Issue #0009 - January 27th, 2002

---

Hail! And again I'm here to rant about the emptyness of my mailbox. But this time I am not able to rant as I wanted. Yes, we have stuff this week. By the way, a rather strange one (in fact, there's nothing much normal on this newsletter either way...).

---

**

** - Fast-Talk:**

---

Thanks to a nifty toy brought to us by long-lost Kumba fella, I am able to find a quote to put every week on this section, in case there's no actual submission and that will be the perfect oportunity to start doing it.

"check out the CNS stats and check out my random quote"

And it's really there, I didn't make any of this...

---

** - Pic o' the Week:**

---

Crimster sent me this on behalf of Abel Malik, so you should not get worried about this getting here anymore. And I know there's another one together with this, but I'm too lazy now to add it, so get lost...

---

**_- Fry 'em 

Out:_**

__

Nope. Nothing here.

---

**_- Sissy Krath 

Plague:_**

"I wish to be considered as a candidate for the position of ProConsul of Clan
Naga Sadow.

You want qualifications, but I don’t have any. Ph.D? I don’t think so.

Technical expertise? I have trouble opening those ketchup things at Burger

King. Nope, I’m right up there with mood rings and ashtray sand on The Big

List Of Things That Nobody Needs. So you might as well tell
me right now to bugger off. Go ahead, get it out of your system. Let’s hear
you say, "Bob, you’re a sweaty, ugly waste of flesh. Now go stick your
finger in a socket somewhere and leave me alone".

You’re no different from the rest, and I’ve tried them all. Those dickwads
at Taldryan put my résumé in the shredder. Alvaak’s cheesy-looking little
Nazi suggested that pounding wet sand might be good therapy for me. The
Communists at Satal Keto were less talkative. They simply gave me a gigantic
wedgie, then heaved me into the freight elevator. Don’t ask me about Arcona.
Those weenies. I can still smell the burning hair.

Okay, I’m going then. You can jam your job, and I’ll just continue to
fulfill my boyhood dream as a telephone solicitor for Incredifit Pantyhose.
There are new frontiers for me there, and challenges beyond measure. Thanks
for bringing me to my senses. What a relief knowing I don’t have to work for
you.

Go spoon a goose, Nancyboy. I hope you get a boil.

Yours truly,

SW Bob-Fett*"*

Beware Goatboy, now you have a real good rival at PCON chair...

---

** - Weird Level:**

__

I sense some life inside this rotting corpse. It's alive, even if barely. And congratulations for Bob. He's really convincing on his arguments...

---

**

**

SW Scithe (Sith)/AED/Ludo Kressh of Naga Sadow,
SC/WR-PM/DC-KC-O-C/(BNG)(BNAg)/(DSS) {SA: CORE-DfSS}

"I look forward to report your clumsyness"