but yet he sings to me, and sounds so
kind. The Phaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaantom of the Farm Tractor is there,
inside my mind...
Howard: In all your fantasies, you always knew, Landinis, Kubotas, were
meant for you, Massey & Ferguson, make one combine! The Phaaaaaaaantom
of the Farm Tractor is here, inside your mind! Sing for me my angel!
Esmerelda: (sings repeatedly) He's there, the Phantom of Farm
Tractors! Beware the Phantom of Farm Tractors!
(we see Howard urging Esmerelda to new heights of song, until she
shatters the windshield of an enclosed cab tractor on the side of the set)
Esmerelda: Oh snop.
(At this point, Buffy wanders on in a big snit)
Buffy: (whining) It's no fair! She gets all the singing parts and me,
all I get is this stupid role as a stupid whining person who doesn't get
to song... hang on, isn't that what I'm doing? WAAAAAAAH! Qaz1
typecasted me! (sobs vehemently)
Al: (Singing) Prima Donna! First lady of the plough! Your devotee is
on one knee to adore you! Can you deny me the furrows in store, see how
the fields all wait for you...
(suddenly a hook comes on stage and pulls both off, since they dropped
well below even the writer's standards!)
(we cut to the sequence where Raul and Esmerelda sing a lover's duet at
the end of act 1)
Raul: (singing) Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime
Esmerelda: (singing) Plough with me and I will follow you
Raul: (singing) Make this old John Deere sing it's sweet melody
Howard: (bursting onto the stage) (singing) You will curse the day
you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you! (really, really, really
cheesy bluegrass/organ music for about 30 seconds) Go!!!!!!!!!!
(A large, green tractor we recall from the opening of the play suddenly
sputters to life and rolls over the entire cast, killing them, then
attacks the musicians, and finally, the scriptwriter. After all are
dead, the lights click on and this is)
Qaz1: Wow, even I didn't realize I could write that badly...
(The rest of the cast give qaz1 a bottle of Dr. Pepper)
Al: Thanks! That was fun!
(everyone laughs)


Attention...Weird Alex has recorded some of his parodies! It includes
"Lost the Bot", "Playdoh", "Skiing Hills" "Spam Rap", and 11 more! If
you're interested in a copy of this tape, check

= Wise Sage =

** The Wise Sage never rests! Well, actually she does, but "The Wise
Sage Rests" wouldn't be too good of an opener for the Wise Sage column,
now would it? Anyway, send Wise Sage questions to eener@juno.com

Dear Wise Sage,

Is there any truth to the conspiracy that FME actually stands for
"Fabulous Melvan & Eener"?

Signed, a To-remain-unnamed Biscuit Head

Dear Biscuit head,

Actually "FME" stands for "fermented Malaysian eggplants."

Wise Sage

= Fruit Bats in Your Toilet =

If you have lunacy you'd like publicized, we'll do it for free! Send
any stories, poems, letters, parodies, essays, ramblings, etc. to

By Weird Alex
Based (loosely) on Flood by Jars of Clay

Pain splayed cross my face
Haven't flushed the toilet for days
My toilet, it floods
And slowly my room, it turns into mud

And if I can't flush after 40 days
And the plumbing cracks as the pressures raise
Get me out real quick so alive I'll stay
Get me out oh...
Get me out!
It's grimy and smelly
Get me out!
I'm weak and I'm dying
Get me out!
Need someone to hold me
Get me out!
And keep me from drowning in here

Downpour on the sole
Of my best shoes from the place of the hole
In the old toilet tank
Now the toilet floods and my apartment is rank


Stop the water from my room
Staunch the streams still flowing
Rescue me from in my doom
Of toilets overflowing...

Chorus to fade...


The following is another parody...eener told the writer that she wanted to
put it in FME, to which he responded: "Well, I'll leave it to your
discretion ... though I can't help but ponder the ramifications on
civilization as we know it ... *giggle*"

Big Green Thing
(tune: Newsboys' "Real Good Thing")

When we see something being waved,
it's a big green thing, a big green thing
When we don't see what's being waved,
it's a big green thing, a big green thing

Lost your tissues, now you find
You need some way to clear your mind

Trim your hairs and toss your hanky
Wave your thing at all things skanky
Keen idea, the only thing er's
You lose respect when you use your fingers

When we see something being waved,
it's a big green thing, a big green thing
When we don't see what's being waved,
it's a big green thing, a big green thing

Friends are looking -- don't be seen
Waving something ... big and green

Honk and peek or pick a winner
Best have other plans for dinner
If the others give you grief
Better park it here on my handkerchief

When we see something being waved ...

author's note: what can I say? I had a sinus infection when I wrote it...)

= Dumb Poetry in a Card Type Trash... =

Untitled #32

The cat
the vet.

the caffeine goddess,

Untitled #912

Oh my goodness
I've enrolled in college classes
and stopped attending in the
of the semester
I'm lazy
I suddenly realize how
not attending is giong to
my grade point average
I go to the campus and try...
to find the classes
I'm enrolled in...
I can't at first. Finally
I find one.
The professer says
"Welcome back...I haven't seen you
in a long time!"
What a weird dream.
But at least it didn't involve
the picnic basket of death.

eener, once again


The ever-popular Macheen Shed explodes in your face every day at

This collection of lunacy is copyright 1997 by Renee Elrod and Melissa
Hoffmeyer, except for letters, essays, parodies, poems, stories, and
whatnot sent in by our clinically insane subscribers. FME reserves the
right to edit any material sent for publication (if you can call it that),
regarding spelling, punctuation, content, fishing lure earrings, AND fresh

Categories: Farm Macheenery (exploding)
Warning: Undefined array key "freetag" in /usr/local/www/www.melvania.org/templates_c/clean_blog/97/4d/17/974d1772a0f132f9bc461206f1966560fb6d5a8e_0.file.entries.tpl.php on line 173

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