Volume 1, Issue 8 December 1995 _____________________ | ------------------- | Conceived, created, and birthed by: || || Francesca Parker || UTOPIA || (flparker@midway.uchicago.edu) || || Kari Bauer || PARKWAY[tm] || (klbauer@midway.uchicago.edu) || || Kate Pickering | ------------------- | (kate@snafu.mit.edu) --------------------- | | | | Contents: | | | | | | | | o Despots' Log . . . . o Amused Diner: A Little Something . . . . to Choke Back As You Kick Back o A Wool-Hatted Visitor From Beyond Violators of o * Sorbet * Copyright Laws in Every Nation o Miss UP: Blood, Nukes, and Manicures and State o Mutant Crafts From the Corn Belt o Our Sponsor Wishes You and Yours a Ripping Holiday Season *FOR ALL THOSE TIMES WHEN YOU WISH YOU WERE A FAT OLD MAN IN A RED SUIT* Copyright (c) 1995 by Kari Bauer, Francesca Parker and Katherine M. Pickering All rights reserved ------UP--------------------------------------------------------------- DESPOTS' LOG: VOLUME I ISSUE 8 The December 1995 issue of Utopia Parkway rose to its unique historical position under a very specific set of social and political influences. Pickering, Bauer and Parker had spent the preceeding weeks defending the southern and western boundaries of their universe so that when the blow was struck in the north, it proved fatal. The universe's rulers were only able to communicate to a limited degree and this also was damaging. And so, although the December issue is often overlooked as an unfortunate but minor moment in history, it arguably exemplifies the balance of internal and external forces in a fragile universe like few other moments do. Through careful study, it becomes clear that the issue in question can actually be viewed as a turning point of Utopia Parkway's history. To be brief, it is. Exams, eggnog and epicures. Ain't December grand? (It hasn't escaped our attention that many of you are reading this in January...but, hey, we can't write you each your own issue, now can we?) Happy (C)han(n)u(k)ka(h) Joyous Solstice Merry Christmas Happy Kwanzaa and Fruity New Year! your ever-lovin' management, Kate, Kari & Franny ------UP--------------------------------------------------------------- Cheap Entertainment for People with Low Amusement Thresholds *and* The Utopia Parkway Diner Two great tastes that go great together, eh? We thought it was only appropriate given the nature of many traditional holiday foods, in particular the Great American Fruitcake. Oh, how it looms large in our collective consciousness. The suggestion is simple: print out this issue, bake it into (and you're welcome to interpret that preposition in whatever way you'd like, from incorporating-into-a-larger-recipe to moulding-into-the-shape-of) a fruitcake, and see if anybody notices. What an easy, amusing recipe! This has enormous potential for a science experiment, as well: if the theory is correct that there is actually only one fruitcake in the entire universe, a single fruitcake that is constantly recirculating, and not the numerous fruitcakes which one might assume from their regular, if somewhat enigmatic, appearance during the christmas season, well then, someone's sure to notice the faux UP fruitcake that has mysteriously entered the loop, no? Let us just say, however, that if they come after us, we're pointing them right back at ya, baby. Unless they have treats for us. We're suckers for treats. ------UP--------------------------------------------------------------- *'Twas the Night Before Androo* 'Twas the night before the decuple-month fiesta of the defenestration of the astral frame And all down the parkway Not a vehicle was stirring Not even a biplane The coffee mugs were hung By the diner with care In hopes Uncle Androo Soon would be there When out by the gas pumps We heard such a clatter We sprang from our universe To see what was the matter The convenience foods Strewn on the new-fallen snow Gave the luster of Walmart To the parking lot flow When in front of our Wondering eyes there burst in A miniature yugo And eight magnificent griffins And a man of dementia So witty and shrewd We knew it a moment It must be Androo More rapid than accordion-mobiles The dragons they flew And he cried forth - he *yodeled* Each cognomen on cue: "Now Rupert! Now Rumpkin! Now Basil and Triscuit! On Gamera, on Guillermo! On Spackle and Biscuit! To the top of the clover leaf! To the top of the ramp! Now next exit, next exit! For gas - our last chance!" When all of a sudden On the counter top - look! The gamboling and clawing Of each petite hook As we set them a table, Turned the 'closed' sign around Through the meat-freezer Uncle Androo came with a bound He was dressed all in tatters From his hat to the floor And his clothes were all tarnished With byproducts and gore His clothes how they sparkled Though not a one bought with gold Reds, violets and purples Spilled out of his soul And the dragons sat patiently Out in the lot We served up the Blue Plate Special The best that we've got Uncle Androo, in turn, Went straight to the kitchen And fixed up a meal Of kraut juice and lichen He was a balmy young stripling From Arkansas this fellow With a keen sense of direction And a penchant for jello With a maniacal laugh He dissolved all our fears Who could challenge this man? Not some guy and his deers Without another word He went straight to his work And tuned-up the jukebox, Then turned with a jerk Linoleum he layed And formica he polished 'Til it shown forth in brilliance Our diner he garnished Our beautiful diner Was mere road-stop no more But a mythical land As in ancient folklore With a tip of his hat And a turn of his prose Towards the sideboard he glided And up the dumb-waiter he rose He called to his griffins Who heeded the whistle And away they all flew Like the down of a thistle And with one final roar As he motored off in flight "Happy decuple-month fiesta of the defenestration of the astral frame to all, And to all a Good Night!" ------UP--------------------------------------------------------------- * * * * *SORBET* * * * * "Pushkin had fours sons, all idiots. One didn't even know how to sit on a chair and fell off all the time. Pushkin himself also sat on a chair rather badly. It was simply killing: they sat at the table; at one end, Pushkin kept falling off his chair continually, and at the other end, his son. Simply enough to make one split one's sides with laughter." --Daniil Kharms ------UP--------------------------------------------------------------- *Miss Utopia Parkway 1954 On Career Moves in the 90s* Miss UP clearly shares our penchant for [especially] pathetic individuals, because her pick for the month of the letters she received are from the same person. Or gimp, as s/he/it (say it out loud!) has affectionately come to be known around our office. At any rate, we'll get out of the light now; without further ado, the world-wide exclusive not-for-profit global-release premiere of the Utopia Parkway[tm] advice column, where the one-time beauty queen of Queens will continue to reign supreme in the realm of Understanding and Comfort. And if you have no idea what we're talking about it, see Vol. I Issue 7 (mail kmpicker@midway.uchicago.edu for back issues - as free as they were the first time!) * * * * * Subject: Help!! Miss Up, I am a man torn between two worlds. Actually, I know where I'm headed, but it's the wrong direction. I am breeding insufficiency every day I stay en route. That is because I am going to the land of the meaningless. I am an International Relations student. If I continue, I might work to alleviate hyper-nationalism or fanaticism or unmanaged nuclear proliferation or war crimes. But what is that in the world of today? I feel a certain calling. My inards pull towards a different trade - one that really suits me and makes me happy. Miss Up - I am a nail technician to the core. I care not for management of nuclear arms. Hyper-nationalism does not concern me. Really. I just keep telling myself - "I see more nails in a day than I see terrorists in a lifetime." Yet I can't pull myself out. Help me. I can't pull myself out. Help. Yours, Babahatchi Babahatchi - Listen, honey - life is full of hard choices. You have to listen to your heart (and not your hormones) in matters of life-commitment, you know? Here, think of it this way. Say you own a nail parlour. A lady comes in, a nice lady, one you'd be proud to bring home to your mother. She asks you, should she go with the cotton candy pink, or a nice shade of mauve? What do you say? Does it really matter what occasion she's getting her nails done for? Would she like to go to dinner with you? Would she make you a meatloaf, with maybe a nice potato dish or French's greenbean cassorole on the side and a jello mould for dessert? I think you know the answers. So go to the meatloaf dinner. You sound like a nice boy. If you ever set up shop in Queens, let me know. Miss UP ****** Subject: Ouch!! THis sucks. Miss Up, I was cutting my fingar nails with a scissors, ant I cut myslalf bat. Thara's bloot, ant I'm having troubla typing, ant it's baan blaating for quita soma tima now, ant now I can't raally saa or haar much anymora. I hopa you untarstant. I hopa you raply quickly. It hurts bat, Babahatchi Sweetheart! Get some medical attention. And rethink your answers to the last set of questions...You might also want to decide if you'd prefer the universe to be at the mercy of your scissors or your warheads. Best of luck. Miss UP * * * * * * And this is no one-time gimmick! No no! Miss UP will continue to make your worries, pleas, desperate longings and pfefferneuf her own, replying with timely and apt solutions right here, published for the whole world to see! Mail your problems (in a water-proof envelope, please!) to: missup@macatawa.org ------UP--------------------------------------------------------------- *Scissors & Donuts: Who'd Have Ever Thought Hell Would Be This Much Fun* Welcome to our Arts & Crafts Hour, where we invite you to leave your worries outside; instead, relax and rejoice in the warmth of Elmer's. Or is this the Diner? Christmas sure inspires a, um, special kind of spirit in us all. Now we know why they call them Winter Bazaars. RUDY WITH CURLED-FORK ANTLERS! For antlers, bring a pan with three inches of water to a boil*. Hold fork (cheap one) [sic] straight down in water with tines lightly touching bottom of pan. Gently press down. As fork begins to soften, tines will curl. Remove fork from water and let cool. Curl a second fork the same way. Use scissors to cut off handles (leaving 1/2")*. Glue tan pom-poms together (one 1" and one 2" diameter)*. Glue a 1/4" red pom-pom to end of muzzle. Glue two 12mm [what's with the crossing metric systems??] wiggle eyes to head [wiggle your own eyes as you do this]. Glue antlers to top of head. For hanger, fold a length of red yarn into a loop and knot ends together. Glue hanger to top of head [the *reindeer's* head, not yours!]. (by Janice Atwood, Chester, Vermont.) *NOTE: Adult supervision is needed when using stove, glue gun, and when cutting handles off forks. CRUSHED-CAN SANTA Smash a Coke[tm] can vertically with opening at top of can. [Pause a moment to feel the dent it left in your forehead.] Bend bottom of can back*. Paint top of can flesh. Paint silver area and rim of opening, and a 3/4" diameter wooden ball red. Let dry. Glue three 10mm [*sigh*] gold jingle bells across the brim of a small purchased Santa hat*. Glue a small artificial holly sprig to crown area. Fold tip over and glue to brim. Paint beard, mustache, and sides of head with fantasy snow* [you might want to throw on a few cotton balls, too, in case no one else can see your fantasies]. Let dry. Glue two 10mm wiggle eyes to face area. Glue nose to face [unless of course, your nose is already securely attached.]. Cut ear pieces from miniature gold wire glasses [yes, *yours*] and glue to head [*Santa's*...oh. You knew that.] Glue hat to head [carefully, now. Be sure to thoroughly saturate your hair with glue, otherwise it might not stick]. For hanger, loop a length of gold cording and knot ends together. Glue loop to back of hat. (by Jolene Stevenson, Spanish Fork [reindeer-headed?], Utah.) [See our web site to truly appreciate the crazed-madman-Boo-Radley look Jolene has managed to create on this very special craft: http://student-www.uchicago.edu] *NOTE: Adult supervision is needed when crushing and bending can and when using a glue gun. SIX-PACK CAN HOLDER WREATH Cut a 12" diameter donut from cardboard. [This works, though not as well, with a powdered donut] Paint front of donut. [It gets a little tricky around here, but hang in there.] Let dry. Carefully trim small tabs from inside of rings. To glue one holder to donut, glue one end of holder to back of donut. Bend holder around front of donut and glue opposite end to back [of donut]. [make futile attempt to glue donut back together] (HINT: Pig-iron futures. Oh, and Hold ends in place until glue sets.) Repeat, staggering and overlapping holders as you work around wreath. Glue two more layers of holders to wreath in the same way. (NOTE: First row is glued plastic to cardboard, remaining rows are glued, or tied with fishing line, plastic to plastic. [And donuts.]) Paint wreath. Let dry. Glue pony beads to wreath. [what they don't mention is that you'll need at least three or four apples to get them away from the pony.] Tie ribbon to wreath and tie in bow. For hanger, loop and tie a length of fishing line to back of wreath. *NOTE: Adult supervision is needed when using a glue gun and spray paint. If you have soft-drink machines at your school or your parent's work, ask the delivery person to save the holders for you when they come to fill the machines.) [And always wait half an hour after eating before swimming.] Don't forget to visit the Utopia Parkway[tm] website to view these masterpieces for yourself: http://student-www.uchicago.edu/users/kmpicker/main.html All crafts courtesy of "Pack-O-Fun: From the Crafts 'n Things Family", December 1995. Please note, this issue also features imaginative ideas for a Baby Jesus Birthday Party. ------UP--------------------------------------------------------------- This issue of _Utopia Parkway_ has been sponsored by the fruity goodness of..... * * * * * * * * * MISTLETOE * * * * * * * * * Mistletoe, the parasitic evergreen plant of yellowish flowers and shiny, white poisonous berries, which our society has adopted as the fern o' looove. Part of a well-balanced breakfast. The management accepts no responsibility. For anything. ------UP---------------------------Y'all drive safe now, ya hear?----