CHRISTMAS GREETINGS

A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS

From the Johnny Utah Symposium to you...

Beginning today, 'TWAS the season. Remember that. Have a wonderful day friends and readers!

(There's a present in my diapers!)

A Very Johnny Reunion

JUhSians,

Today marks a momentous occasion in the history of the Johnny Utah Symposium. For the first time in many months the moons & stars will align.

(aligned)

All four founding members of the Johnny U (McKinney chapter) will gather together in the same venue this very evening. We predict either the Earth's violent demise in a fiery explosion, or the immediate onset of world peace. One or the other.

While world peace is the more noble outcome, we, frankly, are indifferent. This is because the Johnny has been made the beneficiary of many small space traveling modules, commissioned by none other than Richard Branson himself.


Thanks dude.

The ships are specially designed to power off of Wilbur Burris' mind-rays. We'll feast in space on the dried meat of young Turkish boars. A 360 year supply. Water will be squeezed from the juice of passing comet tails caught in our net, a la the Little Prince.


We'll learn the secrets of space, traveling through suns with our ultra heat absorbent fuselage and navigating black holes with the help of Stephen Hawking's Voice Box (JUhS). He won't be needing it anymore. And if you've by some miracle managed to survive the explosions, the Johnny will return to Earth to rule you with a brass-knuckled (but fair) fist. And, if you're nice we'll share our several secrets of the universe. (Note: stockpiling virgin maidens will speed up the process)

So, in conclusion, be careful on the roads tonight. If you have the unlikely opportunity to acquire some sort of space travel device, do so by all means. Because honestly, which do you think is the more likely outcome? But you'll have a tough time making it past our laser cannons. Fair warning.

Best Wishes,
The Johnny U

-UPDATE-

Alright, well ... the Earth narrowly averted fiery disaster, and that bagadouche Branson never actually delivered the spaceships. But they're supposedly arriving next week. Honestly people, this whole explosion thing could happen at any moment, so be careful.

A Brief Irritant, A Theory, and English Breakfasts

Hello everyone. Happy consumer holiday season to you. It's me, your least frequent JUhS poster. I have three quick subjects to bring to your attention:

-One-

Umm... look. I feel bad for James Kim and all. I'm sure he was an awesome husband and father. But seriously folks, has it been a slow news week? Here's a shocker: "Coroner: Kim died of exposure, hypothermia."

Let me get this straight. He left the relative warmth and safety of his car (not to mention his family), walked ten miles through the freezing Oregon wilderness in nothing but normal street clothes, and froze to death as a result? ... Well no shit. I'm sorry, but did this surprise anyone? Why is this the top story on cnn.com? Everyone realizes there are - eh - larger issues going on in the world, right? Oh screw it... I can give you one right now.

-Two-

Ready? Here it is. Big Pooga's operation is larger and more sophisticated than we previously thought was possible. He possesses nuclear technology, is recruiting suicide assailants, and may very well be the underground ruler of everyone's favorite upstart nation, Russia. I realize this is quite a statement. Allow me to explain.

That's right. We're going there. You all know the late Mr. Litvinenko. He was killed by sushi laced with the lethal radioactive material polonium 210.* The mainstream media would have you believe the powers-that-be in Moscow wanted Litvinenko, a critic of Putin's administration, killed. Likely, and easy for an average person to accept, but untrue.

I pose the following argument: It was Big Pooga, not Putin, who poisoned Litvy. In the depths of the Baltic sea, BP recruited the most cold-blooded salmon and spicy tuna he could find, convinced them to ingest radioactive material before knowingly subjecting themselves to the sushi knife, and (inexplicably) ensured their delivery to the very Itsu at which Litvy was eating that fateful evening. "Impossible," you say. Not if BP is himself the leader of Russia. The man (or in this case, fish) behind the curtain, if you will. Putin is obviously his puppet, the instrument whereby he will enact his scheme for the destruction of humanity. BP has furthered his operation from rural lakes in the southern US to the former Soviet Union at an alacritous pace. Before long he'll have Russia up and running again, gaining steam. Next thing you know, they'll be united with China. And once the PLA is involved, well, it's all over but the crying.

This should be worrying you, people. Not James Kim's exact location and body temperature when he died. I wouldn't be surprised if BP controls the mainstream media by now. Has Ted Turner made any trips to Russia lately? (Salazar, can you look into this please?) In the meantime, I highly suggest that everyone keep away from sushi. Just to be safe. And no watersports.

-Three-

In complete and utter digression, English food sucks. This is what I ate for breakfast this morning:

Disgusting (but seafood-free).

It's a permanent revolution folks,
Andrew (JUhS)

*statement may or may not be true