Vol. 90,  No. 6
Hellmouth, Arizona
Dec. 10, 1990


        Many people in the well-scrubbed and highly visible world of international primatology and lumbering, including not a few in the dusty, primate-infested southwest Arizona community of Hellmouth, were completely caught off guard by the announce- ment yesterday from the Lenin Monkey Institute in Braty-Bublinsk that the USSR's Volga-138 spacecraft has accidentally discovered some definite and incontrovertible evidence for the presence of what can only be rainforests on the cloud-covered surface of Earth's twin planet Venus, something that the first 137 probes apparently failed to do.  The data from the spacecraft was relayed to the Institute from the Chudleigh-Lilydale Royal Tasmanian Primatological Observatory, which was searching for more information about the giant space primate heading towards Earth, and which was the only station to receive the strange telemetric broadcasts.
        The amazing and unexpected news was revealed in a press conference held in his office by Dr. Ivan Grozny, Professor of Simian Socialism at the Institute, which has sponsored and supervised the entire Venus-Volga project.  On an open telephone line were Drs. Mawbanna Waddamana and Basil Smith from Chudleigh-Lilydale, who could be heard arguing vociferously in the background. Perspiring heavily, the crusty old Russian scientist squinted at a dimly-glowing computer terminal and pointed to some squiggly blue lines.  “See that peak right there?” he said with growing excitement, “that's the thermal signature of chlorophyll.”  Rustling busily through some heavily-inked graphs, he warned against premature and unwarranted conclusions. “These will not be like rainforests on Earth,” he said, pausing for a drink of brown water from a mineral-encrusted tea cup.  “We must be prepared to accept some very strange things. Everything will not be exactly the way we think it is.”
        Whether there are primates in the Venusian rainforests and whether or not they plummet the way terrestrial primates do remains an open question.

(TASS)  Berdichev, Ukraine. Internationally-known Lenin Scholar and Professor Pavel Bublev, for forty years the most eminent primatology correspondent in the world, the man who singlehandedly resurrected primate newspapers after a long and difficult period of dormancy, and the driving force behind the founding of the Malagasy Extinct Lemur Society, was injured yesterday in a fall from a biplane during an Olympic trial primate aerobatics competition near the border, an informed source reported.  He fell from the plane he was piloting into the empty open cockpit of an old Berezovo two-seater, skinning his knee and bruising his left thumb in the process. Authorities are still investigating the unusual incident.
Primate Nooz is published according to a schedule based on the biorythym chart of Mr. Christopher Shaw by the Ralph A. Bennett Teasdale Corp., Dr. Peter Pan Troglodytes, President-in-Chief.  Copies are shipped to every major zoo and animal testing facility in the U.S. and air-dropped over much of Africa, Asia and South America (except for Costa Rica).  Back issues may be requested by writing to: Primate Nooz, c/o Sigsbee Junior Night College Primatology Department, Hellmouth, AZ.
(Reuters)  Braty-Bublinsk, Soviet Union. Much to the hysterical consternation and dumfounded amazement of a glaznost-gripped public, the news was leaked last week by the Braty-Bublinsk Office of Badly-Timed Announcements about the landing of a time-traveling primate right in the middle of Ivan the Terrible Municipal Park.  Subscribers to such obscure and irregular Russophile periodicals as Primate Dialectics and the Journal of the Mad Monk Society, as well as readers of Professor Milös Kröpskaya's only recently published and highly acclaimed The Monkeys of the Gulag, have been aware for some time about persistent reports that time-traveling primates have been materializing in town squares from Bratislav to Kuligorsk, but this is the first time that there has been any direct evidence for the phenomenon.
      It was about noon two or three Saturdays ago when retired male nurse Yuri Plotkin found himself walking across one of Braty-Bublinsk's most famous parks.  He had no idea how he had gotten there, and could remember nothing since leaving the Boar and Mink Vodka Bar about an hour previously.  The time-warping simian appeared in a flash of light directly in front of him, and although he was startled and almost dropped his string bag of overripe and badly bruised cucumbers, he was
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