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       THE Electronic Fun Zone dedicated to fertilizing Mother Earth
     in the finest possible tradition.  Serving Mother since the 1950s.

                              Issue 003, Vol I
                                 April 1988
                             copyright (c) 1988
				 caren park
	 chief bottle washer, owner, publisher, editor, other stuff
             all rights reserved, and all that legal rigamarole

============================================================================

A few remarks from the chief bottle washer:

	Hello, there, fellow friends of weird.  We are very happy to bring 
to you the strangest and most absurd that we can find in a format pleasing 
to the inquiring mind.  We will attempt to bring to you items of focus, 
items for the discriminating thought process that some of us have (usually 
after we order a Dick's Deluxe with anything on it), items with little 
social redeeming value.  These are our goals, and we wish you to become 
a small part in this orchestration.

	If those among you would kindly send in junk that you have no other 
use for, stuff that you read and find humorous, filth that no one else will 
take, stories absurd or preposterous, news that isn't fit to line 
litterboxes anywhere, if you would send those gems to us here at The Humus 
Report, we'd appreciate it.  Our address will be given to you near the end 
of our report.  We will cull from the post office box all death threats and 
denunciations, and print what we can of whatever is left.  The rest is up to 
you...

	We would appreciate it if:  (1) the sending of copyrighted material 
for publication was sent ONLY if you also send along a legal release for us 
to use that material;  (2) if you should see non-attributed copyrighted 
material in our stuff, please let us know ASAP so we can take appropriate 
actions;  (3) if you like what we do here, please donate whatever you feel 
appropriate, so that we can continue to bring you this stuff month after 
month...

	We would also appreciate it if you would distribute this newsletter 
far and wide, to the six corners of the world, to the heights and depths 
your soul can reach, the ends of the universe, and even to Encino, 
California, if you should happen to be down there before I...  The only 
restriction I make upon its distribution is that NO CHARGE, zero, zilch, 
nil, none, all of the above, NO CHARGE will be made for this newsletter 
unless I receive 100% of that charge...  This means, NO CHARGE for diskette 
distribution, NO CHARGE for inclusion with other junk, NO CHARGE for access, 
etc...  As I am insured by the Guido and Vittorio Pin-Stripe Violin Case 
Maker Insurance Company, I hope there will be no exceptions... 

	I also have a program called CKP-MSG.ARC which contains virtually 
everything you will see here and about 2 megabytes (in ARC/PKX format) more.  
For a nominal cost per year, I will provide the latest copy of the 
ibm/compat program AND the latest updates of the datafile to you...  address 
inquiries about this program and/or the datafile to the address near the end 
of our report...

	This show can thank the following people:  caren park (chief bottle 
washer and etc), the cast and crew of KGFO AM and FM, and another cast of 
few...  So, without further adieu, on with the show...  

============================================================================

	"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here..."

============================================================================

	April contains more than a few non-humus breeders;  indeed, an 
amazing number of thespian-types was born during this particular month.  We 
here at The Humus Report don't know whether this is due to the water their 
parents were drinking during conception, or the phases of the moon, or 
[we'll leave this particular guesstimate to your own fertile imagination].

	Lon Chaney (01 Apr 1883), Sir Alec Guiness (02 Apr 1914), Jack Webb 
(we include him here simply for comic relief, not to mention it gives us a 
chance to sing his hit theme song, "dum-de-dum-dum"...  02 Apr 1920), Doris 
Day (would you believe 02 Apr 1924?), Marlon "Ah Cudda Ben Uh Contenda (but 
not an speech teacher [ed.])" and "STELLLLLLAAAAA" Brando (03 Apr 1924), 
Bette Davis (05 Apr 1908), WC "Who took the cork off my Lunch?!" Fields (09 
Apr 1879), silent Charlie Chaplin (16 Apr 1889), and Shirley "Good Ship 
Lollipop" Temple "United Nations" Black (23 Apr 1928) round out the thespian 
section for this month.

	Musicians born this fine month include Billie "Lady" Holliday (07 
Apr 1915), Lionel Hampton (12 Apr 1913), and The Duke of Ellington (29 Apr 
1899).

	Booker T Washington got his start on the 5th, 1856...  Kellogg 
Cereal's founder, WK Kellogg came out on the 7th, 1860...  John Hanson, the 
first president of the United States (look it up if you don't believe me) 
was born on the 13th, 1721...  Thomas Jefferson followed exactly 22 years 
later...  FW Woolworth, the man who made nickels and dimes into zillions, 
born on the 13th as well, 1852...  one of the greatest genies of all time, 
Leonardo da Vinci, breathed his first on the 15th, 1452...  John Muir, upon 
whose trail they've named and I've walked, on the 21st, 1838...  William 
Shakespeare, Bard-On-Avon, 23rd, 1564...  Edward R Murrow, a man of 
integrity, on the 25th, 1908...  and John James Audobon, showing us a 
different way of looking at fauna and flora, on the 26th, 1785...

	We can't verify that Oliver Pollock, a businessman in the South, 
knew he created the "$" sign on April Fool's Day, but we're checking on 
it...  Oh, and in case no one told you before, April 1st IS April Fool's 
Day AND St Stupid's Day in San Francisco...  wonder what the coincidence 
factor is there...  The Titanic sank about 02:20 on the 15th of April, 1912.  
Wasn't that the same day the IRS came into being?  Another coincidence?...  
The first "Washateria" (laundromat) opened in Fort Worth, Texas, on the 
18th, 1934.  There is no truth to the rumor that a tanning booth and full-
dress bar were available just upstairs...  The State of Connecticut, always 
on the cutting edge, finally approved the Bill of Rights on the 19th of 
April...  1939...  Better late than never, one might suppose...

	And, no, we didn't forget:  29 April 1913, The all-purpose zipper is 
patented...

	Oh, yeah.  For those of you with signs of insecurity:

	Aries :  Lucky Neptune and charming Venus are going out with a two-
timing mystical Taurus, while Cleveland is banging away at Mercury's cusp 
near Virgo.  This bodes well for bringing magick into your life sometime in 
the near future (one year timeframe), but, until then you'll be spinning 
your wheels because of the Scorpios stopped at the red light down by the A&P 
near Dairy Queen ogling the Nike billboard...

	For what it's worth...

============================================================================

	"Call me at 7am.  It is necessary that I get up at 7am.  Keep 
knocking until I answer.  Try again at 10am"

============================================================================

	Christian:  One who believes that the New Testament is a divinely 
inspired book admirably suited to the spiritual needs of his neighbor.  One 
who follows the teachings of Christ in so far as they are not inconsistent 
with a life of sin

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

From a recent letter in the Daily...

	Editor:
	I am pleased to announce a new liberation organization called ALIVE 
(Army for Living Energy) which has been created in response to recent 
clashes between so-called right-to-lifers and murderous pro-choice elements.

	Tim Sherer's letter (Daily, Vol 92, No 61, page sixteen) hit the 
issue where it counts.  Sperm and ova are alive before conception!  Thus, 
allowing ova to go unfertilized is murder, and every ejaculation takes more 
lives than Hitler killed during World War II.  These atrocities must be 
stopped at once.

	ALIVE intends to bring about world-wide revolution, and our policies 
in liberated territories will be outlined herein.  In liberated areas, the 
following actions will be considered a crime:

	.1.  For women, refusing an offering of semen (unless she has a 
certificate proving pregnancy)
	.2.  For men, refusing to fertilize a female who is not pregnant
	.3.  The use of any birth-control method, including abstinence
	.4.  Non-reproductive sexual activity resulting in ejaculation, 
unless a medical team is called and every available means are used to rescue 
the unconceived (usually scraping them off the sheets, then placing them in 
suspended animation for in vitro fertilization will do the job)
	.5.  Menses, unless a medical team is called in to rescue the ovum
	.6.  The use or possesion of any implement which might endanger 
human life.  This includes nuclear weapons, automobiles, and fast food

	Of course, the penalty for all of these crimes is death by 
execution.  Eventually, after our goal of world-wide revolution is reached, 
we will also consider the following activities criminal:

	.1.  Causing the death of any life form
	.2.  Any form of euthanasia for the terminally ill

	We are sure many of you and your friends, being the just and proper 
citizens of planet you are, will want to join ALIVE yourselves and join in 
the revolution.  Listen for our motto "Every Sperm is Sacred"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Women Unite!  Make him sleep in the wet spot tonight!

============================================================================

	Credibull:  Your political party's promises

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Give us your answers, your heart, your opinions, your money...  We 
want to hear from you, dear readership, as to what you believe the "best" of 
the best "things" are, be they places, foods, entertainment, divorce 
lawyers, etc...  We're going to ask you to bop your answers to us at the 
post office box listed at the end of our cute little newsletter here...

	The results will be published in an up-coming issue, and we will 
publish names/addresses only if you do NOT give us threatening comments 
asking us to keep your name/address from print...  ALL underground figures 
will be listened to...

	And now, without further adieu, we list here those items we'd like 
to find out what you consider the "best"...

---	---	---	---	---	---	---	---	---	---

romance...

	. 1.	Best restaurant for romance (CHEAP)
	. 2.	Best bike ride for two
	. 3.	Best place to propose
	. 4.	Best place to visit for a three-day weekend
	. 5.	Best hidden hot springs
	. 6.	Best view, out of casual sight
	. 7.	Best divorce lawyer

---		---		---		---		---

FOOD!

	. 8.	Best foods for that special evening
	. 9.	Best all-night takeout
	.10.	Best ethnic food, without question
	.11.	Best restaurant that you MUST drive over 1 hour to reach
	.12.	Best place for dessert after an event
			(movies/theatre/sports)
	.13.	While we're at it, the BEST chocolate available

---		---		---		---		---

miscellaneous joys...

	.14.	Best comedy nightclub
	.15.	Best all-around entertainment nightclub
	.16.	Best radio DJ
	.17.	Best way to jazz up a longtime relationship
	.18.	Best place to buy lingerie
	.19.	Best place for skinny-dipping
	.20.	Best book and/or music to curl up to a fireplace/body with

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Incredibull:  the other party's promises

============================================================================

	One of the things that I tell people that ask me is that I LOVE to 
travel, but that I don't travel well...  I've been known to spend more time 
going across town than across the continent, and perhaps one day I'll place 
those memories here for your perusal, but for now, here's a story from a 
young Texan with a travel tale that makes me happy I haven't been doing much 
driving of late...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                  A Traveler's Guide to the Mojave Desert
                        (c) 1987 ... Malcolm Petcher

	If West Texas is where The Lord sat while He made the World, the 
Mojave Desert has to be where He spread out the parts and left what He 
didn't want to use.  It is the one place in the whole United States that was 
blessed with absolutely no natural resources whatsoever, and ranges from 
inconvenient to downright hostile to travelers.

	This trip started as a simple business trip to Ridgecrest, a town so 
deeply embedded in the desert as to defy belief.  Ridgecrest was placed 
there to provide homes, motels, a K-mart, a MacDonald's, and a Denny's to 
people visiting or stationed at the China Lake Naval Base.  The Base was 
placed there, in turn, because the DOD, in its infinite wisdom, rarely 
places a base somewhere anybody would actually WANT to go.  I suppose, in 
this particular case, the location was selected so as to be exactly across 
Death Valley from Las Vegas, so any time somebody goes AWOL the MP's just 
have to wait a couple days, then dispatch a helicopter to pick up the body.  
Saves a lot of money otherwise spent on courts martial...

	Problems returned, though, when it came time to say farewell to 
Ridgecrest and return to the more civilized world where they have such 
scientific advances as airplanes and modular telephone jacks.  It was 
snowing lightly as I drove out of town.  As I passed over the first set of 
mountains which punctuate the otherwise flatish desert I noticed there was 
actually snow on the road, and I was going through it, something one prefers 
not to do while heading down a mountain except when skiing.  This went on 
for a couple hours of rather slow driving, until I got just south of a city 
called Victorville.

	That's where the roads were closed.  State troopers were directing 
all traffic across the median, and back to whence we had come, meaning 
Victorville.  "Fine," I thought, "just stay at a motel in Victorville until 
the snow goes away, then I'm out of here."  I soon found out an important 
fact about Victorville:  The wise local investors and business people, 
recognizing the unlikelyhood of anybody actually visiting Victorville on a 
voluntary basis, had erected rather a paucity of local hostelries.  Meaning 
once the Holiday Inn filled up it was bad news for anybody else needing to 
stay the night.

	With the road closed to the south, nothing much to the east or west, 
and the prospect of going up slim at best until I could find an airport, I 
had no choice but to travel north again.  I drove past a couple motels out 
there in the desert wilderness, which looked like they had existed since 
Biblical times and had signs saying things like "Truck driver's special, 
4:00 AM to 8:00 AM for $7.  Since it wasn't 4:00 AM yet I opted to drive on 
in hopes of something more civilized, maybe even with inside plumbing and 
only one guest per room.

	Finally, I reached Barstow!  Plenty of motels, some of them actually 
looked sanitary, and there were vacancy signs!  I was skeptical at first, of 
course, because some of the places I had tried in Victorville had neon signs 
saying "vacancy" but when I inquired about a room they said they were really 
full, but the "no" part of the sign had burned out, possibly years ago, and 
they just never noticed until today when they tried to turn it on.

	Not the case in Barstow, though.  Real vacancies here!  I got one of 
the last available rooms at a nice looking place called "The Desert Inn."  
Not to be confused, of course, with the Desert Inn in Las Vegas, or for that 
matter, the Desert Inn in every other municipality anywhere within the 
Mojave Desert.  So that was that.  I had a place to stay.  Dragged my stuff 
into the room, set up my computer and set to work defeating their telephone 
system.

	The next morning I waited until midmorning, figured the roads south 
should be open by now, so I packed up my stuff again, tossed it into the 
car, and headed to the lobby to check out.  There I was confronted by a long 
line of people waiting at the desk.  "Ah," I thought, "A lot of other people 
are ready to leave too."

	Not being in a big hurry, I sat down and waited for the
line to get shorter.  As I watched the people in line and their transactions
at the desk I started getting a sinking feeling as I noticed two particular
things:

	1.  All the people were checking in, not out.
	2.  All the people looked like they had spent the night in their 
                cars.

	As I watched this I reached in my pocket and found the key to my 
room.  I fondled it as the clerk started turning people away.

	I loved this key, more than any other posession, regardless how 
transient a posession it might be.  I could have had, at that point, the 
Hope Diamond, or the deed to the biggest mansion in Dallas in my pocket, and 
I wouldn't have fondled those with the love that I now fondled my motel key.

	I quietly slipped back out of the office to my car, took my 
belongings back to the room, and unpacked while thanking the deity of my 
choice for giving me both the insight and the complete disregard for the 
suffering of other people to have made this choice rather than giving up the 
room to, say, a family with young children sleeping in the parents' arms.

	After the second night at the Desert Inn the roads had, indeed, been 
cleared.  I was able to drive south to the airport, and freedom...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Cold:  When the local flashers are handing out written descriptions

	Cold:  When the politicians walk around with their hands in their 
own pockets

============================================================================

	And now, for the news...  All of the news this month will be true, 
just as it came off the wire into our editing room.  None of the facts have 
been changed to protect the innocent, or anyone else for that matter...  
Behold...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	A friend who works at a large city hospital reports that on summer 
nights the emergency room handles a large number of cases involving persons 
injured in fights.  The reason given for injuries, however, is usually 
"accident."

	One night, a man was brought in with a broken leg.  He claimed that 
because of the hot weather he had opened all his windows, filled his bathtub 
with cold water, and was sitting there cooling off.  Suddenly, he said, a 
typewriter came flying through the bathroom window, landing in the tub and 
broke his leg.  The nurse smiled at his creativity and duly noted the cause 
of injury on the hospital record.

	Later that night, a police officer brought in a man who had been 
injured resisting arrest for possession of stolen goods.  The man had 
attempted to flee by climbing down a fire escape.  "The only problem," said 
the officer, "is that he took a typewriter with him as he ran and we can't 
figure out what happened to it"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	A government office in the state of Washington received a snapshot 
of a man wearing a sport shirt and a Hawaiian lei --- and this letter from a 
woman: "Would you be so kind as to go through your file of photos of the 
state's drivers and tell me who this gentleman is and where he lives.  I met 
him while on vacation and we had so much fun"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Beep.  Whirr.  And a town's records are gone.  Those sounds might 
have accompanied the erasure of all the computerized financial records in 
Prescott Valley, Arizona.  Every account in the town shows a zero balance 
--- and officials have no idea how much has been spent, or how much is left.  
A costly reconstruction of the data is underway.  A town official says the 
erasure was a "deliberate attack," and doesn't appear to be accidental

	- Gregory Hine's birth anniversary, 1987 -

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Kidnapping a pedestrian would have been the ultimate.  And stealing 
Maryland Governor William Donald Schaefer's doormat would have ranked just 
above ripping off a phone booth.

	In a scavenger hunt that students from two Annapolis high schools 
hatched last week, the name of the game was outrageousness, with the top 
thefts worth a shot at a cash jackpot.

	Instead, though, the night of high jinks led to three arrests.

	The most exotic items on a scavenger list found by police were not 
collected, but participants managed to find such items as a soft-drink 
vending machine, a portable toilet and a mailbox.

	"Basically, it's been a nuisance crime, not only to us, but to the 
owners of the goods," said police Sergeant T J Harrington

	- 26 March 1987 Seattle Times -

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	A junior farmer group is using the call of nature in hopes of 
spicing up a bingo game.

	It's Cow Patty Bingo, says Pam Markham, president of the Huntsville 
Ag Booster Club.

	The county fairgrounds arena will be divided into large, numbered 
squares that gamblers can buy for $2 to $10.  The winner, who will pocket up 
to $500, will be the one whose square contains the largest cow patty after 
the cow wanders around the arena.  In case of a tie, the evidence left on 
the bingo square will be weighed.

	"Hopefully, the cow will feel the urge to let the chips fall," 
Markham said Thursday.

	Next month's game is intended to raise money for equipment for the 
agriculture club

	- 28 March 1987 Huntsville Alabama AP -

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Former senator Sam Ervin (D-NC) says he agreed to make a commercial 
for American Express cards because the government needed the money.

	"You know, the government takes 53 1/2 percent of every dollar I 
make," Ervin told a news conference yesterday before a speech at William 
Paterson College.  "I knew the government needed the money, so I figured I'd 
make some more from the commercials so I could pay my income tax"

	- April 1978 Wayne NJ AP -

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Thousands of Australians, victims of an April Fool's Day prank, 
gaped as electronics millionaire Dick Smith sailed into Sydney harbor towing 
a giant "iceberg."

	With a radio reporter broadcasting live from the "iceberg," Smith 
fooled harborside watchers, radio listeners and newsmen rushing to cover the 
even, as he came slowly into view.

	The "iceberg" was a barge covered with white plastic sheets and 
fire-fighting foam.  In the gloom and drizzle of early dawn it looked like 
the real thing.

	Radio and TV stations and newspaper offices were swamped with calls.  
Scores of small craft raced in to inspect the strange object.  Ferry 
skippers politely got out of the way.

	Smith told radio listeners he planned to moor the "iceberg" near the 
Opera House so it could be cut into tiny cubes --- to be sold at 10 cents 
each as "Dicksickles."

	"The prank cost me $1450," he said.  "I do these things for kicks 
--- takes the boredom out of everyday work"

	- 01 April 1978 Sydney UPI -

============================================================================

	As promised from last issue, we now present something just a little 
bit different...  If GOOD radio could truly be called mind candy, you are in 
for a caloric overload of monumental proportions...  With Wonder Bread in 
hand, and a BIG thanx to the kindly local Cafe Dionysus crowd, and a special 
thanx to the Head Waiter hisself, we twist the dial and present for your 
listening pleasure KGFO AM and FM... 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

87September24 from Portion Control

Medium wave.  Broadcast band.  Turning the dial slowly, micron by micron, we 
pass through the aural landscape to our target.  At one point there is the 
faint sound of an electric razor with a foreign accent.  The signal comes 
from far away and too much information has gone astray on its travels 
between there and here and the ionosphere.  Consulting the Alternate World 
Radio & TV Handbook, we find the suggestion that we are hearing the Mayan 
time station, counting backwards 24 hours a day to the world's end.  Past 
this we hear crackling static, sounds made by our star and others as well as 
by dental fillings that do not receive but transmit.  At the point these 
sharp pops give way to endless, soothing flapping we have reached the lower 
boundary of the bandwidth of KGFO-AM, Cult-Talk Radio for the Pacific 
Northwest, the left-brained verbal twin to the right-brained FM music 
station.  

  Both stations remain on the air, broadcasting all kinds of subversion, 
despite a total lack of commercials and a lukewarm response to the yearly 
pledge drive.  Support comes from the sale of subliminal advertising, sold 
to anyone that can decode the mailers sent out by KGFO's cryptography/sales 
department.

87September25 from Wadical Weft

And Good Day to all you listners.  I am Wadical Weft, your Free Duck 
Following Announcer.  Today we have a wonderful program just for you Right 
Wing types.  The Insanity Acting Troup has created a aural simulation of a 
Bork Burning [no no, not a book burning, you don't want immediate 
gratification, now do you?].  Which will follow right after this public 
disservice announce brought to you by The Great Feathered One and his 
legions.

 "Ducks, is life on Greenlake become hazardous lately?  Were you floating 
next to Ozzie Mallard when he was sucked into oblivion?  Well, the facts are 
that in these days of dangerous living, you, yes you must practice safe 
saxaphones.  This means no more sharing reeds with just anyone.  Do you know 
who is underneath you?  This Management Information Bulletin was brought to 
you by:

	Ducks Incorporated"

87September25 from Trespassers William

 Once again, we remind you, dear listener, that it is time to switch over to 
KGFO FM; the muddled shores of your mind thereupon to open, within and 
without which the faraway reaches of Southern skies to behold. 


 ...'nd tomorrow is today here on KGFO FM, your Stereo Pond.  This is Dirk 
Mallard, broadcasting live from the True Pond.  We have today, for your 
edification and enjoyment, a live performance of some truly bent music, 
originally from the Underwater Tapes, but today, here on KGFO, performed by 
His Majesty, Black Quack Black, an old tune, 'Ducks and Fish'.  Paddle away 
boys...

	'Twang Twang Twang'
	These four walls seem awful close
	the lights bore into my brain
	the great outdoors are really the most
	Groovin' with the fish and the ducks in the rain.

	I've got problems in my head
	the fish and ducks have none at all
	my heart recoils in sorrow and dread
	the fish and ducks are having a ball.

	They say we learn by imitation
	that's how we get our education
	this calls for serious speculation
	on the usefullness of thought.

	And so we search for a solution
	to intellectual pollution
	IT'S A PSYCHOREVOLUTION...
	and it doesn't mean a lot.

	I've got problems in my head
	the fish and ducks have none at all
	my heart recoils in sorrow and dread
	the fish and ducks are having a ball.

	I sometimes think about these things
	that some care about so much
	nuts and bolts and screws and springs
	are meaningless to fish and ducks.

	So...the only thing we all can do
	is close our books and make a wish
	that we forget all we once knew
	so we can PLAY WITH THE DUCKS AND FISH!

	'twang twhang twahang...'

   Ah, yes, a truly black duck he is.  Wasn't that absolutely ducky?  Now, a 
word, and such a word from...

87September27 from Wadical Weft

It is with extreme sorrow that we announce today that Dirk Mallard, 
extremely popular announcer on KGFO FM during its off hours was waddling 
serenely a short distance from the True Pond when it was recalled to the GFO 
via a falling helicopter.

87September27 from Trespassers William

 ...Further information just in on that last report...apparently the 
helicopter that killed Dirk was the KIRO Newsradio Chopper...piloted by 
"Crash" Brindle.  Brindle escaped unhurt.

87September28 from Schedules A & B

	KGFO am:		KGFO fm: 

	Kay-jiff-oh		Cagy f-ho'
	ay-ayy-yem!		F 'em.

	Good evening,		I'm Schedule B, your
	it is now ten		Monday night
	pm.  KGFO		cee-dee-rom-jay, if
	weather calls		ever forced to make
	for calm but		use of such
	chilly outdoor		technologies, and I
	bathing for the		just want to state
	next five days;		that I'm not afraid
	right now outside	to announce the name
	the studio the		of any band or to
	water temperature	play any song, and
	is fifty-two		the FHA can't touch
	degrees.  The		this station 'cause
	wind comes from		we have divine
	the north, from		protection--the
	Boreas "who makes	non-mammalian
	men shiver", and	kind!  Now taking
	well he should,		requests on our
	siblings.  My		twenty four hour
	name is Schedule	three hundred baud
	A; it is time for	request line at
	for the ten		523-KGFO.  If
	o'clock reading.	you're calling from
	Tonight recluse		a telephone just
	Raphael			scream over the
	Hythlodaye will		carrier real loud
	read from his		and maybe
	"So Zoraster		Lisa our lovely
	Spoke, haiku		telecommunications
	   translation by	volunteer will hear
	R. Hythlodaye".		you.  Now I'll try
	I'd ask why he		to shut up until the
	left out		next mandated
	Nietzsche's name	station id and let
	but Raphael's		you listen to some
	nature is to		music.  Here's
	avoid any		Eugene Chadbourne
	spontaneous		playing his acoustic
	speech.  With		version of "Purple
	no more delay...	Haze...

87September29 from Marc

...AND THAT WAS Duck Savage and the Toadys with their cover of "Lily's Pad", 
originally recorded by that much-touted but often-forgotten Northwestern 
garage band, ------.

   Now for our 10:00 News Beak, and filling in for the late Dirk Mallard is 
KGFO's token amphibian, Biff Otamine:

   "The investigation of the untimely death of this station's top 
anchorbird, Dirk Mallard, continues.  Foul play is suspected, and recently 
uncovered evidence suggests that the KIRO helicopter was instrumental in a 
plot to undermine the spreading influence of the Church of Christ Waterfowl, 
considered by many new believers to be Humanity's Last Hope Before the Big 
You-Know-What.  Expert mechanical witnesses have found that the wingless 
flier had been about to be recalled by its maker, and an insurance policy 
had been taken out on it just the day before the "accident".  Feathermore, 
unnamed sources have revealed that pilot Brindle's underwear was if the 
inflate-upon-impact variety popular with many of today's militant 
mamallians.  More information when it surfaces.  Ribit!"

   Thanks, Biff.  Next up on turntable 5 is the new single by the Post 
Apocalyptic Crackhouse Experience:  "Hold Out Your Hand, It's the Corn 
Starch Man!"

87September30 from Trespassers William
  
 ***qukkkackkkzzzpop*** 
  
 ...'ime for our nightly sermon, here on KGFO FM, once again, as you don't 
yet know our future past present described in detail by the nameless and 
heretofore unheard friend of some not of mammals, lest tricks of the eye 
deceive, do not look at your speakers, and lighten up.
  
 Many are the reeds.  Blameless we hold they who hide amongst them.  Upon 
this SEA of TROUBLE there is a peace, verily, a peace which, lost long ago, 
returns like the Summer upon our bills.  Bills, owed long debts of nothing 
to noone, paid to keep TROUBLE away, not out of any sense of duty, for, if 
need be we FLY, FLY from our debts, yet we can never fly from our bills.  
Demons, it is said, lie beneath the surface, hungry for our flesh, hungry 
for sustenence, and it is said that some among us, even, yea verily, the 
best among us have been taken.  DARK Demons, TROUBLING Demons, TROUBLED 
times.  Upon the Pond, the True Pond, we are at peace, yet death lurks in 
hungry shadow beneath the surface.  FLIGHT is useless, FLIGHT is good, we 
FLY from Demons, yet still are devoured, devoured even by MACHINES of men, 
yet, verily, we take them down with us into the DARK.  Who can expose this 
horror?  When will the horror bring itself into the light?

 Duck, heal thyself.  The DARK is among us, WITHIN us.  Banish it, as if 
molting among the reeds.  Many are the reeds.

87September30 from Wadical Weft

This just in from Avian network news:

 Fowlish Player, underground leader of the anti mammalian league today 
announce that its suicide attack on a B1 bomber was successful.  He was 
quoted as saying that the league would do whatever it could to kept non-
living flyers out of the sky.  Throngs of birds were seen carrying the 
feathers of their lost comrades and they marched down the streets of Denver.  
The contra avians said that these demonstrations are the result of increased 
media attention to the league and that they would die down soon.  Player 
said he and his associates would do whatever was required to keep metal out 
of the sky.  More on this as it comes in over the network.

87September30 from Haydn Sikh

     And now for a commercial announcement:
     GFO says: Read Puget Sound Youth Culture Hearald Annal of Drug 
Experimentation Literature In America.
     Good stuff lies herein such as:
     "Man, if I had posi, I could roast 'em."

87September30 from Tamji Okahara

And here, brought to you (if you can hear my voice, you're in KGFOland), 
live from the True Pond, Duck the Knife, by Bobby Darin.

  "...And the crowd forms, on the wing, babe,
      Now that Ducky's...BACK IN TOWN..."

87October01 from Trespassers William

 AND NOW, A SPECIAL REPORT FROM KGFO NEWS RADIO... 
  
  This is KGFO NEWS ANCHOR Dirk Mallard.  I'm whispering because I am in a 
great deal of danger at this moment.  This may be my last broadcast, but we 
will carry through to the end.  I am upended in the True Pond, looking below 
the surface.  Reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated, but at my 
direction.  I am wearing a waterproof microphone, it is dark and silty.  We, 
in the tradition of KGFO, have gone the one extra step in order to bring you 
the story...and today the story, as it has been for several weeks, is the 
shadow that haunts all those of our community, the nameless shadow that 
brings death from below...I am alone here, at the North End of the True 
Pond, among the reeds, and I see, gliding near the bottom of the Pond, 
fairly distant, a shadow, long and wide.  Swinging back and forth as if 
hunting.  I can feel the hatred of this darkness, but I do not recognize 
it...it seems to be coming this way.  This may be time to call retreat...but 
it is not a reporters job to retreat.  Closer still it glides....it is 
enormous, far larger than a sea lion, or shark...a black shadow upon a 
greenblack background...closer it looms ...hell, I'm out of here, I won't 
die for investigative reporters honor.  My...It's speeding up I don't think 
I can ge.....acccchqhavk!

   87October01 from Wadical Weft

Please Stand By.  We are Experience Technical Difficulties.  Our Technician 
ran out of Mind Altering Wonder Bread.

============================================================================

	And, last but not least, a few words of wisdom.  It's true that man 
does not live by bread alone, and we've pretty much proved that axiom with 
these unusual masterpieces.  To quote someone much smarter than I, "I am 
non-denominational --- I accept all forms of currency.  So, open your hearts 
and empty your pockets!"  A wonderful sentiment, don't you think?

	If you should find it in your hearts to like what we are doing here, 
and would like to help us stay in business AND solvent, please send your 
non-tax-deductible donations in whatever amount pleases you to:

caren park
2557 Fourteenth Avenue West
Suite 501
Seattle, Washington 98119

(01 January 1992)

	We will acknowledge, in print, those with the warmest thoughts for 
our survival...

	Our next issue will be out near the end of the month of March, and 
we'll cover , and we'll throw in several other items of merit, just for good 
measure... 

	We leave you now with a few thoughts...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Canada Bill Jones' Motto:

	It's morally wrong to allow suckers to keep their money

	Supplement:

	A .44 magnum beats four aces

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Cancer cures smoking


...until next month...