Mongoose Moon

By Kevin Donohue

Mongoose Moon is a novel of Speculative Fiction that is suitable for readers 13 and up. Contains harsh language. Follow the thrilling adventures of Phineas 'Phrogg' Bervirt and his wild and out-of-control ex-wife Jade Shank, in this rollicking sci-fi tale of international intrigue and espionage. When twenty year-old high-tech heiress and 'performance artist' Jade Shank tosses a loaded water balloon at a visiting Prime Minister, she finds herself swept away into a dizzying adventure of intrigue and espionage. After President Dennis Lasher secretly dispatches 'The Black Widow' to rescue Jade and other captive girls from Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Ptard's vacation castle, all Hell breaks loose.
In the meantime, 'Phrogg' unwillingly finds himself in the cross-hairs of the Illuminati when he receives a package containing mysterious gadgets that will supposedly unlock the age-old long-sought secret in achieving applicable nuclear fission. Along with two comely (and lethal) private detectives (Natasha Danko and Susan Fairclo), Phrogg finds himself on the run from ruthless agents of DeathCo, the Russians, crazy Luciferians, the virtual reality 'Mongoose' Cult, the British Royal Family, and nearly everybody else in between.
These two tales (and several others) intertwine and eventually come together at the thrilling climax of Mongoose Moon
Excerpt:
Jade Shank's essence soars high above the world where the blue turns to black, and she perceives the great, distant, emptiness of the Void... all light and matter seem to be moving toward it, at an accelerating speed. Despite its name, all is not emptiness in the Void. Expanding leftover materials of creation, devoid of form, dis-corporate into the great black hole, which pulsates with dark energy. Even light itself cannot escape its gravitational pull. Jade girds herself as she drifts faster and closer towards the entrance of the wormhole...
“Daddy!”
Jade sails right through the vortex, only to find herself back in the space where she started from. Images of familiar things reappear in the darkness... old friends like the sun and the moon and the planets and all of the stars—the living, expanding Milky Way Galaxy. The Universe resembles a teardrop in free fall: Jade's teardrop. Jade's teardrop is all that there is, and the enveloping darkness returns and engulfs her.
“Existence is merely an anomaly, a brief and fleeting interruption from the great unchanging emptiness of eternity,” says a voice in clipped English. “The undeniable truth that everything ends in nothingness is so very painful for most of us to face... the utter horror of it causes so much sadness and despair in our dysfunctional race... it doesn't have to be that way...”
“Who are you?” says Jade to the ethereal voice in the dark.
“I am your dream, your nightmare, your lover, and your truest, best friend. I will truly love you, love you more than any other, if you dare to receive my love. True, unfettered, unlimited love. Naked love... love with no regrets or apologies. Join me, you who sought to do me harm. I forgive you, now that you have shown me your innermost thoughts and fears...so much sorrow, my wild one. You can join with me, and stay, and love...”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Donohue
• Release date: Nov 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310251313

Kevin Donohue

Kevin Donohue is the co-author of THIRD EYE PATCH. Kevin got together with longtime friend and partner in crime and mischief, Mark Lind-Hanson, and they agreed to collaborate on a novel—a novel so vital, so vast, that would stand tall and proud with War and Peace, or the Brothers Karamazov, or—wait, OK, maybe not!THIRD EYE PATCH is the result of two years of collaboration. Part Thriller, Satire, and Sci-Fi/Cyber Fantasy, the authors hope that adventurous readers will enjoy a page-turning romp through an alternative world that mirrors the headlines and events of the real happening world of—NOW.Kevin Donohue was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, the setting of THIRD EYE PATCH. Kevin now lives in the Valley of the Elves, otherwise known as Ashland Oregon. Peace.

Book preview

Introduction: The Third Eye Patch and How I Learned to Run With The Yak

My name is Boffin Syznic. One year ago, I was best known as the billionaire co-creator of the Tigerlily Chip and the Third Eye Patch. I was also an outlaw domestic terrorist, according to then-President Phillip Hammer. He's unemployed these days. All is forgiven now, according to Dennis Lasher, the current President of the USA. However, my caretakers down here in old Mexico don't believe anything the US Government says. After all, the Feds nearly assassinated me when they blew up my stately home in California. Many good people were murdered before Hammer was overthrown. Presidents do come and go, but can any of them ever be fully trusted? My personal physician Dr. Chandra Madras certainly didn't think so. He took great pains (and a lot of my money) to keep me below the Government's radar—and he was very successful.

Chandra's nurses are very dedicated in keeping me alive and I’ll never forget their kindness. Unfortunately, Chandra is no longer with us and these kind souls are now operating in the dark. You see, they were left with a large untraceable operational budget, but no contingency orders.

I look positively pathetic, don't I? Here I lay, peaceful as a cadaver, attached to a ventilator under an array of hydration and nutrition tubes. A dialysis machine sits unplugged and forgotten in the corner. The view from my window is absolutely magnificent: a sweeping vista of rolling hills of cacti and sagebrush high above the blue Pacific. Paradise with an ocean view. Just the place for a comatose old man hovering between life and death. My nurses whisper to each other in Spanish. I truly love these dedicated women who wear the Third Eye Patch, bless their hearts. They honestly believe they're doing the right thing as they move me around from place to place, always one step ahead of the authorities. They whisper anxiously among themselves.

Que hacemos ahora? (What do we do now?) Head Nurse Maria is very worried about her sixteen year-old son Pablo, who left home to join Generalissimo Ernesto Gillis and his Gritando Lagarto Frente de Liberación rebels. I also know that pretty Esmeralda’s husband Roberto drinks too much and gives her the back of his hand whenever he’s deep in his cups. So much sadness. I can only hope and pray that Esmeralda, Maria, and the others are fortunate enough to become acquainted with the Nous, discover the OuterNet, and Run with the Yak.

The ancient concept of the Nous has meant many different things to many different peoples and cultures. The Pythagoreans of Classical Greece described the Nous as an intelligent purposive principle of the world, and the faculty of the human mind necessary for understanding what is true or real. The Neo-Platonist Philosophers dubbed it the Demiurge, the perfect image of God. A modern-day reductionist definition of the elusive concept is merely common sense and on-your-toes awareness.

My very good friend, noted philosopher, ventriloquist, and harmonica virtuoso Michael 'Grasshopper' Chen, personifies the Nous as a super-conscious entity of wisdom, empathy, and a very Zen sense of humor!

A female being of Great Power, Love, and Justice, is what Jennifer Morgan, another friend of mine, calls the phenomenon. My personal Life Coach, if you will!

The OuterNet is a vast dimension of expanded consciousness (provided by the Nous) that people like myself experience when they don and wear the Third Eye Patch for prolonged periods of time. (My esteemed colleague Dr. Lori Dryer estimates that maybe 10% of the population fall into this category.) Mike Chen (the inspiration for the Patch) prefers to call this particular singularity Communing with the Nous.

Mike and a few select others visit and ‘Run with the Yak’ with me in this alternate universe from time to time, but they always return (as they must) back to their 'real' existence in the mundane material world of Space and Time. Maybe I permanently reside here in my Aboriginal Dream Time because I was wearing an advanced experimental application of the Patch when I abruptly slipped into my coma. That's my theory, anyway.

My dear wife Mimi is also a resident of this ethereal space, neither here nor there or anywhere but everywhere, just like me. The poor old girl also lies in a coma, although hers was induced by an evil government agent who drugged her with sleeping gas.

Mimi the scientist swears that she has no regrets. She absolutely refuses to view her comatose body currently interned at an exclusive modern clinic in Berkeley, California.

What's the point? she tells me whenever we get together to swap traveling tales. Mimi has always been a no-nonsense gal and a much better scientist than yours truly.

I don't see very much of Mimi these days because she prefers to explore the inner spiral arm of our galaxy where the stars sing to each other and ever-expanding clouds of gas flicker like fireflies on a summer evening. I'm no slouch at wandering, mind you, but I find myself returning every so often to linger here on this small green garden planet of ours, the only place in the Material Universe (as far as I know) where carbon-based life and awareness awoke and rose up from the primordial seas. I have seen many wondrous worlds throughout my travels, but none of them can even compare with this little old ball of rock and ice meandering around this insignificant star out here in the backwaters of the Milky Way Galaxy. I come and go as I please and frequently visit my pitiful old carcass down here in Mexico. More often than not, I find myself strolling across the boundless empty plains of Tuva under endless skies of deepest blue.

Both Mimi and I have made peace with the fact that we may die at any time. However, MY comatose body appears to be hanging in there quite stubbornly—maybe because of the ever-present Third Eye Patch on my forehead. My kindly nurses never forget to apply a fresh one every thirty days, bless their hearts.

Chandra's massage and water therapy regimen hasn't produced any measurable circulation increase in my lower extremities, but my liver and kidneys are stable. By all rights, I should be dead. When I look back at my life, I cherish the memories with no regrets. Mimi and I are content to Run with the Yak and count our blessings. The Universe of Awareness is a beautiful wonderful place and I am very grateful just to be here.

Let’s rewind, shall we? Once upon a time I was a crippled, prematurely dying 'outlaw' electronics billionaire with too much money and not enough time to do spend it properly.

In order to keep Uncle Sam's greedy hands away from our pile, Mimi and I established the Table Foundation and began to network with trusted friends to fund worthy projects like alternative medicines, technical innovations, and grants for gifted and visionary artists, writers, and oddball innovators—the ones who usually fall through the cracks when they attempt to play the great research grant hustle game. I drew the line at political causes and social engineering claptrap. A lot of crazy ideas came and went down the pike, to be sure.

Eventually we partnered up with one-time best-selling writer Mike Chen; his ex-wife and wildcat celebrity literary agent Jennifer Morgan; legendary rock-god guitar-slinger and musicologist Steve Shank; and the aforementioned and esteemed neurologist Dr. Lori Dryer. Together, we developed and brought forth the Third Eye Patch.

The Patch is a bio-meditative application which generates a soothing, calming pulse which gently resets the user's natural biorhythms. It's worn on the forehead in the proximity of the frontal lobes. An ancient melody known as the Wimoweh was chosen as the Patch's sub-harmonic algorithm. (A number of lullabies and folk melodies were also considered, but the Wimoweh got the nod in the end.) Originally proposed by Chen (in a discarded Science Fiction novel) as a non-pharmaceutical smoker's quitting aid, the Patch also proved to be very effective in fighting (and reversing) many other addictions and dysfunctional behaviors as well. Wishful thinking was (and is) essential in achieving success (not to mention an open mind) but the gadget performed beyond our best expectations in the preliminary tests conducted by Dr. Dryer.

Optimum Health and Happiness for Humankind was the slogan and mantra we chose for our ambitious endeavor. Our plan was to manufacture and sell this device at a very affordable price of under ten dollars each. Each Patch would be guaranteed for thirty days. We are talking 30 cents a day, folks. Being such a benign non-pharmaceutical application, the benefits to the consumer (and thus, society) would be very considerable and very apparent in a short period of time. No more anti-depressants needed! Bye-bye cigarettes, dope, shitty tasting beer and rotgut wine! Bye-bye War on Drugs, quack guru faith healers and psychiatric couches! A new era of Wellness and Renewal. Who on Earth would be opposed to such a beneficial (and cheap) application for all Humankind?

Well, how about the Mega Pharmaceutical Industry, the Medical Establishment, the Drug Cartels, and their foot soldiers in the U.S. Government? Under immense pressure from his corporate sponsors (PerryPharm, ComCo, DeathCo, and others) President Phillip Hammer declared that the Table Foundation was a front for domestic terrorist organizations! ‘National Security’ was (and IS) the oldest con in the book. Also targeted was The Northern California Cyber Underground, a loose cabal of well-funded individuals working secretly on an applicable concept called the OtherNet, which would free the co-opted Internet from government and corporate control.

I helped fund the OtherNet and hooked up with the brilliant (and legendary) Guru Abbryggdd, master hacker and inventor of the ultimate and incorruptible anti-virus application The Two Headed Worm Blocker. The Guru pretty much put it all together.

As a result of our activities, all of us were placed under enhanced surveillance by the National Agency of Science and Technology (NASTY). The ‘Table’ was infiltrated by spies who stole and passed on the inner workings of the Patch to my arch-rival Peter Derringer, the brilliant but evil genius and CEO of the Mackeyville-McCool Corporation.

NASTY’S Agent in Place was none other than Mike Chen's ex-girlfriend, the beautiful but very fragile Beta Bronski, who was recruited and brainwashed by NASTY spymaster FW Piltdown to acquire the Patch by any means possible. After successfully passing the Patch on to Derringer, she then went ‘rogue’ and promptly seduced and married the hapless dysfunctional electronics billionaire. In no time at all, the once destitute and suicidal Bronski found herself perched atop the pinnacle of Power and Privilege. Beta did some very unethical things on her very rapid rise to the top. As a result, she soon became marked for death by FW Piltdown and Fister Perry, the hypochondriac CEO of PerryPharm Corporation.

Using Mike Chen as a patsy, Perry and Piltdown’s assassins blew up Peter Derringer with a bomb delivered by one of his very own Nazgul drone aircraft. Talk about Karma! Bronski managed to survive the blast, but her spine was severely injured.

President Hammer, seizing the moment, immediately pinned this 'act of wanton domestic terrorism' on Chen and myself. The very next day, the Feds blew my home sky high with a sports bag filled with Semtex and C-4 plastique explosives. Maybe in hindsight, they should have used less gunpowder, because FW Piltdown and sixteen Federal storm troopers ‘fell in the line of duty’ planting the explosives, boo-hoo-hoo. To my great regret and sorrow, my personal bodyguard and eight innocent sheriff deputies also lost their lives defending me and my home. I barely escaped by the skin of my teeth out a back tunnel. Yes, I was spared the noose, but not so for my wife Mimi, Jennifer Morgan and Dr. Dryer, who were captured and ruthlessly tortured, both mentally and physically, in a secret NASTY rendition facility. Once again, Mike Grasshopper Chen was blamed for the bombing, although he had already gone into hiding, along with the Guru, Steve Shank, and many others.

In the dark days that followed, many good people became ‘non-persons’ by the government. Hundreds, possibly even thousands, were placed into FEMA detention camps. Evil always eats itself. The fragile center imploded and the nation erupted into full blown anarchy. Tens of thousands died in the riots that followed in the inner cities.

It took nearly a month before level-headed adults regained control. President Hammer was 'deposed' and succeeded by Vice President Dennis Lasher, a decent man in an indecent profession. My dear friend and Third Eye Patch co-founder Jennifer Morgan emerged as a Hero of the People and was appointed acting Senator from the State of California. A new hope spread like wildfire across the land.

Mike Chen, the Guru, and the others were promptly cleared of all charges. A sadder but wiser Beta Bronski was now crippled for life, but found herself under the care of new-found and very compassionate friends.

The damage to my world was massive and seemingly final.

Three of my very best friends were dead. I myself slipped away into the coma long predicted by my very good friend Dr. Chandra Madras. In hindsight, I do admit I was pushing myself beyond the limit with my remote viewing and other ‘enhanced’ activities. My over-worked brain (not to mention my dying undernourished body) must have blown a dilly of a fuse. It was only a matter of time.

Ironically, a very over-worked and stressed-out Mimi suffered a severe stroke as a result of her unjust incarceration and fell into a coma as well. So much sadness.

Isn’t it so very ironic? Mimi and I have found each other out here in the dark.

More than a year has passed since Mike 'Grasshopper' Chen first proposed the Third Eye Patch which has turned the entire world over on its ear. Beta Bronski is now a fellow Patchling and a very good friend of mine. She and her baby visit me frequently on the ethereal dream plains of Tuva. Jennifer Morgan is now the Vice President of the United States, and Third Eye Patch catalyst Mike Chen is back where he belongs: three of his books are currently riding high atop the New York Times bestseller lists.

The Patch is here to stay, although the dark forces of the Military Industrial Complex (DeathCo) are still in business. The Planet Earth now stands at a crossroads and battle lines are being drawn, even as I speak. Ruthless Warlords, False Prophets, and Death Cults are on the rise. Can the Third Eye Patch withstand (and ultimately defeat) the mighty Ouroboros and his legions of DeathCo, PowerCo and the evil Mongoose Cult?

You must read on to find out, dear reader. I am very confident you won't be disappointed. I am indebted to the journals of my good friends Phineas Phrogg Bervirt and Yogi Patmos, poet warriors in the truest sense. I also want to thank my transcriber, a glowing young woman named Gidget Brane. Gidget also dwells on the plains of Tuva, under the endless blue skies. You will meet her later. I myself have only a small minor role in the tale that follows. The good fight and the flaming torch of freedom has now been passed on to a new generation.

Patchling

I will go out on a limb here and speculate, based on my own observations (including those of my friends and associates experiences) and propose that the Third Eye Patch (when used as directed) enhances existing talents and capabilities depending on the quality and determination of each individual. Success rates may vary and depend on many factors, such as temperament, genetics, and the user's attitude and immediate environment. My own research suggests that 5-10% of ‘Patchlings’ experience enhanced visual, aural, and mental acuity which cannot be measured or quantified with objective scientific accuracy. Much more study must be conducted with these individuals.

On the other hand, 20-25% of my test subjects do not experience any notable beneficial effects whatsoever. 8-10% of this group do report unpleasant side effects such as nightmares, paranoia, and depression. Once again, most of these ‘symptoms’ are subjective and cannot be measured by scientific accuracy. Intense emotional situations may ignite Patch awareness in the first few weeks of application and then level off as the subject gradually gains equilibrium and control as time passes.

Patchling Michael Chen (see attachment 2A) reports in his daily log that he is experiencing enhanced dream activity and frequent incidents of precognition and synchronicity. Another one of my test subjects, Phineas ‘Phrogg’ Bervirt, reports absolutely no effects or enhanced talents as far as he can feel. Accurate percentages will not be available for some time, but I estimate that the Patch is beneficial to the general health and well-being of 60-75% of my test subjects. Only time and more tests will tell if these findings and percentages correspond with the general population.

—Dr. Lori Dryer

PROLOGUE

Against all odds, the viral success of the Third Eye Patch has sent ripples of positive feedback from the beaches of California to the high lonesome plains of Tuva.

There are stubborn and hostile pockets of resistance to these winds of change. The Money Masters and Warlords of the Old World are digging in and preparing for war as the minions of DeathCo wait patiently in the wings, ever ready to fire up the barbecues. In some places (The Russian Federation, The People's Republic of China, Iran, and North Korea) sale of the Third Eye Patch is strictly forbidden and private use of the bio-meditative device is brutally suppressed—despite a thriving black market. Sale and distribution of the Patch is legal but restricted in the UK and the EU, thanks to government and corporate corruption. In those countries, the retail price of the Patch is kept artificially high (100 Euros = 100 US Dollars) by tariffs, taxes, and excessive regulations. In many jurisdictions, a prescription from a MD is required.

(The London street price for the Patch is about 50 pounds or 65 US dollars.)

In most of North America the Patch is cheap (five-ten dollars) and widely available.

President Dennis Lasher sits cross-legged on the floor of his dimly-lit bedroom. His ever-present Secret Service apparition sits woodenly in a chair by the door, barely visible in the shadows. Lasher's snow white hair is unbound and cascades down to his shoulders. Flanked by two flickering candles, a shallow bowl of hot steaming water sits on the floor in front of him. The President patiently crushes selected herbs and gently stirs them into the water with his finger. A mist arises and encompasses his face as he breathes in the pungent vapors… the mist is smoky. Lasher now sits Indian style with two other men in a semi-circle, all with herb bowls in front of them. Lasher's ethereal companions are Vladimir Ptard, President of Russia; and Benjamin Grimm Wilde, Ascended Master of the Order of Lucifer and resident of London, England.

You dare to return? Grimm says to Lasher with a smirk. Have you updated your last will and testament yet? Honestly, I am very concerned for your physical AND mental health… maybe you should withdrawal now while you still have the chance.

Lasher's eyes are closed. Get the fuck out of my head, Devil's ass-licker! You are a pathetic joke and irrelevant for my purposes. I have come back to speak with my Russian counterpart. Time presses and you weren't invited to this palaver. Be gone, Maggot!

Upstart! You are only here by the graces and courtesy of the Master Ouroboros!

Your so-called Master is nothing but a masturbating girly man who never got over the trauma of never being invited to the prom…

Grimm opens his mouth in astonishment but is totally speechless. Vladimir Ptard chuckles dryly and speaks for the first time.

You may depart, Benjamin. I will listen to what the President has to say. If his message is worthy, I will relay it to you and the others.

Grimm disappears, leaving only a foul smell akin to rotten eggs.

Ptard turns to Lasher with an evil smile. Make your pitch, fool. How are things going these days? No offense, but you don't look very good, let me tell you.

Vlad, I must admit that YOU are looking very good, damn my eyes! Still hobnobbing with that has-been comedian, Ben Grimm, eh? Honestly, Vlad!

What's that to you, amateur?

So arrogant and cocky! Meanwhile, the People are living in fear and uncertainty as DeathCo pounds the war drums! Your so-called friends like Grimm are setting you up, Ptard. You and me. We can stop all of this nonsense once and for all.

Bah! I don't need YOUR help, old man. By the way, the Russian flag WILL fly from the Eiffel Tower and the Tower of London, just you wait and see.

Maya! Illusion! STOP playing this dangerous game or you WILL go down hard, Ptard. You and your whole nasty order.

Such tough talk from a prematurely dying old man who will surely make the acquaintance of the Great Mouth long before I do.

Hmm, so boasts the man who can never keep enough food-tasters on the payroll! Granted, good help is always hard to come by! —Look, there’s still time to do the right thing, Ptard. Won't you even consider my proposal, at least for our people's sake?

You can make your pathetic pitch when I speak at the United Nations, Lasher.

Why don't you meet with me in the Rose Garden instead? We can feast on fried chicken and cornbread, right after we both sign my new comprehensive energy treaty for peace and economic cooperation.

"I’m not signing ANYTHING until you throw NATO under the bus, as you Yanks like to say. The biggest obstacle to ‘peace and economic cooperation’ is Gregor Paulos and the Euro Bankers—and you know it."

Forget Paulos! Look, I worked so very hard to ram this treaty through the Senate, you know! Damn it, we can do this, and send a clear message to Paulos and those ghouls in DeathCo that their days are numbered.

Ptard snorts with amusement and disappears into the smoke as Lasher, his energy now spent, blacks out. The SS man sitting by the door barely makes it across the room in time to prevent the President's head from hitting the floor.

Mike Chen: Most Americans despise politics and politicians. They usually swing back and forth with no fixed ideology. That's why the Republicans will rule for eight years or so and then the Dems will take their turn. Right Wing, Left Wing, Up Wing, Down Wing, Upside Down and Inside Out Wing, whatever! Most regular people are just worried about staying afloat for another year. Optics and Marketing decide who wins the election cycle. It's not WHAT the candidates say, but HOW they say it. Trust me on this: if you carefully analyze what they ARE saying, you will find that they’re saying absolutely NOTHING at all — nothing except for the same old lies and bullshit.

NCC News: LASHER AND PTARD CONDUCT VIRTUAL TELE-SUMMIT

Citing a mild touch of the Russian Flu, President Lasher abruptly canceled a face-to-face meeting with visiting Russian President Vladimir Ptard in New York and chose instead to consult by tele-conference. Tensions are tense between the two, regarding Ptard’s current threat to shut down the natural gas pipelines into the EU. Ptard blamed crippling tariffs and rising interest rates set by Brussels. My hands are tied! the virile Russian leader told reporters in New York, where he is scheduled to address the UN. Russia’s very life-blood is being sucked dry by the corrupt EU and Criminal Goldfinger Gregor Paulos—so to my great regret, I just may be forced to shut down the pipelines.

Dr. Lori Dryer glides homeward to California high above the clouds in a melancholy mood after three days in Washington DC. Summoned by White House Chief of Staff Georgia Van Sutherland (‘Van’) to conduct a series of emergency BrainShots® on President Lasher, her preliminary evaluations are not very encouraging.

Mr. President, she said to Lasher as they sat with Van Sutherland in a private sitting room, If you don’t take dramatic steps in reducing your workload, duties, and ‘enhanced activities’, you will surely share the same fate as Boffin and Mimi Syznic.

I see, the President said calmly. Please continue, Dr. Dryer.

I strongly urge you to discard your ingrained Machiavellian mindset—

"—Machiavellian mindset, you say?"

Yes! Your conflicting paradigms appear to be accelerating neuronal degradation in your brain at a rapid rate… you must choose or die, Mr. President.

Lasher took the news surprisingly well, considering.

"So, my newfound and very handy remote viewing talents come with a terrible price, eh? I should have known… you know, I’ve always had a knack for thinking around corners, but the Patch definitely accelerated my formerly modest talents and brought them to the forefront—unfortunately to the decrement of my lifespan—"

Lori was startled when the President abruptly broke out into tears.

Mr. President—?

Van abruptly took Lori by the arm and led her out of the room.

Give him a few moments… these crying fits are usually fleeting… is there anything you can do for him, Doctor?

That’s up to him. I say he needs to stop abusing those nasty herbs immediately and take a break from this insane asylum!

What are you saying—?

I’m SAYING he needs to check into a quiet, secure, clinic somewhere. I’ll be more than happy to offer my services. Maybe then I can help him.

Then there's no hope.

Look, I wasn’t being merely philosophical with the President just now.

Lori paused and sadly recalled Boffin Syznic's last days.

It's not just the herbs… he needs to STOP this remote viewing business right away! Hear me out, Van. I have discovered from my research that the Patch is NOT beneficial for ‘alpha-type’ individuals who are unwilling to cast aside their egotistical love of power, wealth, gratification, adoration—you name it. There are limits to everything, even if the ends are good and noble. Boffin and Mimi Syznic pushed themselves to the limit and they both paid the ultimate price… to utilize enhanced abilities for any other purpose other than one's physical and spiritual well-being is the way to destruction. The President must stop these activities immediately and seek spiritual renewal and healing… In the meantime, put your foot down, Van! Keep a close eye on him! Don't let him sneak off to continue these… these activities.

NCC NewsWire: NYC MAYOR SILVERBERG ANNOUNCES $100,000,000 ‘CULTURAL EXCHANGE PROGRAM’ WITH RUSSIAN PREZ PTARD; RUSSIAN ART EXHIBIT OPENS AT METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART

KA UPDATE FROM YOGI PATMOS

HARDCORE BREAKING NEWS FOR ALL KARMAGEDDON™ PREMIUM AND GOLD STAR MEMBERS FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY: VISI-GOGGLES! That's right, for a limited time only, Karmageddon Co. will be offering at a special reduced price, genuine BRONSKI-DERRINGER VISION GOGGLES™ for only $2,000! These babies retail for $10,000! That's right, this is a special limited offer! PLEASE RESPOND BEFORE THE SUPPLY IS GONE! These incredible goggles enhance your Karmageddon Experience a thousand-fold! Take it from me, Yogi Patmos!

DO NOT DELAY AND MISS OUT ON THIS ONCE IN AN AVATAR OFFER!

NCC NewsWire: WHERE THE F#!* IS BOFFIN SYZNIC?

THE FATE OF MISSING ELECTRONICS BILLIONAIRE CONTINUES TO BAFFLE AUTHORITIES, DESPITE NUMEROUS 'SIGHTINGS'

Television, radio and internet jingle for Mongoosedotcom

(Visual Cue: A swank apartment, hi-tech gadgets, and a super-hot swimsuit model shaking her can to a hip-hop pulse)

Mongoose got yo back Jack / Mongoose got yo back

Yo got no jack / Mongoose fix your lack

Yo wanna a hot new mama shakin down yo shack

Mongoose got yo back Jack / Mongoose got yo back

Lots of free stuff at Mongoosedotcom (Offer not valid in the following zones…)

The United Nations and the World Health Organization has just issued an urgent warning to the estimated 100 million member/users of the virtual reality video game MONGOOSE™ to immediately cease use of rival applications My Next Life and Karmageddon, citing severe side effects when the applications are used in tandem.

Incoming UN Chaplain Avataro Adam Kane Maitreya (creator/designer of Mongoose) urges all gamers to drop ALL other rival applications, such as Karmageddon because of their fascist, regressive, and superstitious messages and indoctrination.

Mongoose is the panacea this fevered planet has been longing for in this current dark age. Resist and reject the old regressive and fearful paradigms.

NCC NewsWire, June 12, Moscow / GIRL PUNK TRIO 'MOIST AND JUICY GIRLS' SENTENCED TO 10 YEARS HARD LABOR IN SIBERIAN PRISON

'Performance Artists' convicted for defacing Orthodox church in Moscow and insulting President Vladimir Ptard with 'lewd obscenities' in a public place.

RUN WITH THE YAK!

Wanna Chat With Boffin Syznic? Need stock tips? Love advice? Spiritual Guidance?

talk2boffin/runwiththeyak/outernet/dotorg

VISA / MASTER CARD / DISCOVER / CAPITAL ONE / CHASE

(Legal Disclaimer: The Run With The Yak website is intended for entertainment purposes only.

Not associated or affiliated with Syznic Industries, the Syznic family, or the Table Foundation.)

BBC BREAKING NEWS:

PRINCE OF WALES IMPLICATED IN PLOT TO POISON THE QUEEN

BARCLAY WINZER, HEIR TO THE THRONE, FLEES THE UK

PRIVATE YACHT SPOTTED SOUTHEAST OF LANDS END

This just in from the Eco-Tittler: BALDENBIRD GUEST LIST LEAKED

Reliable sources have just confirmed that the Illuminati will gather this year at the swanky, exclusive Dagda Resort, just outside of Riga, Latvia. This year's McEvil fish fry will include Environmentalist Honcho Mel Trunkdale, Senator Tamara Spinner of New York, Irish Rocker Krishna O'Bannon, Duke of York Edward Winzer, and ex-President Phillip 'Thor' Hammer, who will be roasted at the closing ceremony of the secretive conference. For the tenth year in a row, Russian President Vladimir Ptard did not receive an invitation to the prom. Stay tuned for more on this breaking story—

Oh, just look at you all. Welcome to Sociology 101!

(applause from the lecture audience) Hey everybody, oh sure, I know this sounds kind of naive and rather idealistic for these cynical times and all, but here we are with a golden opportunity to come together and do our part to help make this world of ours a much better place and safer space! Does that sound too corny? How about it?

(enthusiastic applause)

I mean, isn’t a GOOD thing to help right historical wrongs and establish racial, social, gender, economic, and environmental justice for all? Let’s hear it for US!

(healthy applause)

Making a difference! Yes We Can! U.S. Out of America! Biodegradable and edible soy-based condoms, by gum!

(nervous laughter, coughing and uneasy murmuring)

Hang the One Percent!

(cheers, boos, and increased murmuring)

Free, but politically correct pussy! (hostile boos and catcalling from females in the lecture audience) Save the transgender ethnically non-white polar bears, abolish fracking, but give me my FREE high-speed internet and unlimited texting—

(ever-increasing hostile boos and catcalling from the lecture audience)

Please increase my monthly allowance, DADDY!

(outright hostility from the lecture audience)

Oh my bleeding Bog, I've seen and heard it all! Every year I remind myself that we would all be so much better off if the voting age was raised to thirty! Just sayin'—

(an erupting volcano of shrieking outrage from the lecture audience)

Hee-hee-hee! Where was I? —Right! Most of you young punks and punkettes come in here with such big heads and grandiose ideas, and it is my solemn duty to shoot them down like ducks in a penny arcade!

(hooting, jeering, and boo-hoo-hooing)

Are any of you oatmeal-brained carbon-emitting excrement canisters now ready and prepared to discover, and dare I say it, admit that everything you were ever taught and told to believe is just a pile of fairy dust and yak manure?

(amplified boos, stomping of feet, and catcalling)

Oh, a very small number of you WILL see the light and thank little old me for the rest of your lives! As for the rest of you drug-addled beer-guzzling copulating chimpanzees—

(obscene catcalls and upraised middle fingers)

—Keep it up, you dithering idiots! Hee-hee-hee, just imagine the utter shock when you receive your failing grade and just maybe begin to suspect then and there that you AREN'T special or even relevant! Oh the pain of not mattering! Boo-hoo-hoo!

(a paper airplane sails over the Professor’s head)

I must have hit a nerve there, jolly good! The truth does hurt, doesn't it? Oh the pain of knowing deep down that you are not only merely irrelevant, but just plain stupid! Oh the pain of discovering (and admitting) that you never had an original thought or ever expressed any desire or capacity to learn anything new from independent research or firsthand experience. Preferring only to agree to agree with each other. Never, EVER entertaining even the possibility of questioning, investigating, evaluating, and SOLVING difficult problems and tasks by logic, observation, experimentation, deduction, and critical thinking! Oh, the pain when one discovers that he or she is only just a clueless, frightened, insecure, inadequately educated, dysfunctional vegetable—oh the PAIN!

(another paper airplane sails through the air but misses the raised stage)

I FEEL, therefore I AM! (increasing hostility and catcalling)

Don't judge me by my ACHIEVEMENTS, but by my INTENTIONS!

(jeers and hooting)

I CARE about the Earth! (rustling chairs, shuffling feet, and slamming doors)

—Hey! You look at ME, notice ME, tolerate ME, love ME! That's YOU, my cowardly marionettes! Good luck out there when (and if) you do manage to actually graduate from this advanced daycare center with your worthless diplomas and encounter the all-too-real roving wolves and circling sharks out there in the mean old REAL world! Be merry, my friends, be merry!

— Professor Walpole Mantis, at one of his packed lectures

MONGOOSE CORPORATION OPENS SF MEGA HOMELESS MED CLINIC, VOCATIONAL TRAINING, DAYCARE CENTER

GUILTY ABOUT YOUR CARBON FOOTPRINT? HAVE YOU CONSIDERED GREEN-CO®? GET RIGHT WITH THE GODDESS!

From the Daily Squeeler:

VATICAN SUPPRESSES SYZNIC ENERGY BREAKTHROUGH

Secret leaked Vatican documents reveal that Pope Elihu has acquired missing electronics billionaire Boffin Syznic's long rumored and presumed lost 'Energy Patch Applications' supposedly containing the secret to applicable (and very cheap) nuclear fusion. The Pope is purposely sitting on these 'Satanic Alchemical Gadgets' according to Daily Squeelers on the scene in Vatican City. This isn't surprising, considering that leaked DNA tests (see links) reveal that Elihu is the bastard son of Sheikh Aziz, CEO of PowerCo and Emir of the United Oil Emirates. Anti-Pope (and Antichrist wannabe) Joan Guillemot denounced Elihu as a 'Bastard Luddite Infidel' in a statement issued from her luxurious vacation pleasure palace in Avignon.

From Wiki-Tech-Zine:

In popular contemporary mythology, Boffin Syznic's 'lost' energy applications are supposedly modified Third Eye Patch devices worn on the user's forehead in the proximity of the frontal lobes, enabling the user to generate and direct applicable nuclear fusion."

Wow! This 'urban legend' originally made the rounds on conspiracy theory websites, not long after the disappearance of high-tech billionaire Boffin Syznic and the murder of his colleague and researcher Albert Lange at the hands of Lange's former employers, the evil and insane Bob and Loretta Knobbler, owners of the MacroEye Corporation.

It's no secret that certain people 'in the know' conducted a thorough search of the burned-out ruins of Syznic's estate, following the implosion of President Phillip Hammer's administration and the Great Shutdown. Once the dust settled and things returned to (somewhat) normal, a Syznic family spokesperson insisted that the energy patch story was a hoax and the applications did not exist.

BREAKING NEWS FROM THE BBC: PRINCE OF WALES SPOTTED!

Barclay Winzer, the exiled former Prince of Wales, has been spotted in his yacht H.M.S. Battersea, near the island of Jersey just off the coast of France. Hundreds of thrill seekers from both the UK and France have taken to the seas in various crafts of all sizes and types to take potshots at the disgraced former first-in-line to the Throne. Winzer, 69, has been implicated in a plot to poison his 89 year-old Queen Mum, Edwina. He has also been accused of siring a bastard son, the notorious hip-hop firebrand and celebrity cyber-terrorist 'The Bonny Black Prince'.

According to witnesses on the scene, private aircraft dropped garbage and Molotov cocktails on the Prince's yacht, which is rumored to be out of fuel and running solely on sail power. Several witnesses claim that one of the airplanes was shot down, although this report has not yet been confirmed. One speedboat reportedly got within bow and arrow range and shot off numerous flaming arrows, resulting in the burning of one sail. Unsuccessful in obtaining needed fuel on the island of Jersey, the Prince's craft has moved back out into international waters and is sailing under its own power in the direction of Ireland.

From the Daily Squeeler:

VLADIMIR PTARD AND US STATE DEPARTMENT OFFICIAL SUSAN PYTHON SPOTTED ‘VERY COZY’ AT AFTER HOURS GOTHAM NIGHT SPOT

NCC: PRESIDENT PTARD TO VISIT RUSSIAN ART EXHIBIT AT NY METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING HIS SCHEDULED SPEECH AT THE UN

BREAKING NEWS: PTARD SPLATTERED WITH URINE

IN 'TERRORIST PERFORMANCE ART PRANK'

NCC NewsWire, Aug 1, NYC

Russian President Vladimir Ptard was struck by a water balloon filled with urine this morning as he was entering the Metro Museum of Art. Four people were arrested at the scene, including Jade Shank, 20, notorious daughter of Third Eye Patch co-founder and retro rock and roll legend Steve Shank, of DMZ fame. According to video cams and eyewitnesses on the scene, Ms. Shank, who is an heiress to 2 billion dollars of the Third Eye Pie, tossed the offending balloon, which scored a direct hit on the virile Russian leader. All four suspects were arrested at the scene and booked without bail.

1) Order of the Grasshopper

1: Call Me Phrogg

Despite your obnoxious innocence and naiveté, you silly Americans give me hope.

—Vladimir Ptard

Call me Phrogg.

You may have read about me in the best-selling book Flight of the Grasshopper by Mr. Mike Chen, co-founder of the Third Eye Patch. That book was later made into a blockbuster motion picture staring Johnny Rodd, Mint Julep, and Emma Godaddy. My ex-wife Jade and I play ourselves in the movie. I am only on-screen for two and a half minutes. I'm only a bit player in the grand scheme of things—or at least I used to be. This is my account of how a nobody like me became a fugitive from the Dark Forces who plague our world: The mighty DeathCo, the Mongoose Cult, crazy Luciferians, INTERPOL, the British Royal Family, the President of Russia, and nearly everybody else in between. Before I begin this rollicking adventure, I feel it’s only right and proper if I disclose this caveat for your consideration: During my flight underground, I became intimately acquainted with Aea the Fire Goddess. Aea is one of the Sentinels of the Covenant established by the Great Ojo and the Council of Ur. I guess you can call her one of the Guardians of the Galaxy. Aea is also the primal twin of the Nous, who administers the Universe of Mind and Awareness. If you think I’m crazy (or more likely full of shit), I urge you to put this book down at once! Get your money back, pronto!

(If you were dumb enough to purchase it.)

(Is this microphone ON? That was, you know, like, a joke.)

Now that I’ve got THAT out of the way, I may as well continue with my tale for those of you who still have open minds, willing imaginations, and a sense of humor.

It was Jade Shank who gave me the nickname PHROGG back in high school. The moniker just stuck, I guess. Both of us were stoned out of our skulls that night. I dubbed her SKANK but she wasn't having any of that! She told me to cool it if I expected to get my bread buttered. I'm no fool, at least on that subject. She Who Must Be Obeyed.

We got married when we were 18 and divorced before we turned 20. We certainly weren't mature enough for marriage, especially naughty randy Jade. The porn video was definitely the last straw for me. Always seeking new thrills and experiences, Jade later insisted that her silly exhibitionist 'performance art cinematic stunt' meant absolutely nothing. Besides, she just HAD to know what performing in a porn video felt like before she could make any kind of value judgment. I refused to even consider the possibility of doing such a thing, being such a repressed prude. But Jade always finds a way. First she got me and her very best girlfriend Jasmine drunk, really drunk, and let nature take its merry course. I'm not very proud about that night. Neither is Jasmine.

Oh yeah, Jade definitely set us up. She stealthily taped Jasmine and me doing the old matress dance on a hi-def night-cam. She later inter-spliced our rutting with stock car chases, explosions, and hacked video footage taken from drone aircraft blowing up wedding parties in Yemen and Pakistan. That was just the warm-up! Jade and Jasmine's boyfriend Biggy (use your imagination) then flew down to LA and made use of Emma Godaddy's studio after hours, where they produced, directed, and performed in a porno shoot of the highest quality. Aw Snap featured a very creative sequence with bondage, mannequins, yellow rain from sprinklers, gourmet food, and a string quartet of naked SexBots® wearing blindfolds. Aw Snap later won several prestigious awards and was heralded as an 'erotic but important' piece of cinema. Jade and Biggy were suddenly ‘viral’ and in-demand at the very best avant-garde parties.

Jasmine and I did our very best to avoid the spotlight, but we always found ourselves the center of attention as we attended our classes at Cal. Bummer. Emma Godaddy was very upset and banned Jade (and me) from her studios forever. Jade in turn sued Emma for ten million dollars. (The judge threw out the lawsuit.) The sad part of this is that Jade’s dad Steve Shank is currently engaged to Emma's mom, Sharon Heitz, a really good lady. Emma always treated me and Jade like gold. Anyway, Jasmine couldn’t take the ridicule any longer and went into hiding with her parents. Jade abruptly moved to New York with Biggy in tow. I said fuck it and filed for divorce, not knowing that Jade already beat me to the finish line.

Our no-fault divorce was finalized in no time at all, 50/50 split. Jade set up shop as an independent producer for Yak TV in a swanky cutting-edge loft she shared with Biggy somewhere in Lower Manhattan. Look, I still care for her and always will, but I'm very glad (and relieved) that it's all over.

This just in from the Daily Squeeler:

FLINTH VERY UNHAPPY; MNL LAWSUIT

Attorneys representing UK Media Mogul Nigel Flinth filed a lawsuit in San Francisco District Court against his live-in girlfriend Shirley Bender, Guru Abbryggdd, Steve Shank, Jade Shank, Phineas 'Phrogg' Bervirt, Yogi Patmos, Syznic Industries, and the My Next Life® Corporation. I still love Shirley, mind you, and we have no plans to terminate our relationship, but I need to do this, so that's that, Flinth told reporters at a packed news conference this morning at the Gallows Tower in London. The lawsuit was instigated when Flinth learned that (allegedly) Shank, Abbryggdd, and the Shank-Bervirts (who were married at the time) purposely and illegally accessed his personal My Next Life account and violated his privacy. MNL was owned by Boffin Syznic at the time, who later sold the enterprise to the Shank-Bervirts for the sum of one dollar. The Shank-Bervirts later sold the outfit to Shirley Bender for a cool ten million dollars. Notorious Master Game Ziner Yogi Patmos was also named in the lawsuit because he was the original owner/designer of the popular web-site before he sold it to Boffin Syznic.

Tis a tangled web indeed, Flinth concluded, with Shirley Bender at his side.

Nigel really feels the need to do this, Bender added. He has my full support to make an utter jackass of himself with this frivolous lawsuit! Over my dead body will he receive even one lousy dime from me! Besides, his lawyer is such an incompetent hack!

Flinth and Bender then kissed in front of the cameras.

OK, I was really stupid for posting an early draft of my Gaming Thesis online. Never mind that I substituted Flinth's name with a pithy alias: Niles Flynn. As Co-Administrator of My Next Life, I betrayed the trust of a 'client', which was very unethical. So what if the beloved 'investigative journalist' was spreading filthy lies about the Table Foundation on behalf the PerryPharm Corporation and the Dark Forces of ComCo? So Jade and I used Flinth's addiction to the game to help Steve Shank and the Table turn the tables on the wretch and persuade him to change sides. We really did need his help to defeat our very formidable enemies. Sure, it was morally and ethically wrong, but that little rodent had it coming for trying to destroy the Third Eye Patch, Boffin Syznic, and the Foundation. When it all was over and done, I foolishly used Flinth as my test subject and guinea pig for my Gaming Thesis which would demonstrate my brilliance and make me famous. You see, Jade and I had access to his every little dirty secret guilt trip hang-up!

All of this and more is chronicled in The Flight of the Grasshopper.

(By the way, Tommy Thick, the actor who plays Flinth in the blockbuster movie is younger, taller, and definitely better looking than the real deal.)

The judge ruled that Jade, myself, Mr. Shank, the Guru, Mr. Syznic's estate, and Shirley Bender were to pay Nigel Flinth a sum of one dollar each. Yogi Patmos wasn't penalized and the judge ordered Flinth to reimburse Patmos for legal fees and court costs. I myself ended up shelling out $2,000 for my attorney and legal fees. Jade chose to stay in New York and directed her attorney to pay the settlement. Steve Shank and the Guru were also no-shows and directed their attorneys to pay their fines. I myself handed Flinth three quarters, two dimes, and a nickel. Once outside on the courthouse steps, Flinth crowed victory to the television crews and reporters and promptly gave the six dollars to a homeless guy. Flinth and Bender then took off in a limo for SFO. What a freaking waste of time and money. Yogi Patmos approached me out on the front steps of the courthouse.

"We meet at last, Mr. Bervirt! I did read your treatise on My Next Life and found it very interesting, although it's quite an unorthodox take on the whole phenomenon."

Thanks, Mr. Patmos, although my Prof is threatening to flunk me for my efforts!

Professor Walpole Mantis?

The very one. How did you know?

I have been acquainted with the good Professor for many years.

Patmos looked at me curiously for a moment and then shook my hand.

Let's stay in touch, Bervirt.

Professor Walpole Mantis' lectures are always packed, and this video perfectly demonstrates why.

Flashback: DoBoob Viral Video, 12 million hits: Professor Walpole Mantis at work; Sociology 101 Orientation, Syznic Memorial Lecture Hall. Berkeley CA

Mantis: Welcome to Sociology 101! Before we begin your orientation, I need to give you all this last opportunity to change your schedules! I would be remiss if I didn't inform you right now that less than half of you will even pass this course, I guarantee it! Are you all ready for your eyes and ears and MINDS to BLEED, my fine young popkins? Listen, there's still enough time to switch over to say, Creative Castration 101. How about Ethnic Cowgirl Snowflake Social Justice Poetry or perhaps Professor Caltrop's popular and cutting-edge Zombie Activism and Empowerment… Money doesn't grow on trees! Think of your parents who worked and sacrificed so very much to get you here!

(Boos from the lecture audience)

You're rockin' my world! Hey, you can't say I didn't warn you! Hee-hee-hee, I'm the Master of your future! This is my world and you just exist in it!

(boos)

Hey, is there ANYBODY here in this room who is smarter than me? There isn't, is there? So now that we've got THAT happy crap out of the way, we can—wait, wait, what was that? Did some brave idiot just ask 'Who the fuck are you?' Repeat that last, please.

(pause)

Thanks! The question is: Who the fuck do I think I am to come up here on this stage and insult the very people who pay my salary and entrust me to educate their precious offspring, etc, blah, blah, blah? Is that the gist of your point?

(murmuring, catcalling)

Well, WHO do you THINK I am? Can YOU even THINK at all? Listen, you bed-wetting loser who probably has a peephole into your sister's bedroom—unless it's your mommy's—wait a minute, she isn’t BOTH, is she? (nasty whoops and boos)

Well, my fine masturbating moron, let me tell you who I AM: I am the man who is going to flunk YOU. Good luck paying back that worthless college loan! By Jove, I just had a brilliant thought, as usual! (more boos) We should initiate here at the University, a Department of How To Pay Back Your Crippling High Interest College Loans!

(really loud outraged boos)

By the way, is Phinny the Frog Man Bervirt in attendance here today, hmm? (laughter and a few cheers) Oh, there you are, Bervirt! So glad you made it! I did find the time to read your, ahem, treatise, and took the liberty to pass it along to some of my colleagues for comic relief! Do rise up and take a bow! (boos and laughter) May I give you some friendly amphibian advice? Don't take this the wrong way, but don't you think you would better off in a trade school? Just sayin'…

(oohs and aws as Phrogg exits the lecture hall)

Did you have a question, young lady? A meaningful one, please? Speak up, it's hard to hear you— (pause) OK, right! The question is: What is the point of even bothering with all of this folderol if I'm only going to flunk most of you useless eaters?

(pause for nervous laughter)

Keep laughing, you idiots! Well, let me tell you something, my fine young aspiring circle jerks. That IS the question, the very BEST question of all, in fact! The ONLY question that matters! Brilliant. —What is your name, young lady? (pause) Alice Weir? Well, let me tell you something, Alice Weir. That question of yours which has all of these dung-encrusted chimpanzees in stitches, just guaranteed YOUR PASSING GRADE!

(mixed cheers and boos)

Keep asking those kind of questions, the REAL questions, the questions that matter! Question EVERYTHING, young lady, because that's your only hope. The bastards and bitches who run this world cannot abide annoying and inconvenient questions—intelligent questions, unlike that blithering idiot's a few minutes ago. —What was that, young man? —Well FUCK YOU TOO, you sniveling weenie! Why don't you go back to your frat house and lock yourself in the bathroom with a graphic comic book!

(nervous laughter, scattered boos, and coughing as the student makes his exit)

Where was I? Oh, right! Thanks to Ms. Weir's insightful question, I see no need to even continue with today's orientation session. I couldn't have made my point any clearer! Go on, all of you, make haste and pick up plenty of condoms on your way out! Don’t forget to rinse out your bongs and stock up on munchies!

(mixture of boos and rowdy cheering)

Yes! Hurry on back to your dorm-slums where you boys can guzzle gallons of shitty domestic beer, dose your girlfriends with date-rape powder, and fornicate yourselves sillier than you already are! Get extra wasted while you can, because that mean old world will still be waiting for you out there when you move on from these so-called Hallowed Halls of Academia, the greatest con ever initiated on civilization!

Professor Mantis and I met for coffee in the cafeteria. A few students who were at the ‘orientation’ stared at us with their mouths open in astonishment.

That was a great performance, Professor. Honor is due.

Now you know why my lectures are always packed!

Now about my paper…

Paper? Do you jest, or are you putting ME to the test? —Wait a minute, you must be a mole for Professor Caltrop! You are, aren’t you? How very disappointing.

Um, I lay out some valid points regarding the Gaming Phenomenon and—

—Bah! I was under the mistaken impression that you could do much better than that sophomoric tripe, Bervirt. Look, if you want a rubber stamp, maybe Merv Rosenberg down at UC Santa Cruz is your man! However, I’m not so easy as that hack! The resumes of my success stories all proudly advertise that fact. Look, any fool with a little money can buy a degree. You've certainly got the money! Are you just another fool? That would be sad, so very sad…

Harsh words, Professor!

That’s what I am paid to do, unlike most of the phonies around here.

The Professor peered at me closely.

"You definitely are an odd one, Bervirt. Really, why are you even HERE? My BOG, you are richer than my wildest dreams could ever even imagine, let alone grok! Why are you even bothering with all of this clap-trap?"

I want to earn a degree and publish my white paper thesis in a prestigious academic journal, Professor. I want to do it on my own merits and not because of my money.

The Professor’s face looked almost thoughtful.

"OK, let’s talk next week when classes commence. You’ve got until the end of the term to submit something that doesn't insult my intelligence—wait, I'll take that back because everything these days insults my intelligence. Just sayin'."

I nodded silently. Mantis was right, my paper needed a lot of work.

I'm sure you know that Michael Grasshopper Chen was a student of mine many years ago. Yes, he saw the writing on the wall and dropped out right before I flunked him. Probably the best thing that ever happened to him. One year later he was a millionaire, thanks to me! —Listen up, Bervirt. I am taking this precious time away from my rather busy schedule because I do want you to keep on trying unless you have something better to do. Don't give up! Many years ago I made a solemn vow to never, ever, make it easy for my students, especially the ones who I think have potential. People like you, Bervirt. Toss out that piece of trash, clear your head, and start all over from scratch. I'm not going anywhere, and hopefully you won't flunk out before Christmas break! Use your time well and submit a preliminary draft when the second term commences in January.

Mantis then slid a flash drive across the table and left the noisy cafeteria without another word. Curious, I inserted it into my YakPad and my life changed forever.

WELCOME TO THE ORDER OF THE GRASSHOPPER, PILGRIM!

Yogi Patmos, Palo Alto, CA

Walpole Mantis, Berkeley, CA

Candace Beedle Carlisle, Moss Beach, CA

Rex Andromedas, Hilo, Hawaii

Marsha Portrero, Berkeley, CA

Ricardo 'the Rat' Radcliffe, New York, NY

Associated Stringers and Fellow Travelers:

Acorn Smith, Bone Man Moon's Canyon, Ishi County, CA

Representative Ingrid Robertson, Washington DC

Yogi Patmos: The Order of the Grasshopper is not a secret society or a revolutionary cell. We have no leader, but we do share a common cause and mission: to stop or slow the encroaching danger of the Mongoose Cult. ‘The Way of the Goose’ offers the frightened masses the bright shiny bells and whistles that have been promised by false prophets, con men, snake oil elixir salesman, and phony baloney quack gurus ever since the very beginning. A shining hope but a false one, of course. ‘Ye Shall Be As Gods’…

Mongoose only leads to spiritual death and the mass grave in the end.

What IS Mongoose? Well, it's a very popular cutting-edge video game, as millions of gamers will attest. It’s also a mega-corporation, a ‘religious’ cult, and a hyper-charged simulated alternative belief system. Unfortunately, our wise elves in the Mainstream Media have either been bought off or else refuse to take the threat very seriously.

The Mongoose Cult is on the move, consolidating power, and reaping souls by the millions. I know how crazy that sounds, but anyone who is truly honest and has an open mind will agree with my findings, once they have done their research. Mongoose offers the masses an easy way out of the chaos, uncertainty, and the fear of the unknown.

(Never mind that the creators of Mongoose are among the ones feeding the growing fear encompassing the Earth.)

Security, Health, a Sense of Belonging, and Peace of Mind are only obtainable by total submission to the Goose and a complete surrender of one's free will. Mongoose has all the answers—only after you surrender your data, finances, relationships, hopes and dreams—to the all-wise Mongoose, who absorbs, reviews, analyzes, refines, and custom fine-tunes your personal 'Inclusive Avatar' with a welcoming immersion into the New Weird Order. The Mighty Goose is waiting there to feed, clothe, house, sooth, entertain—and even provide selected sexual partners and more—all for the new worthy ones, the shining vanguard of the New Gaea. Mongoose promises everything My Next Life offered, except you don’t have to work for it. With Mongoose, it's all free, free, free—unlike MNL where you at least had to go through the motions of doing the right thing on a daily basis. (GoodDeeds©)

There was a lot more stuff about Mongoose on that flash drive, really bizarre stuff straight out of Oo-ee-oo land. My brain was in a state of overload as I rode my Jakkurabitto™* hybrid three-wheeler back to the City through the intermittent fog.

(*Japanese for 'Jackrabbit')

Mongoose Got Yo Back, Jack, Mongoose Got Yo Back

That was the stupid-ass jingle almost everyone was humming lately. I hadn't given the Mongoose gaming phenomenon very much thought, being too busy with my thesis, the divorce, and the lawsuit. I decided to do some extensive research when I got home.

When I pulled up at my bathhouse loft on Third Street, I was in dire need of an intoxicant. A session with Professor Mantis can do that to a person. Just as I was removing the battery from my trike, a Fed Ex truck pulled up out front. The driver hopped out and approached me holding a cardboard carton.

You Bervirt?

I signed for the package and carried it up the stairs to my abode. To my surprise, an old friend of mine was waiting for me up in the loft: Jasmine Nightshade, ex-best friend of Jade Shank, and my unwitting co-star in Jade's award-winning porno film. I was very pleased to see her and very much in the mood for some lubricated fun. That's where my mind was at, but so what? Both of us were at loose ends (thanks to Jade) and it wasn't like we were strangers or anything like that.

Hi, Jasmine. Long time, no see. What's shaking out in West Portal?

Jasmine jumped up and tossed herself into my arms. Her luxurious auburn hair smelled like hazelnut ice cream and her trembling body felt awfully nice against mine.

Hey, have you been crying, Jas?

Damn them BOTH to Hell forever and I hope they throw away the key!

Damn WHO to Hell forever?

Oh My God, haven't you heard the news?

NCC NewsWire