Pigs Which May or May Not be On Welfare

From: I-Com
Subject: k-bay: hush money vs tell money
Date: Sat, 01 Apr 2006 16:55:03 -0500

Ok. So the best friends forever weekend brunch went off without a hitch. there was no time to call you guys on the telephone during lunch so you could listen to flav's subtle friend brewing banter. at first i was a little bummed.

however, after lunch, sarah, my new best friend, flav and i walked what we here refer to as "the tital basin". it was a beautiful day, the fields lay fallow as did the many hung-over college students (lay fallow) all nestled in their sparse georgetown apartments. we walked, we looked at the cherry blossoms in full bloom, we delighted in each other's witty reparte and at several points we were almost hit by cars.

... and then flav said it. something so horrific, (yet so funny) that afterwards, she begged me not to tell anyone, especially the other strands of brand x.... yes, begged me. tried to make me shake on it that i wouldn't tell you. but as my new best friend, sarah witnessed, i did not shake.

so i'm free to tell. and i'm not a very moral and ethical person, so i have no problem telling what flav said (plus its a good story). but instead, i thought i would first open the floor to you. i thought i would establish a bribing version of ebay to settle the story. call it k-bay. my thought is that i'm unsure whether chewy and the enforcer's desire for me to tell a good flava story is larger or smaller than what Quixote will offer me not to tell.

so let the bidding begin... only non-monetary offerings will be accepted. the sale will be consummated when one of the bids meets my reservation price.

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From: I-Com
Subject: If a Bribe is Requested in the Woods and No One Hears It...
Date: Mon, 03 Apr 2006 16:10:42 -0400

If a bribe is requested in the woods and no one is there to hear it, did it really happen? Am I going crazy here? Is a story which makes Quixote sound like a borderline racist or dare I say it, a Republican, lost all value in this day and age? Are you so jaded by South Belles who get abducted by the man down the street that you don't recognize good material when you see it?

PS. And don't even think about accusing me of unilaterally trying to introduce a strand to Brand X, because its totally untrue. I was merely cc'ing a witness and lawyer who saw that I did not shake Flavas hand that I would not reveal her secret.

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From: Chewie

Andi -- Note the desperation in Icom's voice, the point at which "the auctioneer" who had all the market power now sees that power shifting like sand beneath his feet. Let's give it a few more days of the "silent treatment" and he'll practically be BEGGING us to listen to the story. Hell, maybe he'll even pay US!!!!

Flav -- Don't you worry your Quixotic / Republican little head about it -- Andi & I will get the story out of Icom, then immediately administer the "Kiss of Forgetfulness" to all 3 of us (we'll make sure to have Superman on hand). Superman will then fly over to Sarah's house (Icom probably already knows the way since they're now BEST friends forever -- T.L.F. / K.I.T.) and administer the "Kiss of Forgetfulness" to her. If you want to be on the safe side, we'll have him fly up and administer the "Kiss of Forgetfulness" to you too, so that the story is safely forgotten to all of mankind. Either that, or Andi & I may laugh our asses off and decide to publish the story in someone's blog. Or perhaps we'll act out the story near a snowbank in Boston Common. But we'll probably do the Superman thing...no sweat. You can probably trust us.

ICom -- I forgot to tell you before, but don't read the first 2 paragraphs. Especially the first one, as it contains "Super Secret Negotiation Tactics" that Andi & I are planning to use. If you already read it, let me know and I'll send Superman over. (He's already at my house trying to help me forget that you CLEARLY tried to introduce a 5th strand to Brand X. Unfortunately, even the deepest French "Kiss of Forgetfulness" from the Man of Steel can't help me forget the ass-whooooopin' I took when I was (falsely! I proclaim my innocence even to this day!!!) accused of such a treacherous act.

Scratch Scratch Thump Thump,
Chewie

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From: The Enforcer

My nickname is the Enforcer, isn’t that enough to obligate you to tell me and anyone else I choose!

I just figured I’d make you my target at the next soccer game you play with the Pelitos unless you tell me (that’s right, I will target a teammate if necessary) – Chewy will help by playing defense, which means you will be running from me while also trying to cover 2 defensive positions.

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From: Chewie

I'd suggest you tell her, Icom.
cc me for certification -- your life may very well depend on it.

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From: I-Com

Kiss of Forgetfulness??? Ordering a Code Red against your Fellow Sweeper while Chewy flails chaotically on the backline? Are we forgetting who's wearing the Scarlet Lettered Clock around her neck and who is the Merry Jokester that Could Provide the Strands with Years of Frivolity in the form of a Joke that will never get old?

And if a peaceful blackmailing solution cannot be reached so that the Enforcer's answer is one of violent means, I would direct it against the Republican-Sympathizing and Eminently-More-Fun to-Beat-Up Quixote. The name Quixote almost begs for a good walloping.

And before we jump to Machiavellian conclusions, let me remind everyone that I have strong ties to the Global Industrial Complex, whose power is stronger than a mere trip to the legs. Let us not trend so dangerously to this grizzly end game.

-Icom

P.S> "Chewy will help by playing defense" killed me.

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From: Flava Flav

Ahoy Brand X-ers!!

I am back from my tour of the east coast and internet enabled once again. Now I must admit I have no idea what Icom could be referring to. As you know, hilarity rolls from my lips like shining droplets from the eternal fountain, but I am at a complete loss to recall this alleged "Republican-sympathizing" event. In fact, I suspect that this is a clever ruse by Icom Machiavelli (descendant of Niccolo Machiavelli). There was indeed a mortifyingly hilarious event, but it was enacted by Senor Icom, not yours truly. Gales of laughter (and ridicule) ensued. Smelling salts needed to be administered to Icom's new best friend Sarah after she passed out due to prolonged laughter. Yes, K-Bay is just a decoy, a trick, to impinge my credibility when I tell the REAL embarrassing, yet hilarious tale of human folly.

Chewie and the Enforcer, don't be taken in by this silver-tongued devil's tale of deceit. What is more likely?
Flava "Line Item Veto, my ass!!!" Flav is a Republican sympathizer
OR
Icom is created this whole charade as a pre-emptive strike to distract you from a tale so embarrassing and hilarious that it will take at least 6 months before any of Brand Xer can look at or even think or Icom without giggling.

Hmmmm? Well???
I'll let you decide.

lovemmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

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From: I-Com

ok, quixote. i made it up. -Icom

ps. by the way, i'm in the process of running an ican search on the url www.welfarepigs.com. the idea just popped in my made-up head today.

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From: Chewie

Enforcer -- Note how our strategy of holding out is not only going to yield us ONE funny-ass story about Flav, but another totally different funny-ass story about Icom. Who cares if one (or both) of them is made up? If we can just let this war of words between Icom & Flav escalate to a fever pitch, we'll be swamped in funny-ass stories by Friday.

Icom / Flav -- Please don't read the above paragraph (secret negotiating strategies again). Oh, and Flav -- Icom told me to tell you that global warming is as made up as "Roswell aliens". And Icom -- Flav said that each Foo Fighters song is a unique and majestic musical creation.

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From: Flava Flav

Icom,

Oh how quickly the scarlet lettered clock has turned. I may know nothing of sports where axioms such as "the best offense is a good defense" hold true. No, I hail from a different background... the law. Yes, raised by a lawyer I know that the best defense is a good offense. A strong countersuit is often the best way to thwart a scurrilous attempt by others to defame one's character. It comes down to credibility, mon frere. Did I request bribes to tell my story? Did I attempt extortion? How could I? I am here to serve Brand X. NOTHING is more valuable to me than the harmonious tones of the guffaws and chortles of my Brand X brethren. This may explain why you will be eating sod next time you set foot on a Pelito soccer field while I am still nestled snugly in the bosom of Brand X friendship and loyalty. In fact I don't want to come between Chewie and the Enforcer and a good story. Feel free to share your story.

But first I must ask, what is this www.welfarepigs.com you speak of? Pigs are not a very good candidate for welfare. Oxen or work horses on the other hand, you've got something. What lays down the road oxen and horses? After a long life of ploughing fields and contributing to the farm, the only thanks they get is a future as glue or a hamburger. It's sad. They should consider unionizing. They could demand retirement benefits, limit the number of acres that can ploughed in a single day, and more access and canoodling time with the heifers. They could have snappy slogans like "Lack on Hot Heifer Sex Makes Me See Red" or "Support Oxen Rights or the Bullseye Will Be On You!" If oxen banded together, they step out of their life of drudgery and toil.

Pigs, on the other hand, do nothing but lie around, eat slop, and wallow in mud. Not to mention the friendship and free vocabulary lessons by the local spider community "Salutations!!" Who couldn't handle that? Welfare for pigs is absurd.

Well, it's been a pleasure as always. Please tell your story at your earliest convenience. Don't let me get in your way.

Talk soon,
lovemmmmmmmmmmm

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From: Chewie

Now THAT was a Brand X classic. I don't even know where to start, but "canoodling time with the heifers" is the funniest thing I've heard all week. Bonus points for the first Brand Xer to EVER allude to Charlotte's Web.

Chewie happy. Chewie very happy.

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From: I-Com

as nathaniel hawthorne wrote, "a scarlet lettered clock, hung from the neck but turned butt side up, can only tell time to one's bosoms".

and as you're pondering that one for a moment, i should note that having read your rebuttal, i would have surmised that you were not raised by lawyers at all, but instead by a far more swine-like creature... the politician who engages in spin-doctored misdirection when caught in the headlights of scandalous guilt.

but while the guilty demand their punishment be doled out immediately, the crafty blackmailer lies in wait like a lion lying prone on mountain grasslands (rrraorr)... waiting to spring subtly and decisively in a way that does much damage to the steady but stupid oxen. maybe tomorrow, maybe next week...

maybe it will come when your new boss finally writes back to you and says "Be happy with our wonderful 2 week vacation package or be happy at the unemployment line", perhaps you'll wonder to yourself, "OHHHH. Have I been sabotaged? Have I been bamboozled? Has someone powerful and lion-like whispered in the bossman's ear? Oh who could have done such a thing?"

But the only reply will be the faint but incessant ticking of the Scarlet Lettered Clock, beating butt-side up, its silent response like water torture on your soul.

tick tock

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From: Flava Flav

Really, you think I have a future in politics? Aw shucks. Spin-Doctored Misdirection? Moi? You know I feel a little bad, Chewie and the Enforcer are still expecting their story and you've got nothing. Just remember, this all could have been avoided if you had shook hands in the first place. Just store this little lesson away for next time.

Now let's look on the bright side. When Brand X finally makes its play for world domination, I can take care of the PR. Well maybe with help from Chewie. Chewie can deal with all the people that annoy me, like my neighbors at my last party. I don’t have good strategies for annoying people other than "Go ahead, call the cops. I love police officers. Bring it on!"

Can we all just kiss and make up now? Enforcer, you promise not to slide tackle Icom. Icom, you are indeed a majestic lion. I am a Machiavelli genius. We all win, now let's make fun of Chewie.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

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From: Chewie

Chewie's not calling the Enforcer off until we hear a story about welfare pigs.

Thump Thump Thump.

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From: I-Com

Flava- I agree we've strayed away from our "core competency" of making fun of chewy. on the bright side, we've created several days of furious 4-strand inclusive witty banter, some of which we might actually remember next week. you and i both know what i've got in terms of story content, but i agree that its probably best that the story be told at the right place and the right time... i was thinking about using the phrase "the rich oral tradition of storytelling within brand x" here, but i decided that would be the equivalent of tossing up a softball that even chewy could hit out of the park. (scratch scratch).

just as writing an email to all strands about the "missing sock in the taiwan pizza hut" or the "homosexual flight attendant sauna" story would not maximize the comedic value neither would serious discussion on welfare pigs and their ability to find jobs. we'll tell it the next time we're all together to schameel schamozzle.

PS. After I sent out yesterday's email, I was bummed that I didn't sign it: X3MIT Would any of you have gotten it? Hint: Scarlett Lettered Clock Butt Side Up.

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From: Flava Flav

I have no idea what X3MIT means. Chewie? Enforcer?
Anyone?

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From: The Enforcer

Yay, I get it and Flava doesn't! I'm just going to hold this one in reserve until I get the story.

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From: Chewie

The only X3MIT I know is for the part number for the main bearing housing on the Hyperdrive Modulator on the Millenium Falcon. But it doesn't make any sense for Flava Flav to be ordering one of those.

Chewie

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From: I-Com

It’s TIMEX written inside out and in scarlett letters. Much like the view you would have of one of those see-through Flava Flav clocks were it to be hanging butt side up around someone's neck. I thought it was pretty damn clever, but feared that the reference might be a little obscure. Clearly, my fears were warranted.

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From: The Enforcer

Icom – you were supposed to hold that for ammunition! As I told Chewie (yes, we had a side email about this so that we could hold this over Flava’s head) I would argue that this is actually a clock in the mirror rather than upsides down and X3WIl would have been more appropriate, although the upside down T is hard to work out (I used an underlined lowercase L if it doesn’t come through). Now you definitely have to tell us the story (at the appropriate time for maximum humor, of course) to make up for this mistake.

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From: I-Com

Dang-

1. I feel as dumb as Chewy now. It would be helpful in the future if you could include me on any clandestine sidebars so that I have a little "heads up" about the grand plan.

2. I also can't believe you came up with X3WIl We might have to change your name from the Enforcer to Rainman. How about Rainman Enforner or the Renforcer for short?

3. Do you mean to tell me that after living and biking across the US with Flava for the past million years, you don't have a lifetime of ammunition to hold over her head? I've known her for a drop in your overflowing bucket and I've already accumulated a mini arsenal. Maybe we should have an arms bizarre.

4. Finally, how come when you attempt extortion of Flava, its ok? When I attempt the same thing, I'm threatened with viscious slidetakling. Be careful. You may be coming down with the dreaded "M Syndrome", a rare disease where people tiptoe around you and never question any of your actions for fear you'll blow up at the them in a fit of rage, in your case slide tackling rage.


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From: The Enforcer

1) Come on, even if you weren’t part of the plan you should of held out a little bit. I shouldn’t be surprised though given how quickly you began to fold after the lack of response to the k-bay email.

2) X3WIl took a little time - I had to write it on a post-it and determine the different impact of turning – good thing my boss is on vacation this week.

3) You are right, I do have more ammunition in the arsenal – Flava beware.

4) I was only threatening you because of your attempt to withhold information, my attempt of extortion of Flava is only to ensure that she does not stand in the way of Chewie and I are hearing the welfare pigs story. I have received my vaccinations for the “M Syndrome.”

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From: Chewie

Chewie comment on Enforcer point #1 below: WIIIIIIAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGG! (Translation -- "Boom! Now THAT was a virtual, long-distance clothesline -- the Enforcer doesn't even need for someone to be in the same STATE to rack them hard")

Chewie like the Enforcer. Chewie want to restart negotiations for 70's sitcom "Chewie and the Enforcer". Chewie don't even have to drive -- he can sit in passenger seat of Charger convertible and make Wookie noises and shoot bad guys with laser gun.

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From: Flava Flav

Drop your weapons; I am not getting in the way of the welfare pig story. There really isn't anything left, but If Icom can still make a story out of it, I will be eternally impressed.

NOW, I OBJECT to the proliferation of these sub strand side-bars. (especially since I never seem to be included) Without all four strands there is no Brand X. There are no snuggly warm houses. I have yet to see the sidebar from Dorn forwarding the future best friend brunch email. I TOTALLY followed the script. "Oh Dave, you and Leanne are traveling around the world, Icom spent 6 years in China and speaks Mandarin" Now, I know this is hilarious, but I don't know HOW hilarious because i never saw the sidebar.
sigh...

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From: I-Com

Proliferation is a big word. Plus it contains the words "Pro Life" in it, which may be another freudian hint that Flav is actually a republican underneath that green windmill loving exterior of hers.

i do agree that the welfare pig story is far inferior to this week's worth of banter. but it will be told in due time, and you'll probably laugh for about 1 second, followed by "That's It?". Unless, between now and then I have a flash of brilliance and make a bunch of stuff up to create a mountain story when before it was just a mole hill. As for sidebars, sometimes they're necessary. for example, i often write craig, to tell him, "RESPOND TO MY UTTERLY HILARIOUS EMAIL. NOW. ACKNOWLEDGE ME." and he writes back "Scratch Scratch". But I agree that we should have a "No Sidebars of Substance" treaty.

I'll sign up to the NSOS. -K

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From: I-Com
Subject: SIDEBAR

On the outside chance that Flav drives back down to DC and murders me for that last pro-life comment (wouldn't that be ironic?), I'd just like to sidebar you that my signed will and testament is hidden in the jacket of my "Rushmore" DVD. hope to see you again.

The Creation of a Brand

From: I-com
Subject: Long but Filled with Love (and a Philosophical, Completely-Hypothetical Question
Date: Thu, 08 Dec 2005 12:11:24 -0500

So, I was just doing my annual spring cleaning / advanced data analysis of my inbox and I realized that in 2004, I’ve gotten a veritable plethora of emails from a group that includes people named Flav, enforcer, and chewy. If I add the number of people on the “To:” line of these emails with the number of people on the “Fr:” line of these emails, the average over 1,283 emails is about 4.000000000000000000003. Now, I’m not what you’d call a “significant digit kind of guy” but this number ‘3’ at the end of the string of numbers kind of intrigued me. In case this is too much math for some of you, I’ve tailored my next question in words that each of you will understand:

Flav- Suppose when you look at your favorite brand of high performance insulation under a microscope (let’s call it Brand X), you see it is actually a series of four distinctly different super high performance strands of insulation woven together. Brand X has been keeping houses warm and snuggly since the early 1900s. Now suppose that one day, you’re reading “Air Sealing Monthly”, the magazine. It advertises that Brand X is moving to a new 5 strand brand of insulation. Do you wonder:

· Can the new product still be a high performance insulation?
· What is the 5th strand made of? What does it offer to the insulation?
· Did Brand X ask/consult with its customers before changing their patented insulation strand?
· What’s in it for the other 4 strands?

Enforcer- Suppose you have been anchored with the task of running the Pelitos while the normal coach is exploring Eastern European “nightlife”. You have found a line-up that works quite effectively: in fact the team is 3wins and no losses under your command. Near the end of the game, as you’re playing on the field, you glance over to the sidelines to find that one of your good friends is standing on the sidelines wearing a Pelito jersey. This is surprising because you don’t know whether your friend is any good at soccer, no one told you that they were coming and they never played during the game so you’re not sure whether they’re any good anyway. Do you:

(a) Tell them to sub in for Melissa at left halfback to test their abilities
(b) Do nothing, or
(c) Kick the ball at their head and “accidentally” slide tackle them.

Chewy- scratch scratch, scratch scratch scratch? (giant monkey language)

And finally a question that we all can relate to, suppose that NBC invites us to a special screening of the original pilot of “Full House”. The whole original cast is there including John Stamos and the Olsen twins. Except when they show the pilot, there’s an extra sibling played by a cracked out Richard Pryor circa 1987. The weird thing is that everyone in the audience is just pretending like it’s the most normal thing. You don't necessarily dislike this different "Full House", but shouldn’t somebody say something, or do you think that it would just piss Bob Saget off?
-K

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From: Flava Flav

I believe Chewy made the offer of inclusion to the hypothetical cracked-out Richard Pryor 5th strand. Upon reflection I'm not even sure the hypothetical cracked-out Richard Pryor 5th strand really wants to be included. It may have been one of those things you say at parties but don't really mean. Like "Yes, I will come visit you in East Nowheresville, Iowa. Let's plan that." Now realistically everyone knows that NO ONE ever visits East Nowheresville but you say it just the same (and inwardly curse the gods that make you a deceiving swine).

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From: I-com

that's interesting. this is a direct quote from chewy (I've translated it into English from monkey (it was my minor in college):

when [Strand 5 of Brand X] was in town last weekend, she expressed dismay when the subject of our witty banter group came up that she wasn't included. so flav, being the kind soul that she is, added her to this chain.

you said chewy offered... chewy pawed himself in a way that means, "Flav offered". since chewy is currently at the "doctors" right now (code word for: at the university of florida where doctors are taking parts of his brain and seeing if his brain can fly a plane), flav, you might as well use this opportunity to trash him (john stamos would).
-k

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From: Chewie

aaiiiiiiiiikeeee wiki wiki wiki poooooooooooooooooooooooo
(I'm pretty sure it was flav, but I couldn't swear on a banana that it wasn't me)

keeepaoooo ickeee aieee aieee aieee aieee
(However, I agree with flav that it was one of those things that one says at a party but doesn't mean)

paooooo paooooo reee [Strand 5 of Brand X] reeeeee reeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
(Especially since [Strand 5 of Brand X] hasn't responded and is probably auto-deleting these emails by now)

aeek aeek aeek wiki wiki aaa aaa aaa aaa paeee paeee puuu puuu ruuk rukkk ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh
(But I DO have a question -- why is icom being so insular and uncivilized? I mean, I may throw my feces against the wall and pick lice out of my neighbor's hair, and perhaps [Strand 5 of Brand X] isn't the right fit, but the still-forming human genes of compassion in me say -- "Can we truly say that all carpets should only be 4-strands and no more?" This is an existential question that has bothered me since this morning when I was drinking my own urine.)

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From: The Enforcer

I’m not sure if it was Chewy or Flav that made the offer, but I do believe that Flav was the first person to add Strand 5 to Brand X. I don’t have the email archive on this, but I believe Icom could go back and clear up this mystery when he runs his next calculation.

Going to my tailored question though, I sympathize with Chewy and/or Flav because I would probably go with A. If the pelito-jerseyed outsider’s performance was reminiscent of say… Oh I don’t know, maybe Chewy at sweeper, then I’d probably find a way to politely avoid putting them into a game in the future.

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From: I-com

Darn. I was almost certain that you'd go with some variation of C. I'm not implying Strand 5 Brand X is a bad thing... all i'm saying is that the next time craig asks to play in the field, you watch him kick the ball on the sidelines a couple time before just throwing him in the game.

its like teen wolf. when they replaced michael j fox with jason bateman in teen wolf too, they sent around a bunch of disclaimers to public high schools across the us, saying "hey kids, we're switching the character todd howard to jason bateman because michael j fox wanted too much money after all that Back to the Future stuff. But don't worry, its still really funny and he's in college now, so just roll with it." And as a result, Jason Bateman did great and that film did made money at the box office.
-k

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From: Chewie

aeeee aeeee aeeeee aeeeee aEEEEE AEEEEE AEEEE AEEEE
(i'd like to point out , for the record, that i was at LEAST as effective at sweeper as a folding chair that's been placed in the middle of the field)

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From: Flava Flav

For the record, I don't even have Strand 5's email address so I could not have initiated inclusion. I'm just a "go with the flow" girl who "replies all".

On a side note, I would like to congratulate icom on his insulation/air sealing humor. It took 3 days, but with exemplary results.

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From: Flava Flav

I would like to formally propose that going forward our witty banter family should be referred to as "Brand X". I like it. It's snappy.

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From: Chewie

Scratch scratch scratch weeke weekee ooooaaaa oaaaaaa
(I agree -- would someone help me pick some of these lice out of my
hair?)

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From: Chewie
Subject: Brand X -- MYSTERY SOLVED!!!
Date: Thu, 8 Dec 2005 16:52:05 -0500

Ok, the mystery is solved. It all started when I sent Enforcer, Flav, and Strand 5 the King Kong email as per a discussion at Bob's party Saturday night. Then Flav hit "Reply to All" and started the witty banter chain that caused Icom's panties to get all in a bunch while simultaneously making Strand 5 regret that she'd ever heard the words "witty banter email".


So in a nutshell, it's all King Kong's fault. Hardly my idea of the perfect man, one who is in perfect harmony with himself while thrusting his pecs and asscheeks into the hands of a hot Italian woman whilst dancing in the beautiful Tuscan countryside.

scratch scratch

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From: I-com
Subject: RE: Stream of Consciousness Mondays
Date: Thu, 08 Dec 2005 17:00:28 -0500
for the record:

1. this is the first email message i have with Strand 5 Brand X included. Leads me to believe that MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmm is the guilty party, although her alibi sounds fairly good.

2. its equally plausible that monkey boy is the guilty party and just forgot that he did it. of course, this would mean that there was some witty banter being done behind my back (OH the Treachery!). If true, I would feel a lot like Michael J Fox after Teen Wolf Too became enormously successful.

Enforcer- you're the only impartial judge. Who's to blame? We need to know so that we can move on and put this whole episode behind us.

-K

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From: The Enforcer

Do we really need to blame someone? Kevin, I think you and I should just sit back and bask in the glow of knowing that it was not our fault and that we will be able to hold this over the heads of Flav and Chewy forever. We should just move on and be proud of all the quality, witty banter that came out of this. Plus we can now use Brand X as a new inside code to avoid future Strand 5 incidents, much like in college when Anna and I used “Want to go to Taco Bell?” as code for “Do you want me to help you get rid of this guy?”

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From: Flava Flav
Subject: I am not a crook

alright, alright, i did it. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa (Chewy, that's from "the Act of Contrition" in Latin).

However i stand by my previous statement that it was CHEWY who made the offer of inclusion at Bob's party. (If I'm going down, I'm taking Chewy with me).

Now I must take a moment to acknowledge and appreciate the ease with which Enforcer said "Let us not blame..." followed a mere half line later by "hold it over their heads forever", and somehow there was no noticeable logical breakdown, sheer genius.

Boston folks, anyone want to see Harry Potter tonight?

lovemmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

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From: Flava Flav

Chewy,

I included the Latin to give you an opportunity to tell us about your great great great great grandfather's demise during the Holy Roman Empire and it's impact on all Westmorelands thereafter.

mm

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From: I-com

all i know is that it wasn't Enforcer or i who attempted to add a 5th strand to brand x. no no (latin for 'no'). we won't have that burden on our conscious night in and night out for the rest of our lives.

i also hear that watching harry potter will take away a little piece of your soul. might be just a rumor. maybe the butterfly effect is playing at the dollar cinema or something; chewy really liked that one and he'd probably see it again (astin kutcher is a god in the giant primate community)
-k

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From: Chewie

P.S. As if I needed to bolster my previous point about the story never holding up in court, the alleged discussion actually took place at Allison's party (on the couch), not at Bob's party, as Drunkie Emotional Can't Be Relied on For Solid Testimony Flav claims.

QED.***

*** Latin for "in yo' respective faces, biznatches"

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From: Chewie

That story is so well-known that it doesn't need repeating. The legend of Maximus Westmorelandus is one that, to this day, children across Europe never tire of hearing as a bedtime story of good triumphing over evil.

On Flav's pitiful attempt to take me down, I say "Shamus Shamus" (latin for "Shame on you" (alternate translation: The plural of trained whales who make their home at Sea World)). Flav's amateurish attempt at smearing my good name further underscores the mistake made from the beginning -- she made her mistake on email, which as we all know, stays around forever.** However, IF I made the statement at the party (and I'm only saying "IF"!!! -- no admission of guilt here), I made it verbally, with limited witnesses who were all hopped up on Cosmopolitans and obviously distraught by the treachery shown during judging that removed "Pope with Bow & Arrow Hunting Bear with Honey" from the judging. Even with witnesses, that would never stand up in court.

Sit back, Flav, and take a lesson from the master.***

I'm taking the day off from work -- so I'm off to frolic in the snow, do some shopping, and generally not check email. So I'm declaring my laptop to be a "Yoko-Free Zone" (Flav, don't even think about this -- see comment above (RE: "master" = me; "amateur" = you).

Adieu, Farewell, Bon Voyage, Ciao, Peace Out Biznatches,
Chewy the Master Miyagi

** And, I might add, we all have a healthy respect for -- I'm sure none of the comments made by Brand X will ever come back to haunt us, say if I'm ever running for President of the Society for the Humane Treatment of Gorillas, or if Icom's ever up for CEO of the first-ever 5-strand carpet company.

*** The "master" being me.

Never Trust a Wookie

All wookies are alike...

http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/02/03/headbutt.wookie.ap/index.html

From the Vault: Brand X gets competitive

This email trail is a sad display of the competitive nature of Brand X... It all stemmed from the following game that some undergrad computer scientist in the Czech Republic probably made in between a couple of Pilzner Urquels one evening: http://n.ethz.ch/student/mkos/pinguin.swf

Fr: I-COM
To: Brand X
i'd like you to know that i am currently at the newton public library just so that i could tap into the brand x network and contribute in some meaningful way. first of all, i'd like to say its a sad thing that flav had to resort to lying about her score on a game where a polar bear hits a monkey. she's so hyper-competitive. second, i got 321 too so chewy did not "beat" me. chewy, the joke is funny because of the character development. i mean, if jerry bruckheimer were directing the film version of your 16th century joke, ben afleck would be starring as the boss, and there would be explosion and lots of gratuitous laughs when the monkies failed. Like maybe one of the monkeys would try to pole vault to the moon and end up getting hit really hard in the groin. instead, your version of the joke was probably told/created by whatever was the 16th century equivalent of say, jim jarmusch. the boss character is so well developed that by the time he says "well yes... i didn't think of that", we feel like we KNOW the boss... what motivates him, his inner thoughts and feelings... but as in most good comedies, the truly funny parts are all the interesting details that we're given along the way. for example, "what an exploit! you have distinguished yourself" contains a very amusing double entendre that you can only understand if you know japanese (i found it funny because it did a transliteration of the words into chinese and noted the hilarity in the structure of the chinese characters). anyway, something to talk about on sat night.


From: Chewy
To: Brand X
Subject: RE: March of the Penguins Date: Thu, 29 Dec 2005 15:27:31 -0500
Flav's comment on hilarious emails reminds me of a 17th century Japanese joke that I read in a book over Christmas -- proves how subjective humor is, and possibly why no one outside Brand X finds our "G or M?" humor funny. Here's the joke: "The boss of the monkeys** orders his one thousand monkey followers to get the moon that's reflected in the water. The [sic] all try and fail. Finally, one of the monkeys gets the moon in the water and respectfully offers it to the boss. 'This is what you asked for,' he says. The boss is delighted and says, 'What an exploit! You have distinguished yourself!' The monkey then asks, 'By the way, Master, what are you going to do with the moon from the water?' And the master says, 'Well, yes...I didn't think of that.'" That joke brought the hizzouse down in 17th-centure Kyoto. Perhaps Icom can explain why that joke is funny -- personally, it reminds me of an abridged version of "The Missing Gun", which I seem to recall Icom laughing his ass off through while I sat there bewildered***. Anyway, something for the agenda at the DEAM on Saturday!! ** Scratch Scratch *** scratch scratch

-----Original Message-----
From: Flav Sent: Wednesday, December 28, 2005 9:02 AM
To: Brand X
Subject: Re: March of the Penguins Thank god you guys are back! Yesterday, I was writing an email asking for a favor from a friend. I wanted to include something HILARIOUS so he wouldn't space out and forget since he's coming back from vacation and will probably have tons of emails to go thru. Alas, there was nothing. It is the most boring email I've ever written. I can't even read it without being overcome with narcolepsy. Now that the banter is back on, hopefully I will be able to regain a moment of comic genius. Chewy, great minds think alike. I tried to get a screenshot of my high score, but I was unable to replicate the score. Now I am doubting that it ever really happened at all. I do have a tendency to transpose numbers, but that would make my score 376 or 637 or 763, which also seem unlikely. I got 321 in the process. I guess we are all winners. The Green Round Table woman finally emailed me back. I will have an interview either this Friday or the 1/11 depending on here schedule. Woohoo!! See you soon, mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

--- Chewy wrote: > 367 my ass. I need a screenshot. > > My best is 321.1 (better than ICom, which is good enough for me). But > even with a Google search, the highest score I can find is > 323-point-something. So > either: > -- Flav's the best penguin spanker in the world, or > -- Flav was hitting the sauce a bit hard that night and dreamed 367. > > I'm throwing down the gauntlet -- I propose a "smack the penguin"-off > at the DEAM. Winner take all. No holds barred. For all the marbles. > > P.S. Anyone want to see 'Glory Road' when it comes out? It's all > people can talk about here in El Paso > -- it's about the local college's basketball coach when he took them > all the way to the National Championships in 66, and won, beating > Kentucky. > Good sports movie -- ICom, it's gonna be El Paso's "Hoosiers" -- be > the ball. Fly up to Boston to see it with us.

> > -------------- Original message -------------- >
From: Flav> > > > Hey guys, > > > > Click below. I got 367. Not that it's a > competition, > > of course. (But if it were, i would be kicking > your > > butt) > > > > lovemmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm > > > > --------------------------------
> > Click to make the penguin jump and then click > again in > > - time to make the polar bear swing the bat to hit > the > > penguin across the ice! Very addictive ! ! ! > > > > http://n.ethz.ch/student/mkos/pinguin.swf > > > > __________________________________________________

After the Storm Passes (an original story by Brand X)

The week after Hurricane Witty Banter swept through Internet Village, the landscape remained eerily silent. Rubble was strewn chaotically across the scourged earth, as strands of once-tightly coiled Brand X sat quietly pensive within the leveled-landscape.

The Enforcer stared at her feet with melancholy, “Who can I enforce when all that lays before me is destruction?”, she thought as she stared across the slide-tackleless environs.

Quixote was equally perplexed in her corner of the village. While clutching a broken piece of glass with the word “X3WII” written on it, she wondered aloud, “Even the newest of building materials does not seem as interesting in this dull grey light”.

Just then, Quixote heard the distant cry of “Whoooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” echo across the barren landscape followed by a scratching sound. “Apparently, the pea-sized brain of Chewy is attempt to emit a similar, albeit less-developed, sentiment”, she thought.

Only Industrial Complex seemed content with the destruction. But even he knew this glee would not be long held, so he began to plot his plan to take over the nascent wind power business at General Electric. “One day I will fulfill my destiny and become International Wind God”.

…
Chewie awoke from the storm to a sharp pain in his big-ass Wookie leg. He looked down to see his leg pinned by a giant lightpost that had been knocked over in the hurricane (maybe the same lightpost that had knocked him out). Mustering the last of his strength, he let out a giant "Whoooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" and managed to lift the lightpost enough to free his leg. As he stood up to display the devastation, he was filled with sadness. His home village -- gone. His house with the Wookie-sized full-body blow-dryer -- gone. Everything that he loved in the world was now lying in a heap of rubble caused by the senseless devastation of Hurricane WB. Oh, why oh why hadn't he listened to that concierge from the Hilton and led the evacuation of the town? That old man was an expert in information, and yet -- Chewie thought the old coot had gone crazy with all his muttering about "devastation", "welfare pigs", "closet Republicans". You've got to admit, the story sounded crazy -- how could an innocent brunch between best friends forever set off this devastation? But it appeared, the old man was the single point of wisdom in the whole town. He could have saved it, if only Chewie had listened to the wise old man. Now, he'd have to live with that for the rest of his life.**

Chewie looked around the landscape for any signs of life. Nothing -- was he the ONLY one left?!? No -- wait!! In the distance, something shimmered in the sunlight -- perhaps a signal from a trapped survivor? Chewie looked more closely, and was barely able to make out a person, sitting on top of what looked like a Prius, with a clock around her neck, holding something in her hand -- it glimmered as she turned it in the sunlight. Well, she was alive, but clearly lost in her thoughts. As he looked around, Chewie was also able to make out the Enforcer, walking in circles and muttering to herself -- obviously post-traumatic shock syndrome, but at least she'd live. But those two were the only signs of life Chewie saw.

There was something else, though -- a sound that Chewie hadn't heard before the storm. At first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him too, but the more he listened, the more it became clear -- it was the sound of hammering. And now -- the sound of a metal saw! Someone was definitely doing something -- trying to rescue survivors in the rubble? Building something?

What made Chewie nervous was the source of the sound -- it was coming from the old abandoned power plant outside of town that was rumored to be a haven for Industrial Complex, who had made no bones about his desire to transform himself into a deity for all to worship. It had started innocently enough, with him routinely sending his soiled boxers to the Smithsonian for their "historical value", or by requiring that the workers at Starbucks genuflect when he walked by. But of late, his ambitions seemed to have grown. Who knows what diabolical activity he could be up to down at the old power plant? Chewie should probably go down & check it out -- but first, he'd need some help -- who could he count on? Flava Flav? The Enforcer?

Chewie turned back toward the town, and walked towards the only 2 survivors he'd seen so far....hopefully one of them would be up to the task....




** Approximately 84,562 human years.
...but just as Chewy started walking towards the two survivors in an attempt to rally them together and face the insidious Industrial Complex and his latest schemes, he noticed a pebble on the ground. Since Chewy's brain had formed with a total memory storage which did not exceed that of the Commodore 64 computer from 1981, he quickly forgot all about the other two survivors, the insidious plot and even his Wookie-sized full-body blow-dryer.
Instead, he thought pensively to himself, "Peeeebbbblllle".
Scratch scratch.
Meanwhile back at the old abadoned power plant on the outskirts of town...
Industrial Complex was exhausted. Scheming was hard work, and I-Com was tuckered from such a nose to the grindstone day, especially after the emotional anxiety he had endured through Hurricane Witty Banter. I-Com desperately needed some "downtime", alone with his thoughts and his Exoatmospheric Kill Vehicle. Behind a pile of several Fedex boxes he had packed full of soiled boxers addressed to the Smithsonian and a number of textbooks written by his white short-sleeved Battle-bot mentors on the merits of a national missile defense system, he found a tattered paperback that someone had left at his house as a "gift".
"Hmmm. Maybe Dan Brown's Deception Point is actually a really good book", he thought. "After all, People Magazine claims on the cover that Mr Brown, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Da Vinci Code, is the "new master of smart thrills". But after reading about three pages, I-Com wondered how anybody could possibly find any interest in a story whose plot centered around NASA finding an astonishingly rare object buried deep in the Arctic Ice. "Not even Cervantes or Michael Crighton would dig this shit".
His eyes were suddenly heavy. Pleased with his accomplishments for the day, he decided that his scheme for becoming the International Wind God could wait until tomorrow. He climbed into his Rushmore pyjamas, placed his head softly on a rusted metal girder in the powerplant and closed his eyes to sleep. His last thoughts before fading into the Great Beyond were "I hope the two remaining survivors and that brainless woolly biaped don't join forces and foil my evil plan for world wind wamination, I mean, domination... while I'm in a deep slumber."
...
....As he bent over to pick up the pebble, Chewie couldn't believe his incredible luck. It was as he first thought -- amethystopaz, an extremely rare small crystal from the Alderaan system!! These crystals had the amazing power of being able to bend time backwards and forwards (a.k.a., a "Butterfly Effect"). Maybe Chewie could use it to return to the time before Hurricane WB and warn the townspeople -- you can damn well bet that THIS time, he'd listen to the concierge's advice, no matter how old he was. But...what was a crystal from Alderaan doing here in Internet Village? Those crystals were extremely rare, and couldn't even last for very long at ambient temperatures -- usually they had to be stored in ice until ready for use. And they weren't native to Earth -- no, the only way that crystal could have gotten to Earth was if it had been placed here by another civilization (probably at one of the polar ice caps), and the only way it could have gotten to Internet Village is if some nefarious top-secret government agency had discovered it and brought it here. Chewie said to himself, "ARRRRRRUUUUUEEEEE!!"*** Suddenly, he heard a noise and looked up to see Tom Hanks and Audrey Tautou duck behind a pile of rubble -- how odd. He'd ask the Enforcer to check that out.

But book ideas would have to wait for now -- there was a crisis at hand. The more pressing question was -- why was the crystal here? And did it have anything to with the strange noises that he'd heard from the abandoned power plant? (which, just as inexplicably, had stopped). Chewie put the crystal in his ever-present Wookie shoulder belt (neutral-colored so it went with everything), and set off in search of the Enforcer and Flava Flav. Maybe one of them could help crack the code -- Chewie was having trouble figuring it out, and wasn't sure that even a man as smart as, say, Leonardo da Vinci could make sense of all this.

------
Meanwhile, at the power plant, I-Com was having trouble falling asleep. This always happened when he wore his Rushmore pajamas -- I-Com had bought them because everyone said that you got the best night's sleep of your life in them, but I-Com found that he usually just spent all night anticipating a great night's sleep, but before you knew it, morning had come and you hadn't had gotten evan a tiny little nap. I-Com sighed, and got up to put on his Incredible Hulk reversible pajamas****. At least he know he'd have a satisfying night's sleep in them, and as long as none of the guys down at the World Domination Club never saw him in them, what was the harm?

But even with the Incredible Hulk pajamas, I-Com was troubled. What if his plan didn't work? He'd done a lot of bragging among all the other mad scientists at the WDC meeting hall earlier that week -- could he pull it off? And what had happened to that damned amethytopaz crystal? That was the lynchpin for the whole damn thing -- how could he have misplaced such an important item? Well, all that would have to wait till morning.

Maybe a little TV would help him sleep -- I-Com reached over & grabbed the remote. With no TV stations in Internet Village, he'd be stuck with nothing but a bunch of "Sex in the City" DVDs, but I-Com had to admit, he was warming up to that series (he'd even started TiVoing Desperate Housewives, although his reputation at the WDC would be tattered if the other mad scientists ever found out). As Sarah Jessica Parker droned on, I-Com finally drifted off to the sound of her voice -- dreaming of pajamas with Sarah Jessica Parker on the inside and a soul-sucking succubus on the outside....




*** "That would make a great book!!"
**** Bill Bixby on the inside, Lou Ferrigno on the outside
Quixote sat on the hood of her spanky new Prius (which was unscathed, THANK GOD) and pondered. There is rebuilding to do, she wanted to help, and yet something was sapping her of all power. What could it be? She lay back trying to think… then she saw it.
The glowing orb hung in the sky, mocking her. NO!
Not again, what is planet Catholus doing back here?
What have I done now? As if answering her question, a messenger angel slide down the planet’s guilt filled rays and floated in front of her.

“What is it this time?” Quixote asked “I’ve been good.
I spend my days turning perfect strangers into best friends forever and making fun of Chewie. What could be wrong with that?”

The messenger angel, Louey (Gabriel still got all the big jobs, Louey was more like the pizza delivery equivalent of a messenger angel) replied “Isn’t there something you should be doing right now?”

“Like foiling I-Com’s evil plan and rebuilding the Internet Village?” Quixote asked.

“No, but I’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with Pax”
Louey replied.

You know those angels with their “Peace on Earth” puns and riddles. Who knows what the hell they are talking about half the time, but this time Quixote figured it out. “Taxes! Crap! Again?? What if the Internet Village has been taken over Darthpublicans? Do you still pay if they are evil?”

Louey just smiled beatifically and floated back up to planet Catholus.

Well Quixote would be damned before she let some entry-level angel tell her what to do. She set off towards the Enforcer, who was pacing angrily. But two steps out, she was smited (smote?) with spaghetti legs. She tried to call out to Chewie but all she could do was whisper “Chew….” Quixote struggled in vain to get up; there was an evil plan to thwart! But alas, it was no use. As she lay in the rubble, she noticed that she happened to collapse right on her W-2 and 1099 forms. Resigning herself to ignominious defeat (unlike Hurricane WB, where she had kicked i-com ass) Quixote clutched the papers and elbow-crawled back to the Prius where her laptop and turbotax awaited.

If only Chewie and the Enforcer could hold on. She typed furiously, grateful that the Internet Village WIFI system was still working.

"... But I don't know if you know who I am... Well, I was there and I saw what you did. I saw it with my own two eyes. So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been... Its all been a pack of lies..."

Just as Phil Collin's drum solo rippled across the stagnant air of the factory, I-Com awoke to find his head aching from the metal beam he had slept on the night before. He reached over and slapped the snooze button of his clock-radio alarm which was shaped like a Patriot missile battery (the front left wheel of the mobile launcher being the snooze button).

(Silence for 9 minutes).

Ba - Dum - Bum. This time I-Com awoke to the last three beats of what many contemporaries have termed as the "most disceivingly complex and difficult-to-emulate drumsolo in the history of rock". Thoughts of Quixote drfited into his mind. He felt a strange new empathy for Phil Collins. " I was there and I saw what SHE did. I saw it with MY own two eyes.
Slandering welfare pigs. It WAS just a pack of lies."

I-Com shook the sleepy dust from his own eyes, sat up in bed, and stretched, raising his tired hands as far towards the top of the powerplant as they could be extended.

"I AM POWER", he shouted. Even in his half sleep, this expression seemed strange to him. As if something was missing. "Why would He-Man speak in such vague metaphors? Clearly, he had the power of Greystoke bestowed upon him. It certainly would seem more normal had He-Man said something like 'I have the power' or had he given a shout out to the one who had bestowed the power on him. But 'I am power'? How strange?"

This question, however, was neither here nor there. More important things faced I-Com. Becoming an international wind god would not be easy and he had to think of a plan fast. Or did he?

As hard as he tried to focus on making concrete plans and thinking rationally about his future as a diety, his mind drifted to more philosophical issues. He felt extremely lonely and he couldn't understand why. His whole life he had strove to be someone who did big things and conquering the world of wind from the slightest zephyr to the most powerful tempest seemed like a laudable goal. But throughout this, he knew that every great success story needed some great opposition, some great equivalent force to oppose him and to ultimately overcome.

He knew that Chewy, despite his rare expertise in geology with an emphasis on inter-galatic geology, did offer some formidable opposition. But ultimately, Chewy was as dumb as his rocks that he frequently played with.
Similarly, he knew Quixote could also be a formidable foe, but he also knew that this was the season that rhymed with 'Pax Season' and between weeding through 1099 forms and admiring her new "Continuously Variable Transmission"
or CVT for short*, she might be completely distracted for days, weeks or even months.

And the Enforcer, why she might be the most formidable foe of all. Frankly, I-Com was a little bit afraid of the Enforcer and not in a Melissa kind of way. It was more in a 'this is a person who would actually physically hurt me' kind of way. But, it seemed very possible that the Enforcer was dead, killed in the calamity of the recent hurricane. He had read rumors on the Internet that the Enforcer was a diabetic and actually hiding in a the hills of Internet Village with her dialysis machine. This was probably just speculation.

In summary, I-Com knew that he could only be defeated if more than one of his nemeses (?) actually collaborated. And so, instead of hashing out the details of his plan, he instead went to the refrigerator, made himself some coffee and read the Sunday New York Times over the Internet. He was by nature a procrastinator.

...

* Ok, I did read page 86 of the March/April 2006 MIT Technology Review
magazine before learning about the CVT.

** In pulling down the exact words of the Phil Collins song, I did also
learn that the whole story about Phil Collins and that song is just an urban
legend.

For the first time since awakening, Chewie felt despair. Where was everybody? Who could help him figure out the strange sounds at the power plant? What the hell was going on? He hadn't felt this bad since good ol' Han had gotten encased in carbonite. He needed to think -- he sat down on a pile of rubble and closed his eyes. What to make of all this?

It was a calm, clear morning, and with his extra-sensitive Wookie hearing, Chewie felt like he could hear for miles. Suddenly, the drum solo equivalent of the Macarena caught his attention -- what evil being dared ruin such a beautiful morning with such drivel? In frustration, Chewie opened his eyes just in time to see a cross between Tony Soprano & Tinkerbell flying up from a space between two buildings. What had been going on over there? Chewie stood up, and ran over to the clearing.

When he got there, Chewie couldn't believe what he saw. Flava was surrounded by a pile of paper almost as tall as two Wookies!! In what was clearly rampant disregard for the "Flux In / Flux Out" principles of universal harmony, Flava had allowed documents of all sorts to pile up around her & trap her. To make matters worse, Flava didn't appear to have a plan for getting out -- instead, she seemed disoriented, stumbling like Rain Man from document to document with a marker in hand, saying "W-2 -- belongs to Flava. 1099 -- definitely 'Property of Flava'. 5 minutes to Wapner. Flava likes Kmart (because of their more enlighted hiring policies over the evil Wal-mart. Flava's an excellent driver." Chewie knew that nothing good was going to come out of interrupting Flava at this point.

Turning to his right, Chewie saw the Enforcer, wrestling 3 lions that must have escaped from the Internet Village Zoo during the hurricane. Holy shit! She needed help!! Chewy started running over the rubble and trying to unhook his phaser -- but before he could get it out, two of the lions pounced. The Enforcer clotheslined them both, grabbed them by the necks, and slammed their heads together 3 times. Thump Thump Thump. The two lions fell to the ground, lifeless. The Enforcer turned to the remaining lion with a look that could've scared Dick Cheney (Chewie prayed to God that he never be the recipient of that look). Then the Enforcer pounced on the remaining lion's back and began trying to get her arms around his neck. The lion, in panic, dashed off between two buildings with the Enforcer on his back, whimpering all the way.

"RARRRRIEEEEECH!!",*** roared Chewie. Chewie needed help to see what was going on at the power plant. But clearly, the Enforcer had her hands full keeping wild animals from running loose in the streets. And Flava had her hands full obsessively labelling everything within a 10-foot radius with a magic marker. And something needed to be done about the goings-on at the power plant. So Chewie set off, hopeful that something...someone would be there to help.



*** "Fuck!"
Flava knew that after a Category 6 Hurricane like WB, valuable property is strewn around like confetti.
Always the opportunist, she looked around for some goodies. Fortunately she had her trusty sharpie. As she labeled "FLAV" the back of a 62 carat diamond choker necklace that was wrapped around her antenna, she thought "That should stand up in a court of law.
Afterall, possession is nine tenths of the law. Hey, is that Baccarat over on top of that Bosco Chocolate container?" Wemmick was right; "portable property" is the way to go. One afternoon with some gloves and her trusty sharpie (she never leaves home without it) and Flava would be set up for life.

Flava checked her fluxometer. Yes, it still read "Net Flux = Out". Sometimes FOOLS accused her of fluxing in, but those pinheads couldn’t understand the concept of "Net Flux". Didn’t they know who they were talking to? Flava had been named "Flux Supreme Authority of Universe Sector 5" by the Intergalactic Council. Her foolish accusers thought that sales income and net profit were the same thing. Simpletons.

She looked around to tell the Enforcer and Chewie about her plan to finance their opposition to I-com's evil plan. She couldn't find them. Oddly she could faintly hear Phil Collins "In the Air Tonight". Flava was reminded back to the last Flav family reunion when her 4-year-old cousin played the climatic drum riff perfectly on his Playskool Drum Set. Talented kid.

Just then the Enforcer passed by riding a lion.
Playing around at a time like this! Chewie was staring off into space and swearing in Wookie. No matter how many times she told him, he just couldn't understand that just because he spoke in Wookie, it is still inappropriate to swear in front of refined, sophisticated, clock wearing women, like the distinguished Flava Flav. Fucking wookies.

Apparently Flava was the only one focused on the plan.
Flava folded down the seats of Prius (God, there is a ton of room in here!) and started loading up the car…

ps anyone who gets Wemmick and portable property without google gets a point

pps Dornio gets the award for most references to previous Brand X emails. I believe the record will stand for a long time. "I AM POWER" killed me.
Alone & desperate, Chewie trudged up the hill to the old power plant. He had no idea what he would do when he got there, but he DID know that something HAD to be done. You couldn't just let power-hungry egomaniacs in Rushmore pajamas airdrumming to Phil Collins proceed forth unchecked -- after all, that was how we'd gotten into Iraq. (the country on Earth, not the 4th-planet from the red Barqian sun).

Chewie was beginning to hash out a plan whereby he would disguise himself as the FedEx man, thereby gaining access to I-Com's secret lair when shipments of I-Com's soiled underwear were ready for pickup. But at that moment, he was suddenly aware of a positive change in the environmental aura (something Wookies are very sensitive to). Was he passing by Greenpeace's offices? Were there students chaining themselves to a redwood? As he looked around, he saw the source of this enviromentagasm -- a brand new Prius with "FLAV" written in Magic Marker on every panel of the car. As the car sashayed it's way up the hill, it sucked in poisonous harmful gases in the front, and spit out rays of sunshine, teddy bears, and Foo Fighters CDs out the tailpipe. It was FLAVA FLAV!! She'd come to help Chewie defeat I-Com and his nefarious plan!! Chewie waved for the car to stop.

Flava stopped the car, put the gearshift in "Be at One with Your Environment in a Single Spot", and stepped out. "Hey Chewie!"

"RAAAAAAIRRRIRRRRREEE!!!" ("Hey Flav -- that's a pretty fucking sweet ride!") "Chewie -- what have I said about cursing in front of me?"
"RAAARRRRRRAAAAAAAAOOOOOO!!" ("Sorry -- but what's the point? You don't understand fucking Wookie") "Goddammit, Chewie, I am a delicate fucking flower, and I'll be goddamned if a fucking giant hairball with a neutral-colored shoulder utility belt is going to fuck that up. Now, if you think you want a ride in this car, you're either going to clean your fucking potty mouth up, or I'm going to jump up there, rip off your hairball-laden head, and shit down your fucking throat!"

Unfortunately, while Chewie was an expert in intergalactic geology, he didn't know the meaning of the word 'irony'. So he said: "RAAR" ("Sorry"), and climbed into the newly-folded down back seat.

As Marie put the car in "Forward with the Blessings of the Dalai Lama" and drove off, Chewie was impressed with the car. With the seats folded down, there was lots of room in the car, even for the big-ass legs of a Wookie! The sound system was crystal clear -- on the radio, Chewie could hear the sounds of the Amazonian tree frog chirping in a forest free from bulldozers. Before he knew it, they were at the gates of the power plant, and he felt at one with all the sentient beings of the world.

But as they pulled up to the gates, there was a sign on the gate -- how weird. Did I-Com know they were coming? What was going on? They walked up and looked at the sign on the gate -- a handwritten note, scrawled in a quick, uneven text -- "FedEx Man -- Have gone to tour the rings of the 9th moon of Jupiter in my hovercraft -- no pickups till Friday." What?!? Had I-Com gone off in the middle of a business trip right as their story was getting interest from several publishers & Dan Brown? How could he DO such a thing to Brand X? Sigh....If only I-Com was more interested in filling the world with good, solid trance music instead of with battle-hardened fences to keep llamas out of Bolivia. What was to be done?

Chewie sat down on the grass, next to Flav, who was cooing to her diamond choker necklace "Who's your mommy? Yesssss....who'll take care of you forever, thanks to my Magic Marker?" Chewie looked down on the town, laid down on the grass, and closed his eyes.

Meanwhile as the Enforcer was going for a ride on her newly tamed lion, she heard a drum in the distance that sounded like the in the song "In the Air Tonight." She knew that something was amiss and headed in the direction of the drum.

Chewie opened his eyes just in time to see the Enforcer riding up on her lion. She slid off the lion's saddle and read the note on the gate. As she turned back to discuss the meaning of this with Flava & Chewie, she saw Flava creeping toward her lion with a magic marker. "Flava, step away from my lion or I will have it eat you. We can get you your own lion, just like mine. Would you like that?" Flava sheepishly nodded and went back to her Prius. The Enforcer sighed as she also noticed everything Flava was wearing was similar to things of hers. Reminding herself that there were more important matters at hand, she pondered I-Com's note. Did he really leave the internet village, or was he in hiding now that Flava, Chewie, and the Enforcer were standing united in front of his gates. Perhaps it was time for them to take a look inside the old power plant

"Amen."
Upon reading the last word of his Sunday New York Times, I-Com sat up in his recliner which was shaped like a giant T-6 trainer aircraft (tm- all rights reserved).
He heard music in the background. "Dang it. I was so engrossed in my paper that I left my Phil Collin's "In the Air Tonight" CD playing on repeat in my Patriot (TM- all rights reserved) alarm clock. I hope that the remaining three survivors of Internet Village don't hear this at three seperate times and each write a personal narrative about it.", he thought with concern.
Then, he remembered the "old trick" he had employed. A friend of his had once complained to him that he often received many late night "bootie calls" and then refused to elaborate on who it might be from. What his friend did go on to say was that in these cases, sometimes the booty du jour would even come to his door. To counter this attack (god forbid he had to perform carnal duties on the Village boozer), his friend had posted a sign to the "FedEx" man that he was out of town/the universe on a business trip. Remembering his friend's last words, "That always fools the bimbos", he had decided to use a similar tact so that he could remain in his powerplant and read the sunday paper without interruptions. Apparently, his methods had worked like a charm.
I-Com thought of his own life and wondered why nobody bothered to booty call him. "The chances of me getting a booty call these days are probably less than the chances of two hot babes, one stratling the CVT of her newly-buffed Prius and the other riding bareback on a lion, standing outside my door with a giant Wookie right now.", he mused.
Just then, I-Com's Blackberry started vibrating like a wounded duck on the other side of the room. When he went over to check the message, he saw the following note had been sent to him from TPTB (The Powers that Be):
"I-Com- you are urgently summoned to the Sun (a k a Dallas, Texas). There is a joint emergency conference being held among key power consituents such as Republicans, oil barons, the Defense Establishment and people that watch Oprah. Apparently, they are holding an impromtu seminar on "A Cross Industry Panel on Sharing Best Practices of Evil" and were hoping you could give your standard keynote "Education Funds are Overrated. How about Building a New Warship?". Please temporarily suspend any plans you might be forming to become an international wind god and fly to Dallas immediately. -TPTB PS. Its 100 degrees there in April. What a ridiculous place, huh?"
I-Com packed a suit and several pairs of reversible Underoos in his bag, and left out the back door unnoticed. "I hope no one ramsacks my powerplant and creates an innovatively funny yet deadly trap for me when I return", he murmured to himself.
...
As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Enforcer and Flava discussed what to do next. Meanwhile, Chewie and the lion eyed each other suspiciously. It was common knowledge that Wookies and lions hadn't trusted each other since the interplanetary Narnian wars of 194,722 QR (approx. 3500BC in Earth time) -- Chewie wasn't sure what the lion was thinking, but couldn't help but get the feeling that the lion was thinking about him being...well, chewy. But luckily, every time the lion licked his chops, prompting Chewie to reach for his laser gun, a quick look from the Enforcer put the lion in a much more submissive state.

Chewie turned his attention to the conversation at hand, which was how to get inside the power plant. Flava was an advocate for bending a paper clip around the outside of the gate, through the bars, and across to the keypad by the guard station, thereby punching in the access code to open the gate. The obvious problem, of course, was that no one knew what I-Com's password might be. For her part, the Enforcer was suggesting a more subtle approach of ramming the Prius into the gate to force it open. However, this suggestion evoked a hyperventilatory response from Flava, partly because of the potential damage to the Prius and partly because she had hurriedly scrawled "FLAV" on the gate, surrounding walls, and a few large rocks that were nearby.

This conversation might have gone on forever, except for a sudden loud noise from the power plant. As the 3 friends and the one traitorous Wookie-double-crossing 4-legged shitbag turned to look for the source of the noise, they saw a giant hovercraft rise from the back yard of the power plant. Chewie had to admit, he'd never seen anything like it -- was that a T-6 trainer aircraft? And was that the evil wind-god-wannabe I-Com sitting in the pilot seat? Boy, did he look comfortable. But why was he still wearing his Incredible Hulk pajamas? (tm-- Marvel Comics)

In a flash, the hovercraft was gone, leaving a trail of scorched trees and broken dreams. This was their opportunity -- I-Com had left the plant unattended. But they'd have to move fast -- they didn't know how long I-Com would be gone. I mean, sure, there was the note -- but clearly the note had been a clever ploy to make them think he wasn't there. Chewie cursed himself for falling for the old "FedEx / Soiled Underwear" booty-call avoidance trick. He'd have to be sharper than THAT to beat I-Com.

Chewie suggested a plan that hadn't been discussed yet: "AAEEAAARRRRRRRR shitbag REACCCHI" ("How about if we all climb on the lion's back & he jumps the gate?" (tm -- Chewie) (Chewie hated trusting his life to a species known for treachery, but time was of the essence). Both Flava and the Enforcer agreed that this would be a good plan, and Chewie purposely didn't ask the lion what he thought because he had "flipped the bitch" on lions several years ago.

Backing up several dozen yards, the 3 friends climbed on the lion's back. The lion began running for the gate -- as he approached the gate at a full-speed gallop (or for lions, a "pride"), he leapt into the air.....

This would always be remembered as the moment that Brand X learned of Flava's desperate fear of heights.

First, Flava tried stalling.

"Hold it! We need ninja outfits! Don’t worry, I found some this morning." Flava popped the trunk of the Prius and pulled out a big box of ninja outfits. The side of the box read "3 Gross". Flava grabbed three (2 normal size and 1 freakishly long) outfits; each were neatly labeled "FLAV". "As you can see, these are clearly mine, but you two each borrow one."

The three fearless vigilantes quickly donned the ninja outfits and hopped back onto Flava's, I mean the Enforcer’s lion and prepared to jump.

"Hold on! I have a pebble in my ninja slipper!!"
Flava cried. She slide off the lion and painstakingly took off her slipper, shook it out, CAREFULLY relaced it, and climbed back on Flava’s lion and prepared to jump.

"Hold on! I have something in my eye!!!" Flava cried. By this time the Enforcer had figured out what was really going on. She had a sixth sense regarding Flava that came from living within 4 miles for the previous 13 years. In the interest of time, the Enforcer quickly knocked Flava out, threw her unconscious body on the lion, and yelled "CHARGE!"

Flava's lion easily leapt over the gate with all three vigilantes on its back.

The Enforcer and Chewie hopped off the lion's back and Chewie threw Flava's unconscious body over his shoulder.

As they walk up to the front door, it opened (as if opened by an unseen hand) creaking ominously. They walked into the dimly lit lobby.

As their eyes were getting accustomed to the light, Chewie suddenly cried "AIIIIEEEEOOO" ("Shit! We've been spotted!") Flava twitched sleepily and murmured "Fucking wookies..." and was unconscious once more.
The situation appeared dire. The lobby was filled with people! Throwing caution to the wind the Enforcer switched on her headlamp (also from the
Prius) and breathed a huge sigh of relief. The room was filled with life-size cardboard cutouts of Jason Schwartzman. Jason Schwartzman in Rushmore, Jason Schwartzman in Shopgirl, Jason Schwartzman in Marie Antoinette, Jason Schwartzman shaking hands with I-com at the Jason Schwartzman Fan Club Annual Bash, and a picture on Jason Schwartzman nude in the shower that appeared to have been taken with a long-range telephoto lens.

Three doors lay in front of them, yellow, blue, and RED. Which should they choose...

Meanwhile in Dallas, it was breaktime at the conference. Newt Gingrich was standing by the coffee stand with Doctor Phil discussing the high price of gas and how its annoying it was that it now cost over $100 to fill his Hummer.
I-Com was busy pondering the implications of the last plenary session he had just attended called "Guns or Butter? Guns, of Course". He was freezing because the air conditioning was cranked up to emulate the environment on the Ice Planet Hoth. So I-Com walked out of the conference center into the midday Dallas air. It was 100 degrees. I-Com loved the heat.
"After this, I should go to some place even hotter than this," he thought. Just then, next to the Dallas Weekender magazine, he found a tourism brochure for Club Med Riyadh. "Saudi Arabia. Now there's an under-rated place to travel for vacation in the world."
As he was flipping through the Club Med Riyadh brochure, he noted a pie-chart graph depicting how most vacationers spent their time in Kingdom. The largest wedge was 65% of the total and colored yellow. It said "Prayer". The second wedge was blue and it said "Drink Tea". And the third wedge was RED. It said "Watch Sand".
The yellow, blue, red pattern of the pie chart reminded him of his closet doors back home. I-Com remembered his decision to paint the closet doors different colors as a way to help him remember what was stored within them. Yellow represented royalty in ancient China, so this was where he kept all his most expensive memorabilia of "the King", Jason Swartzman. His Rushmore Academy suit from the set of Rushmore (all rights reserved), and his Jason Swartzman beret were his prized possessions. Blue sounded a little bit little beer (especially if you were drunk when you said these words outloud), so behind the blue door was a super-sized keg fridge. And finally RED. RED represented danger and therefore was capitalized every time he wrote it.
Actually, it had been so long since he'd opened the RED door that he had forgotten what was behind it, but he knew that danger lurked there. "I should check into that when I get back to the powerplant. I hope that its not booby-trapped and some intruder gets hurt when he/she/it opens the RED door," he thought in his gender-neutral, politically-correct sort of way....
Wookies hate Jason Schwartzman.

No one knows why, but they do. Make a Wookie watch a Jason Schwartzman movie, and he'll twitch uncomfortably, act bored, and pray for the hilarious moment that never comes. Put him in a room with Jason Schwartzman, and he'll start howling uncontrollably and running around in circles. (This, incidentally, is why Jason Schwartzman is restricted by intergalactic law from the outer Squid Nebulae, where most Wookie civilizations are based.) But since the beginning of Wookie time, no Wookie had ever been placed in a room full of life-size, VERY lifelike cutouts of MULTIPLE Jason Schwartzmans, including some showing a lot of skin (and an Incredible Hulk shower cap).

Until now.

Chewie's reaction was, in some ways, expected, given the situation. As the Enforcer turned on her light & took in the various Jason Schwartzmans and the three doors, Chewie pulled his laser gun and began blasting. CHIIUUUU!! (Bye-bye Shopgirl Schwartzman) CHIUUU!! (Bye-bye Marie Antoinette Schwartzman) CHIUUU-CHIUUU-CHIUUU (Definitely Bye-bye Rushmore Schwartzman). But even this was too much for Chewie, so even before the smoke cleared and the 3 Schwartzman's-No-More stopped smoking, Chewie ran to escape. Holding a still unconscious Flava on his back with one arm, he rushed to the yellow door, threw it open, and ran inside for a respite from this hell.

"Holy shit!", said the Enforcer to the lion as the smoke cleared. "Thank God THAT'S over. Well, at least Chewie's decided which door we should try first. Let's go see what's in there."

As Chewie sat in the Yellow room catching his breath and thinking of his happy place, the Enforcer walked in the room and turned on the Prius headlight. That was about the time all hell broke loose. Chewie, finding himself face-to-face with yet more Schwartzman paraphernalia, screamed "RUUUUURRRRIIIIEEEEEE!!!!"*** and commenced to lasering the shit out of everything. CHIUUU! (Bye-bye beret) CHIUUU!! (Bye-bye Schwartzman Rushmore Academy suit) CHIUUUUU!!! (Bye-bye I-Com Trapper Keeper with "I-Com (heart) Jason" on the cover). But even THAT wasn't enough -- in a panic, Chewie ran out of the Yellow Room, into the main room, where he cursed his poor short-term memory. CHIUUUU!! (Bye-bye nude shower Schwartzman) CHIUUUU!!! (Bye-bye I-Com / Schwartzman shaking hands). God, would this insanity ever end? In desperation, Chewie ran for the blue door, threw it open, and rushed in -- crashing headlong into a giant keg fridge.

Now THIS was exactly what Chewie needed. Temporarily forgetting about Flava, who slid off his shoulder and collapsed in a pile on the ground, Chewie grabbed the keg and held it with both giant paws above his head, lapping every delicious drop of beer until the keg was empty. Meanwhile, Flava, crumpled in a heap on the ground, finally began to come to. As Chewie set the keg back down & checked inside the fridge for another (there was none), Flava groggily stumbled out of the Blue room to the Enforcer and asked her if the shirt she was wearing was "Boo-ba-licious"****

The Enforcer seemed less concerned with the brand of Flava's shirt than she was with the situation, and she said to them, "Well, since Chewie's done a weirdly effective job of finding out what's behind the Yellow and the Blue doors, why don't we see what's behind the RED door?" Chewie, always a gentleman (and with a keg-full of Wookie courage in him), thought this a grand plan. So he pulled out his laser gun and headed for the RED door. A surprisingly gentle-but-don't-fuck-with-me clothesline stopped him in his tracks. "Chewie," said the Enforcer in that voice that sounds like a question but really isn't, "why don't you let ME go into this room first?" Chewie could've sworn he heard that goddamn double-crossing lion snicker in the background, but he agreed.

As the Enforcer opened the RED door and stepped inside, things were tense. Surely that room was dangerous -- why else would it be all capitalized? What could be so dangerous, so devious, so twisted that even the deranged mind of I-Com considered it a danger?

The Enforcer walked out, and said, "You guys have GOT to see this." Turning to Chewie, she said, "No Schwartzmans -- I promise." Chewie put his laser gun away and followed Flava and the Enforcer into the room.

What they saw there shocked them all. The room was filled with trophies, plaques, pictures, even poems framed on the wall. A plaque near Chewie read "To Little I-Com -- For Planting a Tree on Arbor Day", a poem on the wall started "Why Baby Seals are my Bestest Friend....by Little I-Com, Grade 2". Trophy after trophy lauded a young boy I-Com for his efforts in helping the environment, cleaning up litter on the the highway, even a science fair project where Little I-Com won second place for a solar-powered comb. But....HOW WAS THIS POSSIBLE? Could I-Com, the evil, despotic, mad scientist, really be an environmentalist at heart? It seemed so implausible. But here, in front of them, was the proof. But WHAT could have happened to I-Com to harden his heart, close out the good, and mentally block this RED room while labeling it a DANGER for him?*****

For the first time in their lives (especially Flava), all 3 of them were utterly, completely speechless. In the momentary silence and reverence that followed, Chewie took advantage of the lion standing idly behind the last Jason Schwartzman cutout to blast both the cutout and the lion to oblivion. "RARRRRRRRAEEEEEE"******, Chewie thought silently as the last of his demons were exorcised.




*** An ancient Wookie curse word that loosely translates to "Your father was hung like an Ewok, and your mother had a bald spot."
**** Chewie had no idea what that word was, but then again, this is a Wookie who doesn't know the meaning of "irony"
***** See the book "Why Wookies make AWESOME authors" for more on this kick-ass shift of viewpoint that delves deep into different characters' psyches and viewpoints, weaving together a complex story that is destined for SOOO much more than email.
****** Loosely translated, "I do this for you, my ancestors, who died at the grimy paws of the Narnian traitors. Rest in peace."

I-Com went back to the conference, but none of the remaining topics on the day's agenda were of interest to him. His butt started hurting from sitting all day and the pitcher of water at his conference table was almost dry. "Goddamn Oprah watchers drank all the table water. I'm outta here." And with that he stormed away from the conference room and back out into the Dallas afternoon sun. He thought of his favorite Faulkner book, The Light in August, and thought that if he was the protaganist in a novel, it would be called The Light in Dallas.
The wind had picked up now and he enjoyed the feeling of it flowing through his hair. He looked up, glancing directly at the sun. It was if he wasn't looking at the sun but rather something even bigger, something of even greater significance. It was as if he was metaphorically seeing the light. He thought to himself, "I've seen the light."
But what did all this wind and light mean? After staring at the sun, he looked away. In the dead center of his vision was a giant red spot where the sun used to be. When his brain processed this image, it morphed into the RED door at his home. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of the RED door out of his head. "I can't believe that I still can't remember what I store in that room!" It was if the RED door was a room full of memories that he wanted to bury deep within his subconscious.
"Wait, what if beyond the RED door is a room full of memories that I wanted to bury deep within my subconscious?", he pondered. "That's it!" As soon as the words were uttered, the memories flowed back into his consciousness, wave after wave. The levy had broken. The dam had burst. Someone had turned the spigot on. There was only his head, and a river, a river of memories, ran through it. His brain was the old man and his memories were the sea. Water. Moist towelettes. Memories. You get the picture.
He realized that his true calling in life was to do good in the world and that water and wind and the sun and RED had something to do with it. He also knew that it would be very difficult to achieve this lofty goal on his own. He needed help.
He quickly returned to his hotel room and located the complementary Marriott (all rights reserved) notepad and the complementary Marriott (all rights reserved) pen. In the absence of a white board, he used this pad and paper to jot down complementary skills he would need to achive his goal of good. After about 15 minutes of unfettered brainstorming, his notepad read as follows:
"1. Hot babe in ninja suit with access to environmentally-friendly car and the ability to tell time on a moments notice, preferably with access to a timepiece on her person.
2. A second hot babe in a ninja suit with the ability to hurt people and ride lions bareback.
3. A Wookie."
On second thought, I-Com realized that the Wookie served no real purpose, but figured, "What the hell. It may happen that during the course of my adventures in the pursuit of good with my new posse of ninja babes, one person from my posse may need to be killed. And what better target than a ridiculously tall furry goalkeeper, I mean, Wookie."
I-Com booked the next flight back to Internet Village. "I must find some people who meet my needs as outlined on the Marriott (all rights reserved) notepad." As his return flight took off, he realized that the extent to which his life would be considered a comedy or a tragedy depended largely upon whether or not he was able to find those complementary figures as soon as he returned to Internet Village. He realized that there were many who only knew him as the Industrial Complex. He had made no shortage of enemies and if they found him before he found his target candidates of good, they would probably kill him in some horrible way.He knew his life hung in the balance. In the meantime, he groped for sustenance in his his bag of peanuts and swallow-sized water bottle.

Meanwhile, I-com was making his way back to the Internet Village. He sat in a stuffy uncomfortable bus seat, surrounded by people with IQs barely sufficient to stop themselves from drooling (their lack of intellectual prowess was demonstrated by their selection in reading material, for example Dan Brown's – Deception Point). I-com gazed at the horizon, lost in thought.

"What happened to me? How did I go from a youth of integrity and idealism to being a pawn of the corporate machine? How could this have happened? It doesn’t make sense!"

I-com tried to figure how he had come to this end. He pondered a theory that each of us is inexorably drawn down a path to follow in our parents footsteps. What would Edith (no other second base could ever take her
place) think of him now? I-com mulled this new theory over. He liked it. It could explain everything, AND it wasn't really his fault. Who can resist an inexorable force? Just then the women in the seat next to I-com gasped. She had just read Dan Brown’s completely obvious (yet not to her) plot twist.

I-com was jolted out of his reverie. "More
importantly, how did I get on this bus? I work for
The Man. Where are the cushy limousines? Where are the "therapeutic" massages?" I-com thought back fondly to his first massage, courtesy of The Man.

I-com was just about to graduate business school. The world was full of opportunities. He had managed to score two big interviews. The first was at "Save the World Org" and the second was at "The Man & Co". His interview with STWO was great! They discussed STWO’s business plan to eliminate the energy crisis, cure cancer, stop poverty, and end war. I-com was overwhelmed with excitement and a sense of purpose as he left the interview.

The next day he had his interview with TM&Co. He considered canceling but decided it was bad form to cancel at the last minute. The interview was fine, if uninspiring. The TM&Co interviewer explained their business plan to wreak destruction to make money and then use that money to make more money. I-com was unimpressed; he smiled politely and stood to leave.
However the interviewer INSISTED that he get a complimentary massage. I-com had hiked 20 miles the previous day (he is a big hiker) and his quads were sore, so he hesitantly accepted. He followed the interviewer back to the "Physical Therapy" section of the building. I-com entered Massage Room 3 with a pleasing RED door. The room was empty so he immediately stripped naked "When in doubt, get naked"
he mused (just ask any flight attendant on the US to China route). I-com flopped onto the massage table and shifted around to get comfortable.

Just then a stunningly attractive petite masseuse entered from a side door. She wore a name tag the read "Desire". Her golden hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her eyes were like limpid pools. She wore a sheer muslin shirt and had the fullest, softest (yet firm)... um... elbows that I-com had ever seen. After the massage, I-com dozed, his face resting on her ample elbows. Desire was saying something, but he wasn't really paying attention. He vaguely remembered hearing something like "money = massage = ample elbows = money", but it was hazy.

The next day STWO and TM&Co both offered I-com a position. Even though 24 hours earlier I-com had every intention of taking the STWO job, he found himself declining. He was compelled to take the TM&Co job. He couldn't explain why, but he had no choice.


As I-com sat on the stuffy bus he started to wonder "What was Desire saying anyway? Did she have some role in his decision to work for The Man?" He wasn't sure but something suspicious had happened in that room.

Back in the Internet Village, as bits of vaporized long and Jason Schwartzman cut-out floated through the air, the three friends stared in disbelief at the contents of the RED room. Finally Chewie came up with a plan...