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_____________________________________Fall '95
"A Journal of Substance, Wit, and Dangerous Masturbatory 
Habits"

See Ooze in Full-Color Splendor at http://www.io.com/~ooze/ 
OR e-mail drbubonic@aol.com for a macintosh application with 
pretty pictures, subscription info, back issues, or cash.

MORNING ANNOUNCEMENTS FROM THE VICE-PRINCIPAL OF OOZE

Good morning Students--  I'm Jerry P. Reemer, Vice-Principal,
disciplinarian, father, and the editor of this issue of Ooze.
Summer is once again coming to an end and many of you fine young
men and women will soon be roaming the hallowed halls of academia,
ready to learn.  Some of you, however, will not be so willing. 
These miscreants, and you know who you are, consider yourselves
too "hip" for school.  You'd rather be outside on the front steps
smoking your "funny" cigarettes than down in the math room
learning how to solve  quadratic equations.  You'd rather poke
your nipples full of holes with a rusty needle than be moved by
the gripping poetry of Robert Frost!  Won't you be surprised,
Mister (or Miss) Generation Slacker when you saunter into school
this Fall Semester in your ripped jeans and baggy underwear, and
find a few things have changed? And for the better, if you ask me.

This year the United States Supreme Court gave me, your Vice
Principal, the power to give you students a drug test, ANY TIME I
FEEL LIKE IT!  I can't wait.  If I see any of you spaced-out
"hippies" wandering the halls when you're supposed to be in the
lunch room, I'm gonna whip out my specimen bottle and sample your
urine RIGHT THERE in the hall.  That way you can't do some
chemical Hoodoo-Voodoo on it because I'll be right there...
watching. And I can tell by sight, smell or taste wether or not
you're flying high on the Jumbo Jet of Depravity.  Then you'll be
sorry you tried to make a fool of Big Jer Reemer. It's only a
matter of time before the Supreme Court lets me mete out justice
with my paddle again.  Ever notice the heavily varnished oak
paddle that hangs over the desk in my office?  It's my "Board" of
Education. A finely-crafted, hand-tooled,  Rod of Smiting that the
one-eyed shop teacher sanded oh-so-finely for me. It's got five
large-bored holes chiseled in the middle to cut down on air
resistance when I'm smackin' ass.  As an added bonus the
perforations create a piercing scream as the Rod arcs above a
troublemaker's tender, red buttocks.  I relish their naked fear,
eyes bespeaking terrible horrors to come.  My Rod falls again and
again, soft as a gentle caress.  Hard as a ...

Well, that's why I'm here. Who better than I to lend my firm
discipline and benevolent presence to this magazine? You'll be
free from the pornographic influence that has turned the internet
into a cheap, sleazy red-light district.  The kind of place you'd
go into a booth and pump quarters in order to glimpse a woman and
a donkey perform an unspeakable tango.  A place where painted
Women of the Night spurn you and your hard earned money because of
the hideous sores that cover your body.  Where you can purchase
frightened immigrant children and make them do light assembly work
in your basement.  People have to be protected from these deviant
activities. Now, I haven't done many of these things with any
great frequency myself, but I know porno when I see it.  Fear not
brave info-naut! Together, we can make the internet as safe as any
good American public school.

See you in class,
Jerry P. Reemer
-----
STAFF-O-RAMA

Staff:  Matt Patterson (drbubonic@aol.com) Ed Schmidt 
(Caligua@aol.com) Zak Weisfeld (Zakkk@aol.com) Nubba the 
Quintuple Editor (Nubba@aol.com) Gabe Wardell (whereabouts 
unknown) Pigpile1 (pigpile1@aol.com) Ian Smith 
(freeverse@aol.com) Andrew Ian Feinberg (afeinber@panix.com) 
David Zubkoff Stephen Frowe (singram@future.atlcom.net) 
Whitney Fitzgerald (unknown) Joe Wagner (whereabuts known but 
doesn't own a computer) M.J. Loheed (spoot1@aol.com) 

Ooze is copyrighted 1995 by Matt Patterson.  Individual 
articles are copyrighted by their respective authors.  We 
reserve the right to edit any correspondence sent to us. 
Don't steal text or art and claim it as your own, like some 
little record company did with the cover of issue 2.  Contact 
me BEFORE you rip us off.  People will be happier that way.  
Everyone and everything mentioned in this issue is not real.  
Ooze has a circulation of 314,203,666.  It is free.  Pass it 
along, upload it to your favorite BBS, print up full-color 
hard copies and give them to the homeless, just keep it in 
its current format, and give me a significant cut of the 
profit.  And if you post individual articles to other 
newsgroups and stuff, mention it is from Ooze, and post the 
sacred e-mail address (drbubonic@aol.com) so people can 
subscribe.

E-mail drbubonic@aol.com for more details, hate mail, 
subscriptions, and wild dogs. 

See the end of this document for more details on subscribing 
and making contributions.
----
KOO-KOO MAIL

Date: Sun, Aug 6, 1995 3:15 PM PDT
From: calbary@jovanet.com (Don Wood)

I won't even bother to search any thing else on this page. 
Why is it that today's humor is so banal and twisted? What's 
the point? Do you eventually want to see or draw pictures of 
dead people? Or better yet... pictures of newborns or...? 
Will you laugh at them? Just to get a little more powerful 
and knowledgeable and perverse?  I'm not a preacher, but I 
make so much sense in statement, "the wages of sin are 
death."  Perhaps it has nothing to do with the death of the 
sinner but the things he learns from and the world he 
creates... Outta here!

<<You are right.  

Much of today's humor is banal and twisted. I too yearn for 
those bygone days when humor was clean and pure! Like back in 
the 60's with Monty Python and the Smothers Brothers 
delivering their ...   Oh wait, that's all sick stuff. Well, 
what about the 50's? The family humor of I Love Lucy. Those 
people knew how to promote family values! Like when Ricky 
would go off with all those women and slapped Lucy around 
offstage. Oh wait.  That's not funny either. What about the 
great vaudeville acts of yesteryear? When they'd put on that 
blackface and sang those...    Well, Shakespeare's funny!  
Those Elizabethan audiences sure guffawed at those comedic 
love scenes! The women's parts were played by boys! Hold on.  
If we go back to the dawn of western civilization, I bet we 
can find some safe family humor.  Aristophones play, Clouds, 
is considered one of the greatest comedies of the Greeks. It 
begins with a protracted fart joke...  That's not acceptable 
either! What's left?

Gosh, how can humor be funny?  What have I been thinking? 
Maybe you should stick to the Zima Home page. Nothing makes 
me laugh more than a web page designed to entice minors to 
drink. Or maybe the lightbulb joke page.  No wait, sorry.  
Some of those jokes have dead people and newborns in them. 

The wages of this magazine are enlightening letters like 
yours.

Yours in Christ,
Reverend Matthew Patterson
===
From: beyret@boun.edu.tr

Hi!  I am the editor of a new e-journal, Imagination E-
Journal, on the marvelous world of Internet. Imagination is a 
nonprofit international e-journal proposed by a group of 
students in Bogazici University of Istanbul Turkey as a sub-
project of Imagination Project, whose objectives are:

o To show the importance of imagination in our lives
o To encourage people to explore their imagination
o To encourage people to make use of their imagination in 
their daily lives
o To explore alternative theories and their applications for 
current problems in various fields by combining knowledge and 
imagination .

We want to meet with other e-journals which have already 
started their adventures on Internet. I would be happy if I 
could get some info about your e-journal.

<<<Hello, fine fellow electronic periodical!  We here at Ooze 
would like to welcome our brother's in Turkey with open arms.

We will use our imaginations to think of you smoking Turkish 
cigarettes, drinking Turkish coffee and wondering why you are 
so hairy and your growth is so stunted.  Do you live in a 
harem?  I read that the sultan's offspring had to murder 
their brothers so there would be no other claimants to the 
throne.  What's it like to kill all your brothers?  I know I 
sometimes wish I could kill my brother! 

It must be fun to live in Constantinople.  Unless you are a 
eunuch I guess. Do you have a harem of concubines?  I don't 
even have a girlfriend.  Maybe I'd be better of being a 
eunuch.  Do eunuchs play videogames better because they 
aren't thinking of girls?  That might be a plus.

Good luck with your zine, and don't let those Ionians give 
you any trouble.  Even the Greeks hate them!
===
From:  CramWorks@aol.com
Subj:  OOZE #5

I could play along and say a whole bunch of stupid things 
like: "Your magazine was so good, I vomited my own intestines 
from  the uncontrolled chortling..."  But I'll refrain.
The truth is, the magazine is funny.  It has a very 
professional look to it, and the humor is a lot less stale 
than that of the current cast of Saturday Night Live.  My 
only comment would be that you might consider including a 
little less gimmick and a little more satire.  You have a 
budding National Lampoon's on your hands, my friend, and I 
envy you.  Please enter my subscription to this ripping good 
read.  Thank you.
====
From:  Abrat2@aol.com

What can you tell me about the OOZE family??

<<<THE OOZE FAMILY 

The Ooze family has a long and glorious tradition spanning 
generations.  The famous branch of the family spawns from the 
unholy union of a Germanic Barbarian, and a semi-intelligent 
undersea creature.  For many years, the family name was 
masked in obscurity as most male members were high ranking 
officials in the Bavarian Illuminati.  One member, Alolphous 
Ooze the Second, was elected Pope Gregory IX in 1796, but 
soon fell from favor and had to flee to America leaving a 
trained pig to stand-in as the leader of the Catholic church.  
Amazingly, this pig went on to be a very successful 
patriarch, instituting massive reform and seeing to the end 
of the Spanish Inquisition.

Aldolphus went on to head many a successful business venture 
in the newly-formed United States.  He married a Mohawk 
Indian from Upstate New York and had 17 children, only one of 
which, Aldolphus Jr., survived.

Aldolphus Jr. lived in a sealed cave most of his life, cut 
off from the world.  A servant in charge of his food 
accidentally smeared herself with his detritus, impregnating 
herself.  Her father, enraged that the Ooze family would not 
recognize their son,  Aldolphus III, as their own, went on a 
rampage axing the entire Ooze family.  Aldolphus III was 
doted upon by his adopted family and soon rose to the head of 
a multinational conglomeration by age 14.  Today he lives in 
solace in a small domicile in Northern New Mexico hardly seen 
by the public.  Ooze: The Magazine, was founded with his 
fortune. A sole voice for truth in a field otherwise 
blanketed by lies.

That is, what we know about the OOZE family.  You might want 
to refer to the August 27, 1982 edition of National Reporter 
Magazine for further details and an expanded bibliography
====
From: epzines@drelich.ba.ar (Mauricio Drelichman)

Please suscribe me to ooze Mac version full color. I have as 
unique version the #3. if you can send me any other or avice 
me any ftp site were their are I will be galde. I am in 
Argentina. Your fame (and your publication) was arrived here!
Thank you.

<<< Hola Argentinos! Como esta usted?  No me fusilas, soy 
americano! Tus albondigas son grandes senorita! Adios!

Let us make fun of YOU!  Send your letters to 
drbubonic@aol.com... TODAY!
----
ARE YOUR KIDS ON DRUGS?

Many parents today are concerned that their offspring might 
somehow be involved in the world of illegal pharmaceuticals, 
or "drugs".  This is a healthy concern.  Knowing your kids 
are "high" is the first step toward helpng them avoid 
problems with their health, their grades,  the law, and 
getting those hard-to-clean vomit stains out of the Oriental 
rug.

KNOW THE WARNING SIGNS- select the option which best 
describes your child.

1. Your child's idea of a fun sport to play is: A) tossing a 
pigskin ball around B) throwing an orange rubber ball into a 
netted hole C) inserting a pointy needle into a vein and 
mixing foreign substances into the human bloodstream.

2. Your child's idea of a responsible adult is: A) Bill 
Clinton B) Tom Hanks C) Charles Manson.

3. Your child's favorite hobbies include: A) Model Rocketry 
B) Baseball C) Taking white, powdery substances from a big 
bag and breaking it down into many smaller bags.

4. Your child's pet is: A) a puppy dog B) a 16' python C) a 
colony of imaginary bugs and spiders that crawl under their 
skin. 

5. Your child's breath smells like: A) a fresh, minty 
mountain top B) lunch C) an opium den. 

6. When your young ones dress up to go out, they look like: 
A) Fred and Ginger B) Regis and Kathy Lee C) Sid and Nancy

7. Your child would identify Tijuana Gold as: A) a precious 
metal B) a Mexican theme park C) a good deal, but not as 
potent as the stuff from Thailand.

8. When you ask your child how their day at school was at the 
dinner table they answer: A) they scored a goal for their 
soccer team B) they got the highest grade in class on a math 
test C) they scored a dime bag and got high.

Total up the number of times you answered "C" to the 
questions above, and consult the table below.

0 "C's"- Chances are your child is not on drugs.  They 
probably aren't that exciting either.  Kick them out of the 
house and force them to live on the cold streets for a few 
months to let them really appreciate life in all it's 
murkiness.
1-3 "C's"- Your child might be on drugs, but you can't be 
certain.  Put a flashlight up to their face and flash it in 
their eyes.  This doesn't really tell you anything, but it 
scares the pants off your kids and is kind of fun.
3-6 "C's"- You may as well face it, you've got a little 
druggie on your hands.  Your child is a menace to society and 
must be dealt with accordingly.  We suggest a good flaying to 
help them kick their nasty habit.  Confiscate all their stash 
and send it to Ooze.
7-8 "C's"- Your child has never used drugs.  No sir. Just 
smile nicely at them and slink out of the house. Never 
return.
----
COOL-UNCOOL

Do you want to be Cool like the staff of Ooze?  This guide 
will help you recognize what is Cool and what is Uncool in 
your life.  If you use this guide to identify and eliminate 
the Uncool stuff, you'll wind up cool. So cool, you'll be invited
to all the hippest parties...  again and again!

COOL:
Six hot, naked babes in a hot tub all to yourself.
UNCOOL:
Six hot, naked babies in a bathtub, who shit on themselves.

COOL:
You're dying of thirst in the desert but find a canteen in 
the sand.
UNCOOL:
It is filled with gourmet mustard.

COOL:
The cash machine accidentally gives you extra cash.
UNCOOL:
The cash machine accidentally gives you herpes.

COOL:
Inexpensive used clothing.
UNCOOL:
Inexpensive, used tampons.

COOL:
A party with unlimited beer.
UNCOOL:
A party with unlimited leprosy.

COOL:
Kurt Cobain rises from the dead to play a concert for your 
birthday.
UNCOOL:
Harry S. Truman rises from the dead to play with your 
genitals for his birthday.

COOL:
You finally get reunited with your long lost, biological 
mother.
UNCOOL:
Mom starts giving you the eye.

COOL:
A sexy woman performs an exotic dance of the seven veils 
exclusively for you.
UNCOOL:
Her prosthetic arm falls into your wine glass.

COOL:
Your Mom cooks you a giant, succulent turkey.
UNCOOL:
When you go to carve it, your Dad's hand thrusts out of the 
back waving wildly, covered in stuffing.

COOL:
You sell your soul to the Devil to be a famous guitarist.
UNCOOL:
You still can't even play an E chord.  The Devil laughs at 
you.  What a Sucker!
----
SPECIAL BOOK PREVIEW

Through a series of ruthless bribes, cheap extortion 
attempts, dumb luck and one or two really hot transvestite 
hookers, Ooze was able to obtain several original chapters of 
Newt Gingrich's book, To Renew America.  While the Ooze 
correspondent who managed to capture these pages tried 
desperately to sell them to traditional media outlets -- 
rather than give them up to his own notoriously stingy 
employer -- he was told explicitly (in one case was struck 
repeatedly in the groin and face by an editor at Newsweek) 
that they would never reveal the terrible truth to a public 
whose brain would be too addled to buy new Power-aide or 
handcrafted, environmentally responsible tampons.  They were 
probably also afraid of getting sued for printing something 
that no jury would ever believe were the actual words of one 
of the most powerful men in America.  Luckily for the open-
minded public, Ooze has no qualms about lying, falsifying 
documents and otherwise whoring itself in the public 
interest.  It also has no assets worth seizing.  Viva la 
libertad!

The Unexpurgated To Renew America 
Formerly titled:  America, Bitches Under My Thumb  
By Newt Gingrich

When I was a child growing up in the orphanage there was a 
little kid there named Maury, who was obviously a jew and 
most likely a faggot.  He was always complaining that a gang 
of kids was harassing him, beating him up, trying to drown 
him in the toilet.  You know, funny kid stuff like that.  He 
tried to convince the priest that I was the leader of this 
little gang. 

He said that I picked on him because he exposed a ponzi 
scheme I was running, bilking the other orphans out of candy 
and money.  Everything Maury said was true.  I was the leader 
of this gang and I had either conned kids out of their money 
or just taken it from the weaker ones.  But you know what the 
priest did when Maury tried to rat me out?  He slapped him 
and told him that his little kike soul would burn in hell for 
murdering Our Lord Jesus Christ and never to bring it up 
again.  What makes the story so interesting, and so 
educational, is that the priest also knew that Maury was 
telling the truth. 
 
In fact, I would say that this event was probably the most 
important political learning event of my early life.  See, 
what Maury didn't know is that after dinner I would often go 
to the priest's room and give him a hand-job or let him dress 
me up like the baby Jesus.  The priest took photographs of 
our little get together and I managed to get a hold of one 
and keep it in a safe place.  I had the priest right in the 
palm of my hand, so to speak. 
 
He would never do anything to hurt me, or even cause me an 
inconvenience, because he knew I could destroy his life.  
Even if Maury had told the priest I'd strangled a little kid 
in the showers the priest would help me cover it up.  And by 
the way, the rumors about that are just not true.  See, what 
I learned that day is that you should always ally yourself 
with power so that the power has a vested interest in your 
success.  

Today I'm using that very power to suck up to corporate 
interests and to pulverize the weak -- poor people, black 
people, poor, black people, etc.  And every time I do that I 
gain more supporters.  And if you have any doubts about my 
strategy just remember, I'm the Speaker of the Fucking House 
and could have your ass for breakfast.  

Now, some of you are probably wondering what happened to 
Maury after this story.  Well, once the priest turned on him, 
and after we took away everything he owned and tormented him 
for a while, we got tired of it and convinced him to run 
away.  I think he died later, but I'm not sure.

Newt's Saying:  You can be on the winning team or the losing 
team.  But it's better to be on the winning team because then 
you get to win.
----
INK BLOT TEST REVEALED

Perhaps one day you will be led down a long, white, sanitized 
hall and led into a thickly carpeted, paneled office where a 
cheerful, pipe-smoking, mental-health professional will ask 
you what you see in some pretty blots of ink.  The first 
publication of Hermann Rorschach's 10 inkblots was in 1921, 
but few outside the field of psychiatry know what they look 
like much less what they mean. Here, for the first time, we 
present the five blots we managed to sneak out of Lezpeig and 
their accepted "answers". It might be good idea to 
familiarize yourself with these responses so they won't know 
how crazy you really are.

[ASCII approximations of the inkblots are supplied for your 
text-viewing  pleasure]

=^][^=
1) Many disturbed people misidentify this blot as a misshapen 
hotdog, wounded mastodon, or tax collector with a large 
Armani briefcase about to rape an ibex.  You might not guess 
at first glance, but this card represents what you think of 
your father.  The brownish authority figure looms over the 
small dots around it, its "third leg" swaggering in its full 
display of proud manhood.  A good answer to feed mental 
health professionals is to point directly at them and say, 
"you".  They'll warm right up to you.

<*\�/*>
2) This inviting figure is representative of the mother-
figure.  Abnormal responses to this lusty vaginal shape 
include: hairy vagina, warm slippery cave, or airport hangar.  
An 'Insane!' warning bell will go off if you insist it's a 
mutilated cow, or the bust of Redd Foxx.  Stick to either 
'nice lady in the library', or the bust of a more innocuous 
celebrity, like Ricardo Montoban.

".\/."
3) Beware of this "trick" inkblot.  Answers that typically 
suggest a problem here include: flatulent milk-cow, potato 
salad, or the President. Although at first glance it may 
appear to be something else, in reality, it's just some 
splotches of ink.  Explain to the tester you will not be so 
easily fooled as the other dupes that come into the office. 
No matter how much they plead, remember, it's just some 
crappy ink.  It's not a flower, a doggie or two demonic 
zombies raping a six-fingered woman.  I swear.

�^�^� 
4) This multi-colored inkblot represents how you see yourself 
in your environment.  Cloud-like white blots surround a 
globe-shape and a black shadow hangs over the whole scene. 
Good answers include: Supreme Commander, OverLord of Earth, 
Hitler, and XathNon Stealer of Souls.  Answers that could be 
interpreted as crazy would include: Postman, turnip, or 
anything alluding to shoes.  If you want the tester to think 
you're incredibly intelligent, turn the card sideways and 
tell them it looks like the boundaries of pre-unified Prussia 
circa 1861. 

:)(:
5) The best response to this blot is to chortle merrily and 
expose your genitals to the tester. This might distract him 
long enough to let you leap out the open bay window and flop 
down three stories down to freedom. 

Study this document hard, and good luck!  You'll be back on 
the street mumbling to yourself before you know it.
----
LESSER KNOWN BEN & JERRY'S FLAVORS

Chunky Shit
Cherry Lewis
Nutty Professor
Banana Nut Lemon Sausage
Stinky Dead Monkey
Mint Garlic Bread
Baked Alaskan King Crab
Bloody OJ Fudge
Ben and Jerry flavored
Heath Bar Duck
Weird Apple Yankovic
Che Guava-ra
Jelly Beany Mussolini
Oreo Cookie Bone Fragment
Salty Old Sailor
Foreskin Fudge
Fudgepacker Munchball
Carmel Furball
Latrine Licorice Supreme
Cunninlingus Confection Crunch
Bleu Cheese
Tuna Frutti
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Tripe
Raspberry Haggus
----
JUST KILLING MIME

The local paper in my hometown in Connecticut is almost 
beyond parody.  It's a weekly called The Newtown Bee, and it 
features stories on escaped hogs, sewage commission meetings 
and church raffles, besides its folksy gossip column and 
prizewinning Little League coverage.  Despite any inherent 
comic potential, The Bee takes itself very seriously, and 
positions itself as the cornerstone of our quaint New England 
community.  Naturally, this makes them the perfect target for 
a Grade-A media prank.
 
My friend Paul called the Bee to tell them he was a member of 
a traveling mime troupe called Rapproachment (which means 
peaceful relations between nations after wartime, a name we 
picked randomly from the dictionary) and that the troupe 
would be rehearsing in the Town Hall gymnasium. The troupe 
would be preparing for a local tour in the spring.  Hooked, 
their Arts Editor agreed to meet us at the town gym that 
afternoon for a full story and some photographs.  My friends, 
Paul, Jim, Josh and I were thrilled.  Quickly, we secured the 
use of the gym and began searching for black turtlenecks and 
berets. 

Understandably, we were more than a little nervous when we 
showed up to the gym an hour before our ace reporter did.  We 
snuck off to the men's locker room and covered ourselves in 
whiteface, both to cement our "image" and to help conceal our 
real identities (we'd all been photographed in the Bee 
several times in our "straight" lives).  Unfortunately, 
theatrical whiteface is not all that easy to come by in a 
small suburban town, so we settled for white lipstick.  The 
stuff was painfully thin; we ended up having to squeeze out 
the whole tube just to make it work.  I only succeeded in 
looking like Cesar Romero's Joker from the "Batman" TV show, 
as the whiteface was too thin even to cover my stubble.  We 
added some eyebrow pencil around the mouth and eyes to round 
out the look, with  Jim etching himself a tiny black tear for 
extra pathos.

Our "act", which had about twenty minutes worth of rehearsal 
time, consisted of  various pretentious performance art 
pieces like "The Egg", by which three of us would form a 
circle (the egg) and the fourth would step inside, crouching, 
pushing and then slowly emerging as the new baby chick, who 
would then celebrate life by dancing with us.  This was our 
piece d' resistance.  We also just pranced around 
ridiculously, attempting to play "Mime Basketball" on the gym 
court.  

Shortly the Bee's Arts Editor, a pleasant woman in her late 
forties, arrived with camera in tow.  Jim was our chosen 
spokesperson as he had the least difficult time keeping a 
straight face, so while the intrepid reporter took snapshots 
of us dribbling and dunking an imaginary basketball, Jim 
filled her in on our history.  She didn't even blink an eye 
when he told her our mime heroes were "Marcel Marceau and 
Simon LeBon, the great mime who was persecuted by the 
Catholic church during the Middle Ages."  

 "Sometimes people confuse us with clowns, but let me 
tell you, we are not clowns," I said.
 "No, no, what you do is different," the reporter 
replied.
 "Exactly.  If we're doing comedy, it's not just to be 
funny, it's to approach a higher truth," I continued.
 She nodded.
 "I mean, don't get me wrong," Paul chimed in, "some of 
our best friends are clowns."

Jim lied his way through a convincing story about the history 
of the art form ("Mime began in ancient Greece, and resurged 
during the Renaissance after a long period of persecution") 
and went on to explain that our new show, "An Immigrant's 
Tale" would debut soon, and that we had long wanted to do a 
series of vignettes on "The Melting Pot".  Just HOW silent 
actors intended to portray the friction between various 
cultures was never really explained. 
  
To insure the preservation of our true identities, we chose 
fake names.  I became Larry Wilcox (you may remember him as 
"Jon" from "CHIPs"), Jim became Geoff Holland, Paul was 
Quentin Crisp, and Josh identified himself as Wendell Maas, a 
character from a Thomas Pynchon novel.  Post-interview, the 
Bee's reporter took a number of photographs of us, sort of 
mime versions of the U2 "Unforgettable Fire" album cover.   
We said our thank yous and goodbyes to the reporter and went 
on to fall on the floor laughing for about fifteen minutes. 
Then when we went to pay for the rental of the gym, the Town 
Hall people refused to take our money because they were so 
impressed with our dedication as mimes. Unbelievable.

Several weeks later, right smack in the middle of Enjoy!  
(The special Bee arts supplement), was our full-page article, 
complete with a great picture of the four of us posed like 
the tender and sensitive artists we claimed to be.  The 
profile was entirely straight faced, and best of all, the 
reporter hadn't checked any of our facts.  She dutifly 
reported that we had won third prize in last year's 
International Festival of Mime (held annually in Ottowa, 
Canada), for our piece entitled "The Ashes of Tianamen 
Square".  Apparently, our faux performance art sounded as bad 
as the real thing.

We were so impressed with the scam that we briefly considered   
performing as Rapproachment somewhere in our town. 
Thankfully, we didn't carry it through. Our fifteen minutes 
of mime fame had been enough, and it had satisfied our 
restless boredom.  We had sabotaged the Bee right in its own 
pages. To this day, though, I can't flip through the arts 
section without thinking, "this can't be true...can it?"

-E.S. (Caligula@aol.com)
----
CANCELED NEWSGROUPS

The following is a list of newsgroups that have been 
discontinued this month, due to lack of interest. 

alt.fan.larry_hagman.i_found_a_liver_4_U
alt.comedy.slapstick.donkey.turnip
rec.arts.painting.velvet.dogs_playing_pool
soc.anthropology.earth.interior.nazi_hell_creatures
comp.graphics.commodore.vic20.virtual_reality
alt.fan.burger_king.herb
talk.long_winded.boring
poli.president.ross_perot.ears.flying
rec.boating.mob.shoes.cement
poli.activism.save_the_dodo
food.preparation.wonderful_world_of_mud
alt.binaries.ed_macmahn
alt.sex.fetish.geriatric
alt.heathcliff.die.die.die
rec.volleyball.girls.sagging_hooters
alt.love.joe_wagner.girls.none
----
A MOST GULLIBLE CHILD

I was a very gullible kid.  The more fantastic the lie, the 
more likely I was to take it as gospel. My first grade report 
card reads, "Matthew has trouble distinguishing between 
'Fantasy' and 'Reality'."  Isn't that what being an American 
is all about? My imagined universe was hardly different from 
any half-hour of TV.  And my histrionics gave the other kids 
an immediate thrill watching me freak out over their 
outrageous lies.

My friend Albert was a self-proclaimed authority on 
everything.  He was in third grade, a full year older than 
me, and never let me forget it.  On the way home from school 
one day, Albert told me a fantastic bit of news. Space Aliens 
had landed in the baseball field behind our suburban town 
hall that very afternoon!  I was shocked.  No one had 
mentioned it earlier that day.  He told me not to worry 
because they had come in peace. They were going to give 
mankind the power to travel freely among the stars! A sigh of 
relief escaped my lips as I waved goodbye to my best buddy. I 
broke out into a run so I could go home and tell my mother 
she could sell the car.  We were getting a spaceship!

My mom was in the kitchen.  Without waiting to catch my 
breath, I blurted out that aliens had landed behind town 
hall.  My mother didn't even look up.  I misread her 
uninspired response as shock.  I quickly assured her these
aliens were friendly.
 "Who told you this?" She looked up at me, incredulous. 
Didn't she realize that the Earth was to be saved? I imagined 
my new alien jet-pack I could fly to school with.  "You can't 
be serious," she added.
 "It's true!" I yelled, but she wasn't buying any of it. 
My own mother!  In the end it took her over an hour to 
convince me that I had been lied to.  I reluctantly started 
to accept the truth only after turning on the TV and checking 
the news. There was no mention of aliens at all. Anywhere. 
Nothing more had dropped out of the sky than birdpoop on the 
baseball field. 

One day at lunch, some kids at school went out to play in a 
tiny wooded patch behind the baseball field.  Inside this 
innocuous looking glade I was about to be subjected to a 
horror I would never forget.
 "See those tree branches over there?" Some older kid 
pointed to a bunch of dead sticks off in the dense 
underbrush.  "That's where David Bowie is buried!"  
 "Who?" I asked.
 "David Bowie was a really tough cowboy in the olden 
days. Do you know what a Bowie knife is?"
 "No."
 "It's a really big knife, and David Bowie invented it. 
If you tell anyone where he's buried, his knife will come out 
of his grave and hunt down every member of your family."  He 
made a timeless gesture across his throat, "slitin' their 
throats!"  Frightened, I nodded my head and vowed never to 
reveal the true burial spot of David Bowie. I ran out of the 
copse, and didn't look back.

Word must have gotten around that I was an easy mark. Maybe I 
might have not been as freaked out about rampaging cutlery if 
I had realized that David Bowie was still very much alive and 
probably making out with Mick Jagger at that very moment.  I 
guess the kid had meant to curse me with the spirit of Daniel 
Bowie, hero of the Alamo, and not David. If I had been smart 
enough to know the difference, I would have realized that 
David Bowie would be too zoned out to be a threat to anyone.  
Well, maybe if he rustled up a rusty needle and runs around 
screaming his lines from Dune.

Later that day, my parents asked if anything interesting had 
happened at school.  I tried to change the subject, but they 
persisted.  I said that I couldn't tell them what I had done 
that day and it would be best for everyone if nobody asked me 
any more questions.  I loved my parents and didn't want to 
see them dead on the ground, throats slashed, bodies pale 
from the loss of blood.  They persisted.  I started to sweat.  
David Bowie's mutilated corpse danced in front of my eyes, 
blaming me for his betrayal. My dad threatened me with a loss 
of television privileges. The knife of Daniel Bowie burst 
from the copse and crept along the sunny, suburban streets of 
New Jersey, cutting a swath of terrible vengeance.

Left with little choice, (How could I miss the Six-Million 
Dollar Man?) I spilled my guts and told them how I stumbled 
across the grave of a great Western Hero. I burst into tears 
screaming,  "Now you've done it!  David Bowie's knife is 
gonna get us all!"  They laughed.  It was horrible.  How 
could they just shrug off the dreaded curse?  In desperation, 
I ran to my room and slammed the door and hid in the closet.  
Obviously the adults in the household weren't going to take 
any precautions defending themselves against the renegade 
blade.  Maybe its bloodlust would be satiated by the other 
members of my family before it sucked the life juices from my 
body.  My mother startled me as she came into the room.  She 
gently explained that it was impossible for a knife to go 
after anyone by itself, since it wasn't even alive. She also 
explained that David Bowie was a singer in a rock band, and 
not from the wild west.  He wasn't even dead. I poked my head 
out of the closet.  My mom had a bitchin' collection of 8-
track tapes and would probably know these things. I did 
however, keep an eye out for any ghoulish, strung out men 
wielding an animate, rhinestone-studded hunting knife for the 
next few days.  You never know. 

During one recess that spring of first grade, two of my 
"friends" informed me that the Earth was going to turn upside 
down that midnight.  Everyone was going to fall off the 
planet!  They told me not to worry though, because everyone 
would safely float to Venus.  Well, everyone but me and my 
family.  It took a minute for the whole enormity of the 
situation to sink in.  My family...  Alone on an upside-down, 
depopulated Earth!  Couldn't anyone help my poor family?  

I ran to Mrs. Cruzen, my first grade teacher, and my family's 
only hope. 
 "M-Mrs. Cruzen? (sob, sob) M-M-M (sob)rs. Cruzen? E-Eric 
and David said th-that the world was gonna turn upside down 
and all the people are gonna go to Venus and...." She was 
giving me that blank look.  I began to suspect that she 
already selected a prime Venusian glade for her new home, but 
I continued.
 "Everyone is falling to V-Venus but my family!  You've 
got to do something!" I burst into tears.  

Then the teacher started yelling at me, "How can you believe 
something so stupid?"   I tried to argue with her.  How could 
she be so POSITIVE the world wouldn't turn upside down AT 
THAT VERY MOMENT?  As her temper flared and her face turned 
red, I became convinced she was definitely hiding something 
from me.  Fed up with my "antics" she sent me back to the 
classroom, alone to ponder my fate.  

Now I know better.  But I must tell everyone on the Internet 
to watch out!  Why? My friend Joe, who knows everything, just 
told me yesterday that next week, all the dogs in the world 
are going to go psycho.  It's true!  He said that roving 
packs of every kind of dog will get together and eat your 
face off if they catch you outside.  And if you own a dog, 
you gotta put it to sleep or else it'll eat you. I swear! I 
should know, I'm 25.

-matt patterson
----
SOLO DRINKING GAMES FOR THE ALCOHOLIC

It's hard to capture the free-spirited, humorous spontaneity 
of the drinking game when your the only one drinking.  That's 
why we have thoughtfully prepared this list for the alcoholic 
who is still boozing long after everyone has left the party, 
and your life.

SOLO SPIN THE BOTTLE
RULES: Spin the Bottle, and whoever it points to, drinks.  If 
the bottle doesn't point directly at anyone, the person 
nearest to the right drinks, and since you are playing alone, 
it is always you.
SPECIAL CONSIDERATIONS:  Make sure the bottle is empty before 
you start.

SPOT THE LIVER
RULES:  Take off your shirt and start drinking.  If your 
liver swells up to such an incredible size that you can see 
it poking out beneath your rib cage, you lose.
NOTE: This game usually takes a few years, so stock up your 
supplies before commencing your solo festivities.

WHISKY AT WORK
RULES:  Bring a hip flask full of whisky to work.  Every time 
someone tells you to do something, take a drink.  If someone 
asks you if you're drinking on the job, take two drinks. 
Score double points if you vomit on your boss.  
NOTES: This game  helps you get through a grueling workday 
quickly, so you can head out to a bar after work.

GET DEPRESSED
RULES:  Sit at a table or bar and get a drink.  Think about 
your life.  Every time you have a depressing thought, take a 
swig.  Play proceeds from the left to the right hand. You 
always lose.

IDENTIFY THAT MEAL
RULES:  This game calls for a steady hand, and the detective 
skills of Sherlock Holmes.  After a bout of post-party 
puking, examine your vomit.  For every meal-part you 
correctly identify, take a drink.  For any piece you find 
that you can't remember eating, (You were blasted!) Take 
three drinks.  If you find another living organism in the 
mess, drink a whole bottle. This game adds challenge and 
excitement to a normally exruciating experience!

I hope these simple games will provide you with even more 
reasons to drink.  Have fun!
----
ADDITIONS TO THE COURSE CATALOG FOR SEMESTER A

AMCL 134a.  Gilligan's Island: Icons of a Generation               
(4 Credits)
This class will explore the philosophical [If the Professor 
was so smart, why couldn't he get them off the island?] and 
physical [If it was a three-hour tour, why did they have so 
many clothes and furniture with them?] questions behind this 
American classic.  Is the island a microcosm of society? The 
class will trace the development of Gilligan as Ubermensch. 
From the early black and white days to Gilligan's Planet 
we'll examine the show's impact and enduring influence on 
post-modern society. Field trips to the Gilligan's Island 
pinball machine at the Goofy Golf. Instructor--  Mr. 
Winnipeg.
  Open to all classes

ASTR 386b. The Earth Is Flat                                                        
(2 Credits)
Learn how us astronomers have been pulling the wool over the 
eyes of the public for 400 years.  In this course we will 
learn how to properly traverse the rectangle without falling 
off, as so many do in the course of a year.  Insrtuctor-- Ms. 
Allah.
 Open to freaks and deviants. 

VICT 205a 19th Century Victorian Undergarments In 20th 
Century Short Stories   (7 Credits)      
The corset, the garter belt, the bustle and the bustier all 
had  a profound influence on the modernist movement of the 
early 20th century.  Hemingway, Fitzgerald, King, and Seuss 
all have sublimated references to these garments in their 
texts and their wardrobes.   Explore this exciting world as 
we try on each of these items, culminating in literary 
reading/fashion show second semester.  Instructor-- Mr. 
Blackwell.
 Open to sophomores under 5'8".

POLI  100a. Intro to Assassination                                          
(1 Credit)
This course is an examination of this popular method of 
control, with a hands-on emphasis. A study of the major 
assassins of our time, the methods they used, and the people 
they killed.  Film Screenings include Rosemary's Baby, JFK, 
and The Ghost and Mister Chicken. Readings include The 
Catcher In The Rye as well as selections from Anton LeVay. 
Students are encouraged to create a final project that might 
include a coup, death of a popular entertainer, or an 
original research paper. Instructor-- Mr. Chapman.
 Fulfills requirement as a Freshman Course in Mathmatics.

CNSR 105.  Consumer Studies:  The Wealth and Wonder of K-
Mart. (3 Credits)
A historical study, from it's foundings as "Kresgees" to it's 
present empire.  Aspects of the course include: proper aisle 
placement, K-Mart geography, and  comparisons to Bradlees and 
Caldors. Explore the Polynesian Island where the fabled "blue 
light" was first discovered.  Discover why K-mart is the only 
department store that employs a maitre d'. Are the insides of 
the gumball machines ever cleaned? Instructor-- Ms. Wanfoerd
  Open only to Seniors who want to pick up cute freshmen. 
----
CAMPUS CAREER BULLETIN

*Careers in Petroleum Transfer*
With skyrocketing prices and a tense international situation, 
the Oil industry has experienced a recent boom.  Most Oil 
companies are now hiring Petroleum Transfer Engineers in 
entry level positions now.  A solid Liberal Arts education 
can only begin to prepare most people for the rigors of 
petroleum transfer.  Described in Fortune magazine as the 
"feel good" occupation of the 90's,  pumping gas at a full 
service pump for spare change is the wave of the future. 
English majors preferred.

*How to Write Goodly*
When you goes out to the world, it alwayz help to get an good 
job if youz know how rite. No one would never hire no one who 
don't know how to right wright and spell corectily.  Wes 
should knows.  Com to our semminar and learn whow to write at 
your most bestest. Your fututre depends on it. Reely...

*Make $30,000 This Semester!*
Steal it!

*Campus Recruiting*
RJR Nabisco is looking for Seniors who want to start a career 
in taste testing.  Upcoming projects include testing a new 
line of sour cream and chive flavored cigarettes.  Graduates 
with a hankering for coughing up black phlegm should apply. 

Armour Beef Corp. is seeking Seniors interested in entry-
level veal farming.  Raise cute little cows stuffed into 
wooden crates in the loving environment of your own home. All 
for big profit!  Hormones and saws for severing limbs are 
provided.

NASA will be interviewing students to test a new potentially 
fatal G-force machine.  Great benefits for those who survive.

*Internships*
Hustler is looking for Juniors and Sophomores interested in 
the burgeoning pornography industry.  Learn photography, 
editing, and full body massaging from the pros.  All 
interested parties, please send a resume, cover letter, and 
naked photograph.  Stipend varies with duties performed.  
Other opportunities available at Oui, Juggs, Cheri, and 
Inches.  Light typing required.

Con Edison - Work in a nuclear facility under completely safe 
conditions.  Absolutely safe. Really.  Process plutonium with 
the pros and glow.

Tampax is looking for women to work in their special testing 
lab this summer.  Earn a $2000 stipend and all the tampons 
you can eat testing their new foot-long uterine-blocker.

The Mafia is hiring economics majors to learn how to juggle 
finances.  They are also seeking Physical Education majors 
who would like to learn more about bodyguarding and beating 
uppity shop owners.  Large stipend and bonuses. Numerous 
opportunities for advancement within the family.

The Galleria Mall is interviewing potential interns in the 
security department.  Learn how to harass and apprehend 
roving gangs of snot-nosed shoplifting punks without a 
weapon.  Spiffy new uniform and $4 stipend provided.

With the ample opportunities we've provided you at our 
college it shouldn't be hard to find employment at any fast 
food restaurant you wish.
----
OLD-FASHIONED ENTERTAINMENT

The success of "The Flintstones" and "The Brady Bunch Movie" 
pretty much assures that we'll see more big screen versions 
of television shows in the future.  But why hasn't anyone had 
the brilliant vision to channel that other electronic, wave-
driven national medium into cinematic genius?  No, not the 
telegraph.  I'm talking about radio.  Big stars.  Big ideas.  
Big box office.  Here's the pitch:

"SEX BOMB"  (Action/Adventure)
Dr. Ruth Westheimer plays a sex therapist who is thrown into 
a web of international intrigue.  When Libyan terrorists 
kidnap our President and threaten to blow up the First Lady's 
G-spot, Dr. Ruth must play a deadly cat and mouse game with 
the terrorists' knowledge of human anatomy to insure that 
they never FIND her G-spot.  Annette Benning and Robert 
Graffenberg co-star.

"FREE FREDDIE:  FRED THE ELEPHANT BOY FLIES HOME"  (Cartoon)
Forget Howard Stern's "Private Parts".  Next summer's screens 
will be dominated by one of the most colorful characters in 
Stern's radio "Wack Pack":  Fred, the Elephant Boy, who lends 
his voice to this animated feature about a severely retarded 
pachyderm who joins up with a lisping little boy to travel 
across the African jungle, to a land where big-breasted women 
are willing sex slaves and speech impediments are cool.   
Kenneth Keith Callenbach and Amy Lynn supply voices for the 
fabled tribesmen Chomsky and Bromski.   

"SILENCE OF THE LIMBAUGH"  (Thriller)
Making his big screen debut, Rush Limbaugh plays a right-wing 
cannibal extremist who sneaks a seat in the House Of 
Representatives by eating the carcass of Sonny Bono and 
disguising himself in Sonny's epidermis.  Jodie Foster plays 
a detective and close friend of Cher's, who when visiting the 
rockin' Congressman, begins to get a little suspicious upon 
noticing Sonny's stretched out chin melting into the Pan 
Fried Duck during dinner.

"LARRY KING LIVE...IN CONCERT! (ZOO TV)"  (Music)
CNN's talkmeister steps out and shows his true colors as a 
rock n' roll legend.   Backed by the band U2 on a national 
concert tour, filmed at Giants Stadium and the LA Sports 
Arena, the King performs such standards as "Lamb's Blood For 
Virgins", "Bone Butcher", and "Satan Is Alive And Well and 
Living Inside The Frames Of My Glasses".  Watch as Larry 
flies over the audience on a pair of wires and check out his 
fifteen minute drum solo in the rotating cage!  But, be sure 
to go for the snack break during "Space".  

"THE JERKY MECHANICS"  (Comedy)
The two middle aged hosts of the popular show "Car Talk" here 
play two wisecracking Brooklynites who make a series of 
hilarious prank calls to invalids and members of the 
priesthood.  "Bobby Z" and "Jamal" find themselves running 
from the law when they accidentally tell an old crippled 
woman she can fix her car engine with Liquid Plumber, 
Baccardi, and a butane lighter.  Ha ha ha!  Estelle Getty co-
stars as the rightfully pissed, burned-to-a-crisp old biddy.   

E.S. -Caligula@aol.com
----
ANIMALS HANNIBAL UNSUCCESSFULLY TRIED TO CROSS THE ALPS WITH

Trout
Dashound
Ostrich
Cow
Ferret
Squirrel
Giant Squid
Mr. T
--nubba@aol.com
----
MR. BLACKWELL'S WORST DRESSED CARTOON CHARACTERS:

Mr. Blackwell publishes an enormously popular yearly list of 
the 10 worst dressed celebrities in People magazine.  This 
year, he's contacted Ooze to publish his first-ever list of 
terribly dressed animated stars.  And here they are!

10)  Space Ghost-- Oh, that mask is a tragedy!  And the white 
suit...WAY after Labor Day.  A pathetic, K-Mart Batman at 
best.
9)  Velma From Scooby Doo-- The glasses are very hip, very 
Lisa Loeb, Generation X,Y and Z! That sweater though, has got 
to go.  And the big question remains:  Is she or isn't she?
8)  Dynomutt-- All that silver is so passe on a dog.  No 
sense of accessory at all.  Ugh, gag me with a Blue Falcon!
7)  The Shmoo-- WHAT dress?  Is he supposed to be naked?  
What's a Shmoo supposed to be anyway?  My guess is a waddling 
puddle of goo.
6)  Hong Kong Phooey-- Bonus points for the mask, very Zorro, 
but those rags and tatters are what sent the grunge look into 
the department stores.  Yesterday's news.  Hong Kong Phoney.
5)  Hula Hula from Plastic Man-- Who does he think he is in 
those shirts?  Weird Al's Hawaiian cousin? Tom Selleck's 
worst nightmare?  Egad!
4)  Butt-head-- Excuse me, is it still 1991?  White man's 
burden, indeed!
3)  Huckelberry Hound-- Pastel blue, big mistake!  And that 
hat... A nice fedora, and this hound might not be such a bow-
wow.
2) Davy from Davy & Goliath-- That little-boy-claymation look 
is so tired.  And that hair, ugh! Ronald Reagan in reverse.
1)  Captain Caveman-- He is in desperate need of a shave and 
a hosedown.  The three ratty whiskers around the nose are a 
major turnoff.  The club, however, is fantastic!
----
MY SUMMER VACATION

The following are REAL summer vacation essays from children 
around the country.  If your child has a funny report, send 
it to Ooze, and if we print it we'll send you a check for 
Fifty (50) Cents! Aren't these kids cute?

This summer vacation I went to the state of Arkinsaw.  People 
wore funny hats and spat brown stuff at my dad.  He got mad 
and yelled but the man pulled out a double barreled 10 gauge 
shotgun and shooteted out our windows.  Daddy says he wants 
to go to Pennsylvania next year.
-Ralph Nardo, First Grade, Trenton, NJ

This summer I did lots of things.  Then I went to school and 
wrote this.
-Marcy Ullmer, 3rd Grade

The scorching summer sun burned like leaves on hot asphalt.  
The picnic table before me was long, like the strands of 
time, but then thin and woody...like Allen.  A pleasant 
middle aged woman with a crooked smile and her hair in a bun 
entered the backyard, slowly, carrying a round and frosted 
cake, its little candles burning like so many tiny fireflies.  
Then my fat friend Ralph let out the biggest fart!  Stink-
EE!	 
-Carl Euberbachler, 3rd Grade, Cambridge, MA

This summer I was a cow. Moo.  Hey, what are those rotating 
blades doing in my--
-Nate Tumkins, Grade 2, Fifo, Kansas

Everyday this summer I went to the mall and Mommy bought me 
lots of things I didn't need.  Then we ate steak and made fun 
of homeless people.  
-Consuela Helmsley, Grade 4, New York, NY

This summer I went with my Mommy to Texas.  We lived in a big 
camp with big walls and big towers.  The big men said we 
couldn't leave but that was O.K.  One day, Mommy asked me if 
I wanted to get married, but I said no.  She said God wanted 
to marry me, and I would burn in Hell if I didn't.  So I went 
up to the hairy man's room and he "made me his woman".  It 
wasn't much fun, but then he burned to death with my mom.  
That was my summer.
-Jenny Quimkins, Grade 1, Waco, TX

At summer camp I made a boat.
-Hymie Wontom, Grade 5, Glendale, CA
----
THE GREAT MOLASSES FLOOD OF 1919
History Fun Facts!

When: January 15, 1919

Where: Downtown Boston where the New England Aquarium stands 
today.

How: It is believed that a quick rise in temperature (from 2 
degrees above zero on 1/12 to 40 degrees above zero on 1/13) 
caused the molasses in a storage tank at the Purity 
Distilling Co. to burst out of the tank.

Results: 21 people killed, 150 injured.  2.2 million gallons 
of molasses were released, pouring out of the tank in 8- to 
15-foot waves. It moved at speeds of 35 mph, with a force of 
2 tons per square foot. The flood destroyed buildings, 
crushed cars and knocked over elevated train trestles. The 
company paid $1 million in damages.

Source: The BPL Reference Desk  --discovered by David Zubkoff
----
Testicular Trauma: Thoughts of Designer Impostor Body Spray 
--by: Andrew Ian Feinberg (afeinber@panix.com)

I can remember the first time I saw the commercial vividly. I 
was scarred eternally, not unlike the first time I had a 
woman look me square in the eye, force a smile, and mumble 
"Don't worry, I heard it happens to a LOT of guys." While 
channel surfing a few months ago, I found myself landing on 
MTV.  My favorite episode of The Real World Two was on. Tammi 
had purposely wired her mouth shut to lose weight and I was 
hoping it would stay shut forever.  A commercial interlude 
began and I had to watch it when I heard my RCA beckon: "The 
following demonstration has been made suitable for 
television."  I figured I'd watch the commercial.  Big 
mistake. 

A naked woman, covered only by two blue bars that followed 
her around covering her breasts, and her holiest of holies 
was prancing around the screen with a spray can.  "First, 
spray Designer Impostor Spray on your arms, and then spray 
some on your (*beeps!*)"  The woman, seemingly in ecstasy, 
went on to spray the stuff all over her body.  If she were to 
spray shall we say, below the equator, this would not produce 
the ecstatic result she experienced elsewhere.  I believe the 
correct word to describe the sensation that would result 
would be called "agony".  Why?  Let's just say that an 
alcohol spary comming into contact with thin epedermial 
tissue, the inside of your nose, your vagina, will cause a 
deep burning sensation.  Little did I know that in just ten 
seconds, I would be huddled in the corner of the room, 
rocking in the fetal position, hand immersed in my pants.

Like all horrible things in my life, I saw it in slow motion.  
A nude man appeared on the screen, bottle in hand, blue bar 
on crotch.  The voice-over triumphantly announced, "Available 
for men too!"  The man, with a smug as hell grin, SPRAYS HIS 
CROTCH AND CHUCKLES!  He laughs with this smirk on his face, 
as if it were the most euphoric and wonderful experience he 
had ever experienced.  My brain overloaded and I must have 
gone into shock.  My entire life passed before my eyes.  
Well, okay, not my WHOLE life, but an incident in particular 
that involved me and my precious cajones. 

It was seventh grade, and I must have been around twelve or 
thirteen years old.  It was back when I was in a tiny 5'4 
boy. I knew that one day I would grow and grow and finally 
conquer that freaking sign that said "YOU MUST BE THIS TALL 
TO GO ON THIS RIDE".  Now I'm twenty-five.  Hey, it's not 
that I'm still not allowed to go on certain rides, I just 
CHOOSE not to okay?? I could go on any ride I want, I just 
don't like waiting in line!  Wait, I'm mixing up my traumas.  
Let's go back to my being twelvish. 

My dream girl, Penelope Horowitz, had asked me over to her 
house on Sunday and study with her for an algebra exam.  I 
could hardly sleep that night. I knew in my heart of hearts, 
that while perusing the subtle nuances of algebra, we would 
look up from the book, stare into each other's eyes, admit 
our undying love, have a torrid affair, get married, have 
children, and happily grow old together.  I just had to make 
sure everything was right.  Sunday morning, I spent two hours 
getting myself absolutely perfect for the big study date.  
Just when I was about to leave the house, I realized I had 
forgotten the key to getting a woman to think of me as real 
man.  Cologne. 

I backed into the bathroom and covered myself with my dad's 
English Leather.  As I was lathering and singing along to 
"Islands in the Stream" on my radio,  I wondered what if 
Penelope begged me to have sex with her?  This was a real 
possibility.  The prospect of her finding me "not so fresh"  
was strictly unacceptable.  So in the middle of singing the 
Dolly Parton part of the chorus, I pulled out the waistband 
of my underwear, and did my final spray.  "Islands in the 
stream...that is what we AREEEEEEEEEEEEGHHHHHHH!" I had never 
experienced such excruciating pain in my entire life.  I had 
to cancel the date.  I spent the remainder of the day holding 
my wounded huevos and cursing the day I had tried to spray 
myself "there".  Penelope went on to date and marry my best 
friend.  Oh Penelope, I miss you so... If you're reading this 
call me. I know that only I can make you happy!

Back in the present, the man in the commercial had made the 
same mistake I had made, yet suffered no ill consequences.  
It was the most unreal and unjust act I had seen since Marisa 
Tomei had won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress.  But 
unlike the Tomei tragedy, this wrong could be made right.  I 
knew then why I had been put on this earth.  It was to get 
that commercial modified.  I wrote letters. I made urgent 
phone calls.  I wrote this article.  I boycotted using the 
product.  Okay, I hadn't really used it in the first place, 
but hey, manufacturers don't know that.  Yet every day that 
blasted commercial would come on time and time again.  
Hundreds of times, I saw that smug, sadistic bastard spray 
his crotch.  Is there no justice in the world?  The horror, 
the horror.  But just as I began to give up hope, it 
happened.  The commercial began the same way, bimbo dancing 
around in her Impostor glory.  Same guy, blue bar on 
privates.  But this time, he sprayed his CHEST, smirking and 
chuckling. Glory, hallelujah!  Can I get an amen?  There's no 
need to thank me.  Just knowing that I might have saved one 
pubescent boy from making the same mistake I made is enough.  
All I ask for is a page in the history books documenting my 
selfless effort to make the world a better place to live.  Or 
maybe a granite statue. 

>>>Drew Feinberg is twenty-something and resides in East 
Meadow, NY where he is currently a full-time philosopher.  He 
enjoys watching movies and then bitching about them, joining 
crusades he knows he cannot win, and singing TV theme songs 
to anybody within earshot especially the "Facts Of Life." 
Drew and his partner-in-crime Jen are starting their zine 
"Marvin Nash'sEar" in the very-near future so they can rant 
as long as they like to make the world smile and/or think, 
preferably both.  For a free subscription, just send a 
request, and the name of your favorite childhood board game 
to afeinber@panix.com<<<
----
MARX'S DIAL-ECTICS
--Gabe Wardell

While contemplating the logistics of Marx's dialectic, as I 
usually do Tuesday nights, I was struck with a sudden and 
quite disturbing revelation.  How would Marx's work have 
developed with the advent of the touch tone telephone?  No 
longer limited by the lengthy rotary dial, Marx's writing 
could have expanded unfathomable lengths.  Breaking from 
circular reasoning, the touch tone expands beyond one realm 
of thought working on nine separate planes, individual, yet 
connected. Rather than rerouting a dial in circles over and 
over again, his revolutionary fervor might have been tempered 
by the forgiving keypad of the modern phone. This might be 
regarded as touchtonealectics. In a more advanced state, this 
could transform into Faxalectics, or even internetlectical 
thinking.  Marx could truly make a comeback in the 21st 
Century if he just could get access to modern technology.

Soon after this revolutionary brain storm, I was plagued by a 
series of horrible coincidences: I was minding my own 
business when suddenly my phone rang and on the other end was 
one of those computerized voices methodically chanting 
"Automated Computers of the world, Unite!"  Then Pacific Bell 
informed me my phone bill is excessively high and includes 
many calls to unlisted numbers in Bavaria.  I discovered that 
Marx has been using my calling card to carry out lengthy 
discussions with Milton Friedman about the advantages of 
velcro shoe fasteners in an egalitarian society. Marx had 
also been using my phone to vote for the new Michael Jackson 
video on the $2.00 a minute MTV hotline. Is this not proof 
enough that the father of Socialism has changed his ideals in 
this age of information?  Too bad he's dead.
----
REVIEW HAIKU

Japanese master of poetry, Issa (1763-1825), joins our staff 
this issue to review books, computer games, movies, and stuff 
the best way he knows how: through the minimalist beauty of 
the Haiku. 

VIRTUAL LIGHT-- Novel by William Gibson

Is this the same guy
Who wrote us Neuromancer?
Leaves flutter in wind
****
LOS ANGELES-- American city

Annoying movies
Why don't people buy my script?
City falls into sea
****
"Alternative" Music-- Radio format

If they sell millions
Is it still "Alternative"?
Groupies fall from sky
****
FROG BOG-- Video game for the Intellivision

Dueling frogs eat bugs.
Hop! Hop! Excellent gameplay!
4-bit graphics rock!
****
MORTAL KOMBAT-- Movie by New Line Cinema

Fighting little guys
Based on bloody game for kids
Kapow!  Fall on floor.
****
Do you want Issa to review your product? Send your books, 
movies, art, magazines, records, cash etc. to "Issa" c/o Matt 
Patterson 968 Tularosa Dr. #2 Los Angeles, CA 90026
----
STUPIDEST SHAREWARE

It's once again our privilege to present THE STUPIDEST 
SHAREWARE EVER VOLUME IV.  This issue's offerings are just as 
stupid and offensive as a program can be.  (All programs are 
available to download from our website at 
http://www.io.com/~ooze/ooze6/share.html or via e-mail 
request from drbubonic@aol.com)  Mac programs are encoded in 
binhex format.  The Windows program is uuencoded.  You will 
need a uuencode or binhex translator program to run these on 
your machine. 

SHIT EATIN' GRIN 
In the tradition of our popular "poop" series of quality 
shareware, pigpile1 (pigpile1@aol.com) offers us this nasty 
game.  A large turd is lobbed onto the screen, and you have 
to catch it... with your mouth.  Stunning graphics and superb 
gameplay.  This cophrophiliac wonder is a must for any gamer. 

THE COMPLETE STATE
Freedom is irrelevant.  The State (not the people from MTV 
but the real Zionist, illuminated, shriner conspiracy) orders 
you to download this program.  Upon its successful 
installation, you will be greeted by a directive of the State 
every time you start your mac.  You Will Love this Program.  
Written by Zak Weisfeld (Zakkk@aol.com) and programmed by Ian 
Smith (freeverse@aol.com) of HEARTS DELUXE fame. (Mac User 
Shareware award winner)

OOZEme.MOOV
A masterful MIDI composition recalling the bygone days of 
Ooze majesty all in convenient Quicktime 2.0 format.  Maestro 
Jelks (KB5QL@aol.com) studied classical piano in Lezpig and 
Stausburg and has conducted the Krackow symphony in Poland.

TREK FONT
It's a font.  I have no idea what it looks like because it's 
for Windows.  Just put this in your Windows\System directory, 
and add the font in using your Font Control Panel. Submitted 
by Doug Gwilliam (DOUGGW@WordPerfect.com).

SEND US YOUR SUBMISSIONS
If you've got a really dumb, semi-functional program you want 
to share with the world submit it to ooze.  Files over 32k 
should be sent to ooze@io.com for evaluation.
----
WHERE IS OOZE?

OOZE WEB SITE!
Just point your web browser to: http://www.io.com/~ooze/ and 
unlock the mysteries of Ooze!  View unedited text editions, 
or download current or previous Mac versions of this award 
winning publication.  Included are cool sites to link to, and 
subscriber Home Pages!  Link Ooze to your Homepage and we'll 
link you to Ooze! Then you can marvel at my inability to 
grasp even the simplest of programming languages! Link the 
Ooze home page to your system TODAY!

SUBSCRIPTIONS! ARE A GREAT GIFT
Get Text or Mac Ooze in your mailbox! Send a groveling letter 
to Drbubonic@AOL.com stating whether you want Mac or Text 
Ooze.  We send Mac Ooze to CompuServe, AOL, eWorld and 
internet accounts.  Make sure your account can handle 1 meg+ 
bin-hex files if you are subscribing to the Mac version over 
the internet.  BACK ISSUES ALSO AVAILABLE!

WWW ANNOUNCE SUBSCRIPTIONS!
Send us your e-mail address with the statement in the body of 
your message that you want to be put on the WWW ANNOUNCE 
list, and we'll send a short e-mail notifying you that a new 
issue of ooze has been posted on our website.  It's easy, 
fun, and takes a lot less room in your mailbox.

SELL OUT YOUR FRIENDS
Give us all the e-mail addresses of your friends, and we'll 
send them Ooze, ABSOLUTELY FREE! Our ALL-STAR FINK this issue 
is Ming Leung (Ming_Leung@notes.pw.com) who sent us 30 of his 
friend's names!

Other spots featuring Ooze:
Ftp the current MAC VERSION  from the info-mac archive 
(sumex-aim.stanford.edu or any one of many mirrors) in the 
Periodical directory.
Ftp the TEXT VERSION from ftp.etext.org (file path is 
/pub/Zines/Ooze/)
America Online- Mac Games Forum (Keyword: MGM) Old issues in 
the publications archive. [edited for content etc.]
CompuServe- Go MACFUN.  Ooze is in the Game Aids/Add -ons 
Library. [edited for content]
eWorld - In the Mac Shareware Games area and the Ziff Net 
section.

AND AT THESE FINE BBS's
ECN BBS 310.204.6009 or Telnet to ecn.ecn.com
virtual.village/a FirstClass BBS 508.368.4222

POSITIONS AVAILABLE
Besides writing or making art for Ooze, we can use people. Do 
you want to be a distributor?-  Even if you aren't funny, you 
can spread the word of Ooze.  Put it on your ftp site, 
forward them to all your friends, etc.  As a bonus, you'll 
get the beta issues too.  Your input is needed!

Send all contributions (sounds, games, articles, art, 
oriental rugs) to Drbubonic@AOL.com [if on AOL or file is 
under 32k] or ooze@io.com if not on AOL and OVER 32k.

Ooze #7 is the Holiday Issue.  Expect it around the end of 
November.  Deadline for submissions is around the end of 
October.  JOIN OUR STAFF TODAY!

and now a very important commercial announcement...

OOZEWEAR

Befuddle your neighbors! Frighten children!  Make friends 
with freaks INSTANTLY! Wear an OOZE T-SHIRT!  Be the first 
kid in your domain to have one of these beauties.  This high-
quality cotton shirt is emblazoned with a portrait of the 
Ooze mascot, "Baby With Fork-In-Head"... in glorious black 
and blood red colors!  This one-size-fits-most XL shirt is 
only $12.97 (US) and includes shipping. (US only foreign 
orders add $4.03) US money only.  Send checks, money orders 
or cash to: 
Matt Patterson 968 Tularosa Dr. #2  Los Angeles, CA  90026
Profits made on this venture will go to the "Buy Ooze a New 
Computer Fund".  You can read all about how my computer was 
kidnaped from my apartment in July on the Ooze Homepage. 
Touching story, really.

You can view the shirt at:    
http://www.io.com/~ooze/ooze6/shirt.html

Or view this graphic in confusing uuencode form:  (Use a 
uudecode program to convert it to a .jpg file.  These 
programs are available all over the internet.) Ignore this if 
you don't understand what I'm talking about.

BEGIN --------- cut here --------- CUT HERE -------- PART 1/1
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end
END ----------- cut here --------- CUT HERE -------- PART 1/1
And this is the End of Ooze 6!