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PostPosted: Thu Jan 06, 2005 10:04 pm
  

Unbeknownst to the intrepid Blunderbunch they had been joined by a couple of additional characters since their departure from New York. Way in back of one of the Blubberchoppers a quiet unassuming figure reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. Twisting the top portion he spoke softly, "Open channel D."

"What are they doing now?" he asked his partner.

"It looks like they are recounting some of their recent exploits. There are no kangaroos in sight at this time," was the muted response.

A quiet beep and the one with the pen continued, "Mr. Waverly, we have some disappointing news for you. Unfortunately they did not bring along any of the kangaroos with them. Perhaps our intel on this situation was flawed in some respects. Do you have any further instructions for us?"

"Mr. Solo, I assure you that our information was reliable. I would expect you and Mr. Kuryakin to more resourceful in pinning down this situation. Give it another 24 hours and I'll check in with the both of you. Waverly out."

"Well, Illya, it appears we are to follow these folks and try to figure out this whole affair...."

Up front Larry had noticed that some guy in back had been talking to his pen. Now Blunderites are at best tolerant, at least as tolerant as liberally minded folks can be in this situation, and at worst hungry when it's been 2 days and a night since their last meal. It was just the curiosity of a person talking to a pen and the pen talking back that piqued his interest on that checking account is around 5 percentages are what they are and that'll be the end of spit. Just then Arnie felt a poetic muse tickle his toes with feathers and other kinds of silly thoughts and words inspiring him to expound the following.

Goats are good for what's ailing you
They're good for milk and good for stew.
When they come a walking it's such a sight.
Whether by day, weather by night.

Goats walk sideways when provoked,
They'll even walk backwards when they're stoked
Goats will not speak until the dawn
They're made of more brains than brawn.

They're friends of yours and friends of mine
I always speak the truth.
If you don't believe your ears well then
Just ask my good friend Ruth.

At which point he fell silent as a tomb raider in a downpour me a glass of water will ya?

"Napolean, do you think it's some kind of code?" Illya belched softly.

"Not now, one of them is approaching."


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PostPosted: Sat Jan 08, 2005 8:01 pm
  

Larry was approaching the unapproachable pair in his usual cool, calm and collectable way.

"Mmmmmhmmm," he said clearly clearing his throat, "Who are you guys?" And to his surprise they told him.

"I'm Napolean Solo and this is Illya Kuryakin. We are agents for the United Nations Command for Law and Enforcement."

"So you're spys?" gurgled Larry increduously.

"As a matter of fact we are. We have been assigned to find out any information we can about '32 Cents'. I believe you are familiar with that?" replied Illya batting his eyes like a school girl.

"Why, heck, I figured you guys were trying to infiltrate this little group (numbering in the thousands)." mumbled Larry as he munched on a 2 day old sweet roll. "We have been trying to get info on that as well. You see we believe there has been a cover up and/or misinformation about it. We would like to see it liberated so to speak." And with that, they had a parlay of information sharing that couldn't be beat.

"Thank you all for your candor. We must be going now. If we find out anything we'll let you know," intoned Napolean ominously.

"But we're several thousand feet in the air!" exclaimed Louise.

"Don't worry," coughed Illya. "We have parachutes concealed under our jackets." And with that, the two men flung open the bay door and leaped out of the Blunderchopper.


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 16, 2005 3:45 pm
  

Soon the Blunderites became puzzled by the sudden appearance of the Men from U.N.C.L.E.

"We gotta divert the path of the Blundercopter," said Larry, "and pay a visit to the Blunderite who knows more about 1960's TV than anybody in the world."

"You mean----?" started Louise.

"That's right," said Larry. "Head this copter toward Virginia. We're gonna visit Cheryl."

"Do you know where she lives?"

"I have a feeling we'll recognize her house when we get there."

It was a long flight, but sure enough, while hovering over Virginia they spotted a house with the word ARLO cut into the neatly-mowed lawn. Upon closer inspection, the hedges in front of the house were sculpted into the image of a certain folksinger. This had to be the place.

Cheryl was home, surfing message boards, when the Blunderites arrived. She cheerfully let them in and seated them in the living room. After some small talk, Larry got to the point of the visit.

"We need as much information as we can get about U.N.C.L.E."

"Uncle who?"

"No, U.N.C.L.E., as in the old TV show, The Man From U.N.C.L.E."

Suddenly Solo and Illya emerged from the kitchen. "We'd be interested in hearing this, too," said Solo. "Go ahead, ask your questions. Don't be hindered by our presence."

Larry glanced around nervously, and then Louise asked, "Why was the show called The Man From U.N.C.L.E. when there were two of them?"

"Yeah," said Mikey, alertly picking up on Louise's question. "Who is the star referred to in the title?"

"Obviously, it was me," said Illya. "I was better-looking."

"Like hell you were," said Solo. "I was. It refers to me."

"No way! I was better-looking and I had more talent."

"More talent??? Compared to who?? Have you played your record album lately? The one you cut in the '60's?"

"Well, your career certainly took off after the show went off the air," Illya said, derisively.

"I'll show you who had a great career!" cried Solo, and with that he belted Illya across the jaw. Illya staggered backward, regained his footing, and punched Solo hard in the ribs, and as Solo doubled over in pain, Illya put him into a headlock.

"PLEASE!" Cheryl pleaded. "Arlonet is a peaceful web site!"

Illya nodded and released his hold on Solo, who then kicked him in the groin....


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 16, 2005 7:56 pm
  

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Just as Ilya doubled over with pain, the crime-fighting duo Batman and Robin appeared from behind one of the Arlo hedges. "We would have arrived sooner," said Batman, "but the boy wonder made me stop at every gay bar between Richmond and here". "Does anyone know if Don Adams is here yet"?


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PostPosted: Mon Jan 17, 2005 10:39 am
  

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Not long after, there was a screeching of tires outside and everyone looked outside to see the Monkeemobile smash into the Batmobile as the Monkees arrived to keep a lunch date with Cheryl and Mike. Could this be the birth of the 1960's tv stars semi-superheros consortium?

<center><FONT COLOR="#000080">--- Edited 1 times, lastly by Larry on Jan 17, 2005 ---</FONT></center>


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PostPosted: Tue Jan 18, 2005 7:28 am
  

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(I can feel some 4A.M. formulating coming on)
Thanks guys.


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PostPosted: Wed Jan 19, 2005 7:54 am
  

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Holy Toledo, Batman! Robin exclaimed...

(LOL at the storyline)... <img src="http://www.arlo.net/ubb/smilies/smile.gif" width=15 height=15>


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PostPosted: Wed Jan 19, 2005 8:26 am
  

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.........as Cheryls front door flew open with a CRASH!!!!!!!!!!! Everyone turned towards the door with fear written all over their faces.......... There stood THE CHOOKS!!!!! (Alfalfa, Buckwheat and Chickpea). "HOLY (sorry Cheryl) SNAPPING HENS TEETH!!!!!" cried Louise, "what are you doing here!!"........ "Dam!!!!"she cried as a look of realization crossed her face, "I "forgot to take the darn toilet paper out of the Chook Dome again!!!!!!!"
"Shudup Weezie!" scwalked Alfala (the head chook) "I'm in charge now!!, your not the front woman anymore!!!"
Then Alfalfa turned to Cheryl and said"Cool gardens..... NOW TAKE US TO YOU WEEDER!!!!!,we plan to save him from all you people that keep pestering him about 32 cents!" "
"Wait" said Joe, "If you Chooks had bothered to read the beginning of this story you would see that some of us actually rescued him from being held hostage in the bowels of The White House where he had been sent into a stupor by reading that Goat book!!"
The Chooks looked very confused.................


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PostPosted: Wed Jan 19, 2005 8:03 pm
  

The chooks ran to Cheryl's computer to read the entire Fahrenheit 32 Cents story. They were shocked to see that prior to everybody's arrival, Cheryl had been on a chook-recipe web site. The chooks squawked loudly and ran into the backyard. Meanwhile, the Harrell household, now full of Blunderites and 60s TV characters, was abuzz with activity...or maybe chaos was more like it....

<center>***</center>
Batman was on the batphone, reporting the accident to his insurance company.

"Your name, please?"

"Batman."

"Your first name?"

"That is my first name."

"Your last name, sir?"

"I have none."

"Uh-huh." Then after a pause, "Your name doesn't show up in our system, sir."

"That's ridiculous! I've had my insurance with you since 1966!"

"I found it, sir. It was under T for The Batman. I was looking under B."

"I hate when people do that! It's not The Batman! IT'S JUST BATMAN, DAMMIT!"

"Calm down, sir. What was the make and model of your vehicle?"

"Batmobile."

"Uh-huh. That figures. Describe the accident again, sir."

"It was the Monkees---"

"In that case, I'll have to transfer you, sir. I only deal with auto accidents. There's a separate department for damage by animals...."
<center>***</center>
Cheryl served Eddie Haskell a dish of ice cream and a cup of coffee. Eddie said, "Thank you, Mrs. Harrell. And might I add that you look positively radiant in that tie-dye tee-shirt."

At the other end of the kitchen table, Louise was administering first aid to Solo, who was ranting. "Do you believe he said he was more talented and better-looking than me? Heck, every time we left the studio, the hot babes were all waiting for me, not him! He had to go home with my rejects!"

"Mmmm, hmmmm," said Louise, not really paying attention, as she applied an icebag to Solo's swollen jaw.

"After this meeting is over, babe, how about you and me go off together somewhere? Just you and me, you know what I mean?"

"I'm married---to one of the top five husbands in the world. Do you know what I mean? Don't you read the message boards?"

Just then Illya limped in. "I see you still have a way with the ladies, Solo. Struck out again, eh? The creators of the show picked an appropriate name for your character---because that's how you spent all your nights----solo!"

"You lousy sonofabitch---" began Solo.

"Stop it," said Louise, calmly but firmly. "Neither of you is in condition to fight again. Listen, I'm having trouble with the swelling. Why don't you press the icebag for a little bit, Mr. Solo? You must have a strong right hand."

"He sure does," said Illya. "His right hand got plenty of exercise, during many lonely nights---"

"That does it!" cried Solo, hurling the icebag at Illya.
<center>***</center>
Agnet 99 walked through the dining room in a 1960's-style miniskirt. Mikey nodded in recognition, and 99 smiled and said, "Looking forward to the meeting?"

"I don't even know what it's about."

"Me neither. I'm just here to eat the big dinner." said 99, looking over her shoulder as she continued walking.
<center>***</center>
Joe spotted Mike Nesmith, sitting alone in a corner of the living room, idly strumming Cheryl's guitar. Joe walked over and said, "Hi, Mike! I was a big Monkees fan when I was a kid. How about playing 'Last Train to Clarksville' on that thing?"

Nesmith looked up with sad eyes and said gravely, "The Monkees were teenie-bopper stuff. I had the best post-Monkees career of all of them. I wrote the best songs, made the best records, even played with artists like Linda Ronstadt. I'm the only one that never participated in a Monkees reunion concert. I may not have sold a lot of records or gotten a lot of radio airplay, but I'm a serious musician."

"I know," said Joe. "Now play 'Clarksville.'"

"You don't understand. I don't need to play teenie-bopper pop. I can play country, blues, folk.....I've done it all, man. I'm a serious musician."

"Sure you are. Now play 'Last Train to Clarksville,' will ya?"

Nesmith picked up the guitar as though wielding an axe, and cried, "LOOK HERE, YOU STUPID BASTARD---"

Levi arrived on the scene and said, "Hey, Joe, everything OK here?"

"It's nothing I can't handle."

Suddenly Levi recognized the man flourishing the guitar. "Hey! You're Mike Nesmith! How about playing 'Daydream Believer' for us?"
<center>***</center>
Cheryl had trouble turning the reigning chaos into organization, so she turned to Larry. A wise choice, Larry was the de facto leader of the Blunderites, due to his status as a moderator and the fact that he first registered for Arlonet back when Last of the Brooklyn Cowboys was released and had 17,639 posts to the site. Joe thought, I hope I die before I reach that post total.

Larry assured Cheryl he could get everybody assembled, then asked, "What's your meeting about, anyway?"

"An organized Clear Channel boycott," said Cheryl.


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PostPosted: Wed Jan 19, 2005 9:04 pm
  

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Alfalfa said to Buckwheat and Chickpea, "let's get the hell outta here these humans is crazy, didn't I tell ya!!"


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PostPosted: Thu Jan 20, 2005 9:16 pm
  

Over in the corner, in the comfy chair, Davy Jones was reading through a magazine on the Harrell's coffee table.

"Hey Mike, listen to this!" he exclaimed.

"What is it Davy?" asked Mikey, excited to be recognized by one of the Monkees.

"Not you, Mike Nesmith," belched Davy incredulously.

"Yeah, what is it Davy?" queried the Nez.

"Well it says ere the latest craze is to nail lih-ull meh-ull bah-ull caps to your floor."

"Why in the world would you want to do that?" intoned Peter and Mickey together at the same time at once and for all.

"Well, it says it gives you the sensation of walking on lih-ull meh-ull bah-ull caps," said Davy grinning. At once the whole room broke into a mildly happy demeanor as hostilities came to a grinding halt and everyone remembered why it was that they were where they were while they were where they were as if they were another place where they were or were not.


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PostPosted: Fri Jan 21, 2005 10:35 pm
  

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So Alfalfa, Buckwheat and Chickpea made a break for it. Sneakin through a little alcove toward the backdoor they ran into Nesmith. He almost stepped on Alfalfa yelling at someone about how he thought he would go to Rio (Rio Day Jen er o). They scrambled on past and out the door. Alfalfa was following close behind Chickpea and looked up at Chickpea’s tail feathers and pictured her in a thong on some beach in Brazil. All the sudden Buckwheat stopped, Chickpea stopped and Alfalfa, following a bit to close to Chickpea became one with the thong.

“Hey, what the hell?” as Alfalfa moved to the front. Buckwheat was standing just outside the door with a stunned expression. Imogene Coca was doing a Ubangi Stomp on the porch in a leopard skin outfit and a chicken bone in her hair. She was muttering over and over, “Its about Time Its about Space About two men and the human race.” Alfalfa says, That show never made it, keep moving.

The bunch got free of the front yard and had settled into a liesurly stroll through the yard when Chickpea said, “listen to the crickets.” Chirrrrrp Chip pop Chirrrrrrp Chip Pop. Buckwheat started into a funky chook walk swagger to the beat and stammered, “Chicken Train”, Chick Pea followed with “Runnin all day”

Chicken Train Runnin all day
Chicken Train Runnin all day
Cant get it on
Cant get it off
Chicken Train take the chickens away

They were laughin’ and carryin’ on until they got close to the barn.

Out hops a Crow, “What do you want??”

The crow says in a menacing tone. He gives a good right eye look see, pops his head back, puffs out his chest and then gives a good left eye inspection.

“We don’t want anything,” shouts Alfalfa, ”we left them humans behind and we are out lookin’ for the good life! You got a problem with that?”

The Crow slaps Alfalfa a good one and grabs him by the scruff of his neck and raises him up. “What do you mean the good life, you scrawny little chook?” Buckwheat steps up with Chickpea cowering behind, “hey man, be cool!!” The Crow drops Alfalfa and sticks his right eye right up in Buckwheats face and say in an evil voice, “That is just it, I”M NOT COOL!!!! Buckwheat is twitchin’ but he doesn’t lose his nerve maintaining his space.

A voice from the shadows calls out, “leave’m alone, they ain’t nothin’.”

The crow backs off and the Chooks squeeze through to the barnyard.

It’s a big Vegetable Spree goin’ on. The Cabbage is shakin’ the shimmy, The little Carrot top was doin’ a backwards flop and the cucumber was jammin’. Buckwheat exclaims, “I.m starvin’!” and He and Chickpea start eating a sack of cracked corn. Alfalfa is very paranoid and thinkin’ to himself he could have taken that Crow, the lousy SOB just got a good jump.

From the dark a voice calls, “Hey chook, come here.” Alfalfa walks over into the shadows and realizes there is a group of about 10 goats in the shadows. “Hey chook,” says the leader,” goats and the like got a bad rap at the beginning of this story. We are here to make it right. There is evil lurking in the basement. That crow was just a hired thug for the group downstairs. They are keeping surveillance on those humans of yours.” Alfalfa speaks up, ”not my humans, I like Weezy OK, but you can keep the rest of ‘em!!” The goat continues in his original monotone,” yea yea, save it for someone who cares. We got a bad rap and we are here to fix it. Follow us.”

Alfalfa follows into the dark and eventually they reach a spot where they see more humans. They got listening devices and tapes rolling and videos being shot and the goat says, “they got a robot of that Nazi guy from Rowan and Martin’s Laughin sitting in the corner of your humans living room. He sits there saying Veeery Interesting but Dumb, all the time videoing and recording everything going on. We were here earlier and watched an episode between some guy named Joe and some guy named Mike going on and on about Last Train to Clarksville.”

Just then the flooring gave out and the goats and Alfalfa fell to the floor with a crash. Alfalfa says, “grab some tapes and run.” He grabs a bunch of tapes and heads for the exit. He suddenly realized all the goats fainted from the excitement. He is thinking, crap fainting goats, and he tries to wake them. The bad guys get up and yell, grab that chook before he gets away with the tapes. Alfalfa heads up stairs and out into the Barnyard. He is frantically looking for Buckwheat and Chickpea. Then he sees them on a hay bale dancing and laughing wearing sunglasses. They looked they were not directly connected to their brains. He noticed the cracked corn had mushrooms growing from the top of the bag. No time to deal with this now.

He runs past the vegetable band carrying the tapes. Someone grabs him and starts twirling him in a dance grabbing the tapes and stashing them in the hay bale. It is mister Ed the talking horse, he tells Alfalfa to act natural. Alfalfa thinks, how can a chook dancing with a talking horse act natural. Oh well, let it go, do some exotic free form chicken dance and those bad guys won’t think twice about. And the Band plays on

Well I bought myself a chicken
Just the other day
Said now chicken
Why won’t you lay

That chicken is a rooster and he lays them hard boiled eggs
That chicken is a rooster and he lays them hard boiled eggs


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PostPosted: Sat Jan 22, 2005 11:03 am
  

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Meanwhile, somewhere back or ahead it time, the Time Tunnel sparks and sputters, and our scene now shows all kinds of beings falling from the sky doing prat falls ,rolls and somersaults. An astronaut with a genie bottle, Sgt. Joe Friday, a robot the keeps repeating "Danger Will Robinson", Kermit the Frog, all the Banana Splits, Astroboy, Herman Munster and even Aunt Bea. As the cast reaches some sort of critical mass of big bang proportions, Rod Serling was seen standing off to the side shaking his head and saying "this is too weird for me, I'm outta here".


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 23, 2005 4:49 am
  

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And over at the Harrell household 4 Monkees were looking over Mikes collection of ball caps. Some of them were baseball caps of baseball teams which would be of interest to a blunderite named Joe. <img src="http://www.arlo.net/ubb/smilies/smile.gif" width=15 height=15> Hey he's even got a Monkees ball cap, said Nesmith with a grin. The 1986 world tour, Davy chimed in. And an Arlo Guthrie one, Peter Tork added, looking back on his old folkie days in the village...

Rod Serling was still shaking his head...


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PostPosted: Sat Apr 30, 2005 12:50 pm
  

<I>It was 7:23 PM in the big city. We were at the Harrell household meeting with Blunderites about a Clear Channel boycott. I carry a badge.

We were contacted about locating the Ukulele Lady's missing chords. I first tried
posting a thread to Arlonet but to no avail. My partner's name is Bill Gannon. My name is Friday.

We were driving west on I-70-S when Bill asked me, "Do you know what chords even look like?"

"No, do you?"

"No."

Luckily, we spotted a store called Ukuleles R Us when we pulled off the highway. We brought the clerk downtown for questioning under the hot lights, but he wouldn't crack. "I'm telling you, I don't know how to play a ukulele! I only sell them!"

We persuaded him to cooperate with us in a sting operation. He went back to work at the ukulele shop while we sat outside in the car on stake-out, drinking cold coffee and eating ham sandwiches on stale bread.

Bill asked, "Why do we have to eat this crap every time we're on stake-out, Joe? There's an open Subway right across the street!"

"It's just what we do, Bill."

Just then we spotted a guy leaving the shop with a new ukulele. He had long hair down his shoulders, a hawk nose, and a loud plaid jacket. A freak. He was singing "Tip-Toe Through the Tulips" when we nabbed him and took him downtown for questioning under the hot lights.

"Is this the fashion police again?" he asked.

"Never mind. What's your name, mug?"

"Tiny Tim."

"Don't get cute, hippie."

"That's my name."

"Do you have the Ukulele Lady's missing chords?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"A wise guy, eh?"

Just then the suspect overturned the table, knocked over Bill, and ran out the door onto the sidewalk. Bill and I went immediately in hot pursuit. We were almost out of breath at the corner of Ninth Street and Vine when I fired six warning shots into the back of the suspect's skull.

He was dead when we got there and we knew he could never give us the Ukulele Lady's missing chords. We searched the body and found a bottle of Anacin in his left front pants pocket. Bill and I looked at each other and shook our heads.

"Another drug-related death," I told him.</I>


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