News for the OBSSEsed - continued
Issue No. 33, March/April 2000

Things have been so busy in the Abbey lately that my fanfic consumption has seriously suffered. Still, I wanted to take the time to outline a few great stories for you here that I did have the pleasure of reading.

The first is from someone I've recommended here before, Kipler.  She's back from a too long hiatus with Strangers and the Strange Dead. This is a third person look at a Scully of the future: still searching for something and investigating. In this case the investigation is of the mysterious reappearance of strangers in a small New England town. I love the way this woman writes. She always creates a story that cocoons the readers in her world and gives away just enough.

New to this column is Syntax6 and the casefile Blood Oranges. This one takes place shortly after Tithonus.  Mulder and Scully are lovers but the focus is a serial murder case that affects Scully profoundly and does the best job of describing why we've never heard about that cursed Travelers wedding ring that I've read. A compelling, Scullycentric case file.

It's Marathon Time Again!

The Abbey is a-buzz with the excitement of planning this year's marathons. We currently have 15 group marathons scheduled in cities all over the world and expect to add a few more to our lineup in the next few weeks.

Although May is officially NF Awareness Month (and marathon month) we couldn't wait to get started and have a few early `thons scheduled:

Sat, March 25  :  Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania
Sat-Sun, April 8-9  :  Oxford, England
Sat, April 29  :  Franklin, Indiana

What is a "Scully Marathon"? Simply put.. You get people to sponsor you, then spend a day watching Scullycentric X-Files episodes (either at a group marathon or in your own home) and then donate the proceeds to NF Inc. (or one of a number of other international NF groups). Pretty cool huh?

Last year the OBSSE raised over $13,000 and we hope to raise even more this year so stop by our MARATHON SITE and find out how you can contribute to this very worthy cause and at the same time say "thank you" to Gillian for her wonderful work on The X-Files.

And while you're there... don't forget to order a marathon t-shirt!
(Thanks to Zod for creating a Karatoon!Scully just for us)

by Sister Mandy

To the core of my soul, I am an American.  But last fall, I turned my gaze
eastward to that bastion of the numinous east, Mother Russia. There, in
the land of Lenin and of Krycek, I sought to uncover another perspective
on life and the X-Files (or was it the other way around?) and perhaps
bring myself closer to a perfect understanding of the most essential
questions:  Is communism dead? Do they really serve borscht at McDonalds? Do Mulder ad Scully use formal or informal address when speaking to each other? Do all Russian men really look like Krycek? These questions and others haunted me as for four months I trekked through the cold and unrelenting streets of Moscow, but in the end, it was not I who found the truth, but rather the truth that found me.

When first I arrived in my host family, they told me it was a mushroom. Just a mushroom in a jar, in theory imparting all sorts of fortifying qualities to the tea in which it steeped. Whatever.  I had more important things to worry about then, like finding a gracious way to convince my host brother Sasha to surrender the remote control so that I could watch the second half of  X-Files (Known to the Russian laity as "Sekretniye Materiyali", although the real fans still call it "eks-FILES") When at last his mother chased him out of the kitchen, I seized the remote and flipped to XF, which turned out to be Patient X. I arrived just in time for all those murky-mytharc-man pain shots at the end (my host mother was not impressed.) It was nearly five minutes before I got to hear my first sample of Russian voice-over work, which went roughly like this:


Sasha was thrilled to find out that his new American was a phile. Although he himself had seen only two episodes, he was full of questions for me - about CSM, the oiliens, Samantha, and even the bees.  What began as a gesture of affable condescension toward my sugared-up little host brother was soon out of my hands and, what's more, over my head.  Somehow, this eleven-year-old kid with two episodes under his belt had a far more sophisticated understanding of mytharc than I did.  Truly, this was troubling.   After long hours of self-examination, I concluded that the failing was not mine.  His uncanny comprehension of the workings of the Carterverse - so astute as to indicate that they were guided by instinct rather than analysis - could mean only one thing.  Sasha was no mytharc genius; rather, he was merely exhibiting signs of having been in the presence of a greater force, the very thing for which all the mytharc buffs have been searching for lo these many years.  Without realizing it, I had brought myself closer to the source of the mytharc, the heart of the convolution. Whatever has been truly responsible for the death of Deep Throat, those damn bees, Cassandra Spender nearly peeing the floor, dippy star people. It was all here. Somewhere.  And my quest, I knew - for beneath it all, what else could have brought me here? - was to find it.

I started small, having decided that in a country where the lone offense of being American has been enough to earn one a night in jail and up to $500 in fines, there's no such thing as "too  low-profile."  So the next night, when my host sister Tanya and I were watching her favorite soap opera, I waited until the commercials came on and inquired, in as casual a tone as I could muster: "So, Sasha really likes the X-Files, huh?"  She nodded. Clearly the cat kibble ad was more interesting than I was. Taking this as a good sign, I pressed on. "He seems to understand a lot about the show. Do you know if there's anybody who talks to him about it?" This set me a notch above the cat kibble; Tanya turned and said very clearly, "Sasha doesn't watch the show very often." Undaunted, I continued, "I know he doesn't see it very often. Does he maybe have some friends who tell him what's going on when he can't watch it? Maybe some men in dark suits?" Tanya  stared at me as if I'd just asked whether Mulder and Scully ever spoke to her through the TV screen. In fact, I had the nagging suspicion that I had in fact asked something very much like that.  Surprisingly, there was no "conspiracy" chapter in my Russian language textbook from either of my two previous years of study, and it's possible that I had mixed up my vocabulary. "He doesn't watch the show very often," she repeated.  She turned back to the television ("Maggi chicken broth cubes make a great borscht base!")

The problem with grilling people in a language they know much better than you do is that they can dodge the questions you ask and there's not much you can do about it.  But whether this was a conspiracy or simply a lack of communication, this was clearly not an avenue worth pursuing. I resolved that, at the risk of life and limb, I would fall in with one of the several Men in Black who can be found shouting into cell phones along Tverskaya Avenue or haunting Pushkin Square with their molls in the evenings.  After all, they fit the type.  Cruising around Moscow in shiny black sedans with tinted windows, evading photographs and dissolving into the crowd at the sight of policemen clearly these men were hiding something, and I was sure - pretty damn sure - that they knew the answers I was looking for.  It seemed so obvious that I wondered how it was that
nobody had seen it before.

An opportunity presented itself almost immediately.  Exiting a metro in a northern part of the city, I saw a man in dark sunglasses sitting in a parked car (another sleek black sedan).  There was a sign propped behind the front windshield which read "I buy anything." I quickly realized that such a man undoubtedly knew things that were not to be known, and that for a price, he might be persuaded to share them.  Putting to use all the stealth skills of an American abroad, I sidled up to the car, leaned in, and whispered "I'm looking for secrets. I need answers to a story that doesn't make any sense. Can you help me?"  Sunglasses-Wearing Man did not reply, but merely sniffed incredulously, as though I had asked him to smuggle me a monogrammed bath towel out of the Kremlin.  Which is, I suppose, possible.  I sometimes mix up my words when I'm nervous.  With this in mind, I tried again.  This time, Sunglasses-Wearing Man turned to face me full-on and lifted his hand as though to swat away a fly. I took the hint.

So they weren't going to tell me anything up front. Clearly, I was getting too close.  I decided to roll back my investigation a bit, follow them around and see what they might let slip when they didn't know I was watching. Time revealed to me the futility of that strategy, as well.  Aside from going in and out of restaurants, phoning their underlings to ask about their girlfriends and standing around looking impatient and imperious while waiting for their cars, these Men In Black didn't seem to do much. Although their cryptic behavior left me still suspicious of them, I realized that I was getting nowhere fast.  Much dejected, I called a halt to my investigation until I thought of a new angle.  I was quite disappointed.  It seemed unlikely that I would make any new headway in this last week left to me.  To have come so close to the answers, and then at the last turned up nothing, smacked of mytharc itself.

My host brother Sasha was the first one to notice my fallen mood. Unwilling to reveal the true cause of my black mood, I told him I was feeling sick.  He ran out of the room and returned with a glass half-full of a murky-looking brown substance.  "What's this?" Having forgotten (as he often did) that he was conversing with a half-baked American, Sasha rattled off a long, mile-a-minute explanation, from which I gathered that it was "mushroom juice" from the jar in the kitchen, the very one whose contents reminded me so powerfully of a brain.  Seeing my bemused expression, Sasha stopped himself and said simply, "It makes me very smart."  Laughing, he ran out of the room.

It hit me like a metro car, which is to say rather slowly but with great impact nonetheless.  The answers were right in front of me; they had been all along.  It was the brain that had created the mytharc, and by drinking of its juices, Sasha had tapped into that twisted understanding.  For I knew then that "mushroom" had been but a benign cover for this master-mind, this think tank.  The brain knew. I waited until the household had gone to bed; then, with great trepidation, I entered the silent kitchen and flipped on the light.  The brain, heedless the fact that its cover has been blown, sat tranquilly steeping in its jar of "tea."  Keeping the kitchen table between it and me, I approached it, resolved that I would not back down.  No, I would finish this confrontation, even if it should prove to be my last. "It's you, isn't it."  This time, there could be no doubt in my mind that I had delivered exactly the sentence I intended, and yet the brain did not respond.  I continued. "You're the one who's been inventing the mytharc. You've been creating the stories all along." Still the brain said nothing, but it quivered slightly in its jar.  It was nervous, I could tell. Encouraged, I surged onward, my voice lifting slightly with emotion. "You killed Melissa. You burned the office. You took Scully's eggs! You string us along and then drop us, and -" 

"What's going on?"  I froze, and then slowly turned. My host sister Tanya
was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking slightly perturbed.
"What?" My mind raced as I tried to think of a convincing excuse for this
latest episode. "Oh. Fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I - what are you doing here?"

"I came to get some yogurt. Who were you talking to?" "Myself. Just talking to myself." I smiled weakly.

Tanya cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.  I imagine she wasn't terribly
surprised.  Just a week before she'd caught me explaining to my younger
host sister that I wash my hair with peanut butter, and I think she was
beginning to suspect that I suffered less from a crippling lack of language than from terminal weirdness.

Seating herself at the kitchen table, Tanya looked at me intently and
said, "Don't you need to go to bed?" What else could I do? I went.  After that, whether by coincidence or design, I was unable to find an excuse to be alone in the kitchen.  Every moment that I was at home, either Tanya or my host mother sat at the kitchen table, as though challenging me to find a way around them.  And so, a week later, I left Russia with my mission only half-accomplished. I had zeroed in on the source of the evil convolutions of the mytharc, but I had been unable to force from the brain any answers or points of clarification.  At the time, I was able to see only my failures, but since then I have gained a better, more comforting perspective.  Though I may have no more answers than when I left, I still have all my fellow philes with whom to rage and moan over the stupidity of the latest mytharc twist. I have not solved the mysteries of the X-Files, but I still have my community to keep trying with me.  As the Russians say, "eeshO idyOt zhEEzn", which translates roughly to "life goes on." I think.



To send in your burning question just email me at Ask Sister Autumn.

Dear Sister Autumn, whose trout I am most likely not even worthy to wash,

Boy do I ever have a question for you! For the past couple of months I've
been in a real quandary about this one, flipping and flopping around trying to figure out what to do.  A lot like a fish on a dock, really. A trout, even.  Or maybe an eel. 

Oh right. On to my problem: I sometimes forget about the existence of
Saint Scully's partner. 

Let me explain further, lest you think this isn't really a problem. It's not that I put him out of my head to avoid corruption from his PUNKish ways. You need to understand that I just forget about him completely. As if he didn't even exist. Why did Scully go to the Ivory Coast, you ask? Because she wanted an excuse to wear that lovely linen ensemble. Duh!  What's that you say about a 'beautiful mind'? Hey, I can't explain everything, but I'm pretty sure what she really said was that she'd met a young man with a 'beautiful hind.' 

Here's where you can help, Sister Autumn. How serious is my problem?  At first I thought it was no big deal, since it seems like a clear indication
that I just know who it's all about. But then it occurred to me that Scully herself doesn't forget her partner, not even long enough to drink some 'ritas and get some nookie from that young man in Africa. Does that mean that my forgetfulness is a failing in the eyes of our Saint? How can I get back on track to becoming just like Scully?

Yours in humble appreciation of TBO,
Sister pteropod

Dear pteropod (say is that "p" silent like it's dutch or something?),

I'm not really sure this is a problem, and if it is one it is not a bad one to have. It probably even allows you to block out Travelers and the like. I mean that was one episode where the entire Abbey wanted to forget about his little hair swiping existence. Wow, now that I think of it you probably even have the ability to block out Mr. Snarky in One Son and just concentrate on our luscious Saint in the black turtleneck without wanting to throw something at the screen in hopes of smacking the PUNK for his obnoxious attitude. Um, do you think you could give lessons on your technique in the Abbey screening room before everyone watches Never Again in the marathon this year?

By Sister Adrianne and Joni Mitchell

Rows and rows of corn out there
And something strange is in the air
And lots of buzzing ev'rywhere
Should floor tiles hum that way?

But now the vents are open, run!
Those bees intend to sting someone
So get your jacket's belt undone
We have to get away
I'm running through a cornfield now
The stalks are high, and still somehow
They're parting at wide intervals
This cornfield's not so bad at all

Bees and crops and secret deals
The dizzy way they've made me feel
As ev'ry alien tale comes real
I've seen so much today

But now I'm off through tons of snow
Been taken once again, you know
And though it might cost lots dough
You'll try to save the day

I've looked at goo from inside now
Tube down my throat, and still somehow
None of this crap will I recall
I don't believe in aliens at all

Cold and wet and I'm not allowed
To say "I saw it" right out loud
A ship that's heading for the clouds
I'll have to look away

From this day on it will be strange
To act as though not a thing has changed
To have them all think I'm deranged
It's hard to live that way

I've seen that ship from the inside now
But I was drugged and don't know how
There's nothing really to recall
I never saw that ship at all
I've seen that ship from inside now
But riding here on a snowplow
Means I cannot clearly recall
If I was ever here at all

'O wisest of the wise, I am in need of your guidance.

I had received a Beanie Baby as a gift for X-mas and well they come 
with names and all. Well, I didn't think much of the name until I read the FAQ in the Abbey. I was mortified!!!! It's name is...(insert spooky music here) 'Prance.'

Anyway... I couldn't believe I'd had a Prancer in my room for two months so I got a shoe box and crept up behind it (so as not to alert it to my intentions). I flicked it into the box and taped it shut very securely. Then I wrote a note saying:

Caution! This box contains a 'Prancer'.
Do not open unless armed with a tranquilizer!
and shoved the box under my bed... Anyhow, I'm afraid that it will get  out, (and I can't keep it under my bed forever!!!) 

What should I do?????

Sister Keturah

I have a confession to make. You didn't really need to include the picture with this letter because I know exactly what you are talking about. My house has not one, but two Prance beanie babies. Now mind you I never bought these for myself, in fact they were left menacingly on my pillow at last year's fest. Seems someone (or should I say some Princess) thought it was funny. We use ours as cat toys. Anyway, here's the news: they are stuffed animals and incapable of prancing on their own. So unless you make it prance it is just gonna sit there. Unless that is what you are really afraid of in which case I'm kinda scared too.

"Prance" Beanie baby
Oh, most Gracious and Demure One, whose Name I was delighted to discover in the "Nitpicker's Guide" list of credits the other day:

With a teenage sister and an overworked mother, I am frequently called upon to mediate disputes, usually involving clothing. Last week, in an effort to preserve family harmony, I convinced my sister to wear a truly hideous beige snowsuit by reminding her that The Blessed One, for reasons best known to Herself, once confined her entire wardrobe to articles of this -- er -- attractive color. My sister went on her blithe, merry way, confident in her surface resemblance to She of the Mysterious and Temperamental CHarc.

I, however, was left wracked with guilt, having failed to mention to her that this was also known as The Unfortunate Beige Period, and also associated with The Season of Five Curling Irons. Sister Autumn, will I burn in the flames of John-Shiban-Episode-Hell for having guided my sister down a foolish CHarc path?

I remain anxiously and lemon-dressedly yours,

Sister Lesky
Sister Lesky,

You've been a bad, bad girl. I'm afraid using the Blessed One to perpetuate evil in this way is not very nice. Yes, we all know about the Unfortunate Beige Period. About the Geranimals days. About the many, many, curling irons. We look back on those days and think "my how our Saint has improved" from a fashion perspective. We do not go "I know, beige!" A snowsuit is bad enough, those don't look good on anyone, but beige? Please tell me she did not also have on those scary looking Sorrel pack boots a la our Saint in "Ice". Lesky, you better buy your sister a cute little button up sweater right away to make up for this. And make sure she buttons it all the way.

Dear Sister Autumn, who I'm sure doesn't need my unworthy accolades to
verify her divinity,

Why is life so unfair? I work with a young woman who, without benefit of
study or worship, has attained the physical perfection of TBO. She has
inadvertently stumbled upon the exact shade and style of our Saint's
coiffure. She has a natural affinity for dark pant suits. On casual Fridays
she can almost always be found in a cardigan. And to top it all off, she
shares TBO vertical perfection which requires she navigate the hallways of
our office in 3-inch chunky heels. All this, and she has never seen and does not intend to see the damn show. How did this happen? Oh, and let me assure you the similarities end with the physical. When she opens her mouth, she's a real twit. And I truly doubt her ability to kick ass. Still, this tall, skinny wretchedly blonde devotee can't help but think God, nature and man have conspired to taunt her. Should I quit?

Sister Not Yet Appearing at This Abbey 

Sister NYATA (wow that kinda sounds Russian too),

Just as sometimes bad things happen to good people, well, sometimes good things happen to bad people. Did you say cardigan? You know, I really miss those. Remember when it seemed The Blessed One had a whole closet of them in various shades? Back in the days before the one ill-fitting shirt? Here you get to see them almost everyday. Perhaps this woman is a CHarc angel. There to remind you on those dark dark Mondays when helmet hair and sloppy untucked blouses have you despairing of what has been. Has she ever had curling iron issues? Don't see it as a taunt. There are very few Abbey members blessed with Scully's looks. Though those girls are very popular in the lounge I will give you that. Why I remember one particular Saturday karaoke night recently when Skull, Bryn, and Jenn formed an impromptu group called "Redux III" - the tips they made that night...

Dear Sister Autumn--

I am experiencing a crisis of faith.

Recently, I have taken to watching new episodes with several other people, most of whom are not sibliren.  This past week, we were talking about Closure and Samantha's fate... and I was saying that it could fit into the mytharc structure without too much trouble.  (As you in your demureness are already well aware, I still think that the mytharc can be logically explained. )

One of the members of the group responded with, "Sure-- you just pull a
Mulder... make it fit."

My mind is in turmoil.  Is it possible that I have failed our Saint?  Could I be exhibiting Mulderist behavior?  I've always believed that seeking a rational explanation for the unexplained was exemplary praise for TBO and her tenets, but now I am suddenly very afraid.  Please help.

Troubled in spirit--

Sister Aspen

Well, I didn't want to say anything, but you did bring it up. It is my opinion that to actually make Closure fit into the mytharc one basically has to twirl around in a circle with their eyes closed covering their ears yelling "NAH NAH NAH NAH I CAN'T HEAR YOU" whenever any mytharc episode comes on. Does this seem like Scullyistic behavior? The point is, dear Aspen, that even the writers can't make sense of it anymore so why should you? Scully would demand concrete evidence instead of trying to force a square peg into a round hole by whittling it down with a Ginsu knife.

Dear Sister Autumn, who is great or whatever,

I have a dilemma that requires your superior judgment.  I am taking a kung fu class, and while it is gratifying to learn how to kick the top of a
door frame, I think I may be learning something far more sinister.  Before each class, the professor requires us to warm up by jogging around the room. Lately though, we have been required to do 'footwork' to make us 'more agile.'  Not ordinary 'footwork' but terrible things like skipping sideways.  I try to complete this requirement with as little arm and/or head movement as possible, but I have a terrible fear that what I am doing is being misconstrued as 'prancy.'  But what can I do?  Do I stay in the class
at the expense of learning prancy tendencies?  Or do I quit now but remain the only member of the Kitchen Crew who cannot do a proper saintly Porno Nurse Kick?  Please give me some direction.

Sister Trying Not To Flail Arms While Doing Roundhouse Kick

Sister Prance-Fu,

My God but you people have prancy on the brain. Every month it is the same thing. Prancy this. Prancy that. Help me Autumn I may have skipped. Oh no Autumn I fear prancy tendencies. Autumn I know someone who once pranced how can I live with myself. Even the freaking stuffed animals are now striking terror into people's hearts. ENOUGH! I swear to God if I have to answer one more prance crisis question I'll snap and make sure that it is physically impossible for that person to ever freaking prance again even if it is by accident or they slip on ice or whatever. 

Um, where was I?

Just take the kung-fu lessons and do whatever the hell the person tells you to. And for God's sake make sure your hair is right when you do it. Or whatever.

Dear Sister Autumn,

Hi! This is Brother Mole, a recently anointed member of  the Order (and thanks again!). Most of my school buddies prefer Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Pamela Anderson, or Laura Croft, but those chicks are nothing compared to Scully, because she's so smart, good-looking, and can still kick butt. Anyway, I guess you are the person to ask all the St. Scully questions to, and you seem like the #1 authority on her, or even X-Files in general. It's a just simple little question I've been wondering about:

"What kind of music does St. Scully listen to?"

In Small Potatoes, she did have some female jazz singer on her stereo, but what else would we find in her CD collection?

Brother Mole

Brother Mole,

First of all, you might want to watch Small Potatoes again because I don't think that the Reverend Al Green is a female jazz singer. As far as music she likes I've always hated this topic as I've seen it used as an excuse for people to foist their tastes upon a fictional character. If I have to see one more time how Scully loves Tori Amos or Celine Dion or the Beastie Boys I may barf. Truly all we have to go on is music heard on the show which is rare and mostly classical. I can tell you what song she hates though with certainty: Red Right Hand which is, by the way, not sung by a female jazz singer either.

Dear Sister Autumn,

I would like to point out some reasons why we should actually be happy that Mulder drives most (if not all) of the time instead of our capable Saint Scully. Well the first and most obvious reason is that TBO has been through so much pain in just the last few years including having ova removed, being infected by an alien, having battled cancer and died / pretended to die / didn't really die but thought she did at the time etc. etc. (and that is just the physical side of things).  So of course her body is probably VERY FRAGILE at the moment having been through so much (yeah she might look like a million bucks but she's hurting on the inside) so she needs all the rest she can get.  Let Mulder drive and let his feet get sore. After all, he's the one who wants to go to all these faraway places just to check out cow mutilations and lake monsters in the first place.

The second reason is that to drive, part of the brain has to think about driving. Now, we know that the dynamic duo does a lot of their thinking in the car. Logically, the one who is not driving will be able to spend much more brainpower focusing on the cases at hand. It's okay for Mulder, he doesn't do much thinking because he just relies on hunches that he gets but Scully really needs to think so that she can solve the case before the 42 minutes are up. Unlike Mulder, she doesn't instantly think "Clue = large footprint. Answer = Bigfoot. Case solved. Tell Scully. Eat seeds. Read porn." no, she thinks more along the lines of "Clue = large footprint. Mulder will think it is bigfoot. What is it REALLY?" and she will think and think and think until she has an answer. She knows that if she doesn't think of an SRE quickly, Mulder will simply assume that he is right and will lead a bigfoot search party lasting several weeks, wasting more of TBO's sacred time. 

Reason number three is that driving gives Mulder a little bit of a power trip. That may not sound like a good reason to let him drive, but really it is. If TBO gives him this little power trip then he will not have to resort to cheap shots and nasty comments later on. He will have fulfilled his quota, depending on the amount of driving he has done. 

I also think that the next car they rent should be a red Ferrari convertible.  I don't think the money is any excuse, they've never been worried about money before. I'm sure if TBO put some of her hair money aside she would cover it :)

Here are three good reasons for the convertible:

Don't they look good in it? (The action figures wouldn't fit in the car so I had to use the less realistic Barbie dolls).

It may have no seatbelts or rear vision mirrors but it is still a decent representation of the real thing. It goes so well with Scully's hair.

If they ever get lost in the forest, the red will contrast with the greenery so someone is sure to find them. 

Well okay I'm finished. I really like that car. *Sigh*. Of course Scully should drive THAT car at least once but that's an exception.

Sister Hogfish

Wow. Um. You've done quite a bit of thinking about this haven't you? Seems like it might have taken all your focus for a good couple of days judging from the number of photos you sent me to accompany this missive. Hogfish, dear, you may want to focus your energy on something besides whether or not Mulder should drive and how Barbie dolls look in toy cars. Not that it isn't a noble pursuit.

Dear Sister of Demureness and Avatar of Gnosis:

I have a problem that only you can help me with.  See, it's about my 
ex-boyfriend.  I'm torn between deep distrust of him and a strange... desire 
for his presence which time and good sense cannot allay.  After much 
pondering and ingestion of Scullyritas and frozen Girl Scout Thin Mints, a 
revelation was visited upon me.

And with this revelation came shame.

You see, Sister, he... he's prancy.

And bald.  (Shaved, but never mind.)

Could he... could he be the alien spawn of the WHPBD and the Surly Burly God?  And if so, what can I do?  How can I end this strange desire?  WWSD?

I am lost and so ashamed.  Prayer availeth me not.


Sister Nell

Sister Chicka-pay, Tay in tha winnnn,


The Mammary Monologues
By Sister Rania

The most amazing thing happened to me today.  I came home from school and found a very mysterious package waiting for me on my doorstep.  It was a medium-sized nondescript box that had been mailed from somewhere in 
Pennsylvania.  Well, needless to say, my curiosity was piqued.  I rushed inside and opened it up to find that it contained fifty or so mini-cassette tapes.  The cassettes were numbered, but there was no letter in the box to 
let me know who had sent this enigmatic package.

I was very puzzled by this, and decided that it was more important that I listen to the tapes than write my paper for school tomorrow.  So, I rummaged through the house and finally found my mini-cassette player and popped in Tape #1.

You'll never guess whose voice filled my ears.

I have no idea who or why or how, but for some reason Scully's travelogue from her travels with Chucky ended up on my doorstep in Denver, Colorado. Mine is not to question, but only to accept, so rather than speculate as to how in the heck I got these tapes, I decided to just listen and learn. 

And because I love you all so much, I am transcribing the contents of those precious little tapes for you, so that you too may learn.

I want to preface this by saying that what to us is merely a five minute commercial break, may be a whole world for the characters.  With that in mind, I bring you the contents of tape #10, the events between Scully's nap in the car, the putting on of the gloves, and the morning after, as brought 
to you by the boob phone (tm).

Tape #10: Side A

[sounds of Scully snoring]
[sounds of rustling, probably CSM putting on the gloves]

Scully: What the hell?!  Why the hell are you playing with my hair and why do you have those gloves on, you sonofa--

CSM: So, Ms. Scully.  You're well rested, I gather. 

Scully: Oh, cut the crap.  You don't want to know what happened to the last guy who played with my hair.

CSM: Forgive me, Agent Scully.  I was merely removing an eyelash from your cheek so that I could make a wish on it. 


CSM: Does it disturb you that I, too, make wishes?  Please, Dana.  Let me prove to you that I am not the incarnation of evil that you think I am.

Scully: I'd appreciate it if you kept your hands off me.  Now what the hell is up with those gloves?

CSM: [sigh] Must you question everything? [silence]  Fine, my fingers got cold from the damn slurpee.  Ya happy?  Now let's go inside so I can prove to you that the real CGB Spender is more prince than demon.

[sounds of leaves crunching and stuff as they reach the doorway]

CSM: Here.  You wear this glove and I'll keep this one.  I have a little surprise for you. 

Scully: Why do I have to wear the damn glove?

CSM: You'll see.

[As the door opens, there are sounds of scampering and hooting and then a crash as something jumps into CGB's arms]

Scully: You have a monkey??

CSM: Does it shock you that I have enough love in my heart to take care of a pet?  Yes, I have a monkey.  Rather than get a dog or a cat, I wanted to have my own monkey.  It's the closest I've ever gotten to real human love.  For, 
what is a monkey but a little stupid man?  My monkey is like a little stupid man who does not judge.  He loves me unconditionally. Dana, this is Bubbles. Shake his little paw.  Make certain that you use your gloved hand, for he is actually more like a little stupid diseased man.

Scully:  Hi, little guy.  [to CSM, her voice a bit more tender]  Your love of monkeys is almost admirable.  But, it will take more than a monkey to win me over after you killed my sister and stuff.

[sounds of them walking through the house and putting stuff away.  It sounds as though they are now in the kitchen.]


Tape #10: Side B

Scully: [to boob phone]  Mulder, I wish these damn tapes recorded more than 30 minutes at a time.  I think Cancerman is starting to get suspicious because I have to go to the bathroom every half an hour.  But it's worth it. Can you believe he has a damn monkey?  Well, I better get back out there before he comes looking for me.  I'll chat with you in about 28 minutes.

[toilet flushing]

CSM: Welcome back, Bitsy Bladder.  [giggle]  I took the liberty of making you some Rice Krispy Treats.  I hope you like marshmallows.

Scully: You made Rice Krispy Treats?  Those used to be my favorite.

CSM: I know more about you than you think, Dana.  I've been studying you for years.  Not many people enjoy Rice Krispy Treats, but I know that you do. Now please, have a treat. 

Scully: This is the best damn Rice Krispy Treat I've ever had.

[crunch, crunch, crunch]

CSM: Do you still think I'm evil? 

[crunch, crunch, crunch]

CSM: Do you wanna play Pictionary? 

[crunch, crunch, crunch]

CSM: I just got the Titanic DVD.  Do you wanna watch it? 

Scully: I hate that f-ing movie.

CSM: [gasp]  How can you hate Titanic?!?!?  You must be heartless. Even I cried when I saw all those floating frozen babies.  Bubbles and I like to pretend like we're Rose and Jack sometimes.  Don't we, Bubbles?  Don't we?  I 
love that movie.  [sniffle]  It brings a tear to my eye.  Do you still think 
I'm evil?

Scully: Give me another treat and I'll think about it.

CSM: Okay.

[sounds of someone jumping up and down and clapping like a little schoolgirl]

CSM:  Ooooh!  I know!  Let's drink some wine and play truth, dare, 
double-dare, promise, or repeat!

[crunch, crunch, crunch]

Scully: All right.

CSM: Dana, truth, dare, double-dare, promise or repeat?

Scully: uhhhhh.....dare.

CSM: I dare you to drink 3 glasses of wine in a row.

Scully: All right.

[chug, chug, chug]

Scully: Now it's your turn.  Truth or dare?

CSM: Truth.

Scully: [quietly to boob phone: "this is my chance to ask him something good!"]  um......How old were you when you had your first kiss?

CSM: I was ten years old.  Her name is Margorie Butters.  That was in the year 1883.  Her friends Safflower Canola and Oleo Lardy dared her to kiss me in the school yard.  Do you still think I'm evil?


CSM: Do you want truth or dare?  Truth?  Okay.....hmmmm....Why do I hear a little clicking sound every half an hour or so?

LindaTripp!Scully: Click?  I haven't heard any clicks.  Is it my turn now?  Truth, dare, double-dare, promise or repeat?

CSM: Truth.

Scully: Is Samantha really starlight?


End of Tape #10. 

Guess that solves the mystery of the glove!  What I gathered from the rest of the tapes is that Scully got pretty sauced and then changed into her pjs and passed out.  I'm sure that's why she doesn't remember going to bed.

P O L L   R E S U L T S

Here they are - captions from February's poll.  We had so many funny contributions, it's too bad there's not enough room to post them all here. Thanks to everyone who wrote in.  Special recognition goes to Sister Mary Davison for her entry.

"Well, that should take care of wardrobe.. now where the hell is my

"Go ahead. Make my day."

Sister Sarah Mackowski:
"I finally was able to get rid of Mulder's tie collection."

Sister Bridget:
"Just try to keep me on for an eighth season...."

Sister Glasses:
"Gillian Anderson, award-winning star of Fox' hit series The X-Files, has
recently signed a multi-million dollar contract for promotion of the new
'Die Flea Die' line of products."

Sister Lisa:
"I said give me a DESK!!!"

Sister molly marco:
"Can I give you a light, Smoky?"

Sister Kristin:
"For God's Sake, Mulder, hold still!!!  I'll get that little bug off you in a second."

Sister Janelle:
"No time for an autoclave.  This should make those instruments sterile."

Sister Tabby:
"This one's for my sister, this one's for my ova, this one's for my daughter,
and THIS is for what you did to my hair!!!"

Sister Kay:
"As the evil X-Files hair stylist tries to cut Scully's hair even shorter,
she is forced to defend herself."

Sister Bruce:
"Don't worry Mulder, I'm just going to take a little off the top."

Sister Carrie:
"You've got to ask yourself one question: Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya,

Sister Emily:
"Damn bee..."

Sister Jessica:
"THIS is laser tag?  Somehow I thought it would be...simpler."

Sister Adrianne:
"And they wondered how I managed to do it with pantyhose on."

Sister Mary Davison:
"Agent Scully, tired of waiting for a nameplate, decides to engrave the door in her own special way."

"I don't think this is what mother had in mind when she told me to

Sister Elisabeth:
"At least this ridiculous outfit diverts the attention from my haircut!"


by Sister Tammy (10 Seconds) Perpetua

You know, sometimes it's just hard to put into words what it's actually
like to have one of your greatest wishes come true. But, during the week
of February 12 - 19, one of my greatest wishes did come true. And, I'm
going to try and put it into words.

For some time I'd had a strong desire to go out to California, and the
desire became even stronger when talk of canceling my all time favorite
TV show was imminent and I wouldn't get to see any more new episodes of a very special Special FBI Agent. I wanted to go to California and I
wanted to meet Dana Scully, or at least the person who has made us love
such an awe-inspiring fictional TV character.

I finally racked up enough Delta frequent flyer miles, I had a good friend from high school living out there I could stay with, I had plenty of vacation time, and Gillian Anderson was going to be in a benefit show... what was stopping me? Nothing. I called the friend: "Sure! Come on out!" I called Delta: "Sure! Here's your free airline ticket!"  I called my closest OBSSE friends: "Neener! I'm going to California and I'm going to see the EI in the Vagina Monologues!" About a week before my departure, a feeling of melancholy came over me. I thought I was being sly. The high school friend I  stayed with is actually an actress (I know - she lives in LA - but it's true and she does work). When she was home for the holidays I had the pleasure of meeting her wonderful boyfriend - a boyfriend who just happened to be great friends with our own long-haired Lone Gunman Langly. Dean Haglund does improv on occasion with my friend and her boyfriend's improv group! How exciting. I was going to do everything in my power to see if this avenue couldn't be my way in to a day on the set and a possible audience with one EI. Hey, if you're going to dream you might as well dream big. Then, the boyfriend dropped the bomb. He said Dean really didn't have any pull getting people on the set. "But... but... but... I make VIDEOS for a living! What about professional courtesy and all... ?" Ergo the melancholy. But, boy it dissipated the moment I touched down on California soil! I was there... and I was this <> close.

The first few days I did some sight seeing, drove up the Pacific Coast
Highway - right through Malibu. I looked but no GA frolicking on the beach. Well, maybe the fact it was raining to beat the band had something to do with that... but I digress.

Finally, it was Wednesday, February 16. With my melancholy gone, I was
very excited about at least seeing the EI live and in person, even if it was to be from the front row mezzanine in the balcony. I brought binoculars - I was good to go. And, besides I was also just as excited about the prospect of meeting up with OBSSE people because you guys are just as special in my book. And, none of you disappoint.

After meeting another member of the FF clan (AdrianneFF), and Swoodsie for the first time and catching up again with old SpiceyRum, we
proceeded to take our spots on the balcony lobby area to spy celebrities
and/or sibilren. After we wreaked enough havoc we had to split up and
find our respective seats. Who knew that rain, something you would think
they'd be really used to by now in LA, would have delayed the show 45
minutes! It was tricky, too. Because I noticed many of the sibilren making their way down to the front row of the loge section and paying homage to TDO and the Invisible Demon. At about  8:25 I noticed the seats next to the Invisible One were vacant. I nonchalantly moved down deciding that that was a much better viewing point than my original seat. Besides, I got to chit chat with Paula and Autumn. But, wouldn't you know it! Not five minutes after I got extremely comfortable the original occupants finally show up to claim their seats. Bummer.

At about 8:45, the theatre finally goes dark. Three monologues commence... and, then... and then.... She walks out to deliver her own.
Affecting a British accent, Ms. Anderson did such a fine, poignant and
yet witty repartee with The Vagina Workshop. I hear it said some sibilren swooned over the "blue mat."

It was over so soon but I was so thrilled at being able to look through my binoculars and think, "Wow. That's her. That's Gillian Anderson - that's Dana Scully." During a pre-show dinner coordinated by OBSSEr Diane McDonald I sat by this quiet girl who was really with no group in particular. She was just a fan and a friend of Diane's. So, I told her to look for me in the balcony lobby during intermission and we'll make sure we hook up after the show because a few people were going out afterward. As bizarreness would have it - this girl, Elaine's, seat is right across the row from mine! She was my cohort in crime after the show. And, this is where it happened -  outside the stage door after the VMs. Along with new pal Elaine, we exited a side door that brought us down some steps right by the stage door! We were about the first people there but this burley young guard guy made us go wait at the top of this ramp. Elaine and I, much to our chagrin, were good little girls and did as we were told... until we saw several people go down the other side of the ramp to the stage door and no one was telling them to leave. Elaine and I thought this was just wrong, so we walked around and went down. The funny thing was here was this small group of bystanders and some VM celebrities begin to walk out and no one approaches any of them. Lara Flynn Boyle actually walked by twice and no one goes up to her... Gina Gershon also leaves -- nothing. 

And, then She walks out. The small group that gathered moved forward. At this point I was at the end of the group instead of the front but found myself moving forward. And, guys -- I can't even describe how amazing it was that I was actually looking at the vibrant Gillian Anderson this close and in person! She was so nice and accommodating to everyone. She talked happily to everybody, posed for pictures, signed programs. A few OBSSE people were there (pardon me if I miss a few of you but my mind was overloaded at the time!) -- ScullyFu, Lesphile, Spencer (I think), Diane McDonald, Shirley, - and I can't remember who else, a couple more and I believe they all were SPIs - they were just as excited.

I found myself moving forward like being pulled by a magnet and stepped
up to have my picture taken. I told her I hoped we weren't bothering her
and she said that we were not. I thrust the camera at ScullyFu so she
can  take the picture and GA grabs me, puts her arm around me and her
head next to mine and that's what the camera captured. When she's
signing my program all I remember is babbling to her and thanking her
for all she's done (that's about all I could do at this point!). At least I hope that's what I was saying. I step back and watch as she's photographed some more, signs more programs. And, she's right there still in front of me. I take another picture and realize my hands are shaking. After that, I made an effort to try and drink in what was happening. I notice the softness of this fuzzy, maroon jacket she was wearing over that fabulous red dress she wore in the show, watch her hands as she signed programs, listen while she gets cutely appalled by a story where someone said they just saw her Mom in San Diego and GA couldn't believe her Mom was in California and didn't even call her... I even saw some freckles on her face. The last thing I remember is her walking up the ramp with her manager and two other people who were with her. It is such an unbelievably indescribable experience to actually get to meet someone you have admired for such a long time. It's a memory I'll treasure forever.

If any of you have made it this far, I think I'll stop this with a little schmoop: Who would've ever thought that my curiosity which lead me to join this group that worships this wonderful TV character would have lead me to one of the best things that has ever happened in my life? And, I'm not just
talking about actually meeting GA in person, I'm talking about actually having the opportunity of getting to know so many of you here so intimately and personally. It's been a great trip! And, thankfully a lot longer than 10 seconds.






  Given the time of year, I thought it might be appropriate to write about what many of us are in the throes (or is that thrashes?) of -- namely taxes.  Now you might think "what a curious thing to perv?"  You might have even thought that there wasn't anything remotely sexy about taxes.  But those of you who have seen me perv my cable bill at chat ("Total charge for your services" indeed) cannot possibly doubt that I would find pervables in the ol' tax form.  Now given space limitations, and the fact that the bulk of the Abbey membership claim American citizenship, I've elected to give the 1999 1040 form the perv treatment.  However, don't let this dissuade you from having a go at your own country's tax form.  I'll even attempt to wrestle this back onto the topic of Scully somehow.

I'll start like this.  Does Scully do taxes?  You bet she does taxes.  Poor girl, that's about the only thing that gets done by Scully (apart from maybe grocery shopping and laundry).  Let's see if we can't make doing taxes just a little bit more fun for Our Lady of the Sloppy Man-Style Shirts, and maybe get her a refund so she can buy some decent clothes.

Let's take a look first at the first part of the 1040:

First of all, let's dispense right away with the term "enter".   That's pretty self-evident, and since it's sprinkled liberally throughout the tax form, we must assume that the IRS intended Scully to have a good time in '99.  Especially since the first thing she is asked to enter is her SINS.  That's pretty easy, since she didn't have any, and you know she would have kept the receipts if she did.  Other than that, we can look at words like "Treasury" and perv them into "Pleasury," "Label" can always be tweaked into something out of The Vagina Monologues, and we can even make something out of  "Income" (heh).  Being that it's an important year in U.S. politics, one would normally be tempted to make a contribution to the Presidential Erection Campaign, were it not for the fact that Clinton's presidential days are all but over. 
He'd only get three bucks for it, anyway.

Moving right along:

"Flinging status" is important.  Do you fling singly, or with others?  Who would you say was the head of the household?  Does it have one?  Does the head do the flinging?  Note that it asks that you check only one box.  Of course flings, illicit or otherwise, may require the checking of more than one box.  Mulder, for example, might choose to identify more than one box checked on item 6a and 6b, possibly in an attempt to write off his Triple XXX bill. Scully, naturally, really only has one box to check (unless you read Scully-slash).

Calculating one's gross income is important.  It's important to nail that down by accounting for moving expenses (lamps broken, tables wrecked, walls dented, that sort of thing), and to never ever forget about anything relating to self-enjoyment.  Good lord, neither of our intrepid agents is getting any (by what we've actually been able to observe), so self-enjoyment is critical.  Note the penalty on early withdrawal, however.  Good thing too.  Always finish what you start, my mother used to say.

Not much pervable here, actually.  I just admire the forward thinking nature of the U.S. Government with its attention to those who might eventually want to carry a passport from Reticula.

For those who dislike all that groping, moaning, and gasping, modern technology allows us to have it directly deposited.  Perfect for the agent on the go!

And finally, the IRS wants you to let it know what you call your John (or Jane) Thomas, particularly if it's self-enjoyed, and where it lives.   Personally, I think this might be an infringement on Fifth Amendment rights, but I've already got the Abbey's crack legal team on it (the case, that is, not crack).

Remember, Sibliren, anything is fair game for perving.   The 1040 is a natural when one really stops to have a close look at it.  Your exercise for this month will be to examine your own tax forms and receipts for pervables.  You may be able to write of your perv training as an education expense if you work at it, so pay attention and make sure that you perv at every opportunity!

By Sister Autumn

As of this writing the fate of the X-Files and season eight STILL has not been decided. I find the whole thing ridiculous because if Duchovny was really, really serious about leaving he could end all the talk and speculation with a single definitive simple statement. As it stands now we are in a lose-lose situation. Either the show will continue next year with people who are clearly ready to move on or it will be forced to end hastily this year with one episode to wrap things up. Either way the situation is now a pathetic one.

At least there is some good news this month as around the Abbey everyone holding their breath waiting, just waiting for Gillian's episode all things to appear on our screens. Having been lucky enough to have read some of the script I know it will be a good one for the character junkies out there and a rare glimpse into Scully's life and past. Gillian is set to appear on the Tonight Show April 4th, no doubt we'll hear more about it then.

FOX greenlighted a pilot episode for a potential Lone Gunmen series that just finished wrapping in Vancouver. It still remains to be scene whether the series will be picked up for the fall schedule, but I don't think I'm the only one who wonders if there is enough to these sidekicks to carry a weekly series.

On February 20th Bill Roe received the ASC Outstanding Achievement Award in the episodic television competition for The X-Files/ Agua Mala which apparently had really really good cinematography if you could quit focusing on stupid water monsters and poorly drawn caricatures. Who knew? In other news, the first annual Hollywood Makeup Artist and Hair Stylist Guild Awards had an X-Files winner as well (obviously in makeup since we've all seen the "fine" work the hair folks have done this year). The Best Period Makeup -- Television (For a Single Episode of a Regular Series -- Sitcom, Drama or Daytime)  winners were Cheri Montesanto-Medcalf, Kevin Westmore and LaVerne Basham for Triangle.

X-Files alums Morgan and Wong have a new movie out called Final Destination which opened March 17th. They wrote it together and Wong directed it (in his feature film debut). There are a number of actors familiar to X-Files fans in it including Kristen Cloke (The Field Where I Died), Tony Todd (Sleepless), and Chad E. Donella (Hungry). No word yet whether their new series The Others will be picked up again for next season. 

FOX has announced the contents of video Wave 8 to be release on May 9, 2000 (sadly Never Again was left of the list): 

       Volume 1:Leonard Betts / Memento Mori
       Volume 2:Tempus Fugit / Max
       Volume 3:Small Potatoes / Gethsemane

There is also news that the DVD collection of season 2 will be available in November.

The schedule updates are as follows:

March 26 - Hungry Repeat
April 2 -  Chimera W: David Amann D: Cliff Bole
April 9 -  all things W&D: Gillian Anderson
April 16 - Brand X W: Steven Maeda & Greg Walker
                   D: Kim Manners
April 23 - The Unnatural Repeat
April 30 - Hollywood A.D. W&D: David Duchovny
May 7    - Fight Club W: Chris Carter D: Paul Shapiro
May 14   - Untitled W&D: Vince Gilligan
May 21   - Untitled Season 7 finale

I don't know how this has happened, I really don't, it was another one of those things where a friend of mine said, you know, "Have you ever thought of directing or writing an episode", and I said, "Yeah, well I had an idea once", and they asked me what it was and I told them, and they said "You know that sounds great, that sounds really great, why don't you try and do something with that", and I sat down that night, it was like 1 o'clock in the morning, and I wrote the  outline for the entire episode. I don't know where it came from, and I don't know whether it's just, like that stuff is just in us and if we're given permission in some way and open ourselves to the possibility that it CAN just flow. And it did. And so the next day I went in and I pitched the idea, and much to my surprise  the producers liked the idea and said, "Ok, we'll go ahead and do this", and I said "Well, I'd like to direct it too," and they said "Ok well, you know, you can do that," and I said "Well wait a minute, wait a minute, I wasn't serious" .... 

It's been a wonderful process of putting everything I have into something and then being willing at some point to let it go to make it better as opposed to trying to hang onto that idea because I thought it was right. You know, it's been a really wonderful and educational process, and I feel closer to the writers of the show, I feel closer to the directors of the show... It's a reality, it's becoming real, and it's, it's, I'm constantly just in awe and cannot believe that it's actually, that my idea of "Oh yeah, I could write a script and maybe I could direct it" is actually, that I'm actually doing it now. I mean it was just an idea, but I guess that's also what "Girl Boss" speaks to. I have to believe and I do believe that this opportunity for me is also mirrored in other people's lives, in resources that are available to people who have an idea and can make it into a reality, can create that which brings them happiness essentially. 

--Gillian Anderson about all things in an interview on "Exhale"

Sister Carole Testifies

I've always wanted to join an Internet cult based on the worship of a fictional character and the "Holy Chapel of Wile E. Coyote, Risen Martyr" just can't compare when it comes to fashion guidance for its devotees. Plus that wimpy W.E. can't catch one bird with an unlimited budget and all the technology he throws at it; imagine what Saint Scully could accomplish with a load of dynamite, much less an atomic time machine.  We wouldn't have suffered through nearly as many episodes with Agent Fowley and CGBS making meaningful eye contact over their latest victim. 

Sister MellyB Gives Two Reasons for Admittance

I have devoted every aspect of my life to the task of glorifying and worshipping She Who Is Always "Fine" No Matter How Dire Her Straits. I feel that having a place to worship Her without fear of persecution or institutionalization would be of great help to me. I have always been one who battles pranciness in every possible way, and I try to be right-haired at all times--even in slumber.  In addition, I would never entertain the idea of wearing silky pajamas without a push-up bra of the highest quality.


The medications seem to be working, and my doctor said it would be a good idea for me to start "socializing" again.  I think this would be a good first step.  I haven't had any murderous impulses in nearly 24 hours, so I promise you that it's safe to admit me.

 Sister Arwen Explains Her Conversion

I will admit that for a long time, I did not want to admit the true Holy Nature of Saint Scully.  Like our Saint, I am a natural skeptic. True, she has been miraculously rescued from death numerous times; true, she is preternaturally right-haired (except lately--eww); true, she can sprint in 4-inch heels.  But still, I doubted --I mean, how could Agent Dana Scully, FBI truly be a living Saint?  However, recently, I have started to notice that aspects of The Blessed One have started creeping into my own life, almost without my noticing.  My hair has attempted to be right, even though that is not its natural state. Without really knowing I was doing it, I bought a pair of 3-inch heels and a lot more black clothing.  Could it be that The Blessed One was choosing me against my own will?  Last week I got a really nasty papercut (really!), which bled (well, a little) on the white blouse I was wearing. That clinched it.  It was obviously useless to resist any longer.  Therefore I have let Her Pantsuitedness into my heart, as I hope that you will let me become one of the sibilren really, really soon.  Amen.

Sister Donna Tells Us Even Her Parents Understand...

I knew it was time to stop lurking when my parents sent me a greeting card, completely without my prodding, that said "Without you here, I'm like Mulder without Scully - And we all know that the episodes that have Mulder without Scully kinda bite." 


An Excerpt from George Magazine
(April 2000)

Gillian Anderson doesn't pretend that she got into show business to make a difference in anyone's life but her own. "For many years I was so self-focused," she says. But soon after she landed her first job, portraying Dana Scully on The X-Files, "it became clear to me that people can come from nothing and make something of themselves. That was my experience; it was important for me to share that."

She - or at least, the character she portrays - was already inspiring viewers, particularly young girls. Watching Anderson triumph week after week as a hyperconfident FBI woman inspired them to put up Web sites with names like Order of the Blessed St. Scully the Enigmatic.

The X-Files is owned by FOX. No copyright infringement is intended. The OBSSE and News for the OBSSEsed are intended for entertainment purposes only. In other words, it's a joke folks. Thanks to all who contributed this month. All articles and columns appearing in News for the OBSSEsed are copyrighted to the authors.