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p.m. regret

“E. recyculus recyculus, et r. cyculus recyculus.”
“From many small bicycles, one bicycle airship.”

vol. CDLXVI       no. 170,057
Mon., Aug. 3, 1868

Hometown Local Area News

A man was arrested yesterday for forcing his way into the hometown local area preschool, and screaming incoherently at a group of young children enjoying nap time. When questioned by police, the perpetrator reportedly acknowledged an ongoing feud with little Billy “The Butcher of the Play-Doh Table” Thompson, and insisted that the little fuckerfucker “started it.” Thompson was also taken into custody, and is currently being held on $250,000 bail.

½ bed, ¼ bath apt. with simply stunning view of the retirement home. Pets are OK, but I have many lizards. Really, like, I have a lot of lizards. Must be willing and able to pay rent in the form of pogs, marbles, or Beanie Babies. No slammers, boulders, or Peanut the Royal Blue Elephants. Steelies and Tabasco the bull are OK. Building “technically” condemned or whatever.
Editor's Note:

I'm about 99% certain that I'm the only person who actually exists, and the rest of you are just figments of my imagination—so go off and do with that information what you will, if you're really as “existing” as you all keep telling me you are through your court-appointed intermediaries.
Kindergarten Report Card

SOCIAL STUDIES  ( C– )  fails to grasp finer intricacies of the French Revolution
LUNCH  ( A+ )  always shares 100% of delicious, gourmet foods; beginning to wither
TURKEY HANDS  ( B+ )  in the ballpark on finger count; laceration rate in line with national average
ADDING  ( D+ )  dumb, but noticeably less stupid about it
NAP TIME  ( C )  urinating less, then more, then less, then runs out
IMPRESSIONS  ( C+ )  passable Barney Gumble; Bryant Gumbel needs work
MENACING STARE  ( A )  makes others cry; technically successful
RECESS APPOINTMENTS  ( B– )  circuit court judges reasonable; appellate court judges startlingly partisan
Guess You Just Had To Be There

“…and then I thought, ‘Oh, so now I'm in space? Good. It's about damndamn time.’”

…if the soles of our shoes were made of rocks, we'd complain anytime a piece of velvety soft, arch-supporting fluff got stuck in there all day. And we'd probably bitchbitch and moan over drying ourselves with a fistful of plexiglass shavings in lieu of our usual bath towels, too. There's just no pleasing us.
Guess You Just Had To Be There

“…and then I said, ‘Boy, it sure is lucky I'm here in the relative safety of my local disco dance club. I'll never make that mistake from before again.’”

Former Vice President Dan Quayle Mistakenly Wanders Into Condé Nast Headquarters, Joyfully Squeals “My Initials!” Before Purchasing Controlling Stake In GQ Magazine

First New Issue To Prominately Feature Photo Of A Giraffe, Caption “I Found This Horse”

■¬†Editorial Section To Be Replaced By Recurring “These Are The Pringles Shapes I Collect” Column, Amateur Action Shots Of Latest Additions To “Hot Wheels” Collection

Herbert “Taint“Taint Weasel” Johnson has been defeated in six rounds by a little girl named Elizabeth. “Taint“Taint Weasel” remains winless, and, when it really comes down to it, has very few personal victories to speak of outside the ring.

Established 1403 A.D.         “The World's First Web Pages” *
© Copy Right 1868 RECYCULUS.  ✣   * Printed on 29.1% spider webs.

***  EDITOR'S CANCELLATION NOTE:  coastal marshes  ***    
      PARCELMAN:  occupant is presumed virtuous immoral  

RECYCULUS, from the lowercase, italicized recyculus, literally translates to “from many small bicycles, one bicycle airship” — most likely a nod to the extremely respectable publication's earliest days, during which it rode, impressively sans-hands, atop a wave of light-to-moderate interest in secondhand mega-bicycles that began all throughout history, and persisted well past the future.

In an age when draconian town ordinances hadn't yet been applied to enormous bicycles, exceedingly burdensome village laws required all huge local bicycles to take up entire city blocks, thereby — or so went the theory — maximizing computing power. Despite these job-killing regulations — and to say nothing of the continuous, violent Mongol conquest of its central sales office — RECYCULUS managed to stand out from the used-gargantuan-bicycle crowd, thanks in part to its line of similarly-titanic bicycles, based on designs the burgeoning daily newsletter distributor endeavored to license, at tremendous expense, from hundreds of competing outfits specializing in subpar jumbo bicycles.

Finally, in the first six or seven minutes of the winter of 1402, lightning struck. Later that day, in a quiet moment following the fires, came a turning point: Whilst hopelessly tending to his many serious burns, founder H. Angus Recyculus (no relation) took it upon himself to seize an opportunity to break into the centuries-shy-of-being-conceived-of collection of world wide webs, refocusing the samely-renamed RECYCULUS's efforts on becoming the world's first * and only ** daily issuer of high-test web*** pages — a distinction it maintains, on both counts, as of about 3 PM eastern, 2 PM central.

In those first few thousand heady days, the simple act of “uplinking” new content to the infant web printing press required tens of thousands of recently-paroled, hastily-minted engineers to tightly roll up each and every lovingly-crafted submission, before squeezing them into their hometown energy concern's expansive network of live, weather-frayed, high-load municipal trunk cable — itself yet to be invented — while taking great pains all over their humanity and skeletons to avoid allowing the sudden plumes of almost-certainly-unrelated person steam to curl and/or smear the delicate, invaluable blurbs, before allowing good old-fashioned American electricity to do what it does best, dozens of decades before those words would have any meaning at all. Back then — just like pretty recently — RECYCULUS engineers could be found electrocuted along our nation's many miles of pristine, white sand interstate highways; a quaint reminder of a time we were still in until, again, pretty recently.

As any latterly hypnotized student of history will be instructed to recall, RECYCULUS's unprecedented 587-year run came to an abrupt end at 11:59 PM, on that fateful night of December 31, 1989, when its headquarters exploded during the Great Headquarters Explodings of ’89, and shortly thereafter gently floated off to that elephantine bicycle reseller in the sky. Forty minutes later — once every piece of cinder had finally been looted, discarded, or eaten — it became abundantly clear to the wandering hordes that these scant 5.8 × 1083 scanned pages were all that remained of the once great whatever it had been. Another forty minutes later — after the cinder poisoning had largely subsided, and acting on behalf of RECYCULUS without the proper authorization — the mesothelioma-fortified de facto chieftains decided to make each and every issue available, free of charge, to the entire remaining world, with only the moderate wish that their publisher's great, indecipherable legacy never be truly forgotten or understood.

All of us here at RECYCULUS — from H. Angus Recyculus XVII, Sr. (no relation), on down to the lowliest Senior Vice President of Worldwide Distribution, each of whom has most definitely not**** gone on to live a life of magnificent luxury within the plush, palatial confines of the literal new head office they collided with the instant they missed the turn for the metaphorical one — sincerely hope you'll find something to enjoy in each of these 5.8 trillion trillion million septillion nonillion modest, extremely amazing, humble, profoundly transcendent, ordinary pages of woven web. (Maybe over a long***** weekend, or something.) And we say that not merely for the sake of the families of the millions who have died meaningless, excruciating deaths to bring you these bland yet succulent texts — but also for the many, many, many millions more who have survived; bedridden by intractable full-body hair pain and roving blood spasms, having long ago been rendered physically incapable of instigating death's sweet release.

This one's for the fans.

* presumably, based on fonts
** based on searches conducted in 1997, while the modems were in the shop — individual results may vary, if they so choose
*** prior to that point, most of the world's pages were spun from leftover cocoon fuzz
**** based on the most up-to-date lies available at the time of the lying
***** likely one of the longest on record, because even if you're a quick reader and were able to enjoy one issue per minute, it'd still take you 1.1 quinvigintillion years — or around 79.8 million billion trillion quadrillion septillion times longer than the universe has even existed — to enjoy them all (or you could just print them for later, in which case maybe ask about the bulk rate on ink, because the sheets of paper required to do so would stretch 205.9 unvigintillion light years across the cosmos, or — were the universe a sphere — roughly 13.9 trillion quadrillion quintillion septillion googol trips around it)


ߜ  Brian Adams

ʘ  Drew Adamski

ȸ  Justin Barricks

  Jack Oolders

Φ  Dave Prague

  Zack Zagranis

  Steve Brunton
  at-large contributor

ȼ  Aaron Casey
  at-large contributor

Δ  Dena Darvish

  at-large contributor

Ϟ  Allan Heifetz
  at-large contributor

϶  Lisa Hytner
  at-large contributor


  Matt Payne
  editor immortalis


email    to contribute