Newsgroups: rec.humor Subject: SCHIDT #3 - NOV 92 **14K** Message-ID: From: sanderso@gacvx2.gac.edu (Scott T. Anderson) Date: 3 Mar 93 21:55:13 -0600 Organization: Schidt, Schidt, My Kingdom for Schidt Lines: 356 THE SCHIDT ISSUE #3 THANKSGIVING 1992 Published by Scott T. Anderson and Dale L. Houston E-mail correspondence: sanderso@gacvx2.gac.edu This issue of the Schidt was converted for e-mail on 23 February 1993 "Sorry, we're not seething cauldrons of testosterone like you." --David Crowe Condom Boy's Corner By Scott T. Anderson There's a first to everything. Someone had to be the first person to hear the real singing voices of Rob Pilatus and Fab Morvan (Milli Vanilli for those of you who didn't know what I was talking about in "This not That" from issue 1; also, I wonder if Rob is a distant descendant of Pontius Pilatus). Well enough of that gibberish. Here's something I was pondering as I felt the blustery winds in my silken hair today: I bet Jesus had dreadlocks. And now just a moment to officially congratulate Bill Clinton and Al Gore. Way to go, guys. Now get to work. I would like you all to know how much work goes into every issue of the Schidt. Endless hours and effort are expended on every article to make sure that the Schidt is pleasing to you, the reader. In fact, just coming up with the name The Schidt was a major undertaking. Now that I've set this up properly, here I present our top ten rejected names for the Schidt. 10. Pneumoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis 9. Rodent Molesters' Journal 8. The Only Thing Between Me and a Decent GPA 7. Dale 6. I Can't Believe it's not Garbage! 5. Foreskin Today 4. Your Destiny 3. The Better Bedwetter Letter 2. Genitalia-R-Us 1. The Fuhque Have a happy Thanksgiving, and remember what they always say; Don't eat pumpkin pie and drive. Thank you. (There, I've done my thanks giving.) SOMETHING FOR CII STUDENTS: Livy Paper Titles By Chris Roberts Livy: A Man, a Machine, or Just Another Fool? Livy: The Historian, the Roman, the Slam-dancer Livy and the Origins of Rap Livy Unclothed or Livy in his Skivvies Livy and the Communist Dream Livy: Hope for Feminism or Nixon Mark I Livy: A Man of Few Words and Great Deeds Fundamentally Oral Livy Middle-aged, Bald, Obese Black Slaves and Why Livy Loved Them Livy: Just Another Chew Toy Livy: A Boy and his Dog; a Man and his Sheep Livy and a Cat Named Bill The Apathetic Livy: The Origins of Perspective Why the Romans Drank Wine, not Beer I, Livy Livy on the Brain A Freudian View of Livy the Sex Machine Livy and the Guys--Hanging Out An In-Depth Psychoanalysis of Livy and his Effect on the Collapse of the Roman Empire as Related to the Post-WWII Era Desire for Twinkies King Livy Long Livy, the King Livy Tells the Tales Bedtime Stories of the Roman Empire: A Lengthy Dissertation by Livy From the Depth Rises Livy Livy and the Roman Soultrain The Effect of Livy on Modern Heavy Metal Music Livy: Einstein or Gomer Pyle? I Dream of Livy with the Dark Brown Hair Livy: Live in Central Park Livy's Greatest Hits Livy and his Bearded Wife Long John Livy When it's Livy, Livy, Livy on the Label, Label, Label then it's Good, Good, Good to Read The Top Ten Reasons for Men By Judy Willemssen 10. Lawn care and vehicle maintenance 9. To kill creepy, crawly things 8. To take out the garbage 7. So girls have buns to admire 6. Who else would watch football? 5. Dogs need friends, too 4. Someone has to be wrong 3. Hey--not everyone likes nailing Jell-O to trees 2. To give the word "ego" a reason to be in the dictionary 1. So the penis has a life-support system Attention All Sexual Deviants!!! The JIZMATRON, which has gained international recognition for quality in the world's finest brothels, is now available for home use! The JIZMATRON is the finest personal sexual stimulation device on the market. For a free brochure, call Rhonda 24 hours a day at 1-800-421-2444. This not That By Scott T. Anderson On the toilet not in the bushes. (This is the classic "this not that.") Erik Estrada in 1970's TV series not Erik Estrada in a Taco Bell commercial. ("Excuse me, ma'am, but do you have a license for that taco?") This not that not Livy paper. Sunny San Diego, California not pleasant-smelling St. Peter, Minnesota. Half-and-half (cottage cheese style) in the "hot dog house" not green-and-black moldy yogurt behind the couch. I reiterate: Clinton/Gore not Bush/Quayle!!! Bass not bass. 'Cello not trout (just to clarify the previous). Picard, Data, and Worf not Riker, Troi, and Yar. Anyone on earth or in hell (even the Ferengi) not Wesley Crusher. Picard and Beverly Crusher not Picard and Wesley Crusher and Definitely not Beverly and Wesley. Grandma's Big Adventure By David Crowe The tale begins one dreary night, When grandma went insane. The brutal killings didn't stop Until the town was slain. She went to bed, and slept till morn That night she went insane. When she awoke, her mind was gone, And scrambled were her brains. Her maid came to her house and said, "My God! She's gone insane!" So grandma went and stabbed the girl. She used a weather vane. She went outside her door and said, "I'll show 'em I'm not insane." She found a big construction site And got inside a crane. She drove it into town that day. The woman was insane. She crashed into a crowded bus. The people died in pain. She killed again and then some more She clearly was insane. But then she stopped, and killed no more, For everyone was slain. How to play... HIDE JIM'S PANTS By Dale L. Houston "Hey! Where the hell did you put my pants?! I want my goddamn pants back!" --Jim Players: 2 or more (the more the better) Equipment: 1 person named Jim (wearing pants) 1 pair of pants (property of Jim) 1 large area to hide pants Object: To hide Jim's pants so he cannot find them. How to play: All of the players whose names are not Jim must hide and be very quiet. When Jim walks, runs, jogs, skips, mambos, jazzercises, or meanders by, all of the hidden players leap out and tackle him. After that, Jim's pants are removed and hidden. The fun of the game is watching Jim run around in his underwear trying to find his trousers. If Jim finds them within one hour, he wins. If it takes him more than one hour, everyone else wins. Places to play: The mall, school, church, football games (any sporting event), concerts, town meetings, a neighbor's house, the police station, or Tibet. Optional equipment: Hand grenades, land mines, yak hairballs, catnip, bananas, egg substitute, liquid heat, flags, small dogs, or barbed wire. HAVE FUN! How to Take Notes Submitted (but not written) by Dale L. Houston When Professor Mitchell says: "Probably the greatest quality of the poetry of John Milton, who was born in 1608, is the combination of beauty and power. Few have surpassed him in the use of the English language, or for that matter, in lucidity of verse form, 'Paradise Lost' being said to be the greatest single poem ever written." You write: John Milton, born 1608 When Professor Mitchell says: "When Lafayette first came to this country, he discovered America. The Americans needed his help if their cause was to survive, and this he promptly supplied them." You write: Lafayette discovered America. When Professor Mitchell says: "Current historians have come to doubt the complete advantageousness of some of Roosevelt's policies." You write: Most of the problems that now face the United States are directly traceable to the bungling and greed of President Roosevelt. When Professor Mitchell says: "...it is possible that we do not understand the Soviet viewpoint...." You write: Professor Mitchell is a communist. When Professor Mitchell says: "The puissance of hydrochloric acid is incontestable; however, the corrosive residue is inharmonious with metallic persistence." You write: Hydrochloric acid eats the hell out of steel. Ode to a Piece of Shit By Wayne Boeke Praise be to you oh piece of shit, for sliding out and relieving my tightened sphincter. Many a day have I dreamed of this load to be dropped with such ease and stature. Yet, others must know my feeling as I say, "Man, I tell you, I must take the throne" or "I declare, I must excuse myself, for I will lay some cable," and they emerge from the water closet with smiles bright. This praise be dedicated for the lack of extreme firmness and the riddance of the watering blotching grungies. I say again, Good fortune to the crap that flows out one's asshole so nicely. Turkey Day Exposed By Dale L. Houston Why do we still call the 4th Thursday in November Thanksgiving Day? People don't give anymore, and they sure as hell don't thank with any sincerity. The name implies that it is a joyful holiday, but it isn't. Thanksgiving marks the beginning of a horrible time in our history, when we stole and plundered and generally took from the Native Americans and said not a word of thanks for their land. I think, as my roommate put it so eloquently, the name should be changed to "Rudetaking Day." Have you ever noticed how at the Rudetaking Day feast you have to at least try everything your relatives make? The pungent odor of cranberry sauce makes you hurl, but you must take a big bite and smile, trying not to let the goo slip out of the corners of your mouth. Then after the ever-so-happy cook leaves to get the next course, you let the glob of wretched food fall into the gaping maw of the family pet, Spotty the llama. Soon after, just before the chef returns, everyone shreds the cooking ability of the absent party. How nice. After the meal comes football. Why football? I think that a sport that uses the two worst aspects of American society (violence and committee decision) should not be televised. Why couldn't there be the Rudetaking Day Family Follies, where hidden cameras pick up the conversation when the chef left the room. That would be great (until the year it happened to your family; then the shit would really hit the proverbial fan). Just imagine Aunt Betty punching Uncle Harold in his quivering gut with a fistful of sharp, dry turkey shards... how pleasant. Well, that's my idea for this holiday. Have fun, and watch out for the cameras! Gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble.... NITROGEN FIXING BACTERIA By "Big Del" Although the title of this persiflage may lead you to believe in stainless Kool-Aid, I am not trying to do anything along the lines of creating a super-ultra-deluxe beef patty. Rather, my aim is to show how important it is to distinguish between the two varieties of living beings--vertebrates vs. invertebrates, more commonly known as things that go squish-crunch, or crunch-squish. The reason for this is because a small band of left-handed lemmings invaded a small tobacco shop in London and claimed the crown of France. Regarding this situation, a reputable source (a sincere quarter-sized spot of semi-coagulated tomato soup) was quoted as saying, "Divine-human relationships are esoteric." The Adventures of Dr. Shnoogenblagen By David Crowe Part One "To murder him I lust, And up his nostrils Hot bananas thrust!" --From "Blackadder the Third" Dr. Shnoogenblagen awoke to the sound of a German cow chanting "Waaaake up! Don't shleep your life avay!" A quick shot with a .357 Magnum soon solved the problem of the noisy (and quite annoying) alarm clock. Dr. Shnoogenblagen then went (A note on the official title of the story's protagonist: Shnoogenblagen is not really a doctor. More precisely, he is a sadistic and demented homicidal maniac. Thank you and sorry for the interruption.) outside to check his mail. For weeks he had been waiting for his package to arrive, and was constantly dejected when he opened his mail box, only to find Badge-A-Minit catalogues and Mormon video tapes. But today was different. When he saw the Torturers-R-Us label, he was beside himself with joy. He quickly snatched the package and ran inside with it clutched to his breast. Once inside, he opened the wrapper and took out his Super-Deluxe Torturer's Kit. The brochure had promised hours upon hours of wild and wacky torturing fun, and Shnoogenblagen was sure he wouldn't be disappointed. Leafing through the instruction booklet, the good doctor noticed that the kit didn't actually contain any victims on whom he could perform any acts of mindless violence. "Damn!" he thought, "I forgot. The Super-Deluxe Torturer™s Kit doesn't come with victims. You only get victims if you order the Super-Deluxe CLUB MODEL Torturer's Kit. Oh well, I guess finding victims shouldn't be too hard." Shnoogenblagen hopped in his van and drove off to the mall. Once there, he said to the first passer-by that he met, "Excuse me, sir! Would you like to get in my van with me, drive home to my house, and let me try out my new torture devices on you?" The man gave Dr. Shnoogenblagen an uneasy look and buggered off. After trying this approach for about an hour and only getting one volunteer (a high school-aged kid in a tie-dyed shirt who was obviously stoned agreed to come with the good doctor), Shnoogenblagen started to try a different, and much more successful tactic. With a large club, Shnoogenblagen bashed five unsuspecting victims senseless and dragged them off to his van. When he got home, he was giddy with anticipation of the gratuitous brutality to come.... -Can our hero finish everybody off in time for dinner? -What fiendish devices of cruel torture will he use? -Will the audacious Shnoogenblagen leave anyone alive? Find out in the next installment of... THE ADVENTURES OF DR. SHNOOGENBLAGEN!!! Thanks for reading the Schidt.