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                    __ _ / _|_ __ ___
           _____   / _` | |_| '_ ` _ \   _____
          |_____| | (_| |  _| | | | | | |_____|
                   \__,_|_| |_| |_| |_|
                   Another Foggy Moment

 These are the continuing adventures of a typical resident
 of the self-proclaimed center of the Pugetopolis universe -
 Seattle. Most are true stories but some are made of whole-
 cloth. I ain't the Mayor, the Governor or a Big Shot. Just
 another Working Stiff with a Bad Attitude.

    ------------------------------------------------
    WARNING: This is not a Child-Proof Neighborhood.
    If you're a kid - scram!, beat it! you little
    punk before your Old Lady catches you and calls
    the cops. They'll throw you in the Big House in
    Walla Walla and won't let you out until you're
    89 years old. There. Don't say I didn't warn you.
    -------------------------------------------------

                        - 149 -
 DAY: 96

 Mr. Trummel's humble webpages remain up:
	contracabal.net [Washington State version]
        contracabal.org [International version]
 That can only mean that the Queen of KingCo Inferior Court,
 Judge Jimmy "The Token Twinkie" Doerty, hasn't yet succeeded
 in killing Paul off. Obviously I don't like Jimmy. I don't
 respect him as a man or as a judge. In neither case is it
 because he's Queer. I know plenty of Queer lawyers who could
 kick his ass legally and otherwise. They're better men than
 he is and better jurists. Jimmy don't belong on the Inferior
 Court bench. He's too little for the job. Tthe only reason 
 he's there is because he's a political ass-kisser. The opinion 
 is mine, but the smell is all his. Just follow your nose.

 Mr. Trummel, a retired U Dub Journalism prof and lifelong
 professional journalist with international experience, is
 presently residing in the King County Jail. Friday will 
 be his 100th day. He's been ordered to censor the above 
 noted 'org' webpage that details his 'adventures' at a 
 local elderly care home run through the National Council 
 of Jewish Women (with generous Federal assistance). The 
 webpage resides on a system in the Netherlands well beyond 
 the local Gestapo's reach. It's a moot point anyways. Denied 
 phone privileges and without web access, sitting in solitary 
 confinement, it is physically impossible for Mr. Trummel 
 to comply with Jimmy's order. Judge Jimmy imagines this 
 to be clever. Sounds like Jimmy's overdue for his mental
 health checkup eh. The offence is trivial; the punishment 
 totally out of proportion to it. This is like a Cop killing 
 someone for jay-walking
 
 Mr. Trummel, in his 70s and now homeless as well as deeply 
 in debt after having all the legal charges for this Dog and 
 Pony show dumped on him, obviously has little to lose any 
 longer. He ain't budging. Having serious heart and prostrate 
 problems before all this occured, he has now picked up TB 
 from his stay in KCJ. The place is a public health hazard - 
 KingCo Exec "Cadillac" Sim's filthy little secret. It was 
 shortly after the TB diagnosis that Judge Jimmy put Paul 
 in solitary - the most physically and emotionally severe 
 form of imprisonment allowed under the law. It's normally 
 used to control only the most violent prisoners, not retired 
 journalism profs. Draw your own conclusions about Judge 
 Jimmy's intentions.

 Our local News Nazis have blacked-out Mr. Trummel's story.
 Aside from the Seattle Weekly, none of them has mentioned
 it. It would just embarass a lot of rich people connected
 with the home's management. Worse, they're rich Jews. Talk
 about a Hot Button eh. But the world is watching KingCo's
 dirty little secret with growing amazement and disgust.
 Try Googling Paul's name some time.

 Joe Harkins of the National Writers Union and United Auto
 Workers is picking up the slack that our News Nazis have
 left. He has established an informational webpage dedicated 
 to freeing Paul. It's at:

            http://freepaultrummel.com

 Judge Jimmy's email address is:

            james.doerty@metrokc.gov

 Whatever else happens, Mr. Trummel's original, uncensored
 webpage now belongs to the Net. It has become permanent
 and indestructable. And there's not a fu*king thing in the
 world Judge Jimmy can do about it. Hee Hee.

                          *

 You could smell it coming in the door. And that was despite
 the fact that it was way in the hell at the other end of
 the greenhouse complex in a seperate 'shared ward' with a
 few close friends. I saw the little makeshift sign outside
 the greenhouse at U Dub and just had to take a peek.

 I'm speaking of the legendary Corpse Flower. You ain't never
 seen a flower like this ever in your life. I guarantee it.
 It looks like a special effects prop in a Star Wars movie.
 Standing about 3-feet high and spreading out about 6-feet
 wide, it has the shape of a large green vase or a big
 inverted bell. It was about the size of one of those big
 old-fashioned church bells or maybe the Liberty Bell -
 except a livid almost glowing green in color. And sticking 
 up in the middle was what appeared to be a big green, folded 
 up canvas patio umbrella. Needless to say, that was it's 
 Wanker. Dang! It looked weird as hell. Almost scary. But 
 absolutely beautiful and intriguing at the same time.

 The smell, while unpleasant and readibly noticeable, wasn't
 overwhelming. It wasn't strong enough to make you gag or puke 
 or anything like that. But it's very pervasive. I smelled it 
 on my sweater when I got home. Oddly, all the way home I was
 constantly pummeled with flying beetles. Nick, the guy who 
 was babysitting for it and answering peoples questions said 
 it was idling in moderate stinko gear and was expected to 
 shift into major putrid max overnight. 

 It's still growing. Three weeks ago, the babysitter said,
 it was just a stubby little thing much as it has been for
 the past 7-years. SEVEN YEARS! Then all of a sudden it took 
 to a mind to start growing. Like 3-INCHES OR MORE A DAY! 
 It's sexual orientation was a mystery until the outer 
 prophylactic 'husk' finally fell away and that humongous
 erection emerged in all its perverted, innocent steek'n 
 glory. It grows from what appears to be a rather dirty 
 jumbo bagel about a foot wide. They got a few others.
 
 It's designed to temporarily catch beetles. They fall into
 the vase. The bottom has a bunch of little girlie flowers
 that the beetles prance around on. Then the only way back
 out is up the Wanker. And of course, they deposit whatever
 sexual fluids they picked up from the girlies. One stop
 shopping eh. To enhance its attraction to the beetles, aside
 from the stink, the Wanker heats up about 12-degrees above
 ambient temperature. Since many bugs see in the infrared
 range (that's how they locate you at night), they find this
 big, glowing Wanker a most intriguing sight and stop over 
 to take a look. I don't blame them a bit.

 Send you old Ma one of these babies on Mothers Day and I
 guarantee she won't ever ask you for flowers again. Ever.

                          * 

 Speaking of funny smells...our Krispie Kreamers at the Coppe
 Shoppe have got a petition going around trolling for more
 money in their paychecks. Cops in other cities have the motto: 
 "To serve and protect". The motto in Seattle is: "Beats working 
 for a living". From their international reputation for botching
 the WTO to their repeated screw-ups policing the local Mardi
 Gras to their moronic Polish Firing Squad routines to their 
 inability to catch any crooks who don't turn themselves in, 
 they deserve a pay CUT not a pay raise. Which is, of course,
 why they're trying to ride in on the firemen's coattails.

 What's interesting is who they have circulating their petition - 
 the neighborhood Space Cadets. A little too ball-less to get 
 out there and face the public themselves and a little too cheap 
 to pay real money for their soliciting, they're instead milking
 the retarded and mentally disabled. Do you have to be a scumbag
 to be a Seattle Cop? Seems so.

                          *  

 This past Friday was the birthday of our dearly departed former
 U.S. Senator Henry "Scoop" Jackson. Conservative enough to be 
 offered the SecDef job in Nixon's White House, 'liberal' enough 
 to challenge Jimmy Carter for the Democratic presidential
 nomination, and enough of a Luser to fail getting either, Scoop 
 was an early prototype of our present bisexual politician. And 
 he is the namesake of the "Scoop Jackson Memorial Ashole" in 
 Ritzville where most of that town's ash from the Mt. St. Helen's 
 eruption was buried with Federal disaster assistance monies.
 
 Ref: Daily Bleed (http://www.eskimo.com/~recall/bleed/calmast.htm)

.............................................................

              BLAZING NEW TECHO FRONTIERS
   
 "When we received the anonymous tip-off, we were naturally
 suspicious," a spokesman for the city police told reporters 
 in Munich, "because the caller said he'd seen his neighbour 
 entering his apartment carrying what appeared to be a dead 
 body, and that it wasn't the first time he'd seen him acting
 suspiciously. The police chief decided to storm the building, 
 so three police cars were sent to the scene, armed officers 
 battered the suspect's door down, and burst in, catching the 
 suspect unawares.

 "At first, the suspect seemed surprised and disturbed, and 
 was reluctant to let the officers search his apartment. But 
 when they explained that they were investigating a possible 
 murder, he invited them into his bedroom and showed them his
 newly-acquired silicon sex doll. `So much better than the 
 inflatable ones,' he told them, `because she doesn't collapse 
 when you're using her, and she has a voice box that shouts 
 "ooh ah...that hurts... you are too big honey...".' He then 
 began showing the officers his entire collection of sex dolls, 
 numbering more than a dozen, and confided that he had just 
 been testing out his newest acquisition, moments before the
 officers had burst the door down. 

 At that point, they decided that they didn't want to disturb 
 him any longer, so they left the apartment and closed the file." 

                        Munich
                        27/3/02 
..................................................................

                 IT AIN'T ABOUT SEATBELTS

 The RCMP up in British Columbia and through-out Canada have 
 been running the seat-belt scam for a couple decades now. 
 I've been through a few of them. 

 It ain't about seat-belts. 

 They generally set their roadblocks up on freeway ramps so 
 anyone who may be having second-thoughts can't easily or 
 unobtrusively evade them. Do a "U-ee" on an interstate ramp 
 you not only draw attention to yourself, you provide them 
 with an instanteous violation - going the wrong way on a 
 one-way street. Assuming you don't run into anyone in the 
 attempt or end up rolling off a steep shoulder. Just too 
 impatient to endure the wait? They ain't gonna buy that.

 Everyone in the line-up can see what's up and, if they weren't 
 buckled up, can do so easily before being approached by a Cop. 
 The only people who ever get nabbed for the seat-belt violation 
 are the rare birds who have no seat belts in their vehicles or 
 the reality-challenged who fail to understand the obvious 
 clues. 

 It ain't about seatbelts.

 While they've got all those people lined up waiting to get 
 checked, the Cops start pumping licence-numbers into their
 computer data-bases. If your car's appearance doesn't match
 that in the registry, if there are any outstanding warrants
 for you, if you aren't the registered owner - they know even
 before you get to the front of the line and they'll be ready
 for you. Even if that's all okay, if they smell something
 'suspicious' when you roll down the window, or they spot 
 some anarchistic literature lying on the seat next to you, 
 or maybe a copy of the Koran, or whatever, that's grounds for 
 taking a closer look at you and your vehicle. Point a gun at 
 them and you can kiss your ass goodbye. Depending on your 
 circumstances, your life may be about to become much more 
 complicated in any event.

 The difference today from even a year ago is that ALL the
 law-enforcement and intelligence databases are interlinked
 now. If there is ANYTHING, ANYWHERE in the system about you, 
 they got it. In days of yore they were mainly limited to
 your criminal particulars and even then, only the basics.
 If you're under FBI/BATF surveillance (you would not know
 if you were), if they're tapping your phone (nor that), if 
 any of our many military and civilian intelligence agencies
 have any interest in you (nor that), regardless of how 
 baseless or irrelevant the entries, they will know them. 
 They will have access to ALL the particulars about you that 
 The System contains: political persuation, ex-wives, who your 
 kids are, etc. ANY contact you may have ever had with Uncle 
 Sammy, is preserved within The System: from your income tax 
 stuff to that money-order you bought at the post office. He's 
 got incredibly sticky fingers and he never throws anything 
 away. Anything you've heard to the contrary is pure bullshit.

 Thanks to the Patriot Act and Anti-Terrorism Bill, they 
 can now immediately take you into custody without charge 
 and without notifying anyone. They can legally make you 
 disappear. No one will know where you are. You will not 
 be allowed a phone call. You will not be informed of the 
 nature of their suspicions. You will not be allowed legal
 counsel nor will you be allowed bail. There will be no
 article in the newspapers or story on TV. Anyone who makes
 inquires as to your whereabouts, will be told nothing and 
 may well find themselves in the cell next to you if they
 dare kick up a stink about it. If this happens by accident 
 or mistake - tough luck. It may be many months before you 
 see a judge to straighten it out. Meantime, kiss your job,
 apartment/house and car goodbye. 

 This is not theoretical nor is it the paranoid ranting of
 a conspiracy nut. Over 2,000 Americans are known to be 
 presently incarcerated under such circumstances. The Cops
 simply took them away and made them 'disappear'. Their
 identities are a secret. We aren't allowed to know who 
 they are or why they are incarcerated. This is as real 
 as a heart-attack.

 I always wear my seat-belt. It's just a mindless habit now.
 I don't even think about it. But for those that find them
 uncomfortable or doubt their effectiveness/safety, there is
 nothing to prevent them from buckling-up in the line-up and
 then unbuckling once free of the roadblock. The Cops like the
 roadblock approach because its safer for them. They usually 
 only get shot when they're working alone. At a roadblock, 
 they got lots of immediate help. Anybody who even thinks 
 about any gun-play is looking right at a whole lot of other 
 guys who also have guns. It's hoped this will discourage 
 the notion. But then a Druggie with a trunkful of cocaine
 and nothing to lose won't be particularily rational.

 This isn't about seatbelts, it's about fishing expeditions.
  
...................................................................

         TEN REASONS WHY I WILL NEVER BE PRESIDENT

 10. I ate my boogers when I was a kid. There are still a few
     living witnesses who can attest to this embarassing fact.
     Until they croak I won't be able to convincingly lie about
     it. They tasted real salty and had the consistency of tiny
     oysters. I was reluctant to quit but once I did it was
     Cold Turkey and no backsliding.

  9. I used to get my rocks off as a kid by stoning frogs to
     death and beating the hell out of big ant hills. I also
     used to flush gophers and chipmunks out of their holes
     to take a whack at them too. I still have vivid memories 
     of the way the frogs stomachs came out their mouth. Yuck. 
     And that peculiar acidic smell from thousands of bludgeoned 
     ants as the desperate survivors scurried around trying to 
     get the egg sacks out of Godzilla's reach. That song about
     'great green gobs of greasy, grimey gopher guts' - vividly
     true. I'm still puzzled as to what I got outta that. Much
     of my childhood remains a mercifully vague embarassment.

  8. I once used to get a bizarre kick out of running around 
     butt-nekkid in the woods during my puberty years. Must
     have been the hormones. Just Nature Boy frolicing in the 
     woods. That particular perversion only lasted part of one 
     summer though it was quite thrilling as I recall. Sheesh!

  7. During the earliest dawning of my sexual lusts, lacking
     any girl neighbors to play 'doctor' with and having no 
     independant means of financial support with which to buy 
     any porn, I used to draw pictures of headless women with 
     big Bazoos and little hairless vaginas in the dirt. The
     Boobies were self-explanatory but I was still a bit vague
     on the rest of the equipment. Ah, the Good Old Days when
     I could get a Woody off a peculiar cloud formation. Wish 
     that was all it took nowadays. 

  6. I shot one of my brothers in the ass with a BB-gun once.
     The little bastard went crying to Ma and she confiscated
     my BB gun. I was shocked at how upset she was. I thought
     it was funny as hell. My Old Man, recognizing talent when
     he saw it, signed me up for NRA rifle practice after that.
     Been a life member of the NRA ever since and still rank
     as a sharpshooter though I haven't shot anyone in the ass
     in years.

  5. I once shot one of my girl cousins in the breast with an
     arrow. It didn't stick in her - just bounced off. It had
     one of those kinda blunt practice tips. She had good size 
     Boobies even as a kid. I was on one side of a deep sand 
     pit and she was about 100-feet away with others in our 
     party on the other side of it. She dared me to try. Nyah
     nyah nyah! So I did. Surprised the hell out of both of us 
     when I got a bullseye. Scared me too. Damn! I could have 
     been a famous mass-murderer if I wasn't such a wimp. I 
     tried to get her to show me the bruise but she refused. 
     Not even a little peek.

  4. The first time I ever made love, I nailed 2 Babes at once.
     They were friends, we all got friendly, and I popped my 
     cherry. Natural as could be. Having been brought up in a
     culture that stressed monogomy, I would have never have 
     even thought of the possibility beforehand. I assumed it 
     was always just one to a customer. It's never happened again 
     since. Sigh. Couldn't afford to rent a double-header 
     these days what with inflation and all. I never got into 
     the group-grope/wife-swapping 70's thing. Too many ugly 
     friends.

  3. In my teenage years I once conspired with my buddies at 
     work to break into an old-fashioned jukebox and steal the 
     quarters in it. It was easy and we all split the proceeds 
     Even Steven afterwards. It was mostly our own quarters 
     afterall. Our primary incentives were (1) to see if we 
     could get away with it and, (2) to play some more Roy 
     Orbison songs. Roy dang near lured me into a life of 
     crime. Never did get caught. We were good little thieves.

  2. I've inhaled, exhaled, dropped, sniffed, snuffed, and
     ingested pretty much every mind-altering drug known to 
     nature. And then I discovered that with only a small
     effort I could easily hallucinate without drugs. It's 
     been one hippy dippy trip ever since.

  1. I was once an international Desperado. A Grand Jury 
     indicted me on a number of charges and I was good for
     6-30 years in the Big House depending on how bitchy
     the judge was feeling that day. I got wind of the Heat
     and skipped out ahead of the indictment and trial. Had
     a whole slew of FBI agents out looking for me. Never
     caught me and I never did a day in jail. While on the
     run, I had no difficulty getting a 2-year mid-level 
     NATO security clearance. Bet that makes you feel real 
     secure eh. 

 So there you have it. The truth is out. I'm unelectable. No
 use trying to write me in - they'd just nullify the election.
 I only wish it were that easy to get disqualified from having
 to pay taxes.

..................................................................

 "Naturally, the common people don't want war: Neither in Russia
  nor in England, nor for that matter, in Germany. That is 
  understood. But afterall, it is the leaders of the country
  who determine policy and it is always a simple matter to drag
  the people along, whether it is a democracy or a fascist
  dictatorship or a parliment or a communist dictatorship. Voice
  or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding
  of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them
  they are being attacked and denounce the peacemakers for lack
  of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works
  the same in any country."

                     - Hermann Goering -
                  President of the Reichstag
             Commander-in-Chief of Hitler's Gestapo

.....................................................................

                      'OL YELLER'S TWAT
               (aka The War Against Terrorism)

 I get the odd feeling that Yellowbelly and his buddies along
 with our News Nazis really want to see a nuclear exchange
 between India and Pakistan. They almost seem to be egging them
 on and daring them to do it. Once again, Secretary of State 
 Powell was told to go sit in the corner while somebody else
 did his job. SecDef Rumsfeld, our Head War Monger, was sent 
 over, to make peace. Yeah. Right. It's more likely that "Rummy" 
 really went over to make sure everybody understood the signals 
 when he tells them to bug out ahead of the nuking. It's possible 
 we many use the occasion to nail a few favorites of our own - 
 like Saddam. Wouldn't put it past them. The post-mortem will 
 be very confusing and our News Nazis will be too busy happily
 wallowing in radioactive corpses to notice. Perfect cover.

 Strange how Normandy Beach seems to attract America's draft-
 dodger Presidents more than those who were legitimate vets. 
 From Ronny Ray-Gun to Bubba Jay, when their number came up in 
 the draft they considered themselves too valuable a national 
 asset to waste in fighting a war. They cleverly took a raincheck 
 and let one of the Little People fight and die for them.

 And now the biggest phony of them all - a man who was so stupid
 his daddy had to buy his way out of the draft and into a safe 
 homeguard gig with the Texas Air National Guard rather than a 
 dangerous tour of Vietnam - couldn't resist a stop-over. Our 
 phony President - the one who couldn't win an election. The 
 one who has done more to strip Americans of the freedoms and 
 liberties Normandy's heroes died for than any other President 
 we've ever had. A cowardly bastard like Yeller should never 
 have been allowed inside that cemetary. He had no right to be 
 there. That's sacred ground.

 While the Euro tour was little more than a vacation and didn't
 much impress the locals, it had one rather poignant moment. Our
 Presidental coon-ass hillbilly, while visiting France, was at
 a reception attended by the Brazilian ambassador. Just out of 
 the blue, Yeller turned to him and asked him "Do you have blacks 
 too?" The ambassador, uncertain whether to be insulted by the
 implied bigotry of the question or amused at its sheer stupidity,
 was too shocked to answer. With the oldest and largest black 
 population in the Americas, Brazil does indeed 'have blacks'. 
 Remember Pele?
 
 .................................................................

         B.A.
 (Billiard Academy)

 green tables spaced, alight
 under yellowlow lights,
 shirtsleeved young fellows pose
 themselves in special attitudes
 about them, stickinhand
 or cigarette deftly 
 held, then slide cues
 sharply through taut fingers, the balls
 shine round and clear, quick blobs
 of color on fautless fields,
 where rapid vengeance rolls
 and clicks, returns
 or poorly judged, deflects
 to pass and spend itself in motion
 rebounding gingerly from cushions . . .
 this play of pallid youths
 reflects, in poolroom atmosphere,
 psychology of waste
 grimly they twist
 time into tangled skeins.
 and pool-school students, lucubrate
 the minutiae of nullities.

 - Herman Spector -
      (1928)                     

 from: "Bastard in the Ragged Suit" (ISBN 0-912184-03-5)
 ..................................................................

                    -  MONDO VATICANO -

 The two stooges were at it again this week: Future-Super-Saint 
 JP-2 and President Yellowbelly. The Space Cadet and the Doofus. 
 Or, as Yeller referred to JP-2: His High Holiness. Opps. Somebody 
 must have cranked the old Pollock's meds to the max for this gig. 

 Wouldn't you just love to be a fly on the wall when these two 
 idiots have a chat? I sure would. It must be absolutely hilarious. 
 At their last get-together they explored the finer points of Stem
 Cell research. Lacking any training or expertise in either Cell
 or Molecular Biology beyond those grasshoppers and bullfrogs they
 dissected in high-school, they seemed somewhat surprised to find
 that stem cells had nothing to do with roses. Never in the history
 of science have two such utterly clueless goofballs ever discussed
 this topic.

 The topic this time was America's 'pedagogue priests'. Or is 
 that 'pedophile priests'? Whatever. Same difference. It seems
 Yeller is 'concerned' about the Catholic church. Almost makes
 it sounds like he cares doesn't it? Not likely. The only thing 
 he's 'concerned' about is whether it will have any money left 
 to donate to his re-election campaign. Did he attempt to shake
 down the Pope for protection money to keep his priests and
 bishops out of Federal prisons? Or did he try to strike a  
 simple votes-for-aquittals deal. Everybody knows Catholics
 always do whatever the Pope tells them to do and Federal judges
 always do what the Prez tells them to do. Aside from "Fat Tony"
 Scalia on the Supreme Court, few face conflicts of interest.

			+	+

 PERVERT PRIEST PLAYCARD:
 * Bernie The Pimp (Boston): It was disclosed this week that 
      he helped out a third priest whom he knew to be a pedophile.
      That, despite having already assured us that Geoghan and
      Shanley were the only two. Another lie revealed.
 * Roger The Dodger (LA): Caught up in his lies about not aiding
      any pervert priests in his diocese and facing Grand Jury
      action, has finally sought professional help - he's hired 
      a PR firm to do his stonewalling and lying for him.
 * Bishop Weakland (Milwaukee): apologized and accepted full
      responsibility for his past sexual piccadillo with a 
      young man. But, at 75 and with no job, he won't be able
      to repay the $450 KiloBucks hush money he nicked from the 
      diocese.
 * Bishop Elden Curtiss (Nebraska): No word yet if he's been
      indicted on witness-tampering charges after threatening a
      woman employee of one of his Catholic schools who called
      the Cops on a pervert priest Elden was protecting.
 * Bishop Tom O'Brien (Arizona): Lying and stonewalling for Fr. 
      Colleary, a still active priest in his diocese who has 
      admitted not only to fathering a Love Child but to also 
      molesting an 11-year old boy, has now taken to threatening
      the local media for exploring this fascinating topic.
 * Fr. Tom Kuhn of St. Henry's in Cincinnati was put on Admin
      Leave this week the same day the Montgomery County sheriffs
      confiscated all his parish's computers. Something about him
      trolling for very young Skank on the Internet.
 * Monsignor Tom Evatt (Georgia): Confessed to sexually assaulting
      a young boy 25-years ago. A warrant charging him with a lewd
      act on a minor will likely be issued soon. 
 * The seminary in Maynooth, Ireland has been beseiged with new
      applicants ever since Fr. Joe Briody spilled the beans
      about their wild, drunken parties and homosexual orgies.
      Rumor has it that both Elton John and Ozzie Osborne have 
      expressed interest and are willing to convert.

 On the up-side: Cardinal Adam Maida in Detroit, in a radical
 departure from tradition, solicited the advice and views of his
 priests in a closed session this week. In what will become a 
 regular monthly meeting, he's encouraging his priests to speak
 up about their concerns and fill him in on what's happening at
 the parish level. And by most accounts, his priests gave him a
 frank and honest earful. He survived.

 Bishop Dan Walsh in Santa Rosa, CA announced that he's having
 all his priests and diocesean workers fingerprinted and checked
 out by the Cops in an effort to root out people with histories
 of abusing children. Hospitals, amongst many others, have long
 been legally required to do so. There is nothing unusual about
 it. But most amazing of all - he encouraged Catholics in his 
 diocese who encounter any such abuse to immediately report it 
 to the POLICE. Atta Boy Dan!
 
			+	+

 During his recent visit to Bulgaria, the Old Pollock gave
 them The Finger. No - not "The Bird", but rather one of 
 deceased Pope John XXIII's fingers. They ain't saying which 
 one. One of the Curia Queens, quoted as saying, "He's dead.
 He don't need it no more.", got out the Sacred Meat Cleaver
 and whacked off a digit for Papa just before they loaded his 
 bloated, sickly carcass on Vatican One.

 Those sleezy bastards at Trybuna, a newspaper in his native
 Poland, got what was coming to them for calling His Holiness
 a "coarse vicar" and referring to his speech as "slovenly
 and mumbling". A court ordered them to pay a fine to the 
 Catholic Church and print a front-page apology. The editor
 of the newspaper said "Screw that crap! We're appealing!"

 Meanwhile, the Networks are cranking up the Big Event - the
 day JP-2 Kicks The Bucket. The Death Watch is going into
 rehersals with many warm-and-mooshy retrospectives planned
 on the Old Pollock's disasterous Papacy. They can hardly
 wait.

			+	+
 
 It was a tough week for the Pro-Lifers. A bunch of them who
 were participating in a demonstration on the Golden Gate
 Bridge in Frisco were forced by the Bridge Nazis to remove 
 their t-shirts which bore the inflamatory word: "Pro-Life".
 Do you have to be a retard to be a Cop in America? Inquiring
 minds want to know.

 Terry Hughes, an anti-abortion protestor and devout Catholic, 
 went to Mass at St. John's in Bangor, Maine. He brought along
 a large, graphic sign displaying aborted fetus' and a message
 encouraging his fellow parishoners to oppose abortions. They
 instead had him arrested for criminal tresspass and ordered
 him to stay away. Whatever happened to the Handshake of Peace?

 BTW - I am firmly Pro Choice. I'm just opposed to official
 stupidity and hypocritics who try to pass for Catholics -
 like the schmucks at St. John's. We take care of our own,
 we don't bludgeon them.

----------------------------------------------------
 The above is copyright material. You want to use it,
 ask. You want to make money off it, gimme some first.
 I'll let you know if it's enough. You want to steal it,
 I'll sic my lawyer Yoshi 'The Proctologist' Rasmussen
 on you baby. He'll teriyaki your sorry butt and turn
 it into Lutefisk.
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 MAIL:    tofoggymoment@yahoo.com
 ARCHIVE: https://www.angelfire.com/nb/afm
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