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

vol. VIII       no. 2,650
Tue., Apr. 3, 1410


When listing your symptoms in the waiting room before your doctor's appointment, it's vitally important that you never, ever abbreviate “hives.”
Today in History

Fifty years ago today, in the early hours of 1360, the world was introduced to salad. Originally known as “the breadless sandwich,” salad has since been consumed in various forms, including “Caesar” and “taco.” Salad continues to be enjoyed by people on diets and people who tell people they're on diets.

The Bashful Gourmet is one of the finest chefs in all of the area. His mouthwatering fare will simply drive you wild. Imagine tasting the delicious cakes and pies fresh from his oven. He's simply too shy to serve them to you. What might you say? What if you didn't like them? How is he supposed to deal with that? What if you tried to make direct eye contact with him when he was feeling extra bashful? That's just not a risk he's willing to take. Stop by the shop today, and you can watch The Bashful Gourmet scurry away and hide behind the refrigerator.

Just Walnuts is the premier walnut services provider for all of your many walnut needs! And guess what? For the seventeenth consecutive year, Just Walnuts has been ranked #1 on the Forbes Walnut List, recognizing only the very best in companies that only sell walnuts! Oh, your company sells pecans? Perfect. Great. Good for you. Thank god someone is. What would we ever do if nobody was selling pecans? Just sit around eating all the glorious walnuts we bought instead? Geez—what an absolute nightmare. Ha! Just kidding! Walnuts are the only nut anyone cares about, loser! Oh, what's that? You like pistachios, now? Figures. I should've known—you're exactly the kind of knuckle-dragging idiot I'd expect to go and like pistachios. How about you just eat your dumb little stupid idiot pistachios over there—no, much, much further, keep going—and we'll be over here topping our endless, free-flowing ice cream sundaes with the only nut anyone actually cares about. Okay? Yeah, that's right—go cry to your almond-loving mommy, pistach-hole.pistach-hole. You little pistach-clown.pistach-clown. God I'm so sick of you.

When you visit the supermarket, does your fat toddler's excessive weight threaten the structural integrity of even the sturdiest shopping cart? If so, it might be time to try a revolutionary new product, a little something we're calling Don't Go Breaking My Cart®, the world's first stand-alone, heavily-reinforced steel seat specifically designed to be compatible with almost any shopping cart you can cram and/or grease your kid into. Simply secure Don't Go Breaking My Cart® in place, hoist that chunker of yours into the part of the shopping cart that can very nearly accommodate him, and that's it—you're ready to hit the Pop Tart aisle. Then, once you finish purchasing all the Pop Tarts you can afford, simply heave your little bundle of mass onto any heavy load-rated surface, pop Don't Go Breaking My Cart® back out, and immediately store somewhere cool and dry—it's just that simple. Get your own Don't Go Breaking My Cart® shopping cart seating system today, and never worry about another flimsy shopping cart ruining your day or your grocer's tile floor ever again.
Help Wanted

Pretty Decent Gig

As most people know, Frank Picante has vacated his Pretty Decent Gig for a role as a Big Shot Head Honcho at some fancy-pants business with a real nice office and everything. As such, we now need to fill the Pretty Decent Gig. The boss is pretty chill, the hours aren't bad, and you can drink all the coffee we have. You can wear jeans on Fridays and holidays, you know? Not bad. The pay isn't terrible either. Inquiries should be directed to Samantha Caliente.

Hey there neighbor, are you absolutely sick and tired of your prized backyard dirt being constantly littered with dozens of old, abandoned anchors? Are those pesky, haunting maritime vestiges just rusting away in the trunk of your cherry 1395 Chevy Camaro? Are more and more unheeded calls of “anchors aweigh!” leaving you feeling stuck, bogged down, and/or tethered to subterranean coral? If you're anything like everyone else, the answer is “yup,” and your life is cluttered with more anchors than anyone could possibly use in one and a half lifetimes—and that's where we come in! Introducing Anchors Away, your only license-pending, full-service, one-stop anchor removal resource, catering primarily to the easternmost Fergusonville area! We'll remove anchors weighing up to 3,000 kilograms (or approximately 1.5 specific amounts of pounds) from your home, office, or recently hijacked cruise ship! Call Anchors Away Today, And Never Worry About Those Common Household Anchor Heaps Ever Again
Magic Corner

The Incredible Steve will be making an appearance (and maybe even a disappearance?!) at the Johnsonville Atrium this Wednesday at 4:30 PM sharp. Steve has previously performed illusions that captured the imagination of nearly all active members of the Johnsonville Elks Lodge, Post 453, and his move to the Johnsonville Atrium signals the next major step forward in his career. This is an extremely free event.

The Federal Board of Truth or Consequence has firmly “recommended” that we, The Good Health Tobacco Company, update you, the public, regarding several claims that appeared in last week's issue of NicoTeen Beat, highlighting our new Nicotine Dream®-brand health cigarettes. On that point, it must be noted that, in some rare cases, delicious Nicotine Dream®-brand health cigarettes may not actually be one or more of the following:
part of this complete breakfast
beneficial to the study habits of toddlers, whether it's advanced trigonometry, classic Russian lit, or deep nose exploration
the one and only key to true immortality
your asthmatic golden retriever's favorite cigarette to smell
a healthier alternative to freshly-steamed Brussels sprouts
• the only discernible reason your children even love you this much
We apologize for any confusion, and strongly recommend smoking at least one carton of those smooth, satisfying Nicotine Dream®-brand health cigarettes our marketing department is overnighting you, free of charge, in order to relieve any undue stress this update may be causing you.

Established 1403 A.D.         “The World's First Web Pages” *
© Copye Ryghte 1410 RECYCULUS.  ✣   * Printed on 98.8% spider webs.

***  EDITOR'S INSECT ANATOMY NOTE:  mandible  ***    
ALLOCATOR:  do so only for the civilized barbarous

recycle this issue                  keep this issue                 what's recyculus?                who's recyculus? 
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