From: Jeremy_Reimer@mindlink.bc.ca (Jeremy Reimer)
Newsgroups: alt.slack
Subject: N-Man #4: DEDICATED TO TOM DENNIS
Date: 14 Oct 92 11:23:29 GMT
Organization: MIND LINK! - British Columbia, Canada
Distribution: world

Why? You ask?  Heh...

Because he needs the attention.

Now, on to more serious matters.  N-Man in alt.slack you say?  Well, N-Man is
a humorous semi-weekly presentation basically of stuff just off the top of my
head, which despite this is receiving attention and admiration from virtually
everyone except for Tom Dennis.  (even that last sentence was a weak attempt
at humor)  So naturally I thought the best place for it would be rec.humor,
but if you examine that newsgroup, with eight zillion posts per day, only
about 0.1% could actually be said to have some kind of humor in them.  How's
that for inappropriate posting?

I got mail from someone the other day who said "Humor and wit on the Net?
I'm surprised they haven't taken away your net access."  But then again I
guess it would be far more interesting and exciting for everyone if I merely
contributed to the fabulous cascades, or posted "Praise BoB and send me $20"
once a day for the rest of my natural life.  Those who can't see the sarcasm
in the above two sentences need to have their brains examined.

On to the nonsense...

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF N-MAN, THE WORLD'S GREATEST SUPERHERO

EPISODE N=4: THE PRICE ($19.95)

        "Anything?" N-Man repeated, for those viewers who missed N-Man
episode #3.
        "Surely!" the baked-beans-on-toast replied.  "I can answer
anything at all, no problem!  My IQ is higher than your shoe size!"
        N-Man, who wore a size 935, was deeply impressed.  "All right
then.  Answer me this.  Why," and he paused for dramatic effect, "does
Elvis continue to be so popular?"
        The high-cholesterol lunch snack sat there shaking.  "No," it
said, its voice quavering, "you can't ask me that!  Anything but that!"
        "But I just did," N-Man replied, shocked that the toast would
have missed this obvious logical flaw.  As no further answers were
forthcoming from the sandwich, N-Man decided to cut his losses and eat
it.  Upon reflection, he realized that it would have been easier to say
that he simply ate his losses, but alas, it was not to be.
        N-Man took out his Belch-O-Meter(tm) and checked to see if it
was working.  It was.  A 7.4, his best score yet.  When the readout
passed 9.9 a few seconds later, N-Man knew he was in the presence of
greatness.
        "Ah hey, there, I think I can answer your question for you."
N-Man turned around and stood face to face with The King, and not the
one that eats Imperial Margarine.
        "You can?"
        "Yes, thank-you very muchhhhhhhhh, I can."  But before he did, a
large black van pulled up beside them and Mr. Sequins himself was
engulfed by a crowd of seedy Secret Service agents.  Exactly what was so
secret about the Secret Service always remained a mystery to N-Man, but
his current theory was that it was this: they had no secrets.  If word
ever got out to the General Public, or even General Electric, the
consequences could have been disasterous.
        Sighing, N-Man walked back to his VW van and drove home at a
paltry 100 miles per hour.  He wasn't looking forward to the evening.
Election coverage took over 135 of his current 512 TV channels, and the
rest seemed to be resigned to showing re-runs of Matlock and the Golden
Girls.
        This time, though, there was something actually interesting on
CNN-3, instead of the usual Rhetoric-Till-You-Puke(tm) that both
parties seemed bent on delivering.  In fact, one of the candidates had
even demonstrated his lack of immunity to his own speeches on that
fateful tour that demonstrated the inferiority of American automobiles,
corporate executives, presidents and stomach linings.
        But now, as the previous paragraph attempted to explain, there
was something new.  A wild card.  A third party candidate.  One that
actually seemed like he might not drop out before he even officially
declared that he was running.
        N-Man's already large eyes goggled at the sight.  There was no
mistaking it.  It was his friend from the beach.
        "Thank-you very muchhhhhhhhhhh, ladies and gentlemen, I would
just like to say that I am for a United America!  And... and that's it!"
        The screen changed.  It was the other, older candidate.  His
face was screwed up and veins were popping out of his head.  "Sit down,
shut up and read my lips!" he said.  "I challenge this, this 'Elvis' to
a television debate!"
        N-Man reached for his special remote and hit the fast-forward
button, the one that actually sped up time.  It was invaluable for
keeping plots moving.
        "Well," Elvis was saying, "I'm definitely for higher taxes on
imported cars.  I think everyone should drive Cadillacs."
        "Gulf War!" Bush replied.  "I won that thing, and we won over
there in the Gulf, that war we had, the one in the Gulf, the one that we
won.  We won it.  I won it.  And if we can win the Gulf War, we can do
anything.  Did I mention the Gulf War?  We won that one you know."
        "Ah don't really care what war you won as long as you don't step
on my blue suede shoes, ya know what I mean?"
        "Exactly.  That Evil Sadam..."
        "Saddam," Elvis corrected the pronounciation.
        "...is so evil that I can't even bring myself to tell you how
evil he is.  Good thing we blew up his country in the Gulf War.  Who do
you trust?  The victors of the Gulf War, that's who.  That's what it's
all about.  Who wins wars."
        "Any new wars coming up, hound-dog?"
        "Well, we should have the Shell War soon, the Exxon War a few
months after that, and maybe if I get my four more years, the Chevron
War."
        "I think you need to see a psychiatrist, baby."
        "Did I mention that I won the Gulf War? The movie will be out in
April."
        N-Man switched off the television set in disgust.  What was the
world coming to?  Hell in a handbasket?  No, probably more like Surrey
in a used kleenex box.  He had to do something about that pile of used
paper nose towels in the corner of his room.  Fortunately, the N-Man
combination garbage-disposal/security robot(tm) handled the job easily.
        N-Man sighed.  If only everything in life was as easy as having
your combination garbage-disposal/security robot(tm) deal with used
kleenex, the world would be a much happier place.
        Thus was born a revelation.  Actually, revelations aren't really
born, they kind of spontaneously form without any messy birthing
procedures.  Kind of like the Virgin Birth, which wasn't really too
difficult to pull off as most of us WERE virgins at birth.  But I
digress.
        N-Man knew he had a new plan.  His job in life, now that the
evil crime syndicate of Count Karl Von Klaussenburg, Sy Sperling, and
Dan Quayle (as Robin the Boy-Wonder) was utterly vanquished, was not to
detangle this incredibly long and windy sentence, but instead to bring
peace and happiness to the world.
        Peace was easy.  After all they were only little green
vegetables.  Happiness could take a little longer.  Most likely it would
take longer than one episode.

NEXT EPISODE:   - The beginning of the Quest of N-Man!
                - The middle of the Quest of N-Man!
                - Probably not the end of the Quest of N-Man!
                - Sarcastic sharks on a stick!
                - Belching beer cans!
                - Styrofoam aliens from the Planet Yuck!
                - And more!


--
Jeremy_Reimer@ |"Anti-ninjas were the most feared assassins in the world.
mindlink.bc.ca | Instead of appearing out of thin air, throwing metal stars
---------------| and messing around with bo staffs and numchuks they simply
aka THE JAGUAR!| shot people and then drove everyone mad with pointless
---------------| conspiracy theories for years afterwards."
Stealth Sig#42 |  --From "N-Man #3"
Xref: sparky alt.slack:2617 alt.stupidity:2959 alt.politics.kibo:170 alt.wpi.negativland.subgenii.for.rent:31 alt.cascade:2487