“THE NOOZ IS HOPPING
         MAD AND DOESN'T CARE
             WHO KNOWS IT!”
        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 Cheese-quakers, Runnamuckians and Hellmouthites.  But we weren't there.  We weren't even close to being there.  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.  Now let's get back to work.		  
 

MESSAGE FROM FUTURE Cont. from page 1.

      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 stub-
bornly unclear.
      There is persuasive evidence that the mess-
age 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 information.  “We're looking at
it real close,” said Mr. Harney P. Whipple, assis-
tant director of the Horntoad River Valley Primate
Study Center and Gift Shop, “and we'll probably
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 unstable 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 in-
structors 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 prev-
iously 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 distin-
guished 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 now today, 200
months later, is but a fuzzy memory in our minds.
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