A C H R I S T M A S H I C K E Y ----------------------------------- A MiSTing by Jim Gadfly gadfly@angelfire.com Published December 8, 2001 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 In the not-too-distant future In another reality Mike Nelson and his robot pals Are still in captivity Still held by that evil Pearl Forester With Professor Bobo and Observer Still trapped in the Satellite of Love The experiment continues as they orbit high above Pearl sends them rants and fanfics, Spam and other assorted things (la-la-la) Mike and the 'bots must read it all No matter what pain it brings (la-la-la) In this world Sci-Fi can't control When the series will ever end. Mike may spend all eternity Trapped with his robot friends E-bay Recall: Cambot (Are we back on?!) Gypsy (Great phoenix!) Tom Servo (Re-check me out!) Croooow! (We're the same!) If you're wondering why I write this stuff Since the series bid life farewell, The answer is that I loved that show And Sci-Fi can go to -- Wisconsin! (Woooo Packers!) Long live Mystery Science Theater 3000! (Guitar twang) ...o...2...3...4...5...6...* [Satellite of Love. MIKE stands behind the counter at one end, looking across to the other end where GYPSY, CROW, and TOM stand as a group, GYPSY wearing a large Victorian bonnet, CROW a wool scarf with snowflake designs woven into it, and TOM a small Santa Claus hat. They stare back at MIKE, who raises a small baton in his right hand.] MIKE: Okay, let's try that last verse one more time, from the top. [MIKE begins "conducting" with the baton as the group begins to sing.] 'BOTS: [Sing] On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to meeee... GYPSY: \ / Twelve lords a leaping CROW: [Sing together] Twelve drummers drumming TOM: / \ Twelve pipers piping GYPSY: \ / Eleven ladies dancing CROW: [Sing together] Eleven swans a swimming TOM: / \ Eleven maids a milking MIKE: [Frustrated] Whoa! WHOA! Darn it guys, we got it wrong again. TOM: Gaah! Stupid song! CROW: It's a really dumb wish list anyway. How are you going to wrap all that, let alone get it all under the tree? GYPSY: At least we were on key. MIKE: Uh, no, not really... [Notices us] Oh, hi! Welcome to the Satellite of Love. I'm Mike Nelson, and this is the SoL Holiday Chorale, such as it is -- CROW: Not to be confused with the Mitch Miller Singers. MIKE: I don't think there's any chance of that. Anyway, we were just practicing a few Christmas carols -- TOM: Why do they call them that? MIKE: [A little confused by the interruption] How's that? TOM: Christmas "carols." They're *songs*, right? MIKE: Well, yeah -- TOM: Then why not just call them Christmas "songs?" MIKE: Well, I -- CROW: Yeah. Just what *is* a "carol," anyway? MIKE: I -- um -- I'm not really sure -- CROW: Then why not call them "alices" or "cynthias" -- why "carols?" GYPSY: But it's tradition! TOM: Tradition schmadition. Nobody questions these things! We just go mindlessly bopping along, continuing traditions that nobody can remember the reason for. Before you know it, we're holding lotteries where the winner is stoned to death and nobody can really explain why -- MIKE: I think you're starting to wander off the topic -- CROW: And what about that story, "A Christmas Carol" by Dickins. Is it about a song? Singing? MIKE: Well ... no -- CROW: Of course not! It's a *story*. Are we supposed to SING the story? [Recites in sing-songy voice] "Marley was DEA-A-A-D, to begin WI-I-I-TH... There is no doubt whatever about TH-A-A-A-A-T" -- I mean, come on! [The mads light begins flashing.] GYPSY: I guess they've got a point, Mike. [MIKE, flustered, tries to think of a reply, then notices the light.] MIKE: [Trying to hide his relief] Oops, we'll have to continue this later, we're being paged. [To us] Yes, Mrs. Forrester? [Castle Forrester. Great Hall. Pearl is looking at us, flanked on either side by Observer and Bobo. She is holding a thick rope, Bobo a large net and Observer his brain pan in one hand and an oversized mallet in the other.] PEARL: [Smiling] Well! Merry Christmas, ho-ho-ho and all that crap, gentlemen and -- things. And merry it shall be indeed! For us, anyway. You see, I've been thinking -- remember that story I sent you a couple of years ago, "A Kidnapped Santa Claus" -- BOBO: [Leaning forward] It's archived at http://www.angelfire.com/va/gadfly and http://wsn9.mistings.org, aka http://www.masemware.com/mst3k -- PEARL: [Angrily, over her shoulder] BOBO! BOBO: [Shrinks back] Oh -- sorry, Lawgiver. PEARL: [Back to us] Anyway, I figured; hey, why not? We wait til' the old elf creeps down the chimney, then knock him on the head, tie him up and -- WHAM! -- the ultimate hostage! Imagine the ransom that store owners, soda makers and street-side charities everywhere will pay to get their mascot back in circulation! OBS: It staggers the imagination. PEARL: You can say that again, Frosty! OBS: It staggers the -- PEARL: [To OBSERVER] Oh, shuttup. [To us] Well, what do you guys think? [SoL] MIKE: Well, Pearl, aside from it being sick and disgusting, and likely to bring every law enforcement agency in the world down on your head, what makes you think Santa would even VISIT you guys? 'BOTS: Yeah! [CF] PEARL: Of COURSE he'll visit us! He ALWAYS visits us! BOBO: [Leaning forward again] That's right! We've got enough coal now to keep the castle warm all winter! [PEARL gives BOBO a seething look.] BOBO: Uh -- sorry -- [Shrinks back again.] PEARL: [Back to us] Anyway, while we wait for our special visit from St. Nicholas, I've got another special something to yuletide you over. It's a little reflection from some sweet old grandmother on the holiday season. Frankly, though, you'll probably find it even more irritating than your little group's singing. Brain guy? OBS: Yes, Madam? PEARL: Give 'em the Hickey! OBS: [Begins to nod toward us, then looks at PEARL with indignant confusion] I BEG your pardon? PEARL: [Impatiently] The rant! Send them the Christmas rant! OBS: Oh! Of course! [Looks at us and jerks his head about as "brain noise" plays.] There, Mike. Don't say I never gave you anything. [SoL. Alarms blare and lights flash.] MIKE: You really shouldn't have! TOM: You can say that again!! ALL: AHHHHHH!!! *...6...5...4...3...2...o... [Theater. MIKE enters, carrying TOM, followed by CROW. They all take their usual seats as the post begins.] > From: Grandmother Hickey (penicillin@my-deja.com) TOM: Well, I guest we know what *this* grandmother got for Christmas! > Subject: Santa Claus Is NOT Coming to Town! MIKE: *Despite* President Bush's call for a return to normalcy. > Newsgroups: alt.parenting.solutions CROW: Want a parenting solution? Two words: Boarding School. > Date: 1999/11/27 TOM: Ah, a blast from Christmas past. CROW: I wonder if it's aged well. MIKE: Probably about as well as moldy bread. CROW: Well, her email address *is* "penicillin." > > Children: > > The department store "Santas" are already out in full force. To > me, that's disgusting. MIKE: Note how Granny Hickey tactfully eases into her topic. > Christmas is not now and never was about > the acquisition of material things. CROW: And this writer is from what planet? > Children are already lining up > to tell the dirty old men in red suits and white beards what > they'll just DIE if they don't get come Christmas morning. TOM: And *then* they tell the *Santas*. > I saw > them at the mall today laughing it up like a bunch of old > drunkards. CROW: The children?! MIKE: No, I think she means the Santas CROW: Oh. > One of them was even smoking cigars. CROW: One of the Santas or one of the kids? MIKE: One of the Santas again, I assume. TOM: I guess maybe he misplaced his pipe? > The odor just > about made me vomit. CROW: The odor of the cigar or of the Santa? MIKE: Okay, Crow, I think we've reached the point of diminishing returns here with the pretended confusion. CROW: Whaddya mean, "pretended?" > In all I counted ten whiny little brats who > threw tantrums for all to see and hear because they weren't allowed > to take home their favorite toys then and there. TOM: [Sings] One little, two little, three whiny little brats ... > Not a one was > spanked. MIKE: [As Hickey] Me? I'da taken the brats back 'o the woodshed and given 'em ten lashes with my bullwhip! THAT'S what parenting is all ABOUT! > The parents tried in vain to "reason" with them. CROW: But even David Hume Jr. couldn't be consoled. > "But, > precious cupcake," one of them said, "you know Christmas isn't for > another month yet. You'll have to wait. TOM: Won't she be stale by then? > Don't you want to help > mommy find something nice for your big sister Susan?" > > "No! I don't give a @#%& about Susan. MIKE: Oops! Looks like Granny's glasses slipped off and fell on the keyboard again! > She's already got two > boyfriends. CROW: Yep, she came downstairs last Christmas morning, looked under the tree, and there they were! > I want a Mecha-Godzilla monster that melts skyscrapers > with its breath and kills people like you who won't give me what I > want now!" TOM: Ooo! Ooo! That sounds neat! Mike, can I get a Mecha-Godzilla for Christmas? MIKE: Well, I-- CROW: Yeah! Yeah, me too! *I* want a Mecha-Godzilla! MIKE: Boys, I-- TOM: Pleeeeze! Please Mike! CROW: We want a Mecha-Godzilla! TOM & CROW: PLEEEEEEEEZE!!! MIKE: Okay, okay, I'll see what I can do. TOM & CROW: PROMISE?! MIKE: Yes, yes, I promise. TOM & CROW: GOODIE! GOODIE! GOODIE! [MIKE sighs and shakes his head.] > > As if that weren't enough, parents nowadays behave more like > children than their kids do. MIKE: And that gets REALLY wearing on the Santas' laps ... > I can't tell you how many times I say > seven- and eight-year old boys urge daddy to stop fooling around TOM: -- and just get RID of that intern -- > with toy cars or model trains because "mommy's waiting for us in > the underwear department" or something like that. CROW: Frankly, I'd be more worried if the guy showed more of an interest in the women's underwear. > Kids are so > jaded nowadays it's incredible. One family of eight -- Catholics, > no doubt, but certainly not religious -- MIKE: Ah, yes, what would the Christmas season be without a little religious bigotry? > had to join hands and skip > abreast through the Food Court, CROW: Me, I *never* skip abreast when I can help it. MIKE: [Eyeing CROW suspiciously] Crow, was that ... CROW: [Innocently] Yes, Mike? Was it what? MIKE: [Shaking his head] Never mind. > totally oblivious to the older > people who just happened to be in their way. I got bumped by two > little hellions myself at the bookstore, where I bought some new > prophetic magazines about the New Millennium. MIKE: [As Hickey, reading] Hummm. This prophetic magazine says that while I'm standing in a bookstore I'm going to be bumped by two -- OOF, what was that?! > Did their parents > tell them to say, "Excuse me" or "I'm sorry"? TOM: Steve Martin and Brenda Lee would. > Are you kidding? TOM: Well, yeah. > From one father I heard, "Watch out for the old people, sugar > smack: they can't move as fast as we can." They couldn't wait to > go through the line a second time to see "Old Saint Nick." CROW: NO! Not back to the Santas again! > The > greedy little pigs had thought of a few new things to ask for -- MIKE: A new trough, a bigger sty, more slop ... > "Nicolette, you already asked Santa for a ten-speed. This time ask > him for a swimming pool." "But I'd rather have an 88-inch TV in my > bedroom." TOM: Methinks Hickey may be exaggerating just a tad. CROW: That or we've entered a department store owner's wet dream. > "Ask for all three, lemon drop." MIKE: Good grief, these nicknames are a diabetic's nightmare! > > These kids were not babies. TOM: No, they were candy snacks. > One had to be eight if not older. > It's not as easy to tell a child's age as it used to be because CROW: The senility's started setting in? > the > girls start wearing make-up and mousse when they're a year old. If > they only knew how trashy that made them look! MIKE: That's why they get the nose and tongue rings when they get older, to offset that. > They boys wear all > those baggy "hip-hop" clothes that make them look like animated > coat racks. TOM: Yeah, they practically look like they just wandered off the set of "Beauty and the Beast." > When are today's kids -- painted, pampered, and pudgy > as they are -- going to learn where things really come from? MIKE: They already know; The Mall! > As > I've always said, if you don't teach kids the value of money early, CROW: They'll grow up to be politicians? > they'll wind up stealing and cheating their way through life later. CROW: That's what I said! > > As many of you know, I see no reason TOM: We figured that. > why any of you should lie to > your children about Santa Claus. We all know there's no "jolly old > elf" who lives at the North Pole and who makes toys for kids. And > kids are smarter than you think. MIKE: [As Hickey] Well, not *my* kids, but that's another story ... > I saw a little girl today who > couldn't have been more than five asking her mother if Taiwan -- > where some howling monstrosity she wanted had been made -- CROW: Adam Sandler's latest movie? > was > anywhere near the North Pole. Her naive mother actually told her, > "I think so, honey cake." TOM: Okay, so this mother has the geographical knowledge of the average high schooler. > This girl's in for a rude awakening when > she starts studying geography. Perhaps I should say, "IF she > starts studying geography..." MIKE: [As Hickey] You see, *I'm* homeschooling her ... > That seems to be one of the topics > they dropped a few years back along with just about everything else > except Applied Evolution, Third World Languages, Human Relations, > and Sex Education. CROW: Yeah! And I heard they even teach now that the EARTH goes around the SUN! HA!! > Imagine going through life thinking it's always > cold in Taiwan just because your mother doesn't have the courage > not to lie to you. That's what I call child abuse. TOM: Tonight on "Judging Amy": The tragic case of a woman who teaches her daughter that it's cold in Taiwan. > > I told my kids beginning with their first Christmas that department > store "Santas" are fake. I told them to go up to the old "elves" > and rip off their fake beards while yelling, "Phony! Phony! > Phony!" to everyone within earshot. MIKE: Something tells me that these are the types of kids that grow up to appear as guests on "Jerry Springer." > Now I hand out tracts telling > kids that Santa Claus is just one more of the devil's ugly lies. > You may not realize this, but "Santa" is an anagram for "Satan." CROW: Oh, God, here we go. > It's true. TOM: Well, yeah, cute coincidence. And "Evangelist" is an anagram for "Evil's Agent." But so far I haven't heard anyone claiming that Billy Graham is the antichrist! CROW: Well, actually -- MIKE: No! Don't go there! One rant at a time, please! > Santa is really Satan in disguise. TOM: [Sings, Elvis voice] YOU'RE the devil in disguise! MIKE & CROW: [Sing harmony] Oh yeah you are ... > He teaches kids to > be good just so they'll get something under the tree. Kris > Kringle, which was originally a name for the Christ Child, has > become a travesty of Our Lord's Holy Name. CROW: So, if you can associate Santa's name with Satan, it proves he's the devil, and if you can associate his name with Christ, it proves he's the devil. TOM: And if you can associate his name with Roger Whittaker? CROW: It proves he's the devil. TOM: And if you can associate his name with-- MIKE: Okay, okay, I think we've got the gist here. > That's why I never let > my kids see either version of "Miracle on 34th Street," and why I > urge anyone who owns a copy to burn it immediately. MIKE: Along with their Beatle records, Harry Potter books, and any local Wiccans. > It's > blasphemous! Almost as bad, it encourages children to live in a > fantasy world. TOM: Why am I suddenly picturing glass houses? > And if I'm not mistaken CROW: God forbid! > it also glorifies the life > of a gay divorcee. ALL: HUH? TOM: Mike, how could ... MIKE: Don't bother, Tom. It's not worth the effort. > Nothing but TRASH ever comes out of Hollywood, > which is why I call it un-Holy-wood! MIKE: [As Hickey, smugly] Sometimes I'm just so clever I can't stand myself. TOM: You're not alone. > > If you lie to your children about Santa, they'll start doubting > your word about everything else. CROW: [Whiny kid] But Ma, how can I be SURE we're really gonna have meatloaf tonight just cause you SAY we are? > That's how juvenile delinquents > are made. TOM: That's right! Forget about local culture or peer pressure or economic climate or parental neglect -- it's lying about Santa that causes juvenile delinquency! MIKE: Of course! [Slaps self on head.] Why couldn't we all figure that out before?! TOM: Because we didn't have Grandmother Hickey to enlighten us. MIKE & CROW: [With feigned awe] Oooooh. > Your children trust you to teach them right from wrong. > When they discover, as they inevitably do, that you've lied to them > about the true meaning of Christmas, they'll stop trusting you > altogether. CROW: Absolutely! Can you think of *anyone* who has trusted their parents once they stopped believing in Santa Claus? > It won't be long before Satan and his minions come > a-calling on your child and, if you're not careful, MIKE: He'll sign up for a magazine subscription? > turning him > into some sort of deviate. CROW: Uh -- doesn't she mean "deviant"? MIKE: No -- a "deviate" is *much* worse. CROW: [Thoughtfully] Hummmmmm. > > Did you know that most department store "Santas" are bums who don't > have regular jobs the rest of the year? TOM: Oh for Pete's sake, we're back to the department store Santas again! CROW: What happened in this lady's past? Did Grandfather Hickey abandon her and then go to work as a Santa or something? > It's true. A good many of > them are pedophiles just aching to get their hands on children, > even if it's only for a moment. A lot of them whisper lewd > suggestions into children's ears. MIKE: [Lewd whisper] Forget the toy cars and model trains, Timmy. What you *really* want is women's underwear ... > A woman I know once allowed her > four-year-old daughter to sit in the lap of one of those fake > "Santas." She soon notices that her daughter seemed to be doing a > lot of squirming. She approached her to see what was going on and > noticed that the dirty old man was in a very obvious state of > arousal and that he was dandling her baby in his lap in a > thoroughly obscene fashion just to get a cheap thrill. Let me tell > you this: not only was that phony's fake beard ripped off, but he > was slapped so hard he flew all the way off his platform and into > the Christmas tree. CROW: How! The mother must have been a Slayer! > Had that woman not brought her daughter to my > Holy Church for a healing and a cleansing, she might have been > psychologically scarred for life. TOM: [As Hickey] But after the tongues ceremony and snake handling we're sure she'll be just fine. > I can just imagine how many > lesbians got their start hating men after being molested by some > filthy-minded mall "Santa Claus." MIKE: Ah, yes. Sitting on Santa's lap, the leading cause of lesbianism in America. CROW: Anne Heche's husband had better make sure she stays away from the malls this Christmas -- she might revert! > > The ones who aren't child molesters are usually drunks. Smell > their rancid breath if you doubt my word. TOM: You can do this while you're ripping their fake beards off to save time. > A few give children rum > balls to get them hooked on booze early. CROW: [Deep voice] Rum balls, the dread gateway drug to alcoholism. > > Even if the "Santas" are doing a legitimate job of giving today's > greedy kids something to hope for, what are they really > accomplishing? MIKE: Stimulating the economy? > They're only fueling the children's lust for > material possessions. MIKE: Well, yeah, that too-- > They're giving kids the "gimmees." CROW: But isn't that still better than the "willies" or the "heebie geebies?" > Do these > fake "Santas" ever tell children they can't have everything they > want because there are needy children living across town? TOM: Not while their boss is standing nearby, they sure don't! > What to > say about the starving children of Mother Africa. MIKE: Oh no! "Grandmother Hickey" is a moniker for Sally Struthers! > Do they ever try > to make children feel properly ashamed of their filthy greed? CROW: Somehow I don't think that's the effect they were hired for. > Not > that I can tell. And do the phony "Santas" EVER say anything about > Jesus or the True Meaning of Christmas? Not that I've ever seen. TOM: Maybe they're trying to show respect for people who aren't necessarily Christians but who they want to include in the spirit of the season? CROW: Oh. You mean all the hell-bound heathens and infidels. TOM: Yeah. Those guys. > > I know there are a lot of you who think Christmas just isn't > Christmas without Santa Claus. I've got news for you. MIKE: Can we wait for the report at 11? > Christmas > is about Jesus Christ, His Birth under very humble circumstances in > a stable in Bethlehem, and His Escape from the Slaughter of the > Innocents instituted by that power-hungry King Herod. Wicked as he > was, I'm sure he couldn't hold a candle to some of you parents who > use their "six-figure incomes" to spoil their children rotten. TOM: Okay, so let me get this straight. A person who spends their money buying toys for their child is worse than a king who ordered all the male infants in a province slaughtered. MIKE: Yep, that pretty much sums up her point. > Although Herod had his own flesh and blood murdered when he could, > I'm sure he gave the little monsters everything they clamored for > when they were young, and at least two of them lived to oppress > decent people long after he had died and gone to hell. MIKE: Yeah. Ol' Herod might have gotten away with the murder and the oppression. But that spoiling his kids -- now *that's* what got him condemned. CROW: Kinda like Al Capone and tax evasion, huh? > Santa Claus > has nothing to do with the Christmas Story, TOM: Well, he did, but it dealt more with Peter Billingsley and his quest for a BB gun. CROW: It wasn't a "BB gun," it was a Red Ryder 200-Shot Range Model Air Rifle! TOM: Sorry. I stand corrected. > and next to nothing to > do with the fourth-century St. Nicholas, about whom virtually > nothing reliable is known. MIKE: And God knows that Grandmother Hickey wouldn't herself state anything that wasn't reliably certified as uncontested fact. > > Tell your children there is no Santa Claus. CROW: [As Hickey] Go 'head. I DARE ya! > Remind them that they > can't buy their way into Holy Heaven TOM: Because Heaven doesn't take American Express -- > by doing good works. Only by > God's Grace are they saved through their Faith in Jesus Christ -- > and in His Virgin Birth, His Sinless Life, His Miraculous Workings, > His Atoning Death, and His Glorious Resurrection -- and not by > behaving as one of Satan's figureheads would have them behave. MIKE: Unless they're Rupert Murdoch. > Don't lie to your kids another minute. They'll learn the Truth > sooner or later anyway. CROW: So dash their childhood fantasies NOW. Don't delay! > > > Praying for ALL of you, TOM: [As Hickey] Well, except those kids who bumped me in the bookstore. I look forward to watching *them* fry! > > > Grandmother Hickey -|- > Jesus' Special Agent | MIKE: Yeah, sounds like she's "special", all right. CROW: But she's one Christmas special I think I'd rather skip this year. TOM: [As MIKE rises and picks him up] I'll make sure and put that on *my* wish list, too. [ALL exit theater.] ...o...2...3...4...5...6...* [SoL. A personal computer sits on the counter, positioned so that the monitor is facing away from us. TOM and CROW are behind the counter looking at the computer monitor. MIKE enters.] MIKE: Hey, guys. Whatcha doin', looking up more insightful posts from Granny Hickey? TOM: HA! Not on your life, pal. But she *did* get us interested in some of the history of Santa Claus. CROW: For example, take a look at this one -- http://home.golden.net/~caitlin/page14.htm -- where Santa records some of his background. [MIKE looks over their shoulder at the computer monitor. He squints his eyes, reading for a few moments.] MIKE: Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Oh, that's interesting! TOM: Which part? MIKE: That one -- where it says "In Austria and Hungary, villagers expected a goatlike man called Krampus, or Black Pete, to follow St. Nicholas in order to punish bad children." CROW: Yeah, and then it talks about not only leaving lumps of coal, but actually spanking bad kids with birch switches. TOM: Wow! Somehow I never heard that part of the Santa story before. Have you, Mike? MIKE: Nope. I guess a few centuries of philanthropic living mellows you out. Still -- [He looks at us and calls out] Uh, Mrs. Forrester? Evil henchmen? We've found something here you might want to take a look at. Hello? [Castle Forrester. PEARL sits alone on a chair in the middle of the Great Hall. She is tied up with the same rope she was holding earlier.] PEARL: [Contritely] Well, guys, things here didn't *exactly* pan out like we'd planned. Santa showed up, all right, but we'd just barely jumped him when this "Krampus" guy appeared and -- [Offscreen, we hear a WHACK as from a birch switch. PEARL looks off to the side and winces at what she sees.] BOBO: [Offscreen] OUCH! Oh, PLEASE stop! My butt is red enough already! [The voice of KRAMPUS replies; it is a male voice with a goat-like bleating.] KRAMPUS: [Offscreen] Sorry, but you've been a b'a'a'a'a'd boy! [Another WHACK is heard and PEARL winces again.] OBS: [Offscreen] OW! Great heavens, this is SO beneath me! KRAMPUS: [Offscreen] Tha'a'a'a't's where I was a'a'a'a'iming! PEARL: [Back to us] Well, boys, I guess I'll have to get back with you later. [Struggles for a moment, then] It seems I'll be tied up here for a while. KRAMPUS: [Offscreen] I'll be wi'i'i'i'th you in just a moment, Pe'e'e'e'arl! PEARL: [Looking off to the side again and forcing a smile] Oh, that's okay, Kramps, take your time! [Back to us] You know, if the guy didn't look like Torgo in the buff with fur and horns, this might almost be pleasurable. [Fade to black. Roll credits and play closing theme.] 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 | | | Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its associated characters | | and situations are the property of and trademarks of Best | | Brains, Inc. In no way should this MiSTing be construed to | | be an infringement on those rights. All rights reserved. | | Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment | | purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trade- | | marks held by Best Brains, Inc. is intended or should be inferred. | | This post is a satire and not intended as a personal attack upon | | the original author(s) or other persons or characters presented, | | and is meant only as entertainment and commentary. | | | |---------------------------------------------------------------------| | | | Please visit "Jim Gadfly's MiSTing Page" for a list of all my | | MiSTings as well as tools and resource links for other MiSTing | | authors. | | http://www.angelfire.com/va/gadfly | | | 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 > Imagine going through life thinking it's always > cold in Taiwan just because your mother doesn't have the courage > not to lie to you. That's what I call child abuse.