Paula R

There have been some big changes around the Abbey this month. Due to those pesky real life constraints, OBSSE founder Nancy Cotton has chosen to retire from the Order and asked the Council of Elders to take over the management of the group. We wish her all the best.

Sister La..Dee..Da.. has worked her graphical magic and literally given all 2000 Brothers and Sisters of the OBSSE a new home overnight (since the old site is no longer active). We're still working on the new Abbey (found at http://welcome.to/obsse), but we think you'll enjoy a look around as we make it a community home. I'm happy to say that many of the Order's Brothers and Sisters have been and will continue to contribute to the new site making it really a wonderful group effort. 

We've also (as evidenced by this newsletter) changed the look and feel of the site dramatically. Our new "school colors" are the blue and gold you see featured here and in our new logos. If you provide links to the OBSSE site via your website please change the URL to our new home and pick up a new banner from the banner page. 

From a personal standpoint, I'd like to thank all of you for your support in our new endeavor and for continuing to make the OBSSE the funniest and friendliest group on the net.
 

E D I T O R S
Paula R
Autumn Tysko

D E S I G N   &   G R A P H I C S
La..

C O N T R I B U T O R S   t o  No. 2 7
AdrianneFF
Jennifer "Bead" Stoy
Sister Aderyn
Roger Ramjet
Dr. Sarah Tonin
Dr. K
Sister Exsanguinate
Sister Kristin
HolmesFF
Brother Dave Fox
Sister SpicedRum
Sister Beer
Sister Sonya
Sister Skullhead
Thanks to Haven for image assistance

 

News for the OBSSEsed is a monthly publication of The Order of the Blessed St. Scully the Enigmatic

I am Spam

Spam I am

 

That Spam-I-am!

That Spam-I-am!

I do not like that Spam-I-am!

 

Don't you like our pointless spam?

I do not like it, Spam-I-am.

I do not like your pointless spam.

 

Do you plan to filter it?

Yes I plan on filtering it.

I do not like it, not one bit.

 

I do not like your pointless spam.

I do not like it, Spam-I-am.

 

Would you like it with tic tacs?

Would you like it with bad crack?

 

I do not like it with tic tacs.

I do not like it with bad crack.

Yes I plan on filtering it.

I do not like it, not one bit.

 

I do not like your pointless spam.

I do not like it, Spam-I-am.

 

Would you read it to excess?

Would you read it with FFs?

 

Not to excess.

Not with FFs.

Not with tic tacs.

Not with bad crack.

Yes I plan on filtering it.

I do not like it, not one bit.

I will not read your pointless spam.

I do not like it, Spam-I-am.

 

Would you read with three inch heels?

Read it! You will girlie squeal.

 

I would not read with three inch heels.

You may like it. You will see.

 

Look, the WHPBD!

What the hell is a PBD?

 

No three inch heels! You let me be.

I do not like it to excess.

I do not like it with FFs.

I do not like it with tic tacs.

I do not like it with bad crack.

Yes I plan on filtering it.

I do not like it, not one bit.

 

I do not like your pointless spam.

I do not like it, Spam-I-am.

 

A nun! A nun!

A nun! A nun!

Could you, would you,

with a nun?

 

Not with a nun! Nor PBD!

No three inch heels! Spam! Let me be!

 

I would not, could not, to excess.

I could not, would not, with FFs.

I will not read about tic tacs.

I will not read about bad crack.

Yes I plan on filtering it.

I do not like it, not one bit.

 

I do not like your pointless spam.

I do not like it, Spam-I-am.

 

Say! With the PUNK?

Here with the PUNK!

Would you, could you,

with the PUNK?

 

I would not, could not, with the PUNK.

 

Would you, could you, have some fun?

I would not, could not, have some fun.

 

Not with the PUNK. Not with a nun.

No three inch heels. No PBD.

I do not like it--Spam--you see.

Not with tic tacs. Not to excess.

Not with bad crack. Not with FFs.

Yes I plan on filtering it.

I do not like it, not one bit!

 

You do not like our pointless spam?

I do not like it, Spam-I-am.

 

Could you, would you, Stop Drop Roll?

I would not, could not, Stop Drop Roll!

 

Would you with Jersey Devil?

I could not with Jersey Devil.

 

I will not, will not, Stop Drop Roll.

I will not read and have some fun.

I will not read it with a nun.

Not with the PUNK! Nor PBD!

No three inch heels! Now let me be!

 

I do not like it to excess.

I do not like it with FFs.

I will not read it with a NaK.

I do not like it with tic tacs.

I do not like it, not one bit.

Please, can't you get me OFF THIS LIST?!

I do not like your pointless spam!

I do not like it, Spam-I-am.

 

You do not like it. So you say.

Go read this site

Then you may.

Try it and you'll want to stay.

 

Spam! If you will let me be,

I will try it. Let me see.

 

Hey! I like to read this spam!

I do! I like it, Spam-I-am!

 

I will read with Jersey Devil.

And I will do the Stop Drop Roll...

And I will read and have some fun.

Yes with the PUNK. And with a nun.

With three inch heels. And PBDs.

It is so good. Yes! Now I see!

 

So I will read it to excess.

And I will snark with the FFs.

And I will growl with Sister NaK.

And I will make poison pitch tacs.

I do not plan to filter it.

Yes! I will read it, each last bit!

I do so like this pointless spam!

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Thank you! Thank you, Spam-I-am

I have many questions for you, but let's start with this one: is it wrong to be ecstatic about being spam?

Ever since that little girl wrote in to complain about the proliferation of in-jokes on the mailing list, I've been torn. On the one hand, I remember joining the list a bit after the TicTac saga and recall my utter and complete total confusion. It was a very strange time in my on-line life. Still, after lurking for several weeks, things began to make sense to me; I started to learn why it was a bad idea to mention the "t-word" in front of Steph. (Well, there are a lot of things I still don't get: like the sex threads. I mean, it took me *forever* to realize Bead's middle name wasn't really Oksana. I'm pretty sure, though, that there are some other things I really don't need to know.)

Anyway, my point was that I can understand newcomers can be thrown by all the in-jokes, but when she labeled the in-jokes "spam"-- I had to laugh. Poor girl hadn't yet realized that OBSSE is not known for our ability to let a joke die (just ask Allie). Of course we stopped, dropped everything, and rolled over to the new definition of "spam." And it's come to my attention that *I* am spam -- my name and jokes arising from it are in-jokes! Next thing you know I'll have my own mythology and extra consonants after my
name, maybe even my own warehouse someday...

I have this nagging feeling that a vegetarian should not be so glad to be associated with a "meat product," but I feel as though I've *arrived*. I'm just slightly worried about this. Should I contact Dr. Sarah or Not-an-actual-Dr. K for an appointment?

¥Àa@~%vÀ,
NaK

I-am-spam. Spam-I-am.

---------- 

Dearest NaK,

Enjoy your spam-like fame on the OBSSE. Only we could take a word that means a really scary food or unwanted email and make it into a badge of honor. Frankly, when I saw the initial accusation that you speak of on the mailing list I wondered if there were folks that signed on to listen to conversations that went something like this:

NUN 1: Scully is cool.
NUN 2: Wow I think so too!
NUN 3: I think Scully is smart.
NUN 2: Wow I think so too!
SISTER LA..: Does anyone want to talk about "Never Again?"
ALL: NO!
NUN 4: I like Scully's hair.
NUN 2: Wow I think so too!

Anyway, enjoy your spamhood - could be worse - at least you do not have to revel in being a Vienna Sausage. Also, I would not count on the mythology thing happening.

Dear Demurest One Before Whose Trout Even the Mighty Cower,

I recently re-viewed "Chinga," an episode made interesting in that its guest writer somehow devised a way to make a Scullycentric story in which Our Saint does not lose any family members, get shot, get kidnapped, suffer a terminal illness, or experience any apparel miracles (despite what any SWILS might claim about the miraculous nature of baby T-shirts or unappareled-thigh revelations).

Now, TBO goes to question the clueless Melissa at 2:06 PM, and then goes to see the frightening day-care shrew at her beach-front home on the coast of Maine-- a state in the Eastern U.S. (While this point may not rise to the significance of, say, untied shoelaces, it will be important later on.) It was as I wondered at the beauty of TBO in the light of the setting afternoon sun that I saw it: the sun was setting over the water.

The sun was setting in the EAST!!!

Since being blessed by this sight, I have struggled to comprehend the meaning of this Enigmatic Mystery and how it was accomplished. A suitable SRE eludes me as to how the Earth could halt at eons of 1000-mph, counter-clockwise (as seen from the North Pole) spinning and reverse itself to allow TBO to witness an oceanic sunset (or allow Her a day sufficiently warm for riding in a convertible with the top down). My prayers before my home shrine of the icon of the Armani!Scully PI, waving her Holy Cell Phone over NotAutopsied!Fireman, have been received by nothing but visions of Righteous Eye-Rolls at my attempts at explanation. This is probably because I took my last physics course years before I came to know Her saintly ways, and hence have a grasp of physics that is too feeble to even begin to rationally explain the metaphysical.

So I beseech you, she who does it all for us, to explain this heavenly
wonder to this supplicant and what it means for the faithful.

May you ever enjoy all the money you put in the Magic Fingers,
Sister AJ

---------- 

Sister AJ, 

I appreciate your efforts to try to get to the bottom of this mystery. However,  with the exception of the possibility that the earth too was doing the "hokey pokey" and turned itself around, I think it is best to consider the final words of She of the Fabulous Wet Leg Kick in this very episode: "Oh, I don't know. I think some things are better left unexplained."

I have just been to an exhibition of works by the international artist, Christo, where an idea for my own little art project formed in my mind. For this, I would like to ask your permission to make use of the Abbey facilities.

Since Christo usually wraps objects of general interest and world-wide
renown, such as the Berlin Reichstag or the Pont-Neuf in Paris (France),
and as I don't want to merely imitate him, I thought I´d focus on the specific preferences of our own little religious community. Therefore, my intention is to wrap the Abbey liquor cabinet. I don't think there is any other item in the Abbey the wrapping of which would draw bigger attention and incite more fervent discussion. I can assure you that, permission granted, I will not need to exclusively occupy the Wine Cellar and the cabinet for more than eight weeks total - you are aware that the scope and grandeur of the project requires some diligent preparation. I am confident that my project will serve to put the Abbey in a very advantageous light in the eyes of the public; furthermore, the revenue generated by admission fees and poster sales might be very useful in financing the renovation of the Library and further architectural implementations.

Sincerely
Sister Glasses

---------- 

Sister Glasses, 

No.

Recently my undying affection for St. Scully has .... well ... died.  Ever since I saw the beauty that is Catherine Zeta-Jones in The Haunting, I just can't stay focused on anyone but her.  Is this just a harmless little phase, is it Scullynemia setting in, or is the awful truth that my faith is beginning to waver and I am heading down the path of no return?  Please give it to me straight.  I'm prepared.  I think.

In St. Cath...er...Scully,
Sis Alayne

---------- 

Alayne, 

If you are going to get all gaga over something you could have at least picked a movie that was remotely entertaining. I have no choice but to wonder if your "appreciation" of The Blessed One was shallow as well. Let me guess, your favorite X-Files episode is "Milagro" for the black bra alone, and that replaced "Chinga." Yes, the woman with the oddly hyphenated last name is attractive, but I would hope that you would get your priorities in life straight and realize that we are all here to worship fictional characters. 

"The Haunting" is notable only in the fact that the wonderful Lili Taylor (Mind's Eye) was lured away from making independent films to star in this big budget flop.

I believe in the natural order of things: all good things must come to an end, on even the best of times a little rain must fall, yadda yadda... It is my fear that the geniuses (and I use that term loosely) over at FOX intend to beat a conspiracy riddled, dying thoroughbred like our dear X-Files into the ratings ground. While this is not a Scullycentric problem for you to handle at the moment, it may in the coming months become one if Mr. Paranoia (Chris Carter) and his sidekick Mr. Perpetually Unhappy Interview (David Duchovny) buckle under and sign on for Season 8. Let's face facts-with the exception of a couple of episodes Season 6 was not exactly awe inspiring.

Scully is all knowing and all powerful, yes, but how many times can a woman be shot in a career before it gets slightly redundant. How many times can she ignore a little green guy running past her in a North Dakota style warehouse, brush off a buried UFO along the Ivory Coast without looking like an idiot? This could become a serious problem if something isn't done to convince the FOX Folks that euthanizing our beloved show is the way to go in order for its legacy to remain strong for years to come. Season 8? Argh!

Sincerely Torn,
Sister Tara

---------- 

Tara the Torn,

First of all ass-kissing is not required to get your letter posted. It is merely a quaint and time honored tradition of this column for which you will receive ZERO extra credit points and no TicTacs.

As far as your worries that the X-Files may somehow continue into season eight, I think Mr. I Can't Stay Within Or Even Anywhere Remotely Near My Budget (Chris Carter) and Mr. I'm Suing Fox For 25 Million Neener Neener (David Duchovny) have all but taken care of that potential problem for us. 

I always enjoy reading the OBSSE. I'm particularly fond of your 'Ask Autumn' section. Being a observant person I realized something pretty interesting. The majority of the letters sent to you were signed by members with an alcoholic beverage reference in their name. I thought that was kind of odd. Could you shed some light on this baffling mystery?

Kristin

---------- 

My Dear Kristin,

What are your favorite flavor TicTacs? Thank you for the lovely comments about my column which I am certain were not "ass-kissing," but merely your brilliant (if I may say so) powers of perception. Yes, as you note, you are an observant woman. As for those members who have chosen to name themselves after cocktails and the like It might be due to the fact that we at the OBSSE are known to enjoy the occasional blender drink. While we mix both virgin and adult beverages, some like to proclaim their preference in their names. I will tell you that for the longest time I thought Sister Glasses' name referred to her unique eye wear, but after her letter to me this month I think I may have been mistaken. Anyway, let it never be said that this Abbey does not take its communion seriously.

Today, I was walking down one of the long, dark corridors, when I heard a
distinct mewling sound coming from the basement. My curiosity piqued, I
stealthily descended the winding stone stairs only to come across what I can only suspect was a meeting of the BASV (Born Again Spoiler Virgins). Oh, She Who Adorns Us Thusly With Not!ness - it was a horrid, horrid sight! There they were - pale, sickly, little nuns, crowded in a circle, some clutching their Plastic Incarnations. Sister Loa was there, the only one with any apparent strength - she was standing firmly on her unspoiled ground, reciting some sort of Shakespearean blather... all I remember is, she mentioned strumpets, which made me think of crumpets... which made me think of Squat and the Jersey Devil thread... mmm... creme brulee... Anyhoo, I don't think they saw me drooling on the last stair... they were too busy doing their neck exercises, I think.

Demurest One, why do these nuns insist on sequestering themselves away from the others? Don't they realize that sssspoilerssss are The Truth and The Light of the Abbey? Why do they shun The Knowledge, for as Sisters of OBSSE, isn't it our duty to follow in the Petite Yet Sturdy Footsteps of our Beloved Saint and acquire all the information that is within our reach? I mean, if She Who Blinds Us With Science were here, wouldn't She partake?

Thank you for your swift reply,

Sister Beer
Looking for Paula, because that's the shortest route to creme brulee around here
---------- 

Sister Beer,

Why Beer, of course those of us who REALLY follow in the footsteps of The Blessed One know that we should seek out rather than shun knowledge. Those spoiler virgins are an odd lot, but they are fun to have around the Abbey sheerly for terrorization purposes. I mean just the other day I snuck up on head BASV Diva Sister Boris and shouted "Did you hear about what happens to Scully in episode seven?" and she started shrieking how I'd ruined the whole show for her because now she knew there was going to be a seventh episode and Scully was in it and how could I be so cruel and thoughtless. So my advice to you is let them stay ignorant. I've found you can force them to fetch you drinks and the like merely by saying "bring me a Scullyrita or I'll tell you how Mulder gets out of the loony bin" even if you have no idea how he does.

I was happily surfing the net one day (or maybe it was when I joined the OBSSE mailing list? I forget) when I came across the following phrase: "...then again, I'm one of those people who still hears Scully say 'I saw it' when she is in the Antarctic in the movie..."  or something like that anyway.  OH MY GOD! This required serious investigation! 

I tried to find out more about this previously unknown occurrence and it seemed that others had also heard The Blessed One say that she had seen the UFO fly over her and that other guy in the movie. 

Of course, this called for immediate first-hand investigation, so as soon as I was able to obtain a copy of the movie (they weren't sold here in Australia for months and months and the American copy I had didn't work on Australian VCRs and of course I had to have my very own copy before I could see it for the tenth time), I reviewed the famous scene and what I heard was this:

(that guy): Scully... you've got to see this... (I think)
TBO: mfi fsewwerflefle (well something incoherent)

Does this translate into "I saw it"? (My hearing isn't the best, I'll admit) Does it say "I saw it" in the script? Is this an omen? ARE WE GOING TO DIE? HELP!

Sister Hogfish (you know, come to think of it this could have all been some sort of weird dream because it's hard to tell sometimes)

---------- 

Sister Hogfish,

As one of those folks who has heard "I saw it" (even before the super-enhanced Tammy Perpetua version at fest) in both the theatre and using my Dolby Surround Sound home theatre system I can say unequivocally that "mfi fsewwerflefle" does indeed translate into "I saw it" with the proper sound system. Unfortunately, Chris Carter apparently was not paying the same attention to that scene as I was.

Oh demure one, I feel so unholy! I have a problem about a TV programme
you may possibly have heard of, called "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." I thought you might be able to help because Abbey rumour has it that you never miss an episode.

Well, I was watching the show the other day when I suddenly felt enormous Mulder!Drilling pangs of guilt in my left temple. Mmm, just there, you've got it. I thought to myself, Self, is it not okay to watch other TV programmes with foxy women in other than our Blessed Saint, just as long as they are not skeletal lawyers? Then I realised the ghastly truth: though I love and revere She-Who-Has-Nice-Toes and try to follow her wisdom in my life, I think I want to *be* Buffy. 

You see, we never had a prom at our school or vampires and now I'm nearing the thirtysomething career woman stage of my life, all I want to do is go back to being sixteen, having a flat stomach, and doing lots of, er, studying in the library with Giles. (Who, by the way, wears his glasses a lot. Unlike some PUNKS I could mention.)

How can I stop this insidious disease and get St. Scully back as a role-model? I tried to identify with 15-year-old Scully in "Emily," but she has really wrong hair. Please help.

Yours cringing in non-high-kick unworthiness, 

Sister Bifar

---------- 

Bifar,

I am not sure where you got that mists of mellow fruitiness analogy, but it kinda scares me.

Clearly you are having a mid life crisis. Can't you just go out and buy a new car or something? Yes, I do enjoy watching Buffy for a little camp diversion, but do I want to be like some over angsty teenager whose only sexual experience is with a 200something year old bloodsucker who revels in badly acted man pain? God no. Even Scully's track record is better than that - and that is saying something. Frankly, as a Scullyists you should be relating to Willow rather than Buffy anyway. If it is just Giles you want to be with I think you'd be better off wanting to be the Taster's Choice Lady. At least she's more your age and gets to eat desserts.

Oh Wise One,

My interest in your brilliantly orchestrated Fest got the best of me this late/early Wednesday, is it? As I'm reading, I see images of Brother Colin and a trout waving, out of the corner of my eye. Wow, I think, animation in the newsletter? This causes me to stare at Brother Colin, and after four minutes, I decide that he only waves when I'm not paying attention. So I move on, only to find that the mimes from Arcadia are doing the same thing. Why are they taunting me?! What have I done?! Isn't it punishment enough to not have attended, but now I must be subliminally mocked by the newsletter? Is this a conspiracy to get non-festers even more upset?! 

It doesn't end there. DPO was playing softly as a soundtrack to this madness, and I hear Scully talking like the "What abaht mah meyun" man. So I hunt down my own copy, and rewind to the place where she stands off with Darren. "Stop. Ah'm warnin' yew." "Ah kin hurt chu too, Ahm gonna give yew three seconds..." Pleeeease tell me this isn't a figment of my post-traumatic-non-fest-induced hysteria. She did live in Pflugerville, didn't she?

~Quee
---------- 

Poor Little Yappy and Festless ~Quee,

Indeed we did plant subtle magic photos in the newsletter about FEST to drive you and only you mad. I'm afraid you are on to us.

Oh, and Scully always talks that way. You mean you never noticed? I love it when she says "Ah fill tahime lack a hurtbite" in Mymynter Maurie. Or perhaps it is once again just you. 

I suppose you think this trout is waving at you too.

"Man Pain." You've heard the term bandied about, you may even presume to know a bit about it. Maybe you have seen it, maybe you have experienced it. Maybe you are totally frightened, and wonder if there is some sort of vaccine or ointment that will protect you from it. Is it contagious? Does it leave a rash? Will it eventually leave you as blind as Mary Ingalls? All good questions, each of which I will attempt to answer, so that in these terms, you might know Man Pain, and might accept this stranger that so many recognize, but cannot ever completely hear about without bursting into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

Man Pain is, in its most simple terms, the awesome pain of being a man. It is not the pain associated with, say, a groin pull, but the face you will make when you experience it is quite similar. The symptoms of Man Pain may manifest themselves in the following ways. If you are experiencing two or more of these symptoms at one time, you will need to make an appointment with a licensed psychologist right away:
 

	Hair that looks like it has been styled by a blind, one armed chimpanzee who is hopped up on goofballs
	An uncontrollable urge to dribble a basketball
	A desire to host a backyard barbecue, where you and your buddies plot to sell out the human race
	A sneering contempt for girl kids
	A need to stick your fingers in goo without the protection of latex
	An urge to throw pencils at the ceiling
	A predilection for bathroom humor

You may also be suffering from the ill-effects of Man Pain if you have ever done the following:
 

	Given your daughter to a bunch of aliens
	Given your wife to a bunch of aliens
	Written to letters to your estranged son while sequestered in a remote cabin somewhere in Canada
	A sneering contempt for girl kids
	Seen your sister abducted by aliens
	Had holes drilled in your head
	Ditched your partner
	Shot your own son because he was the Diet Coke of evil
	Found out that the Navy refers to your mother as a "friendly port"
	Worn a pink shirt with an alligator on the breast
	Played basketball instead of going to work
	Head butted someone to get information

You may be wondering if, as a woman, you are immune to Man Pain. The answer is 'Yes,' insomuch as you cannot actually generate Man Pain on your own. Unfortunately, you can be on the receiving end of Man Pain. If you have ever experienced the following, you were almost certainly a victim of Projected Man Pain:
 

	You were abducted by aliens
	You had an implant placed in the back of your neck
	You have ever been duct-taped to anything
	You are routinely ditched by your partner
	You don't have your own desk, office, or nameplate
	You have been exposed to an alien virus as the result of a bee sting
	You have been held captive in an alien goo pod
	Your sister was shot by someone who meant to kill you
	Your ova are in someone's freezer
	The bad guys, who routinely torment you, also seem to routinely forget your name
	The one really hot date you've had in four years ends up with you almost being stuffed in an incinerator
	Your older brother bullies you, and your younger brother is never around

Of course, these are but few of the symptoms of Man Pain. However, being aware of its existence is half the battle. Once you know that it exists, you can take steps to protect yourself against it. Remember the following tips:
 

	Basketball does not equal Love
	Barbecues are about cooking meat over an open flame. They are not about weaving sinister plots against humankind
	The Flowbee was a poor invention and should never be used
	Toilet jokes are rarely, if ever, actually funny

Man Pain is no laughing matter. Okay, it is pretty funny, but only if it does not affect you. Remember that people live with Man Pain, they carry on. And so will you.

May the Blessings of Saint Scully guide you on your path to healthy, Man Pain-free living.

ACT ONE
FADE IN ON:

AN OLD BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPH

A snapshot, faded and rather old now. Two men, standing as friends in a featureless landscape. Close but not touching, squinting at the photographer in what might be mistaken for smiles. Obliged looks, as though the subjects were caught in the middle of something. A disagreement, or a misunderstanding. The men are in their young 30s, wearing the more conservative attire of men in 1973. It is a picture of nothing in particular that somehow says almost all there is to say about certain men of consequence. About the pain of being a man and the state of political savagery in which they must by necessity dwell.

We HOLD ON THIS PHOTO, as FLAMES arise to it and burn it into nothingness. And now CREDITS CAN BEGIN.