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SOL Post 31 02/15/99
SOL Post 30 01/15/99
SOL Post 29 12/15/98


Volume 30 - http://www.mindspring.com/~mstanon/ - January 1999
Formerly The MSTies Anonymous Newsletter: News for the Obscure Convergence


In This Issue

From the Poobah
"Yada, Yada, Yada..." by hamdingr@theworks.com
"MSTable Movies" by RMichel424@aol.com
"Better 'Bots and Satellites" by bgibron@yahoo.com
"Jenny For Your Thoughts" by S364128@urgrgcc.edu
"Untitled" by boyfuture@yahoo.com
"Ten Years of MST3K" by weird_1@usa.net
January MSTie of the Month: hamdingr@theworks.com
February MST3K Schedule on SFC
Classifieds 3000

From the Poobah

Wow, that didn't take long. Everybody has already given up on their New Year's resolutions! Oh, well. Anybody still holding to it is out of the woods... Except, of course, for the stereotypical smoking and weight-loss resolutions. Oh, I should just shut up.
This year will bring lots of changes to MSTies Anonymous, including lots and lots of episodes being added to the Experiments page, a new game of Jeopardy!-esque MST3K Trivia, a re-vamp of the Members' Forum with a new password system (I promise), and a very good chance of another move... But probably not to a new domain name. Get used to the idea.
Remember folks, your contributions to the site are always welcome! Whether it be material for the SOL Post, a review for the Experiments page, or just participation in the trivia games, it's always appreciated. And don't forget to refer your fellow MSTies to the site! Our community will become a huge collective of thoughts and ideas about the greatest show ever to grace the boob toob... Or something like that.
Before I get to the monthly round of your questions for the staff, I'd like to thank Andrew Foltz for sacrificing his time to help edit this fine newsletter and the three feMSTies who sent in their Classifieds 3000, keeping the section alive.
Thirty issues... We're now nipping at the heels of the fabled Satellite of Love Newsletter. Freaky, huh?

hamdingr@theworks.com asks: "How many different kinds of fish can you name?"

MSTAnon says: "The only one I can think of is Abe Vigoda after Barney Miller."

MrNelson007 says: "First I need to learn what fish are. I have a research staff studying the question as we speak. I'll get back to you as soon as they're absolutely certain. Thank you."

BobIshmael says: "As you might imagine this is a commonly asked question. And yes, sometimes this constant barrage of fish questions does tend to test my patience. However, as I do believe this to be a conspiracy of some sort. I shall humor you. Now... Where did I put my fish list? Ah! There it is. Ahem. I can name (CUE DRAMATIC FANFARE) seven different kinds of fish. Thank you for your question."

BGibron says: "Here are the top 10 fish that I cannot seem to remove from my cerebellum (in no particular order. After all, this is not a competition)."

  1. The Fish that Saved Pittsburgh
  2. A Fish Called Wanda
  3. Devil Fish
  4. Creepy Girl's Fish
  5. Touch of Satan's Fish
  6. Phish
  7. "Find the Fish" from "Monty Python's Meaning of Life"
  8. Fish-Eyed Fool from "Sanford and Son"
  9. Fish heads by Barnes and Barnes
  10. Blinky, The Simpsons 3-Eyed Fish.

BobIshmael asks: "Is it true the MST Anonymous Poobah is a self-delusional, egocentric madman trying to take over the world one MSTie at a time? Is it also true that once he achieves this goal, he will become a totalitarian overlord watching us every minute of every day (ala _1984_)? I was just wondering."

MSTAnon says: "WHO TOLD YOU?! Err... Um, no. That couldn't be further from the truth."

MrNelson007 says: "You think so too?!"

BobIshmael says: "Of course that is not true. Our Wonderful Poobah would never do anything of that sort. Our Poobah always takes care of us. Our Poobah always puts the money we send Him to good use. Our Poobah wants to change the world for the better. And if that means He should watch over us so we don't injure ourselves, so be it. Our Poobah will forgive for your heretical words. Perhaps you should meet The Poobah personally at our compound in Waco, TX, and maybe your mind will be changed. HAIL POOBAH!"

BGibron says: "True?! I was counting on it!"

MrNelson007 asks: "What's the meaning of life? How many roads must a man walk down before he is a man? And, most importantly, how many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?"

MSTAnon says: "Forty-two. Sixty-four. Two-hundred-eighty-one. Hike!"

MrNelson007 says: "What is 6 times 9? Rhode Island? What roads are these? I'm not sure... Ask Mr. Owl. Or, if you want to keep your Tootsie Pop, 587."

BobIshmael says: "Seven (not forty-two). What sort or roads? That's a rhetorical question (despite what that damn Mr. Owl always tells me)."

BGibron says: "Here are quick, Cliff Note like answers:

  1. A very funny film by Monty Python featuring birth, sex, vomiting and live organ donor transplants, and death. Sound like life to me.
  2. One, since by the wording of your question, if a 'man' walks down a road, he is a 'man'. Perhaps if you had couched the query in more esoteric terms, like 'How many roads must a male individual traverse, until his inherent rights as an adult, or 'man' are fully recognized by the society in which he lives?' I could help you out.
  3. I am much more concerned with the number of licks it takes to get to the center of a juicy steak, baked potato and ceasar salad at our local steakhouse. I can never find out. They kick me out the minute I try. As for a Tootsie Roll? Hmmm... 3?"

"Yada, Yada, Yada..." by hamdingr@theworks.com

I like to ponder. I'm not quite sure, but I believe that it was all this silly frivolous pondering I'm often apt to do that got me in this situation. This pondering practice placed in my head the crazy notion of travelling and living in some distant land. Where they don't speak English. Where they don't have Wal-Mart, 4x4s, and flavor in their whipped cream. Where they don't get MST3K.
What in the world am I going to do? Germany? For a whole year? NEXT year? Can I take it?
Oh sure, I could live without my friends and family just fine. If necessary, I could even live without my piano (albeit with much, much, much struggle.) But there are just two things I can't seem to make it without. My computer, and my MST3K. Oh, what a nerd I am. I can just see it, recieving the notification that I made it. I'd be packed up, ready to go, and heading out the door, when, like Lot's wife, I look back and see all that I would be leaving behind. I'd stop. I'd drop my bags. I'd wait for a second.
Then I'd make a mad dash for it.
Family, friends, and aquaintances topple over as I trample them underneath my feet, struggling to grasp at least ONE, just one precious MST tape. Oh, but what if it was some stupid KTMA episode? I can't afford to make such a blunder. I rush madly to my computer, while people are trying to block me and restrain me. I make a desperate leap.

"nnnnnnnnnnnnNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" I let out as relatives pounce on me and tackle me to the ground, the computer just out of reach for me to grab at the last second.

They take me away in shackles, and me like a mad Francis Farmer squirms like a worm to elude their powerful grip. They take all of my limbs and hoist them up over their heads, ready to sacrifice me to their evil German God. The first step is thrusting me in the taxi and sending me off to the epitome of hell, Los Angeles Airport. But then again, only 300 people in the nation are accepted. So I probably won't even get the chance to meet up with that scenario. But bet you at least one of those 300 will.

"MSTable Movies" by RMichel424@aol.com

Wrongfully Accused (1998)
I watched this when it came to video. For the most part, it sucks. It had a few good gags. For example, an usher is showing a lady her seat and points his flashlight at the seat and the flashlight turns in to a light saber. That got a chuckle out of me. Later Leslie Neilsen is in a hospital when the intercom announces these following lines: "Dr. Kimball, paging Dr. Kimball. Dr. Kevorkian please pick up line 2," and "Dr. Ross, Dr. Green, Dr. Carter, Dr. Benton, please report to the ER." Those are the only good gags in this crappy parody of "The Fugative". None of the other gags were very funny. Note this is supposed to be a comedy, but I think Mike and The Bots could do it some justice by heckling it.

Babe: Pig in the City (1998)
The talking side of bacon returns for a sequel. This movie loses all the charm that made the first one a good film and gains nothing else. The pig goes with his master to the city to see how the farm can be saved. The pig gets lost and joins with a band of animals. That about sums up the plot of this film.

"Better 'Bots and Satellites" by bgibron@yahoo.com

Vol. 1, Issue 6
Paint it Frank Black: It's the end of the world as we know it...

As long as there has been recorded history, there have been predictions, forecasts of doom and gloom. The Bible has Revelations. The Oracle at Delphi forewarned ancient Greece. Rome had its soothsayers and in the Middle Ages, Nostradomus really shook things up. And at the start of this century, mediums and psychics gained prominence, just waiting for the final day of reckoning. No, they were not anticipating the second coming or the return of those antediluvian Chariots of the Gods. They saw it clear in their third eye or heard it in their fourth ear (whatever); the day when Dionne Warwick would stop asking for directions to San Jose and market them properly.
Still, with all these clairvoyants and Magic 8 Balls, many of the evils of the coming millennium have been left undiscovered. Until now. "Better 'Bots and Satellites" has spent literally moments reviewing the catalog of MST3K episodes and what has been unearthed would make Moses blush, Mohammed weep and Jean Dixon belch. For interwoven into the red/blue/green dot matrix of the televisional fabric are the diablerie omens of what awaits us at 12:00:01 on January 1st 2000.
You can see them, riding across a fire-swept countryside, spreading death, pestilence and continuity errors in their wake. Like a malformed and grotesque four Lensmen of the Apocalypse, these moving picture atrocities ride their bad editing and corrupt scripting into the next thousand year cycle, soiling and destroying all we know (or partially understand) and love (or just like as a friend) If we do not detect them today, call them forth and challenge them to the classic good vs. evil showdown (available for N64; coming soon for PC and Playstation) we stand to lose our very humanity. Or at the very least, 90 minutes of our valuable time.

Horseman #1: Coleman Francis.
If ever there was a filmmaker who was on intimate terms with Mephistopheles it would be the big and burly, damp and sweaty, hully and gully C. Francis, Esquire. Here is an auteur for whom a linear narrative needs broad, sweeping asides and backtracking. An action sequence requires stagnant pauses and inert motion. And characterization? Arumor, hinted at but never ever mentioned in public. Buried deep within an unholy trinity of cinematic contamination, 619 Red Zone Cuba, 609 Skydivers and 621 Beast of Yucca Flats. El Rotundo creates visions of Hell so caustic, impressions of monsters so depraved and versions of reality so static that it makes a still life by Vermeers seems like a computer generated sequel to "Toy Story". It's no surprise that all 3 of these episodes occur in season 6 of MST. 3 Season 6 episodes. 3 in 6. 6... 6... 6... What do I have to do, draw you a map?
Within each little festering pile of photographic phlegm are clear themes and rampant symbolism. Take coffee. The warm, caffeninated Columbian goodness becomes the vile gruel of immobility in the sausage-like digits of Fran the Man. Planetary rotation ceases, the universe stops expanding and the light from a star 4 billion light years away stops racing towards Earth at 3.02 miles per second, per second the very moment a steaming mug of Java is mentioned. All motion ceases as the juice of Juan Valdez is savored and sniffed. Old King Coleman knows that nothing makes for more riveting cinema than total, utter stupefaction. The concept of flatness also plays an important visual part in Franny's follies. Every scene is shot on flat, black and white stock, depicting the flat horizon and flat earth under the flat feet of the flat and lifeless people populating his pictograms. Cuba is as level as the crew cut on the actors' heads. Yucca Flats is indeed flat and yucky.
And no one, since Fellini, has populated his screen world with such a melange or freaks, geeks and mutations as Curly Howard's cruddy brother. The mentally, physically and socially challenged lowlifes of "The Skydivers", looking for the adrenaline rush of the free fall, the affront to one's sensibilities of booze, broads and barn dances and the curative power of antibiotics. The deranged soldiers of (mis)fortune in "Red Zone Cuba", who can't decide whether to do some crimes, or save the world from Communism. And the thought of a lumbering, drooling Tor Johnson being directed by the ponderous and slimy Francis the Talking Fool makes one wish that, just this once, the imagination was more vile than the real thing. Unfortunately, it is not.

Horseman #2: 418 Attack of the the Eye Creatures' Eyes.
All seeing. All knowing. The doorway to the soul. The twin lighthouses. The hard gritty spots in potato salad. The eyes are meant to witness, not to be harbingers of pernicion. But in Larry Buchanon's cinematic squat, "Attack of the the Eye Creatures", we see the foul stool that Coleman Francis only scratched and picked at, like a brown/green scab. Within the view finder of this motion torture, we discover the very dictionary definition of oily, pustulating filth. Sure, this is just a little monster movie, made on a flip flop flap budget, with cheap irregular effects and even shoddier acting. And the bombing of Hiroshima was just a overly sunny Japanese day.
In a standard alien invasion plot, we observe the directors slight of heinous as he decomposes his mess en scenes with all manner of perverts, wackos and army men. We begin with hopped up, peeping GI Jokes who get their kicks by focusing their radar (and hopefully ONLY their radar) at necking teens. On the opposite end of the amoral spectrum is a crazed old coot who, never having experienced it himself, deems all "smooching" wicked. He sets off to end lip locking with a craggy, guttural voice and a double barreled shotgun. Nothing gets the attention of hormonally-goaded adolescents more than two huge bullet holes in the chest.
Our hero is vapid and vacant, too limp to be apart of the sullied soldiery, but also too void and blank to be a true social delinquent. Our heroine? Lets just say that Kevin Aucoin even on his best day, could not make her over to look like anyone human, let alone famous. Add to the mix a pair of traveling male drifters, who think nothing of laughing, crime spreeing and sleeping together and you have a 4 of the 7 deadly sin and 3 of the 7 seals all in one. Only Moloch knows what is under the dirty, grimy, sweat slicked, floor length nightdress one of the male vagrant wears. The Aliens terrorize the town, take a moment and notice exactly WHO they are terrorizing and flee for their very oral existence. As the credits unfold, one drifter is dead, another is emotionally devastated at the loss of his traveling (longtime) companion and the teens are back to kissing, cuddling and dodging bullets. Less a cautionary tale and more like the bitter and twisted war stories your Alzheimered Grandpa mutters under his breath at holidays, "Attack of the the Eye Creatures" reminds us all that, no matter how short our time is here on Earth, if there truly was a God, he would have found a way to make it 87 minutes shorter.

Horseman #3: Mr. B Natural (Short, Episode 319).
It's interesting that, as the world moves closer to the year 2000 (even though the true millennium is January 1, 2001, but lets not get into that, shall we) angels are being sighted, outed and shoved down the public's throats by the commercial media. Shows like "Touched by an Angel", "7th Heaven" and "The Final Word with Jim Rome" bombard us with the notion that we walk among the divine and sainted on an hourly basis. Its a virtual cherubim and seraphim fest out there. But, as we all know, for every good, there is a bad, for every worthy there is a unseemly and for every "Goodfellas" there is a "Patch Adams". For you see, underneath every red-haired, Irish-accented heavenly spirit there is a Mr. B Natural.
Yes, that unlovable sprite, that cheerless nymph, that boil on the inner thigh of the spectral world more than makes up for all the Heavenly do-gooders floating around. For you see, Mr. B is a woman, playing a man, playing a 'grade A' fem. And you thought "Tootsie" and "Sister Act" were the last word on cross dressing drag outrageousness. She/he loves to creep into the bedrooms of preteen males and scare the heterosexuality right out of them. She/he claims that all she/he really wants is to awaken the musical muse within everyone. In reality, it is her/his goal to rouse the Truman Capotein confused prepubescent boys. What else do you make of her/his admonitions to play, caress and polish your 'instrument'? What else could one infer when she/he says that exercising your horn is 'fun, fun, fun!!!'? Is there any other connotation to a buxom, hippy she-male in spandex and thigh high boots, doing kick-turns and sporting a pixie hairdo? This is not to say that Mr. B's 'lifestyle choice' is evil. Not at all. Nowhere in the multiple layers of Hades is there a block of rooms reserved for the melodramatic and overly groomed. That said, however, there is something quite impure, something not of this earth about the panglorious Master B. It may be the fact that he 'knew' our fathers (hopefully not in the Biblical sense) and is as old as time itself without showing one ounce of age, or mercy. It could be the fact that, while a brownie of melody and harmony, she can barely carry a tune in a dump truck. Or perhaps its in her/his craven leer, that unnatural tendency to stare longingly and carnally at small, whisper thin lads. Whatever it is, it spreads like mold and mildews the very cloth of Mother Nature's petticoat. Remember, you can't spell 'abuse' without a 'b'!

Horseman #4: 512 Mitchell.
Beefy. Meaty. Bulgy. Oily. Slimy. Greasy. Fatty. Doughy. Puffy. Distended. Swollen. Bloated. Boozy. Rancid. Putrescent. Dumb. Stupid. Vapid. Tiresome. As stomach cramping and loose stool causing as a bag of Olean-fried Lays Potato Chips, that is Joe Don (yes, by God, I really did use to be a respected actor) Baker as Mitchell. Or is that just Joe Don Baker, period. Hard to imagine that there was ever a time when Mr. Back Hair was considered a fine thespian. After playing Sheriff Bufford Puss-er in "Walking Tall", a law enforcement officer who just did not understand the noun 'fear', the verb 'quit' or the spelling of the word 'cat', the Last Don Baker found himself on the A-list of entertainment up and comers. Then he made "Mitchell" and it was back to trading witticisms and body odor with Chevy Chase in "Fletch."
The very fact that "Mitchell" ever saw the light of broadcasting day means that either someone, somewhere fell asleep on the pre-emption button, or there was actually a human being alive that thought this was a viable form of amusement for the semi-literate. Either thought makes one woozy. A brief dissection of the plot is all one needs to vanquish any thought of individual righteousness and long to swim nekkid in the river Styx. Mitchell is a cop for whom steak is an ointment, booze a transfusion and sin the synaptic connections in his pea brain. Hulking around like a animated slice of rotted head cheese, he attempts to investigate a murder, or the Mafia, or a muffaletta sandwich... it's something with an 'm'. In between long, slothful stakeouts, he beds prostitutes, screams at children and shares soup recipes with Merlin Olsen. If melanomas were character traits, this walking cold sore would be Mike Wallace. Instead he comes across as the bitter afterlife of the party, anamorphous, heavyset Andy Rooney.
In "Mitchell", both the man and the film, we find clear visions of the misshapen things to come. As the final seconds tick away and the year 2000 looms before us like an unescapable video by Korn, or Limp Bizkit, we stare into the Mitchell, and as Nietzche says, he stares back into us. Everything he stands (or barely maintains perpendicularity) for reflects upon us. In his gin-blossomed nose and veiny, dilated eyeballs we glimpse our true prophecy, the final fate our tiny planet. Sure, its fine to think that, somewhere, in the vast expanse of the galaxy is a world like Vega, ready to (as Carl Sagan and Jodie Foster tell it) delve deep into our memories and construct a bright new world out of expensive digital effects. But those are just the prodigious musings of a now-dead mind.
We are stuck in 1999 and it's too damn viscous. We are faced with a true pataphysical and moralistic dilemma. Hell has leapt up to the very cusp of the cultural brim and has provided us with clear auguries of atrocity. The bejumpsuited wife of "The Skydivers". The Nike clad aliens in leggings and Danskins from "Attack of the the Eye Creatures." Mr. B Natural's shrill, perverted come-ons. And Mitchell's funk; (not easy to detect via the cathoderay tube) a combination of gin, cigarettes, cheap women, frozen dinners, and various VD treatments. For here we have the prognostications and premonitions of potential portents. Is it too late to change them, you ask? Is there any hope for mankind? Probably not. We seem to be on a descending corkscrew, and no amount of ethics, repentance or recanting can steer us away from the inevitable. After all, wasn't a pantheon to pedophila named "Powder" released upon an ignorant populace a few years ago? We are all doomed.

"Jenny For Your Thoughts" by S364128@urgrgcc.edu

Well it's 1999 and I have nothing say about New Years except that Dick Clark is a vampire. This is the reason he never ages. Think about it. He is evil. Can think of anyone else who been more shows yet done nothing in them? (On American Bandstand he did nothing except introduce the bands, on Bloopers he did nothing but introduced the bloopers, etc.) With that said let us move on to MST3K subject.

With the New Year comes new changes. And boy have we had some. But I was surprised to see the time change of MST3K come so suddenly and hardly announced. I was very luckily enough to find out about time change on my computer at home. I usually (because cost and stuff) get on once a week. And what about those poor MSTies who don't have access to a computer. I know it is hard to believe but there are some people who are not connected to the web.

Now I know the Sci-Fi channel likes MST3K and supports the show but this treatment reminds me of Comedy Central. Now I have keep calm and try to focus on the good things. Like Season 10 being on April 11 and comeback of Joel. But I know off others who gone ape-sh*t because of what happened with Comedy Central. I realize there is a difference between the channels. Like I wrote a nice letter to Sci-Fi Channel like Satellite News suggested and I did get a response, which was a copy type response but was a response. When wrote to CC I got no response.

My point well I don't have one. It's really advice. To all those who acting like Bobo and going ape-crazy, calm down and breathe. We've been hurt in past it doesn't mean we're going be hurt again. This just may be little bit of rough water; no need to jump over board or kill the captain. It just might be clear sailing after this troublesome time. (Sorry for all the metaphors.) To anyone from Sci-Fi Channel please make a resolution to be very careful when changes are made in the treatment toward us. We were hurt very badly in the last relationship with a channel and some fans are still hurt. Now is not the time to test our loyalty or make a lot of sudden changes. There are some that are looking for any reason to complain or cause trouble. There are others who are not sure where they stand and to make this sudden changes may lean toward leaving or complaining. These people are most likely to leave and stop watching MST3K. I know you don't want to reduce your watching audience. So please be more careful in the future.

"Untitled" by boyfuture@yahoo.com

The future of MST3K is a lot like Y2K, both have been the subject of theories as varied as, "Hey, no problem" and "Ohmigod we're all gonna die!" Who's right, who's wrong, who's to say? Here's my theory.
Season Ten will be the last season. The Brains are tired of MST3K and are ready to move on to the next show. The start of the season is being delayed until April so that when the brains complete 13 episodes they will halt production on the show and announce that they are focusing their attention on the new show.
The change of the schedule is not because SFC is thinking of canceling the show It is because in theory they can double the show's viewers by showing two different episodes per weekend. I know I would be more willing to watch the same episode on consecutive weekends than twice in one afternoon. They are hoping that MSTies will tune in for both showings rather than just one or the other. It is a good idea and should be good for the show.
I think that once the show goes the way of the dinosaur the Brains will cut a deal with SFC to keep the reruns going for some time. With production costs out of the way it would be very wise and economical to keep MST3K on Sci-Fi. It has to do better in the Nielsons than, "Ghoulies 3" or SFC's special letterboxed edition of "Trucks."
SFC's allowance of the Brains to use two movies so far in Season 10 that are not in their definition of "Sci-Fi," opens the door for Comedy Central episode to possibly be show in in the future. What better way to keep a buzz going in their fan base when the show goes on eternal hiatus, than the possibility of the return of Joel Robinson, TV's Frank, and Dr. Clayton Forrester to broadcast repeats.
I think the end of the series could be a good thing for MSTies, we may get more MST3K, old MST3K and a whole new series! Then again, the show might drop off the face of the Earth and all MSTies will be poked repeatedly in the eyes with sticks until the end of time, but I doubt it. There is also a possibility that my speculation is completely wrong, which isn't so far-fetched either.

"Ten Years of MST3K" by weird_1@usa.net

Seldom has a show come along that has weathered more storms, and suffered more staff changes, than that of Mystery Science Theater 3000. I think the show deserves an award for staying on the air despite (or maybe because) all the bumps in the road.
First there was KTMA where the show first found it's legs and Joel and Co. shocked the world with the newcomedy concept. Then the show changed to Comedy Central where it enjoyed many years of broadcast bliss, winning praise and a Peabody award. Not bad!
Then all heck set in, first the sad news that the master Brain, Joel, left to find future projects. But did this kill the show? NO, IT DID NOT!
All was fine when Mike moved into the S.O.L. and while it took a few shows, Mike did a stellar jobas our favorite temp. Under Mike the show went on for several more years.
First TV's Frank, then Dr. Clayton Forrester left us but did that stop the show?? NO, IT DID NOT!
Then a blow that would kill any average show, Comedy Central bumped the show from its line-up. But did that stop the show?? NO, IT DID NOT!
Along came the Sci-Fi Channel and the show kept on keeping on. New blood came along and made the show seem new with all new villains and funny new places to take the show.
Today, ten years after the birth of the show it's as fresh as ever, and going just as strong. Sure we miss our lost friends, and long to see them in the MST3K galaxy soon.
I can not think of any show that has weathered as many changes as this show has and still stayed on the air. I would like to take this time and space to wish the show a happy birthday, and here's to the next ten years of the most resilient shows in TV history. Mystery Science Theater 3000. I hope all of you will join me in raising a glass and toasting this show. Good job, and keep up the good work.

January MSTie of the Month: hamdingr@theworks.com

My vital signs: Full Name: Suzanne Yada Age: 18 Nicknames (plus screen names): hamdingr, Mary Melody, Happy Phantom (Prodigy), Yoda, xmuxa, xmuxa spice, xmuxka-doodle, (lotsa other xmuxa variations) copy chick, stupid idiot, etc.
Hair color : Brown and greasy
Eye Color: Green-gray
Personality: I'm branded as quite weird, kinda sarcastic, but nice at the same time (sometimes too nice). Religious (or should i say spiritual?). Scatter- brained. Sometimes really intelligent, sometimes ditzy. Uhm... I'm really lazy... Does that count? Somewhat obsessive.
Family: 2 parents, 4 sisters, and a brother. Wow. That makes 8.
Location: Visalia, CA, USA, Earth.
School: Mt. Whitney High School, senior.
Classes: AP World Lit, German II, Civics, AP Computer Science (C++ language), Newspaper, Orchestra.
Future Plans: Hopefully next year I'll be able to be an exchange student in Germany. If I don't get that (and I more than likely won't), then it's local junior college for me!
GPA: I'm pulling about a 3.5 average...
Pets: Y'all know my dog... Casey MITCHELL...
Things I like to do: Write, talk on the Internet (surprisingly, I don't really like talking, as in real life talking. hmm.) Play piano. Play violin. Work on the school newspaper. Create web pages. Eat. Read. Sing. Compose music. Denomination: Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormon). Favorite Music: Alternative, New Wave, some New Age, Indie, 80's, Classical, Jazz, Oldies, Big Band, Gothic... pretty much everything except rap and most country. But that doesn't mean I'm not picky in what I like.
Favorite Groups/Singers: Tori Amos, They Might Be Giants, Smashing Pumpkins, Jeff Buckley, Beck, Oingo Boingo, Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, the Smiths, the Cure, REM, Siouxzie and the Banshees, Red House Painters, Radiohead, Dinosaur Jr., Stereolab (wasn't always the case, but hey), Slowdive, David Bowie, Weezer, Cardigans, Cars, Pixies, Frank Black, Cranberries, Doors, Blondie, Dead Can Dance, Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Stray Cats, Pavement, Cibo Matto, Beautiful South, Throwing Muses, Belly, Elvis Costello, Velvet Underground, Blur, Lisa Germano, Lisa Gerrard.
Fave cartoon characters: BRAAAAAAAAK, Space Ghost, Grampa Simpson, Slappy Squirrel, Wakko Warner, Bugs Bunny, Plucky Duck, Dexter... there's more, I know there is...
Fave Actors/Actresses: Dave Foley, Joel Hodgson, Mike Nelson, Harrison Ford, Jeannine Garafolo.
Fave Movies: The Atomic Cafe, MST: The Movie, The Truman Show was pretty good, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and there was one really cool teen-beach one from the '60s w/ annette funacello and tommy kirk as a Martian. that must have been the best movie ever made.
Fave TV Shows: Mystery Science Theater 3000, Pop-Up Video, Freakazoid!, Animaniacs, Talk Soup (when it's not raunchy), Simpsons, NewsRadio (good-bye Phil... sniff), Popular Science (actually, they're old 50's newsreels. So cool). and more, just can't remember.

Well, that's the short and long of it. (echo *That's the short and long of it! Doo doo doo doo! Doo doo doo doo doo!*)

February MST3K Schedule on SFC

North America
{All times are Eastern and tentative}
02/06/99 - 11:00 am - [808] She Creature
02/07/99 - 11:00 pm - [808] She Creature
02/13/99 - 11:00 pm - [822] Overdrawn at the Memory Bank
02/14/99 - 11:00 pm - [822] Overdrawn at the Memory Bank
02/20/99 - 11:00 am - [902] Phantom Planet
02/21/99 - 11:00 pm - [902] Phantom Planet
02/27/99 - 11:00 am - [901] Projected Man
02/28/99 - 11:00 pm - [901] Projected Man

Europe and Africa
{All times are GMT and very tentative}
06/02/99 - 24.00 - [819] Invasion of the Neptune Men
07/02/99 - 14.00 - [819] Invasion of the Neptune Men
13/02/99 - 24.00 - [820] Space Mutiny
14/02/99 - 14.00 - [820] Space Mutiny
20/02/99 - 24.00 - [821] Time Chasers
21/02/99 - 14.00 - [821] Time Chasers
27/02/99 - 24.00 - [822] Overdrawn at the Memory Bank
28/02/99 - 14.00 - [822] Overdrawn at the Memory Bank

Classifieds 3000

hamdingr@theworks.com writes: "Sign up for the AADGKA! Mailing list! E-mail aadgka-subscribe@egroups.com to join! And to catch up on what's been going on, visit http://www.egroups.com/list/aadgka/!"

corryne@cheyenneweb.com writes: "Dear fellow MSTies, 'Sorry, but I don't think we're going to have another Con. Too much expense...' This was Barbbb's response to a recent email urging a 10th anniversary Conventio-Con. We need to change some Brains' minds! There are hundreds of thousands of us fans, so we must be able to come up with something to convince BBI. I suggest we all remove our brains and get to work thinking up omnipotent persuasion. Maybe it's just me, but I get the impression some Brains are getting a little tired of their Cow-Town Puppet Show. Getting a little lethargic, unenthusiastic. Not in the writing or performing, but in general just becoming restless. If our heroes decide they want to move on, to try other things, to wreck their lives because they'll never find a better situation than the one their currently in, well, I suppose we can't stop them. But we can't let them rust -- we have to remind them it's better to burn out after shining brightly. We can't allow them to deny us a 10th Anniversary Con. Or at least a Final Con, whenever that may be. It wouldn't be fair if none of us knew the last one was the last one. C'mon, Brainpans, let's start thinking."

Cyberfox4@hotmail.com writes: "Hi! Just got my newsletter, and, since I'm pretty much a newcomer, I thought I'd plug my website! The MSTic Domain: http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Set/8673. This is my little shrine to MST3K, although there is a very small offshoot page that goes into some 'other' stuff. Mostly, it includes my all-time favorites, my experiments collection, the Sexiest Man in MSTiedom contest (sponsered by yours truly!), and links, links, links! Plus, visit the Message Board of Love and let your voice be heard! I haven't really had time to watch too many of my episodes lately (day shift at work, ugh), so my review of Jack Frost will be coming along shortly."


All material written by club members in this publication does not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the staff of MSTies Anonymous. Endorsement of above publicized activities not operated by MSTies Anonymous should not be implied. Published material is subject to editing only for spelling, grammar, clarity, and formatting; other changes are not made without express written consent of the author.

Mystery Science Theater 3000, its characters and situations are copyright 1999 Best Brains, Inc. This publication is not meant to infringe on any copyrights held by Best Brains, the Sci-Fi Channel, or their employees. "Gizmonics" and all related elements are copyright and trademark Joel Hodgson. This publication is not meant to infringe on any copyrights held by him, so please do not sue us.

MCMXCIX MSTies Anonymous
The Poobah
Jet Jaguar kret0419@blue.UnivNorthCo.edu
Zen Psycho zenpsycho@yahoo.com

"Put the men's room in the tower... What was I thinking?"

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