From the master of D'Arkness hisself, Prof. P. Jillette, comes this inciteful and riotous rendering of last issue's Latin:

"Ante principium erat quidam testudo. Et iste testudo solus fuit. Et circumspicit, et vidit vicinam eius, quae mater sua erat; et se deposuit super vicinam eius, et ecce, paruit eo in lacrimis quercum, quae omne die creuit, et tunc decidit, et fecit pontem. Et ecce, sub isto ponte venit silurus, et ambulabat, et fuit maximus quod vidit, et tales autem fuerent colei ignei haec piscis, ex quibus vnus erat Sol; et alter, Lunam appellauerunt."

-- as sent to us from the pen of one of his stooges named "Straz":

"Before, the principal gave us five tests. And is this test solely fruit? And, coincidentally, is vicious video easy, no matter whose rat; and drops super-8 video, and eggs, around strange milk, which everyone really believed, and then decided, and gave 'em a bridge. And eggs, below this bridge came silver, and an ambulance, and big fruits with video, and the autumn stories running E.Coli ignoring Joe Piscopo, except for the Sun workstation's NuBus; on the other hand, the Moon clapped."



On the premier episode of "Pearl" last week, Rita Pearlman met a geek in line with her at her new school who said, "I'm looking for a beautiful woman with seriously impaired judgement." Pearl replied, "Try Yale."



Michael "Roger & Me" Moore has struck again! As reported by Associated Press, Moore sent campaign contributions to major runners to see if they only read the part that follows the $ign and guess what? They fooled everyone but Perot, who returned a $110 check from "Pedophiles for Free Trade" (with a thank you note), and Bob Dull returning two contributions from "Satan Worshipers for Dole."

Clinton, however, cashed his check from the "Hemp Growers of America," and Patrick J. accepted a promised C-note from "Abortionists for Buchanan" and 75 bucks from "The John Wayne Gacey Fan Club."



And speaking of Waynes, "News Of The Weird" recently printed something which even I find weird: the predominance of sociopaths with "Wayne" as a middle name. Author Chuck "Don't Call Me Wayne" Shepherd cites a triple-murderer named Conan Wayne Hale, escaped killers Michael Wayne Thompson and Danny Wayne Owens, serial slayers Elmer Wayne Henley, Allan Wayne McLaurin, Jimmy Wayne Jeffers, and of course that aforementioned clown John Wayne Gacey. He then calls out Ohio's Aryan Nations nutcase Robert Wayne Sawyer, found with freeze-dried bubonic plague, rapemeister Larry Wayne Harris, who was sentenced to 21,000 years (although with good behavior he'll be out at the age of 18,000) , and a guy who just made the cut, spouse-socker John Wayne Bobbitt. It was also revealed in Newsweek that all-american John "Duke" (Don't call me Morrison) Wayne was a draft dodger! My head is spinning.



Got my "Fisherman's Friend" catalogue yesterday baiting me with some of the following goodies: Rigged Eels, Scrounger Lures, Revolutionary Diving Tubes, Block Tin Squids and Pure Tin Spoons, Rock & Wreck Anchors, Famous Bonefish Jigs, New Forked-tail Sea Strips, Pole Wizards --and for the boat-owner who hasn't everything: Vertical Cradle Lifts, Reinforced Cockpit Seats, Closed Crankcase Deisel Breathers, an Edson Radar Tower (on special), a great portable toilet called "The Throne," a Fighting Chair, and a swell deal on a 21-foot "Outrage." I'm hooked.



In an article on an archivist named James "Wayne" Comisar who owns over 5,000 items from over 40 years of defunct-series -- which include the Batphone, Mork's luggage egg, Lynda"Wayne" Carter's Wonder Woman suit and Johnny "Wayne" Carson's Carnak turban and desk -- comes the fact that a nurse keeps offering him bedpans of the rich and famous and a Slots Vegas dentist wants to sell him the plaque he scraped off of Elvis Presley's choppers. He's turned them down (!) along with the opportunity to own the entire Tonight Show set. And he calls himself a collector! I've got more crap than that in my garage.



We recently lost Juliet Prowse, Paul Draper, Spiro "GROW A PENIS" Agnew, McGeoge Wayne Bundy, and Joanne Dru to the Grimm reaper. I'm sorry, but I don't know why the late Ms Dru chose to change her name from Joanne LaCock. Maybe her brother, talk show host Peter LaCock (aka Peter Wayne Marshall), could shed some light on the mystery. . .



Beverly Hills. What a city! Now, if your dog takes you for a walk in La Cienega or Roxbury Park, you can pick up a free paper bag with cardboard handles to trap the crap. The "Eco Scoop" won out over the "Doggie Walk Bag" and the "Mutt Mitt" because Bob Chavez, the BH parks manager (and his dog Chewy) reasoned "Would you rather have this pile in your hand or use a device where you have no contact with the excrement?" No shit. But hurry, soon it'll be dispensed from vending machines. Doggone it.



(Assoc Press) The University of San Francisco Jesuit School has finally changed the prefix of it's phone number from 666 -- the number of the Beast -- to 442 -- the number of the Priest. Biblical sholars say the number refers to the emporer Nero, who's name can be numerically manipulated to add up to 666, and is described in the Book of Revelation, chapter 13 (ooooh!) as follows:

"Then I saw another beast that rose out of the earth: it had two horns like a lamb and spoke like a dragon..." (And soon to be a Saturday morning cartoon on Fox.) "It's number is six-hundred sixty-six."

At one point, the article aserts, the line to the admissions office of USF was 666-6666, but after getting applications soul-ly from Satanists, Antichrists and False Prophets calling the wrong number, no doubt, they had it exorcised.


"He's no fun, he fell right over. . ."

Does Bob Doles' tripping over the abortion plank in the Republican Platform at Chino indicate that he's really good Presidential "Timbeeeerrrrrr"! Luckily he landed on ex-President Jerry Ford who was bending over to pick up his gum. Political spin-meister Ross Baker said, "He should have lept up from the ground and spelled 'potato' correctly." Dole commented, "My hair stayed all right. I had enough hair spray on." But he ended up with blood in his eye.

Maybe that's why his campaign is turning mean. . .



In ONLY IN L.A., to which I am a peripatetic contributor, creator and Firehead Steve Harvey recently referred to Philo T. Farnsworth (1907-1961) who was mentioned briefly at the Emmy Awards as "the Father of TV" Altough his middle name wasn't Wayne, his neighbors still thought he was wierd, "sitting out in the backyard, winding copper wire around a cardboard tube," so one day in 1926, the police raided his rented apartment on New Hampshire Avenue, certain that he was operating a whiskey still.

"This is my idea for electronic television," Philo protested.

"Tel-a-what?" riposted the cop.

And that's why there are no whiskey ads on television today.


Respectfully submitted by Philip Wayne Proctor.

(and happy Yam Kipper)


Published 9/23/96


1996/2002 by Phil Proctor