central_scrutinizer

This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER...again, Hi!...It's me again, the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER...Joe says Lucille has messed his mind up, but, was it the girl or was it the music? As you can see...girls, music, disease, heartbreak...they all go together...Joe found out the hard way, but his troubles were just beginning...his mind was so messed up...he could hardly do nothin'...He was in a quandary...being devoured by the swirling cesspool of his own steaming desires...the guy was a wreck...so...what does he do? For once, he does something SMART...he goes out...and pays a lot of money to L. Ron Hoover... at the First Church of Appliantology!

Which is precisely why somebody should return that Hustler magazine to Library ledge for His viewing pleasure.

Mrs. Borg's Voice: Turn it down! Turn it down! I have children sleeping here! Don't you boys know any nice songs? I'm calling the police! I did it! They'll be here... shortly! I'm not joking around anymore! You'll see now! There they are... they're coming! Listen to that mess, would you! Every day this goes on around here! He used to cut my grass... He was a very nice boy... He used to cut my grass... He was a very nice boy... He used to cut my grass... He was a very nice boy... He used to cut my grass... He was a very nice boy... Central Scrutinizer: This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER... Yes...he used to be a nice boy...He used to cut the grass...But now his mind is totally destroyed by music. He's so crazy now he even believes that people are writing articles and reviews about his imaginary guitar notes, and so, continuing to dwindle in the twilight realm of his own secret thoughts, he not only dreams imaginary guitar notes, but, to make matters worse, dreams imaginary vocal parts to a song about the imaginary journalistic profession...

And thus, having ration- alized his expedition to L. Ron's modernistic office / cathedral / warehouse / condominium complex, JOE seeks The Answer to his problem... Joe: Oh oh oh Mystical Advisor What is my problem, tell me Can you see? L. Ron Hoover: Well, you have nothing to fear, my son! You are a Latent Appliance Fetishist, It appears to me! Joe: That all seems very, very strange I never craved a toaster Or a color T.V. L. Ron Hoover: A Latent Appliance Fetishist Is a person who refuses to admit to his or herself That sexual gratification can only be achieved Through the use of MACHINES... Get the picture? Joe: Are you telling me I should come out of the closet now Mr. Ron? L. Ron Hoover: No, my son! You must go into THE CLOSET Joe: What? L. Ron Hoover: And you will have Joe: Heh? L. Ron Hoover: Hey! A lot of fun! That's where they all live So if you want an Appliance to love you You'll have to go in there 'N' get you one Joe: Well...that seems simple enough... L. Ron Hoover: Yes, but if you want a really GOOD one, You'll have to learn a foreign language... Joe: German, for instance? L. Ron Hoover: That's right... A lot of really cute ones come from over there! (Fifty bucks, please) And a cheerful group of Appliantologists dance into the room wearing aluminum foil lab smocks, lock arms in a circle around JOE, making sure he pays in full, all the while singing with L. RON as he delivers his final instructions...

Eh errr, eh eh...This is,eh, the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER again... And so Mary was enticed away from Joe By an evil barbarian with a wrench in his pocket Lured into a life of SLEAZERY With the entire road crew of some Famous Rock Group (I don't know whether it was really Toad-O or not ...I don't know... I'll check it out) Again we see MUSIC Causing BIG TROUBLE!

quote: Originally posted by jon: Wash your shoulder straps with soap and/or alcohol to kill the billions of bacteria living on them. And while you're at it, take big Franky Z's advice and WASH UP YOUR PIE!

This....is...the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER. It is my job to alert good citizents to those evil entities in our society who would attempt to interfere with our government's efforts to monitor our lives and to make life as we know it forever safer. Figger Eight objects to being evaluated by the fat guy in green, pleated shorts, supposedly because of the paperwork that would be generated. The fact is, Figger Eight is afraid that the climbing ranger will "figger" out that he doesn't know his ice axe from his tallywacker.

This...is...the...CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER. Here we see the consequences of a young man who has opposed the evil of bolts, only to CONTRADICT himself by choosing a 2-ply paper, an obvious double standard of his self-righteous "environmental ethic". We can only guess that he wants it both ways: he wants to be the POPE and tell everybody how to do their business, to keep the rocks clean of their human filth, and yet he covertly uses a 2-ply paper in the mountain enviorment. Perhaps Mr. Lambone could offer a few four-letter words (not "prick"...that doesn't count) to describe Mr. Pope and his "middle-aged fucker" friend, Mr. Dwayner, who, it is important to note, has been known to wipe his ass with hard-copy of Lambone's posts in order to, in the words of Dwayner, add a little dignity to Boney's words. With these developments, we can only speculate what Pope will do next that will further expose the hypocrisy of his bolting stance. Stay tuned.

quote: Originally posted by Dru: I will bolt a giant bong to Muir Hut. This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER..it is my responsibility to enforce all the laws that haven't yet been passed. It is also my responsibilitiy to alert each and every one of you to the potential consequences of various everyday activities you might be performing which could eventually lead to the collapse of our society as we know it. Our criminal institutions are full of little creeps like you who do wrong things....and many of them were driven to these crimes by a horrible force called INDEPENDENT THINKING. Take for example, this little punk who, in an attempt to get a little attention with his terribly immature "jokes" about marijuana culture (not to mention his suggestion of degrading the Muir Hut by affixing drug paraphernalia), makes a mockery of those who support the transformation of the alpine arena into a safe and convenient playground for large, regimented groups of nerdy Mountaineers, by ensuring that one may find protection and rappel bolts at regular intervals(never separated from another bolt by more than an arm's length) on formerly adventurous and DANGEROUS mountaineering routes, such as that Ingal's Peak route. It is the intention of our bureaucratic institutions, not to mention the CEO's of financial/insurance megaconglomerates, to provide (for the safety and control of our public) such anchors, and eventually, to diminish the number of choices a climber must traditionally make (when to run it out, when to push on into heavy weather, etc.) by first providing a grid system of bolts on our mountaineering routes, and eventually, by requiring their use. Advances in technology will soon make enforcement (that's MY line of work) of these regulations quite practical, and cruel and inhuman punishments are being carefully described in tiny paragraphs so they won't conflict with the Constitution.