Page Two
      That's right, we're mad.  Damn mad.  Mad enough to swear.  So mad we hardly know where to begin.  And why are we mad?  We're mad because for the past 2-1/2 years we've been forced to languish here in this legal limbo, during which time we've had to maintain the fiction that we were on hiatus.  HIATUS??  What kind of hiatus goes on for 2-1/2 years?  We weren't on hiatus.  For 2-1/2 years we were bound and gagged by the deft and unscrupulous courtroom machinations of Mr. Christopher Shaw of Los Angeles, once our good friend and confidante, once Primate Nooz 'Recommended Reading' Editor and West Coast Correspondent and Really Scientific Letters Editor.  It was a legal kidnapping!  It was 2-1/2 years of sitting in our office with no one to play cards with except publisher Arnett Putney, III and executive editor Widen Lundale, Jr., and no one to talk to except Dr. Dick Doody, Chief Surgeon (Suspended).  2-1/2 years of watching other publications like PRIMATE LIFE and The Primate Times of London get invited to fancy dinners while we ate hot dogs cooked with electricity.  2-1/2 years of judges and restraining orders and injunctions. And all that time we were burning with a bright intensity similar to that of Sir Horton Measely's hot hydrogen laser spotlight, inflamed with a near-sunlike heat to be out there reporting on such major breaking stories as the structural failure of the Architecture and Engineering wing at Sigsbee Junior Night College, the discovery in Gorgonzola of the strange message from the future, the primate missing time hoax, and the staff layoffs at the Cheesequake Man and Mammal Museum, venerated and visited by generations of Cheesequakers, Runnamuckians and Hellmouthites.  But we weren't there.  We weren't even close.  Thanks to Mr. Christopher Shaw of Los Angeles, the last 2-1/2 years were a total waste.
      But now that Chris is back on board and sharpening his old pencils, all is forgiven, and we're ready to start a brand new era of the Nooz.  Publisher Arnett Putney, III and executive editor Widen Lundale, Jr. have turned over a completely new leaf, and they want you to know that from now on the Nooz plans to remain above the kind of thing it loved to dwell on before, and the manner in which we handled the giant monkey sighting somewhere north of Nepal will be a shining example to primatological journals and newspapers in at least some parts of southwest Arizona for days if not weeks to come.  We know that our reputation is on the line, and we won't let you down. Welcome home, Chris.  Let's get back to work.

MESSAGE FROM FUTURE Cont. from page 1.

Language Institute.
      The message, which reads in full as follows, “...[m]onkeys.  Pants ready.  Will you pick them up? D...,” has baffled the best minds of several localities, not the least of which is the Hellmouth area, where primate experts from Pine St. to Vine St. have for weeks been wrestling with its arcane meaning and uncertain import. Just what are 'pants'?  Who does the 'you' refer to?  And what are we to make of the mark at the bottom where the paper is torn that looks very much like the letter 'D'?  Could this be part of some peculiar new name, like Darg or Doose, in vogue in that unimaginably distant future, from which this odd message unquestionably comes?  Most curious of all is the singular word '[m]onkeys' that appears at the very top left side followed by a smudged period.  Might this be some bizarre future salutation or is it something else?  We just don't know. The one thing that no one seems to dispute is that it is indeed a message from the future, but its true significance remains stubbornly unclear.
      There is persuasive evidence that the message was either addressed to some kind of a primate, or alluded to some kind of a primate, or had to do in some obscure way with primates, a conclusion which has several of the monkey institutions in the Hellmouth and Cheesequake areas buzzing with speculation as to how the strange message from the future might possibly benefit them.  But, for the time being, they, like all of us here at the Nooz, can only chew their nails and wait for more infor- mation. “We're looking at it real close,” said Mr. Harney P. Whipple, assistant director of the Horntoad River Valley Primate Study Center and Gift Shop, “and we'll know something eventually.” 

200 Months Ago Today

      200 months ago today the eminent Indian Dr. Poon Sanddandtundra entered therapy for the first time.  He was a young man, freshly graduated from the SW New Mexico State Primate Academy, but it was clear that he was un- stable even then.  He had a history of erratic behavior, often making completely unsubstantiated reports of very strange primates in various parts of the Southwest, yet he perservered, and was rewarded by being probationarily accepted into the Simian Psychology program at Sigsbee Junior Night School.  It was at that time that he began to go downhill more rapidly.  His instructors became somewhat fearful, and his classmates took to avoiding him.  He spent several summers working with international groups purporting to do research in odd parts of the world, sending back reports of previously unobserved primates, and gaining a reputation for peculiarity.  Today, 200 months later, he appears to have fully justified the apprehensions that were felt about him by so many of his colleagues all those months ago.

      200 months ago today the world was astonished at the apparent rediscovery in the wilds of Bali-Bali of the lesser winking martindale by the young Indian monkey student Poon Sanddandtundra.  Regrettably, the find was proven to be a great blue marmoset escaped from a zoo.  The winking martindale was a curious primate which got its name by winking at the researchers who were trying to study it, thereby hopelessly throwing off their objectivity.  The lesser winking martindale has been primarily distinguished from the common by being smaller.  After having been observed for many years, it was thought to have gone extinct until that remarkable day 200 months ago when it was reported by Mr. Sanddandtundra to have turned up again. Once the error became known however, the lesser winking martindale was once again consigned to the dusty bins of primate history, and today, 200 months later, is but a fuzzy memory in our minds.

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