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

vol. CXXX       no. 47,156
Mon., Feb. 8, 1532


Debbie McDoigall, inventor of “SarcasmFont,” would like to sincerely thank the jackweed who ran over her foot in the parking lot of beautiful GameCocks Stadium after last night's thrilling contest between the undefeated Panthers and our amazingly winless “LameCocks.” You're the greatest.

A renowned statistician has noted a statistically significant decline in oraloral sexsex with his long-term girlfriend since replacing his genitalsgenitals with a commercial-grade turnstile and state-of-the-art digital counter system.
Asking For A Friend

So I have this friend, who's this guy I know, and he really wants/needs to know if it's weirder for someone named Brettley T. to wanna have sexsex with a living woman who really seems pretty dead, or with an unambiguously dead woman who could probably pass for living in a pinch. Again, I'm totally asking this for a friend I know, this one guy. Drop me a line for him, and I'll pass it along. I'm up at the city morgue right now like every Monday.

Brettley T.

The Spank Bank is excited to announce its grand reopening tomorrow! And we'd also like to take this opportunity to apologize for any confusion we may have caused our many rock-hardrock-hard attendees during last week's soft opening. However, while Reginald T. Spank, III, founder and CEO of The Spank Bank, does acknowledge that some customers were bewildered and/or frustrated by the marked lack of available laplap dances,dances, he'd like to point out that many more walked away impressed by the low introductory APRs offered on most loans, and unusually fruitful APYs to be realized on deposits and selected investments. That said, we realize much of the fracas could probably have been avoided, had not all of our new tellers been previously employed as dancers and toplesstopless cocktail waitresses at The Velveteen Banana, a seedy gentleman's club that operated out of the same location as recently as twelve days ago.

Found under the green bench in the northeast corner of Veterans Park: one expired can of Coca-Cola Lime, half-filled with what tasted to me like a roughly 3-to-1 ratio of rainwater runoff to Coca-Cola Lime. If you're still pretty thirsty, please contact Gregory at the lost & found hotline's Coca-Cola Lime desk at your earliest convenience.

Tom's Contrarian Restaurant & Grille—the original picnic-style-seating, ant-covered-grass-floored eatery—is pleased to present its all-new Extra Gluten Bonanza-rama! Now everything on the menu—including dozens upon dozens of gluten-free options, and the actual physical menu itself—has an absolute goddamngoddamn TON of gluten in it, on it, and wrapped around it! No one ever said it couldn't or should be done, so we rose to the not challenge and did it anyway! Also, be sure to try our new slate of certified “contest entered” vegan dishes, all of which are deep-fat boiled in vats of hearty bacon grease carefully positioned in front of a two-way mirror, behind which is seated a continuously vomiting panel of actual, verified vegetarians! And to think they didn't say it couldn't be done! Tom's Contrarian Restaurant & Grille … mal appétit!
This Week on the Fundamentalist Gourmet, Reverend “Brimstone Bob” Robert will show you how to

→ wash and prepare a cucumber without having impure thoughts about it, or about zucchini, or about Satan's gourd itself, the summer squash

→ exorcise the blandness and evil out of deviled eggs (hint: a sprinkle of cayenne or real Hungarian smoked paprika and 246,000 Hail Marys will go a long way)

→ take the sin and cheesecake out of sinfully good cheesecake
Hot Gardening with Raul

Hola again. It is me, certified Latino horticulturist Raul Hernández, here with more hot gardening tips. The Heart of Jesus (family Araceæ, genus caladium) is a very beautiful, very sensuous perennial, but, unlike Raul—who can be shirtlessshirtless all day long, glistening under the hot, hot sun—it thrives in the shade. So, if you notice señor sol making the beads of sweat run down your lean, muscled back before gliding like hot, moistened embers over the precipice of your firm, tensed glutes,glutes, it most probably means your Hearts of Jesus are getting too much direct sunlight. And don't forget: just like Raul, the Heart of Jesus needs plenty of warm, steamy soil to flourish, so be muy generoso with fertilization and watering—your garden will gracias you.
Marketer's Bulletin

Are you looking to get your message out to tens of thousands of people in the greater tri-city area? Give “My Lying Ex-Wife Skywriting, LLC” a try, and you won't be that disappointed, because it turns out I actually can finish what I start! Whether you want to spell out your successful skywriting company's name at a local tri-city area sporting event because it turns out you are the type to hold grudges, tell gridlocked commuters just what a malevolently duplicitous she-beast your ex-wife truly is, congratulate your child on their recent college graduation you weren't invited to attend, kamikaze bomb the den of sin at 874 East Billings Drive, tell everyone at the beach about how your ex-wife stabbed you in the back so hard she broke the handle, or advertise, “My Lying Ex-Wife Skywriting, LLC” is the very best matrimonial bitterness-based aerial advertising outfit this side of the quad-city area! Give us a call today and ask for me, because I'm not only the night manager, I'm also one of the receptionists! You hear that, Debbie? I'd like to see that pothead loser Ed work at his own skywriting LLC. Cheers from “Angry” Steve Reynolds! I'm doing great!

Established 1403 A.D.         “The World's First Web Pages” *
© Copye Righte 1532 RECYCULUS.  ✣   * Printed on 80.2% spider webs.

***  EDITOR'S WORLD'S GREATEST NOTE:  pocketful of loose carpet samples  ***    
 REGULATOR:  submitted chronicle is redacted dacted

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