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

vol. X       no. 3,622
Mon., Nov. 30, 1412

“The word eggnog is a portmanteau combining egg, from the Latin egguals, which roughly translates to ‘spiced amniotic drippings,’ and nog, a Greek phrase meaning ‘just nutmeg.’ The first eggnog is believed to have been brewed in 1765, by Native Americans of the Delaware Nation, and was likely offered as a gift to visiting Europeans, hence the inordinate quantity of horse semensemen found in recipes dating from the late eighteenth century. The new beverage was an instant hit among the marauding interlopers, who simply couldn't get enough of the concoction's gummy white sumptuousness, owing, again, to the simply incredible quantities of horse semen.semen. Eggnog's renown soon spread through the colonies like chlamydia through the colonies, originally under the decidedly politically-incorrect moniker ‘Injun Juice,’ and later as the less culturally insensitive ‘Yum-Yum Eggy Weggy.’ It wasn't until the drink made its way down to the dark, murky void of the underworld—and into the bone hands of various ghouls and assorted ‘spookums’—that it was finally rebranded as eggnog. Over the subsequent hundred years or so, eggnog continued to steadily increase in popularity, and, in fact, recently became recognized as the third most popular libation among all ghosts and phantoms surveyed, surpassed only by Seagram®'s Ginger Ale and Schlitz® malt liquor.”

from “Drink of the Dead: A Comprehensive History of Ghosts and Also Eggnog”
Missed Connection: Dunkin Donuts, Late Last Tuesday

You: on the floor, hands behind your head, sobbing quietly while whispering “please don't kill me,” shoulder-length blonde hair.

Me: black ski mask, modified AK-47, screaming at the manager to “open the fuckingfucking safe before I blow your fuckingfucking head off,” possibly falling in love.

Maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself, but I can already tell this whole ordeal was so us. And things were certainly hectic, but as I was running out the door with my paper bag full of about eighty bucks, I glanced back over my shoulder and I swear, for just a split second, our eyes locked. Is it just me, or did we share a moment before the police tased me two dozen times? Either way, I can say this much for sure: if I had it to do over again, I definitely would've taken you hostage instead of that whiny ten-year-old in the Pikachu shirt that kept pissingpissing himself, but c'est la vie. I'm only allowed one phone call, and I'm saving it for you—so I hope to hear back soon!
What's On The Windmill-Powered Black Magic Projector Tonight?


8:00 — The CBS Evening News with Jay Leno (live)

9:00 — Survivor: Albania with Jay Leno (new): season finale of the popular Jay Leno/former Soviet Bloc reality competition

11:00 — The Late Show with David Letterman Starring Jay Leno (new): celebrity interview, Jay Leno, celebrity interview, Top 10 Jay Lenos, musical guest, musical Jay Leno
Science Talk

While your assertion that a bottle of Coke Zero wouldn't be bound by the laws of physics turned out to be terribly misguided, I think we can all agree that it's really the Reno Symphony Orchestra's problem, now.

Compelling New Evidence Suggests Jesus May Actually Have Died For Our Jeans, Might Explain Why Bible Randomly References ‘Stonewashed Low-Rise Wranglers’ Nearly 3,000 Times

→ Revised Theory Based Largely On Some Big Trunk Full Of Ancient Sumerian Culottes, Re-Examination Of Shroud Of Turin's Rancher-Strength Denim And DKNY Monogramming
What is “A Fact?”

As they say, there are no stupid questions—unless you're a contestant on Jeopardy!, and for some reason you're under the impression that you know even the slightest little bit about third century Gælic hats, in which case we're in for an entire category's worth of very, very stupid questions.

The Company That Makes Toilets Introduces ‘Her-inal’ Women's Urinal, Forever Changes How Women Used To Not Have Urinals Before

New Female Toileting Option Is Strong Enough For A Man, But Bolted Up There On The Wall With Heavy-Duty 18-Gauge Railroad Spikes For Her
Did You Know This Before Right Now?

Francis Scott Key—famed veteran of DC's gritty underground anthem scene—toiled in virtual obscurity for nearly ten years before hitting it big with 1814's Star-Spangled Banner. The track—initially an overlooked B-side cover of the classic 1780 John Stafford Smith & The Fleet Street Battle Hymners' spunky sea chantey Tha Anacreonic—eventually saw heavy rotation on college phonograph, quickly propelling the artist's debut LP Let's Get Frank to the top of the Billboard Anthem 100, and paving the way for such future smash hit singles as Frankie Scott (In the Key of Free) feat. MixMassa Jefferson & Quinzy RADams, Love (is the Key) feat. G.G. Wash & the D-Riva Crossas, and the utterly peerless, certified triple-platinum ballad, YO! Canada.

Q: Dr. Scott, is it normal that sugarplums are dancing in my head all year-round? Also, what the hellhell are sugarplums, and why won't sugarplums just let me be?!?

A: How did you get this number?

Established 1403 A.D.         “The World's First Web Pages” *
© Copye Ryghte 1412 RECYCULUS.  ✣   * Printed on 98.5% spider webs.

***  EDITOR'S SPANISH NOTE:  battle royale (possible non-Spanish)  ***    
CULTURE MINISTER:  art herein made appropriate inappropriate  

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 million million octillion decillion 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


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