Page Three
 
was its large population of Santa Rubia Island purple
wannabies, which occupies the heavily-forested island
of Santa Rubia, separated from the mainland by the
Santa Rubia Straits.  Although there are twenty-one
other purple wannaby subspecies, only on Santa
Rubia Island does the Santa Rubia Island purple wan-
naby reside.  The second thing that jumped out at
me about Gorgonzola was that it is the world's sole
source of Santa Rubia Island pink coconuts, prized
everywhere for their rubbery flesh and oily oil.  Only
on Santa Rubia Island are the famous Santa Rubia
Island pink coconuts grown and harvested.
      Another thing I couldn't help observing about Gor-
gonzola before it was obscured by the smoke from the
fires was that it supplies the rest of Central America
with Santa Rubia Island coral, long considered to have
the finest quality of the world's corals and quarried
only on Santa Rubia Island.  Gorgonzola is home too
to the Santa Rubia Island coral crab, an important
species which lives only on Santa Rubia Island coral,
and which is the main food supply of the Santa Rubia
Island salty tern.
      Gorgonzola is well known as the prime breeding
ground for the Santa Rubia Island blue termite, which
during February is ground up into a high-protein
powder and exported to neighboring El Samole, but
what is less well known about Gorgonzola is that the
fastest growing industry there is the making of Santa
Rubia Island weed necklaces.  These beautifully-
crafted necklaces are woven by Santa Rubia Islanders
from only the most delicate and supple of Santa Rubia
Island weeds.
      I hope you've enjoyed this whirlwind tour of Gor-
gonzola, and will not be afraid to join me for our next
excursion with the hydrogen laser spotlight, invented
by Sir Horton Measely, my dad.  However, if you plan
on travelling to Gorgonzola, I suggest you wait until
the burned areas are replanted, and you probably
shouldn't mention anything about knowing me.  Ciao.
 
WOW!  DID YOU KIDS EVER THINK THERE WAS
SO MUCH INFORMATION TO KNOW ABOUT
GORGONZOLA?  THAT IS SOME PLUCKY LITTLE
COUNTRY.  AND THE SPOTLIGHT DIDN'T BLOW
UP EVEN ONCE!  WELL, SEE YOU NEXT TIME.
By Bill Measely, son of Sir Horton Measely
  Editor's note:  Sir Horton Measely's hydrogen
laser spotlight has been undergoing extensive
repairs since its last unfortunate outing, and
we now feel guardedly confident that we have
solved many of its problems.  The buckets of
sand and fire extinguishers placed around the
room are just a precautionary measure, and the
reader should not infer from their presence that
we think the spotlight is unsafe. Nor is our
recommendation for the use of asbestos suits
for everyone in the spotlight control center an
indication that we lack faith in the spotlight.
We are 60-65% positive that this time it will not
swing around without warning and burn any-
one severely with its 1250° beams.  So without
any further ado, we will carefully grasp the
focus knob, and if everyone will put their
visors down, we will gingerly flick the power
switch to.......  On.		  
 
      High athwart the rugged ramparts of the Chiquita
Mountains overlooking the watery Gulf of Mexico is
the tiny and almost unnoticeable Central American
nation of Gorgonzola, which was the unenviable
assignment given me last week by publisher Arnett
Putney, III and executive editor Widen Lundale, Jr.
Since I had never heard of Gorgonzola before, and in
fact thought it was some kind of cheese, it took me
several hours just to find it, and several more to
focus the hot beam of the spotlight on its diminutive
surface area.  By then small conflagrations were
springing up all along the Isthmus and fire depart-
ments from El Samole to Caracador were springing
into action.  I was forced to let the spotlight cool
down, but during the brief period when it illuminated
Gorgonzola, I was able to make out quite a few
things about this plucky little Central American
country.
      The first thing that I noticed about Gorgonzola
 
 
REPORT FROM THE FIELD
By Eric Scotmeister Fleiglehaus		 Greetings from North of Nepal!  You probably don't even know where Nepal is, let alone North of Nepal, but that doesn't matter since I do, and I'm here.  So sit back in your favorite chair, kick off your shoes, grab a Guinness and enjoy, because this is my.....“Report from the Field.”
 
     I arrived here on Tuesday at the North of Nepal Primate Station, established some months ago by the eminent Indian Dr. Poon Sanddandtundra, and located deep in the heart of an area that can perhaps best be described as being north of Nepal, and I've been hard at work writing my “Report from the Field” ever since. The bruising of my spine due to the elephant ride up over the Bangla Kush fortunately necessitated bed rest for only a couple of days, and I was assured by several wiry native porters that I would have been in far worse shape had I tried to bring my car.  I was not surprised to be told that Dr. Sanddandtundra was away in the mountains searching for primates even larger than the one he reported sighting last week, but I was promised a meeting with him upon his return.  After being released from the Station's medical facility, I wan-dered around as best I could on the crutches and attempted to determine just what it was that Dr. Sanddand-tundra and his international team were researching, but it seemed to be a closely guarded secret.  I got the impression that no one liked him very much, and there seemed to be a general feeling that he was loopy.
      After lunch on Saturday, Dr. Sanddandtundra staggered through the back gate of the Station, gasping for breath, and claiming that he had just sighted primates even larger than before north of where the first ones had been seen.  The Station's medic was quickly summoned, and discovered that the eminent Indian had a bug of some sort in his eye, casting doubt on the reliability of his report.  That evening, he asked me to join him on the veranda for some Nepalese fire brandy, and he used the occasion to defend his record, saying that he had sighted giant monkeys, and was not in his tent as has been suggested.  Since I had to leave the next day, I unfortunately couldn't accept his invitation to accompany him on his next outing, scheduled to begin Monday week.
      That's about it for this issue. I had hoped to have more information for you, but it looks like we're going to have to wait for future issues to more productively plumb the depths of the giant monkey mystery. Anyway, next time we'll take a deep breath, hitch up our pants, and visit the Professor Mitsuo Ohhohoho Primate Language Institute in Hellmouth.  Either that or we'll go somewhere else.  So until then, I'll just say “So long.”
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