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         Doodah Humor Magazine      Volume 4, Number 3
                                         October, 1991
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Editorial Offices:

Charlie Radd, Editor and publisher
Paul Forrester, supervisory editor

plus a staff of K's submitting articles under various aliases
and/or real names.

The editor can be reached through the Politics Conference on the
ILink  network found  on PCBoard.  No guarantee is made that you
will receive  a reply.  We read the  mail, but we may or may not
answer it.

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                           CONTENTS THIS ISSUE:

                               An Editorial
                          Letters to the Editor
                 More Stuff which we will think of by the
                  time we get down to actually typing it
________________________________________________________________________


                            WeirdHouse Editorial

    About  the  only  thing  of any interest to have happened recently is 
the  publication of a book called "Sex  Is  Not  Compulsory"  by  one Liz 
Hodgkinson.

    In  this  meaty  tome, the lady advocates celibacy for the betterment 
of health and marital relationships.

    Of  course, we quite agree. We have worked for many years to persuade 
the public that sex is an appalling bore.

    The  bulk  of  the  argument  is  that  all women get pissed off with 
bonking  their  husbands  after  a  few  years, and we can't fault her on 
that,  can  we men?  After that, apparently, they just pretend to like it 
because  they  think we poor antedeluvian brutes need that sort of thing.  
Jolly noble of them, we think.

    Besides  that,  Liz  says that the removal of all that sperm deprives 
men  of  zinc  and makes them turn imbecile before they finally go blind.  
How true!

    The  local  authority  whittling  down at the courthouse says that as 
soon  as  this  rubbish  about  lack of zinc gets around, all the fellows 
will  be  buying  zinc tonics to stop the blindness and such.  And, as he 
has  invested  two  million in zinc, you can understand why he feels this 
book is a jolly good thing.

    But,  name  me  one  good  reason why modern men should stand for all 
this  feminist  crap!   You  can't,  can  you?  But after all the fucking 
they've  forced  us to do in the past twenty years, is it any wonder that 
we're  short  of  zinc,  half-blind,  and  imbecile enough to put up with 
anything?

    So,  after  a month of celibacy, with our zinc levels back to normal, 
we  will  be  strong-minded  enough to tell the girls to burn Liz's book, 
and, while they're at it, get those pants off.


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________________________________________________________________________

Sirs:

    Fancy  that,  eh,  what?   Betcha  didn't think your miserable little 
journal  reached  as far as Down Under, did you?  Sod it, you Yanks think 
the  whole  world  follows  what goes on in the States, don't you?  Well, 
let  me  tell  you  something,  where  would you be if we 'adn't sent you 
"Crockodile  Dundee"?   You'll  never  know how funny it was listening to 
all  you  Yanks  go around saying "G'day, mate"! in your phony Australian 
accents,  trying  to  impress  your  mates.   It  was  almost as funny as  
hearing  you  all  speaking  "Valley  Talk" and painting your hair green!  
Sure,  we're  pissed  about  the Americas Cup, but that was sporting, and 
we'll  win  it back next time.  Besides, it kinda makes up for us sending 
you  Jacko,  oy!   "The Enerjoyzer, it'll surproyze ya, oy!"  Seems to me 
that we got the better deal out of it!

Reginald Butler
Melbourne


Editorial Reply:

    I knew we shoulda let the Nips march all the way to Canberra......

----------------
Sirs:

    Owhay   adglay   IWAY   amway   otay   eadray  away  etterlay  omfray 
Australiaway.  IWAY  amway  ustjay  acrossway  ethay  aterway  inway Port 
Moresby,  ichwhay  isway ocatedlay inway Papua-New Guinea.  E'reway inway 
ethay  aterway,  inway atthay orrendoushay essmay ofway islandsway atthay 
includesway  The  Phllipines  andway  uchsay.  IWAY asway artingstay otay 
onderway  ifway  erethay ereway anyway otherway omputercay usersway atway 
allway  inway  isthay  artpay  ofway  ethay  orldway.   Erhapspay  youway 
ouldway  arecay  otay  owknay  aboutway  ourway  ountrycay?   Eway avehay 
omesay   ofway   ethay  orld'sway  ostmay  eautifulbay  olfgay  oursescay 
erehay.   OLFGAY!   At'sthay  ightray,  OLFGAY!   Eingbay  away  airlyfay 
ountainousmay  ountrycay,  e'veway otgay omesay orgeousgay oleshay andway 
airwaysfay.   Eway enjoyway Utworksnay eryvay uchmay, andway onceway eway 
endsay  itway  outway overway ethay unglesjay iavay umdray orway ollowhay  
oglay,   ethay   ainray   orestfay   iterallylay  akesshay  ithway  ethay 
aughterlay ofway ong-lostlay ibesmentray.

Sincerely,
Mugatu Vanuaatu
Port Moresby, Papua-New Guinea


Editorial Reply:

    We  would  like  to  thank  Mr.  Mugatu  Vanuaatu  for  providing our 
secretary's  fifth  grader  with  an  interesting  code to translate into 
English.

________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

                              Brrm ... Brrm!
                            Two Down, Montego

    I  don't  have  to do this job, you know.  I could have been a boxer, 
heavyweight  contender,  but  I chose this instead.  And having committed 
myself  to  being  a  motoring writer for the rest of eternity, I tend to 
take the whole thing pretty damn seriously.

    The  thing is, there's a responsibility to being a writer:  my public 
expects  the truth, and it's my job not only to find it, but to print it, 
unswervingly  delivering  my  opinion  regardless  of outside influences.  
The  fact  that  one  particular  company  or  manufacturer  may be a big 
advertiser  for  my  boss's other magazines (the paper ones) cannot alter 
my honest opinions.

    And  I have to say that road testing vehicles (pronounced VE-ikl, not 
ve-HICK-ul,   as  most  barbarians  say  it)  to  their  extremes  is  an 
unfortunate  necessity  if the reader is to reap the full benefit from my 
knowledge  and  experience.   How  do  I  know  what  the actual limit of 
adhesion of any given car is unless I have personally surpassed it?

    Can  I report back and say that it hangs on like grim death and still 
hold  my  head up if I subsequently discover that some other magazine has 
taken  the  trouble  to  measure  cornering  capacity accurately?  No, of 
course I can't.

    And  if  I later find that they've pulled more G in cornering than I, 
why,  them  I have a clear indication that they had a better car, a drier 
day,  or ever wind and surface conditions than I did.  On the other hand, 
I  can  be  absolutely  certain that if I can get better figures than the 
rest,  it's  almost  certainly  down to something else altogether.  Every 
driver  has  a  psychological  limit, and if mine is that much further on 
than my less fortunate companions--well, who am I to brag about it?

    That's  mainly  why  we  don't publish that boring stuff in NutWorks.  
Time  after  time  we  read  road  tests in other magazines in a state of 
advanced  incredulity.   I  can't  believe  that  nobody  here  has taken 
Corvette  beyond  1.8G  on  the lateral-force test; we did that two years 
ago  WITHOUT  the  extra  stiffening in the sidewall bracing, and without 
the new large-diameter anti-sway bar.

    And  then  you  find  that they're slow on speed as well.  Nobody has 
hit  200  mph  in  a  road test of any sort yet, but I can remember going 
through  the  suburbs  at  210  mph  in a GT40 about 10 years ago.  I can 
remember  Main  Street at 140 mph one Sunday as well.  That was pleasure, 
not business.

    But  it  does  make you aware that there may be some chaps who simply 
aren't  doing  their  job.   I mean, anyone who couldn't get an Astra GTE 
speedo  to  say 130 mph on the interstate, never mind on a test track, is 
clearly  in  need  of  a jolly good pep talk.  Instead they just turn out 
all  the  old  nonsense  about  headwinds  and tire scrub up the banking.  
Seems  to  me that what we're talking about here isn't tire scrub at all.  
It's  fear,  pure  and simple.  And masking it behind a load of seemingly 
smart  remarks  about interior design and the positioning of the armrests 
(all  doubtless  cribbed  from  the  Press  Kit  in any case) is hardly a 
reasonable substitute.

    "Cramped  cockpit and awkwardly-placed seat height adjuster prevented 
us from reaching the maximum," you read.

    Baloney, I say.

    And  they  do the same with gasoline consumption.  You keep seeing it 
in  print:   "average  of  blah-blah  exceptionally good for this size of 
car,  etc.".   What  they really mean is:  "we were so terrified of going 
really  fast  in  this  one, so we just screwed around and saved loads of 
gas  instead".   I  read  those fuel figures with near disbelief.  I have 
used HEAPS more gas than most of them without even trying.

    Still,  it can be tricky.  When the Sierra came out years ago, it had 
a  neat  little  dash  indicator  to  tell  you how the fuel was flowing:  
Green  light  =  very  economic,  orange  light = not too clever, and red 
light  =  you're  going too fast in this gear.  At first it looked simple 
to  master,  but  it  wasn't,  and  I  soon  lost  count of the number of 
accidents I avoided trying to keep the damn thing in the red.

    Most  of these jokers can't even be trusted to have a decent accident 
without  supervision.   This  leads  to disappointment among readers, who 
are  also  keen  judges  of  a good RTA if you ask me, and can spot a man 
who's  been holding back just by the size of his dents.  From there, it's 
just  a  short  step  to holding back at the till, and before you know it 
sales are in the gutter along with the cars.

    Top  marks,  therefore,  to  the  motoring writer of a national daily 
newspaper,  who  borrowed  a  Mercedes  because  it's the only car he can 
drive  with a broken leg.  Of course, Mercedes lent him one, because they 
knew  he  couldn't  have  been trying all that hard if all he broke was a 
leg.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
                         Next time in WeirdHouse

                           Tons of funny stuff
                       No mention of SEA and PKWARE
             Sad commmentary on the state of human existence
                      Death, plague, and pestilence
                      Fire, famine, and earthquakes
                       Juggling for fun and profit

