Introduction.00200 Elvis Lives!.02617 Clue: 1991.05707 POP: 101.09687 Other Companies.16126 Video Reviews.22658 Cereals Today.27265 God Reviews.31534 Tens.34540 Ending Comments.37901 ### T h e L o b o t o m i s t ' s D i g e s t 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� I s s u e O n e "Factual inconsistancies are in the shrunken mind of the reader." - Paragon Dude 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴 INTRODUCTION From the Bloody Scrawls of Lord Shadowkeeper 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴 Well, folks, welcome to the Lobotomist's Digest, another fine publication from the twisted minds of several madmen. Humorists, satirists, notorious pirates, and all-around fun-loving maniacs. That's right. If you haven't guessed it already, this isn't your standard underground pirate magazine. The Digest doesn't have features on "Piracy in Mozambique". We do not have articles on "How We Can Totally Annihilate the 24oo User". No hack/phreak/anarchy stuff on the lines of "How to Make an Explosive Using Aluminum Foil, Toothpaste, Common Kitchen Utensils, and Spam". No game reviews. And of course, no ANSI pics, VGA loaders, or ads for the member boards inside the magazine. We see enough of them already taking up 25% of the space inside the games we download. Sorry 'bout that. There's enough of that stuff out there in the current pirate magazines. The purpose of this magazine is to provide you with a few laughs, not just upload credit to feed that insatiable of all beasts - the file ratio. It's great compiling together a magazine, but unless people take time to read it full, it doesn't serve its purpose. It's like being stuck in a room with a nymphomaniac. Having her desiring you madly is only half the fun. Well, that's enough. The Head Writer would have liked to have said a few words, but unfortunately I haven't the foggiest idea where the hell he is. Knowing Paragon Dude, he's going over a hundred miles an hour down a suburban side street, half a gram of coke up his nose, and a cheerleader pulling off her tube top in the next seat. (Sigh) (Grumble) More from me later. Just read the issue. - � Publisher (Head Executioner) ### 旼컴컴컴컴컴커 쿐lvis Lives!� 읕컴컴컴컴컴켸 With all the incredible events over in the Soviet Union in the last few days, I'm sure you probably figured out that I'd been glued to my TV set watching the news. Well, you're wrong. My *sister* was glued to the television set, and probably will stay that way for quite awhile now that I've thrown out the bottle of SuperGlue Remover. In any case, I managed to catch bits and pieces of the news through the various areas of the TV which my sister wasn't covering, and lemme tell you, this is heavy stuff. The dismantling of the hardliner regime. The destruction of many statues representing various Evil Russians Leaders (tm). The accidental release of 65,000 Self-Winding Walk'n'Talk Yeltsin Dolls. All major events which will probably affect the people's views of the toy industry for years to come. What's next? Some say China. Some say Cuba. Some say Hasbro. We'll have to wait and see. There are a number of other things I managed to catch on television. For instance, recently shown on a local PBS (motto: "*Someone* has to be this boring.") channel was an inspirational special on Nixon which I didn't watch. I hope someone taped it. With packing tape. But right after it was a special on Elvis, which I had turned on in one of my more masochistic moments. And that's when it hit me. Like some sort of incredible spiritual revelation, the type of thing a certain friend of mine gets whenever we eat out with some friends and the check comes and he suddenly gets this sudden realization that, wow, he has no money, but anyway, I realized... that... Elvis... (whaddya mean, what's the deal with these ellipses? How else do I build up tension???) looks... just... like... Vanilla Ice!!! Good Lord. Just to prove it to yourself, look at pictures of them side-by side. Don't they look incredible alike? The hair style, the face, the build, the IQ... we're talking carbon copies here! They even have the same following, a 100:0 girl:guy fan ratio. I don't like either one. None of my friends like either one. Nobody but every whining pre-teen Barbie-toting female in America like[d] them. But that's just the thing. I'll bet, that after all these years, after all 240,934,976 National Enquirer articles about Elvis and how some woman in a backwards Kansas town claims to have had carried his child, that he didn't really die. He escaped to some small Mexican town where the latest music they had was 4/5ths of a LP of Frank Sinatra singing "I Love New York" with the remaining 1/5th piece missing filled in with a few layers of hardened tortillas. Played on a styrofoam cup with a pine needle stuck in the bottom of it. So he eventually got so fed up he came back to assault the world yet again, but on a different tack-- rap music. And again, only girls liked him. Excuse me... the tape fell off my sister's mouth. ### 旼컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴커 � PARKER BROTHER'S PRESENT: � � � � C L U E : 1 9 9 1 � 읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴켸 Remember Clue? Sure you do! That's right! Clue! The old boardgame where you play the high-and-mighty detective and try to solve the gruesome murder of some idiotic, naive millionaire who died in his home. You play on a cheap cardboard board resembling the layout of Mr. Victim's mansion and using playing cards, fuzzy die, and your lowly wits you try to deduct who was the murderer, the motive, and the time of the death. There are about six or seven different suspects. All of whom have really silly names. From Professor Plum to Miss Scarlet; Colonel Mustard to Mr. Greene. Real original. And included in a plastic bag that is almost impossible to open - about five different primitive weapons from a revolver to the silliest weapon of them all - the candlestick. So much for that. Realizing that we should have done this earlier, we, at Parker Brother's have decided to bring your favorite murder boardgame into the '90s by introducing you to "Clue: 1991". A game that we deem to be a hit among both old and young alike who are tired of playing the same tiring scenarios again and again and are bored as hell playing our VCR version. Among our new and exciting modifications in Clue: 1991 are: New Rooms! The mansion has been completely remodeled for the 1990s, folks. Long gone are library, the ballroom, and the lounge! The gym, the pool/spa, and the den come to our new version. The mansion is now filled with modern, psychedelic decor and shaped like an octogon! New Weapons! Now you and your friends can include the modern world of murder and assassination into the mystery with the addition of the Uzi submachinegun, the switchblade, the 9mm Parabellum, and assorted ninja weapons! New Characters! Tired of Mrs. Peacock? Well, we've decided to add a few new characters to increase the suspense and liven up the plot a little! Joining the already marvelous cast of characters are: Mr. Von Hammer, the bodybuilder from Austria; Senator Stuart, the adulterous bribe-taking U.S. Senator; Miss Jones, the sulterous, power-hungry model; Mr. Steele, a tough ex- cop and kung-fu master; and Mr. Rogers, a sadomasochistic kid- show host. And... New Plots! Now, you can agonize for hours to piece together some of the most intricate plots known to murder mysteries! No more easy plotlines that even an idiot can spew out: "Colonel Mustard killed Mr. Greene in the ballroom at 6:00 with the lead pipe." No more confining the game to the death of Mr. Victim - another character can kill another one during the course of the investigation! With this in mind, now you can strain your brains with these beauties! Miss Jones murdered Mr. Steele, after he discovered her hidden past in prostitution and X-Rated films and then a latter attempt to blackmail her for sex. At 8:00 Greenwich Mean Time, Miss Jones approached Steele in the Pool/Spa room seductively wearing only a transparent slip. Throwing Steele off guard, Jones then threw her vibrator into the jacuzzi, frying him on the spot. or Mr. Rogers killed Mr. von Hammer by filling his body with his bullets from his Uzi in the Gym while lifting weights at 9:00 Central Mountain Time. The reasoning was simple: Roger's kid show was going to be canceled by the network brass and replaced by "Pump Me Up, Hans!" - Von Hammer's exercise show. That's right, kids! With a game like that, prepare yourselves for hours of excitement, intrigue, and passion with the new Clue: 1991! Coming this fall to a store near you! ### TRANSCRIPT OF P.O.P. 101 [begin transcript] Good morning, class. Welcome to Pissing Off People 101. Since this is our first class we'll just go over the general plan of the year and, if we have time, get to dislike each other. First off, you must remember one thing above all else: your primary objective, no matter what else occurs in your life, is to annoy the hell out of people. I know that sounds a bit drastic, but understand that we exist for this purpose. Those of you who look surprised will soon realize I am right. Don't argue yet, the time for that will come after this quarter's final. No questions either. Our basic plan this year is outlined on the handout you just received. Please fill out the top with your worst enemy's name just to help yourself get psyched. Put yesterday's date, it will confuse me and start you on what will be a productive year. You also might want to mark all your assignments, especially from other teachers, with the wrong date. Remember I am not responsible. Above all, if anyone asks about this class, simply tell them "Fuck off!" or "Shut up, dick!". Don't give a pansy "Well, gee, golly..." response, for it only provokes either hatred or sympathy, both which will make annoying people much, much more difficult. Hatred will cause the person to simply ignore your attempts, which means that to lure them back, using despicable means such as kindness, to the point that they seriously pay attention to you to piss you off. Sometimes hatred can be used in useful ways; we will be discussing that later in the year. Sympathy causes the victim to simply shrug off your attempts, and you will have to resort to insulting, or even violence, to get their attention. Those topics aren't going to be discussed this year, but will be discussed in AP P.O.P. for those of you who wish to continue this line of education. Kindness will only briefly be touched on seeing as how it violates school policy somewhat. "Fuck off!" and "Shut up, dick!" are obviously only replies you should resort to in desperation, for they are relatively weak and do not do their job well. One of the first topics we will cover is creating and memorizing such replies. Again, for those of you continuing to AP, we will practice improvising such replies. We will touch on many forms of annoyance. Among the easiest is what is known as "The Wimp Syndrome", which, although generally pooh-poohed as weak and unproductive, can still have quite an effect on your victim. Other useful techniques such as "The Damn Bitch Maneuver" and obscure techniques such as "The DBQ" and "Geraldo's Folly" will be covered. OK, class, that's the bell. Sit down. We're going to wait an extra 30 seconds just to annoy the hall monitors and your next period's teacher, and above all YOU. Does anyone have a free period next? John? Anyone else? OK, John, you may leave first. The rest of you will have to wait. Now that John has left, here's the first homework assignment, which I don't want anyone to tell him. I want you to write a 15-page essay on the last time someone pissed you off. Got it? Good. See everyone next time! 컴컴컴컴컴 TRANSCRIPT OF P.O.P. 101 D WEEK 2 Hello class. I hope everyone had a just marvelously terrible week. I'm sure many of you did, but I don't want to hear anything about it, because I already know about it. We here in the Humanities Department worked very hard to make each and every one of you have a terrible week. This school works harder for you than you realize. Now, since all of you missed last week... what? Yes, you did! Don't you dare try to tell me I told you there wasn't a class, because you know damn well this is Pissing Off People 101 and there's few things more annoying to a student than missing a class because he or she thought there wasn't a class. You should've been expecting me to do that. It merely shows you are a bunch of brainless, inexperienced POP-ers. Shut up. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted (which I must commend you on, the interruption technique can be a very delicate operation in POP culture), since all of you missed last week, the homework that was due then will now be worth only half credit. Who did it? Jamie? You didn't do it? Good, good, that's a good way to get a teacher annoyed at you. I'm going to give you an 'A' just to piss off your classmates. Now, for the rest of you, I want you to either make your papers into paper airplanes, to throw around at your next class (Johnny, since you have off next period, why not do it now?) or else shred them up and strew them all over the front lawn, just to annoy the custodians. Oh yes, who told Johnny about the homework? I told you not to! Damn this class is good. Who came unprepared? Sammy? Johnny? Carol? Good. The rest of you must give your pens or pencils to those three, so you can't take notes. Yes, Suzy, you may use your lipstick to take notes, but not on your paper; I want you to write it on Anna's textbook. Yes. First off we will discuss the Wimp Syndrome, a easily-learned and relatively effective way to annoy people. Yes, Luke, the DBQ *is* related to this. However, you must realize, teachers love it when students bring up outside knowledge, so I'm going to give you an 'F' for style. You should know better than that. The Wimp Syndrome, which is also known as the Asshole Method, and the Chamberlain Movement, has often been confused with various yuppie and nerd afflictions. The Wimp Syndrome, which, as Luke was stupid enough to point out, is the background for the DBQ, can be characterized by an unerringly constant "run" method, wherein the subject taunts "jocks", "bullies", and other lower forms of POP-ers, by trying to show off their knowledge. You may consider this the essence of the Nerd Group, but it has little similarity. Who's taking Dr. Mindfritz's nerd-busting course? Good, I want you three to each write a 20-minute oral report on the similarities and differences. And don't expect to get any help from me, I've got off this week and am flying down to Hawaii. I'll send you all postcards, and next week when we come back I'm gonna show you 2500 slides. Even if I have to repeat some of them. So see you next week, class! ### 旼컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� 쿎OMPANIES YOU PROBABLY NEVER HEARD OF� 읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� R.S.L. Corporation 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴 Started in the early 1500's (B.C.), the Random Street Lunatic Corporation was initially started to meet the needs of crime-fighting forces throughout the world. Although an internationally acclaimed company, and the second-longest-lasting corporation in the history of business itself, it has only recently received public attention. Its services are not open for public or private usage, and in fact it is employed solely by the various governments of the world, in order to make sure that their respective police forces always have something to do to earn their wages. Few countries, in fact, do not use its services; among these few are Iceland, which instead hires the Polar Bear Wanderer's Club, and Luxembourg, whose police force consists entirely of two old men in their late 70s who don't want to waste time running around arresting RSL members. They are, in fact, former RSL employees. Jobs are always available, but on a volunteer basis only. Wages are earned by the number of people you harass; double if they are in a hurry, triple if it's in New York City. "If someone tries to give you money, take it and spit in their face," is the first line from their manual. I.S.E., Inc. 컴컴컴컴컴컴 Started unofficially sometime in the late 70s or so, the I.S.E. or "I Seen Elvis" non-profit organization has already encompassed a work force of nearly 27 people. Despite repeated bombing threats from Jerry Lee Lewis and B. B. King, the company with the motto "Honk if you seen him too" continues to survive and even thrive. What they actually DO for a living, and where they get their money from, is unknown. They have all, however, "seen the King." Cab Drivers Anonymous 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� A non-profit organization with the sole intent of curing chronic cab drivers afflicted with NYCSS (pronounced in medical lingo, "bleah"), the New York City Speeding Syndrome. Cabbies afflicted with this disease have been known to drive at speeds upwards of 2500 mph, even around corners, and the worst cases have actually achieved lift- off. A severe impediment as a side-effect of the disease causes the drivers to completely forget the shortest route to their rider's destination, and to occasionally take "scenic routes" five or six hundred miles out of the way. Branches are planned to open in Chicago, Miami, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Dallas, Philadelphia, Denver, and Champagne, IL, as cases of NYCSS have been appearing all over the country. (The fact that a case appeared in Champagne, IL, is surprising; it had been formerly thought that NYCSS was caused in part by the stress and demand that large populations created on taxi companies. Champagne has only 13 people living in it, and the mayor doubles as the cabbie. You can see what sort of problems might arise if you had a raving lunatic for mayor... Oh, wait, New Yorkers already do). Andromeda Insurance Company 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Only recently uncovered in the massive BCCI ("Bucci") scandal was a small but incredibly profitable insurance company whose major stockholders are unknown. The only traces of their current addresses within the AIC files are cryptic numbers and names which seem to roughly correspond to the astronomical cataloging ID numbers for nearby (i.e. within 5000 light-years) galaxies. They also, apparently, paid the U.S. State Department and The National Enquirer a heck of a lot of money to not publicize a short- lived venture into the growing biochemistry industry, wherein they purchased a small cloning firm and accidentally created and set loose 45 million identical door-to-door insurance salesmen. Industry experts speculate that this catastrophe was reminiscent of other possibly preventable accidents, such as those of Exxon, Union Carbide, and Richard Nixon. The Marcos Shoe C/R Union 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Although the extent of its activities has been reduced to a yearly reunion and an occasional crash party at a leather factory, the Marcos Shoe Creation/Repair Union was, at its heyday, the largest and most powerful shoe union world-wide. Its power stemmed mainly from the 27,690 shoe makers and repairers which were its members. All but 12 of them were housed in a huge complex on a previously undiscovered tropical island 128 miles northwest of the Philippines; of the remaining few, four were Imelda Marcos' personal shoe slaves and lived with her, three were in hiding due to international warrants issued by the United States for violating the Shoelace/Acorn Exportation/Immigration Treaty of 1845, one disappeared one night with the daughter of a wealthy leather salesman, and the remaining four lived on fat pensions in a cozy little town smack-dab in the middle of Inner Mongolia. A subdivision of the Marcos Union Affiliate, which included the Marcos Endangered Frog Union, the Marcos Cheap Suit Salesmen Union, and Planned Parenthood, was disbanded in the 1980s due to, according to the former executive director, a "world-wide shortage... of leather, alligator skins, and those little pink pom-poms you put on those rabbit-shaped slippers, you know?" Richard Nixon Fan Club 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴 Although Richard Nixon is no longer the President of the United States, nor even worthy of political cartoons, the Richard Nixon Fan Club somehow manages to survive, which is made even more incredible by the fact that, per se, there are no employees whatsoever. Mysterious pamphlets with no return address in the mail arrive daily at the Nixon residence with postmarks from across the nation, yet, when last checked, the only current occupants of the RNFC main headquarters are a 18-year-old bottle of Lysol, a half-eaten Hershey's bar wrapped in a pro-Nixon advertisement, ashes of what appears to have been the original manuscript for "The Pentagon Papers", and a dusty voodoo doll of Mao Tse Dung. Where it gets its money, etc., is entirely unknown. (A smaller branch of this club, the Spiro Agnew/Dan Quayle For President Club, filed Chapter 11 twice in one day with the Champagne, IL, branch of the U.S. Treasury Department at the end of the 1990 fiscal year). ### 旼컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� � Video Reviews � 읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Sure, you've seen them. "The New York Times's Guide to Video", "Leonard Maltin's Video Picks", or "Charles Manson's Guide to the Best Murder Flicks on Video." The newspapers and magazines are flooded with them. Video guides. They occupy a small little column on the side of the critic's latest nightmarish review for the latest Van Damme flick, and give a little summary of the movie as well as a rating from "Poor" to "Megalithic Cinemagraphic Work of Art Waiting to Be Worshipped By Generations to Come". They're great, aren't they? Well, in the spirit of People Magazine, USA Today, and "Muscles Galore" magazine, we at The Lobotomist's Digest present our six favorite video classics just to create some filler space for this issue. Just our version of the game reviews in a regular pirate magazine... The Lobotomist's Digest's Film Picks of the Month 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Cop of Fortune (1990) - Before making "Stone Cold", Paramount studio producers created this action-adventure starring Michael Jackson as, you guessed it, an ex-football player turned cop. In this thriller, one of Jackson's midget friends is gunned down by a Mafia hitman, and when the Gloved One is pulled off the case by the chief of police (singer Mick Jagger), he turns in his badge and decides to avenge his friend's death above all costs. Even if it means going through a hundred and twenty minutes of high- speed, expensive sportscar chases through the streets of Paris, chasing foreign spies through Nebraskan corn fields with a machete, shootouts with guerillas in El Salvador, crusing down treacherous Alpine passes on one ski, and numerous liaisons with beautiful, sexy women. Jackson does it all. A monumental performances by Steven Segal as the Mafia hitman who loves guns so much, he kills people who try to pass him on the highway. The Terror of Tiny Town (1982) - Another all-dwarf and midget movie along the lines of Commando and the Nightmare on Elm Street series. A must see. Stars the late David Rappaport of "Willow" fame. Santa Claus Conquers the Surf Nazis (1987) - The Surf Nazi's are back on the shores of California, aiming to spread the word of the Fuhrer to the people of San Vilatin above all costs. Their evil plot is foiled when two children, Billy and Betty, manage to get word to Santa Claus by sending him a letter asking for their freedom for Christmas. Old Saint Nick gets a hold of the letter right before the Surf Nazi's begin to brainwash the entire town with their hypnotic surfboards, and immediately sets off in his slay with his trustworthy elf Hans (Arnold Schwartzenegger) to liberate the town with their "gifts" of hi-tech automatic weapons, grenades, and explosives. Norman to Norma (1989) - This unfairly X-Rated film features Paul Reubens (Pee-Wee Herman) as a confused homosexual who opts for a sex- change operation. The result being Traci Lords. There's something in this movie for everyone. Trapped! (1989) - Six women are trapped in a New York skyscraper when a sadistic serial killer rampages throughout the building for no apparent reason. An originality prize to the producers! The action begins in the first fifteen minutes of the movie while the girls are modeling the new "summer line" of Victoria's Secret lingerie for each other when the killer suddenly appears with his bloody axe, offering to give them a head start before he begins his "night of macabre massacre". Seconds later, girls wearing only slinky nighties are brandishing M-16s from nowhere and spraying gunfire. Academy award nominations to the plaid-shirted killer/geek, played by Jim Nabors ("Gomer Pyle") who manges to survive being stabbed repeatedly in the neck with a nail file, strangled, hit on the head with a hammer, pushed off a twenty-story building, and gunned down sixty-eight times. Invaders from Mars! (1990) - The best in Sci-Fi! This monumental film work features robot invaders dressed in cheap gorilla costumes and motorcycle helmets. Landing in Kalamazoo, Michigan, the monsters are out in search of their idols - Dan Quayle and Richard Nixon - to worship them as gods. Stars Boy George and Gary Coleman in their best work yet as two Idaho potato farmers that are brainwashed by the invaders. *-*-*-*-*-*-* ### �袴袴袴袴袴袴袴袴袴袴袴袴敲 � Cereal In America Today � 훤袴袴袴袴袴袴袴袴袴袴袴袴� Today's topic, boys and girls, is America. I chose this mainly because, earlier this month, a friend of mine gave me the opportunity to not see the movie Robin Hood. I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed not seeing it and I had a great time. The main reason I didn't want to see it was that, about twelve commercials (a new unit of time I suspect the network channels are trying to put into general usage) after I first saw the commercial for the movie, I saw a commercial for the cereal. As most of you probably didn't know, I am a great anti-cereal activist, and this was simply another sign that America was going to pot, er, bowl, because of the Cereal Revolution. Originally I was one of the greatest pro-cereal proponents, right up there with whoever was currently pictured on the Wheaties box. (Mary Lou Retton, Bruce Jenner, Spiro Agnew, etc). I even drew pictures of myself standing next to Snap, Crackle, and Pop and framed them. I knew Tony The Tiger personally. I set the alarm clock for the Kellogg's Rooster. I was a cereal junkie. Then they came out Count Chocula. I knew things had turned sour right from then, despite the incredible sugar content of the stuff. It tasted like bleached chocolate. The whole concept was vile, right up there with Eve and the Snake, the Czar and Rasputin, the Roadrunner and the Coyote. I mean, who would imagine that a stupid-looking (on par with a rotted pumpkin), brown-colored Dracula, would even catch the eyes and tongues of America? Maybe it was destiny. Maybe the aliens who make the stuff had developed some sort of mind-control device to go with it. ("Buy Count Chocula... Eat Count Chocula... Buy more Count Chocula... Listen to the New Kids On The Block...", etc.) Whatever it was, it didn't work on me. I was a rural health nut who held on for dear life to my Product 19. Then came The Cereal Revolution, known to us on the outside as the Sugar Flood. We had Froot Loops, a mutant cereal which was probably originally manufactured by Korea, judging by the spelling. (Nowadays it is congealed in large vats just outside of Tokyo. Go figure.) We had Lucky Charms, which was made entirely out of axle grease discarded by the Army, which they make new recruits cut out with miniature cookie cutters and paint with a sugar/paint substance developed by Union Carbide. We had Captain Crunch and all his sequels. We even had some hybrids, like Kix and Frosted Mini-Wheats. Even Grape-Nuts and Total couldn't combat this invasion. What really got me was the toy craze. Whenever a kiddie's toy reached the Critical Sales Mass (currently set at 6 million toy figures and/or "optional accessories") they came out with a cereal for it. Rarely did any of them last. I remember seeing a Care Bears cereal. One for Cabbage Patch Dolls. (Remember them? You do? Why?) One for G.I. Joe, the Gobots, Rainbow Brite, Batman, Captain America, Barbie (What about Ken? Isn't that female chauvinism?) ...and, of course, finally, for Robin Hood. Now that I think about it, they must've paid the FDA a lot to get past the Critical Sales Mass. I didn't even hear about the figures until weeks after the cereal came out. I'm surprised they've stopped there, though. There are so many other popular topics out there in society which Kellogg's could make cereal from. I can see it now: "Aryan Crunchies! White (only) corn flakes with little blue-eyed (only) marshmallows! Part of your healthy skinhead's breakfast! Heil Hitler!" Or: "Hi-Loopz! Contains no sugar, no preservatives, no sodium ... in fact, nothing at all but a tasty blend of heroin, LSD, and cocaine! Have some Hi-Loopz today and just watch your problems disappear!" What about topics like suicide, pollution, and abortion? "Gun'n'Rope! It's a killer! Delicious to the end!"? "Yummy Yuk! A piece of the Hudson River in your bowl! Be a mutant today!" "Fetus Flakes! Express YOUR choice to eat it!"? I don't know. I don't care. I want my Special K. ### �袴袴袴袴袴袴袴� � God Reviews! � 훤袴袴袴袴袴袴暠 I figured it would be rather arrogant, stuck-up, and priggish to call this particular column "A Day In The Life Of Paragon Dude", so I decided to think up a less annoying, more upbeat, and probably more truthful title: "God Reviews The Past Week Of Planet Earth." I was a bit busy this past week, as usual, dividing my time between a number of important things: searching for new Digest topics, sleeping, eating, looking for more topics, eating, watching TV, sleeping, eating, and frying small repulsive insects with boiling peanut butter. Amidst these important proceedings I stumbled onto a few noteworthy things which I felt should be shared with the rest of the world. Phosphorous, for instance. This is an interesting goo which I always thought made things glow, like squished fireflies, and which had just sort of hung around awhile until man found a use for it, kind of like Dan Quayle is doing with the government. Except that phosphorous probably writes better speeches. In any case, I was doing some casual research on phosphorous (determining what happens when you mix it with shampoo then turn off the bathroom lights while your sister is taking a shower, etc.) when I came across an interesting fact: phosphorous was actually discovered in 1669 by Elvis in a former life, a dude by the name of Hennig Brand, who was a good friend of Ed McMahon, who was up to his in unmailed sweepstakes entries because there was no postal system back then. Anyway, the book I found this in also said that he discovered it accidentally while doing experiments with urine, but that he didn't tell anyone. They don't give a reason *why* he didn't tell anyone, but I have a hunch. He had probably spent the previous five or six hours downing a few kegs of beer (keep in mind he was German) testing the new Hangover-Away he had developed, and just got so totally wasted that he forgot what it was and peed in it. Heaven only knows what he did when he saw it glowing. No wonder he kept things quiet. I can see it... headlines of Da Knashoniel Heinekin reading: "Scientists Creates Mysterious Glowing Liquid From Beer - Cures Cancer, Acne, Death"... Flipping through this very same book, I discovered that it turns out that Benjamin Franklin was the world's first electricity addict. In 1749, for instance, he put up a lightning rod on his house so that whenever there was a thunderstorm he could get a good dose. Philadelphian lightning, I hear, is purer and more effective than that from elsewhere. In any case, he must've invited a bunch of his friends over (for a game of Zap, the forerunner of Zonk) and soon (by 1760) was installing lightning rods all over the city. Besides that, I heard a rumor that Quayle finally got a job. Can anyone confirm this? ### 旼컴컴커 � Tens � 읕컴컴켸 Men don't want "tens" anymore. They want women to be "nines." There was a big article about it in Psychology This Week, where they interviewed all these guys who talked about how the Bo Derek standard was out. I didn't quite understand what they were saying, since I thought a "ten" was whatever you personally thought was bodacious, but I think the reasoning goes like this: "Tens" are too perfect. They look like mannequins in a department store. If you want a man's insides to go all gooey, show him a woman with a crooked nose, or fingers that are too long for the rest of her body, or something like that--and they'll go "Wow! She's ALMOST beautiful!" It's like a medium-rare steak. "This is GREAT! It's ALMOST cooked!" But I don't think the article went far enough. If a Nine is better than a Ten, why isn't an Eight better than a Nine? Think of the advantages for the nineties woman: "Ten": Obviously out. That's why nobody went to Bo Derek's last movie. "Nine": Sexier than a ten, because she has a little flaw, like thin eyebrows. "Eight": Sexier than a nine, because she's actually cross-eyed and pigeon-toed, making it obvious that she could never be a ten, and therefore making her an attainable Dream Woman. "Seven": Better than an eight, because she has a knife scar on her left cheek for that "Let's party" look. "Six": Better than a seven, because she's good-looking, but she has body tattoos all over her back, some of them in the shape of extinct reptiles. When she has her clothes on, nobody knows how hideous she is. When she has her clothes off, WHO CARES? "Five": One leg shorter than the other, bunions, and a hiney the size of Saudi Arabia. This woman could walk down Fifth Avenue buck naked in the daytime, and the Turkish cab drivers wouldn't even notice her. She can be yours forever. "Four": Now we're getting into the real Dream Women. A four has buck teeth, a bowl haircut, and a body like the Tasmanian Devil. Moss grows on her teeth. Dogs take four-block detours to avoid her. This woman will not only notice you, she'll be GRATEFUL to you. "Three": This woman has two extra fingers on her left hand, a mustache, and weighs 230 pounds. She knows how to belch the themes of popular show tunes. "Two": Men in the nineties will be drooling over this goddess, who was born with six arms and a tail. She can make your dinner, give you a massage, and clean the wax out of her ears all at the same time. And to think, in the eighties, she would have been considered freaky. "One": Finally, the woman all sensitive nineties men are dreaming about. Her name is Roseanne Barr. I WANT that woman. Written by... Joe Bob Briggs ### 旼컴컴컴컴컴커 쿟 h e E n d� 읕컴컴컴컴컴켸 Well, we hope that you enjoyed most, if not all the stories in the magazine. Knowing that you enjoyed the issue, gives us some relief. For you see, during the last few weeks, the blood has popped out of our foreheads while compiling this thing together. If we hadn't finished the issue by yesterday, we'd all be mindless lunatics stuck in an asylum somewhere by now. If this thing gets off the ground, who knows what might just happen? Perhaps, our very own set of three letter initials to symbolize our existence as an ultraelite super underground magazine? We hope not. In any case, we'll see if we can get some distribution sites together. And, if luck has it, a title screen and a loader from one of the 19,000,003 ANSi groups out there! Wish us luck. (grin) 旼컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴커 쿌BOUT THE CREATORS� 읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴켸 PD: Paragon Dude, the highly acclaimed eccentric, is a carefully balanced blend of Dave Barry, Mike Royko, Erma Bombeck, Micheal J. Fox, and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Combining stunning wit with a culinary flair worthy even of most French people, he can turn virtually any meal into an event you're not likely to forget even under therapy. And he plays a wicked sousaphone. Most of all, he's just this normal (not) type'o'guy who occasionally gets semi-creative urges to write. Like Barry sez, it's 100% fact-free... oops, with the new FDA regulations, make that 99%. - Paragon Dude's Other Personality, Edud Nogarap LS: Due to numerous appearances on "America's Most Wanted" and several outstanding federal warrants for his arrest, Lord Shadowkeeper has refused comment. 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Staff of the Lobotomist's Digest - Paragon Dude - Head Writer/Pick-Up Artist Extrodinare Lord Shadowkeeper - Publisher/Lambada Master Richard Nixon - Inspiration/Ex-President Ariakus - Head Critic/Subway Hitman "Uncle" Ted Kennedy - Idol/U.S. Senator and Party Animal Skatemaster - Critic/Rider of the Sacred Board The Hill People - Distributors/Hit Squad Joe Bob Briggs - Guest Writer/Evil Cowboy Special Thanks to - Agent Shadow for all he has done Boards to Call When Bored: Smurf Village - 215-873-7287 - "Dead Smurf" Ultraelite Superpirate - 301-881-2344 - "k00l kOdz kRaD Pir8 KiD" The Kennedy Compound - 508-221-2734 - "Uncle Ted and Willy" Sally's Pleasure Hut - 305-221-1293 - "Boom-Boom Sally" Purple Palace - 615-972-5231 - "Prince" Trumptown - 212-556-7164 - "The Donald" * * - Probably Down for Good ###