Issue 25: Don't Bother Me, I'm Thinking
By Medulla Vesuvius

The State of Nerd City Address

Madam Artist Logan, Mr. Atoz, the Librarian, Sydney Brown, Amdnarg Toh, Dr. Roger Korby, Rascal Stallion, Jeffrey Logan, The Dude, distinguished guests and fellow readers:

This rite of custom brings us together at a defining hour – when decisions are hard and courage is tested. We enter the year 2007 with large endeavors underway, and others that are ours to begin. In all of this, much is asked of us. We must have the will to face difficult challenges and determined enemies – and the wisdom to face them together.

Some of you reading this are new to this fine institution – and I congratulate you on your refined taste. Nerd City has changed, but our responsibilities have not. Each of us is guided by our own convictions – and to these we must stay faithful. Yet we are all held to the same standards, and called to serve the same good purposes: to extend this online magazine’s prosperity … to spend our AdSense money wisely … to solve problems, not leave them to future generations … to guard Nerd City against all evil, and to keep faith with those we have sent forth to defend us.

We are not the first to come here with an online magazine divided and uncertainty in the air. Like many before us, we can work through our differences, and achieve big things for the people of this fine city. Our citizens don’t much care which side of the aisle we sit on, whether we think Star Trek or Star Wars is cooler – as long as we are willing to cross that aisle when there is work to be done. Our job is to make life better for our fellow nerds, and help them to build a future of hope and opportunity – and this is the business before us tonight.

A future of hope and opportunity begins with a growing readership – and that is what we have. Also, we are now in the twelfth month of uninterrupted reporting, musing, and spirited discourse – in a year that has created 123 new articles and 147 comments … so far. This magazine is on the move – and our job is to keep it that way.

Extending hope and opportunity with our publication requires an immigration system worthy of Nerd City – with laws that are fair and borders that are secure. We should establish a legal and orderly path for outside writers to enter our realms of social influence and work on a temporary basis. I think of writers like Statica and Galdrysyll Soeval, who have contributed interesting think pieces here and there. As a result, they won’t have to try to sneak in – and that will leave our webmaster free to chase down comment spam and broken links. We need to uphold the great tradition of the melting pot that welcomes and assimilates new arrivals. And we need to resolve the status of those migrant writers who are already in our midst – without animosity and without amnesty.

For all of us in this room, there is no higher responsibility than to protect the readership of this magazine from danger. Ten to fifteen years have come and gone since we saw the scenes and felt the sorrow that jocks can cause. We have had time to take stock of our situation. We know with certainty that the horrors of high school were just a glimpse of what the jocks intend for us – unless we stop them.

With the distance of time, we find ourselves debating the causes of conflict and the course we have followed. Such debates are essential when a great demographic such as nerd-dom faces great questions. Yet one question has surely been settled – that to win the war on jocks we must take the fight to the enemy.

From the start, Nerd City and our allies have protected our people by staying on the offense. The enemy knows that the days of comfortable sanctuary, easy movement, and free flowing communications are long over.

Our success in this war is often measured by the things that did not happen. We cannot know the full extent of the attacks that we and our allies have prevented – but here is some of what we do know: My sophomore year of high school, the football team scored exactly no points and one field goal the whole season. When I and the rest of the marching band booed them for that field goal in the last game of the year, we thought that their revenge was sufficiently exacted when they, as a unified group, flipped us all off. But later that night Eddy Hrlicka overheard a conversation amongst the jocks and intercepted their plan to give swirlies to any band members they encountered for the next week. I don’t have to tell you that all of our daily routes to lockers and the cafeteria were all improvised for the following week.

Every success against the jocks is a reminder of the shoreless ambitions of this enemy. The evil that inspired and rejoiced in high school and junior high is still at work in the world. And so long as that is the case, Nerd City is still a magazine at war.

In the minds of the jocks, this war began well before junior high, and will not end until their radical vision is fulfilled. And these past ten to fifteen years have given us a much clearer view of the nature of this enemy. The football team and its followers are sports extremists, possessed by hatred and commanded by a harsh and narrow ideology. Take almost any principle of civilization, and their goal is the opposite. They preach with threats … instruct with balls and clipboards … and promise paradise for the swirlies of the innocent.

Our enemies are quite explicit about their intentions. They want to overthrow free thought, uncoolness and academic pursuits and establish safe havens from which to plan and carry out new attacks on nerds. By terrorizing nerds, they want to force us to retreat from the world and abandon the cause of knowledge and enthusiasm for things outside the mainstream. They would then be free to impose their will and spread their totalitarian ideology.

This war is more than a clash of arms – it is a decisive ideological struggle, and the security of our publication, nay, the security of the nerd race is in the balance. To prevail, we must remove the conditions that inspire blind ignorance and obedience to the culture of cool. What every jock fears most is human freedom – societies where men and women make their own choices about whether comic book plots should strive for continuity or whether digital is superior to analog, societies where people answer to their own conscience, and live by their hopes instead of their resentments. Free people are not drawn to violent and malignant ideologies – and most will choose a better way when they are given a chance. So we advance our own nerd interests by helping moderates, reformers, and brave voices for scholasticism and pastiness. The great question of our day is whether Nerd City will help men and women to build free societies and share in the rights of all humanity. And I say, for the sake of our own security … we must.

In such courage and compassion, ladies and gentlemen, we see the spirit and character of Nerd City – and these qualities are not in short supply. This is a decent and honorable publication – and resilient, too. We have been through a lot together. We have met challenges and faced dangers, and we know that more lie ahead.

I think of the Great Ice Storm of 2007 when most of us couldn’t leave our houses, forcing us to delay publication by a week and the Great Ice Storm of 2006, which nearly killed Dr. Roger Korby and yes, pushed back publication by another week.

I think of the exercise of extreme discipline shown in Rascal Stallion’s reporting of the Tournament of Villainy. I remember consoling him while he was in tears, his voice cracking as he whispered “I can’t go on. You have to do it for me.” “No, my brother,” I reassured him. “You have been chosen for this task. Only you can write those 1000 words.”

I think of the new challenges we have brought on ourselves in dispensing facts for the Superhero Information Initiative. These superheroes are not going to exalt themselves, people.

Yet we can go forward with confidence – because the State of our Nerd City is strong … our cause in the world is right … and tonight that cause goes on.

God bless Nerd City and its vanilla suburbs.

Issue 25: Various and Sundry
By Statica

A French War

“Well, you see, if I would not have killed her the situation would have been even more complicated.”

It wasn’t that he was not in love with her. I think the relationship’s passion level was comparable to that of a rabid German Shepherd to an Irish goat. So, why the inexplicable action? What is it about the opposite sex that evokes such passion- a passion which was once expressed by actions of love and selflessness, but now is revealed by evil plots and desires?

I, for one, thought my companion, or amigo if you will, was taking this situation to a level one degree, or perhaps two, higher than necessary.

I am sure the German Shepherd had no idea he was eating my friend’s Irish goat and consequently devouring his means of income. I am positive that the German canine would have found another, “less essential” Irish Goat if he had known the situation. I could understand if the Germans had pummeled the Irish in a futbol match, but this was only his business and lifestyle.

He was a rancher and a shepherd. Ironically, he was of German descent, dating (carbon) back to the 1600’s. His father was a dog-breeder and his mother a well-to-do harlot. So this poses a difficult question on our humanness. Why would a German Shepherd act in such a way to demean and attempt to destroy a fellow German Shepherd? (I use this term loosely.) Why must we, as humans, compete against one another for our own selfish gain?

In the end, our hands may be full of possessions, but our hearts are heavy with guilt, our seats at the dinner table are left unoccupied, and our funeral is largely unattended, save the people who are present only to ease their guilt-laden souls due to the fact that they stand to lavishly inherit the despot’s riches.

Is this what life has become? What happened to good, old-fashioned teamwork? I propose a treaty between the now-at-war Irish and German people. Senseless fighting and rabble-rousing is not the answer. Be more like France. Run away!

Issue 25: Life in Space
By Mr. Atoz, The Librarian

Fargo Trek

A Play

(The U.S.S. Enterprise receives a distress signal from 20th Century Earth. Kirk and Spock beam down to where the distress signal has originated. The coordinates match a small bar outside of Brainerd, North Dakota. In order to blend in with that society, Kirk and Spock dress in clothes of that region and time period….turtlenecks and wool coats. Spock, of course, has to wear a stocking cap to cover his ears.)

Kirk: What a peculiar place this is, Mr. Spock.

Spock (taking out his tricorder): Indeed, Captain. However, this establishment is not dissimilar to our officer’s club on board the Enterprise. I have noticed, Captain, that there is one patron that is not participating in the consumption of elixiric beverages nor playing billiards.

(Spock points to a fidgety, sandy-haired gentleman sitting in a booth. They both walk over to the booth and sit down.)

Kirk: We received your distress signal. What is this about, Mr………

Jerry: Lundergaard, Jerry Lundegaard. Pleased to meet you.

Kirk: We’ll see about that, Mr……….Lundegaard, is it?

Jerry: Yes, Jerry. Jerald. Jerry. Jerry Lundegaard. I work for my father-in-law, Wade.

Spock: Weed?

Jerry: No, Wade.

Spock: (raises an eyebrow)

Kirk: What do you want from us, Mr…Lundegaard?

Jerry: Well,….it’s Jean……it’s my wife……it’s Jean……………..

Kirk: What does your wife have to do with my ship, Mr?

Jerry: Well, I’d like for you to kidnap my wife. See, I’m going to take the ransom money from my father-in-law and then I’ll give it to you guys.

Kirk: Why?

Jerry: See?…..these are personal matters that……see…..I needn’t………….

Spock: Forgive me, Mr. Lundegaard, but your plan seems illogical. It is……to coin a phrase from your 20th century culture…… “robbing Peter to pay Paul.”

Jerry: No, it’s not.

Spock: Indeed it is, Mr. Lundegaard

Jerry: No….see?….it’s…..

Kirk: We are not going to debate with you, Mr. We are not going to sit here and debate. We don’t need your money. Why else should we do this?

Jerry: Well, I’ll knock $100 off the TruCoat I put on your ship……..

Kirk: Are you threatening my ship, Mr!?!?!?!?!

Jerry: No……no…..I’m not…….no. (chuckles)

Spock: Forgive me again, Mr. Lundegaard, but we should contact the local law enforcement.

Jerry: NO! No cops! This is my deal here!

Kirk: All right. We’ll do it. For my ship.

(The next day, Spock and Kirk take Jerry’s tan Sierra and kidnap his wife, Jean. They drive back to Brainerd, but on the way they are stopped by a local highway patrolman. Spock, in a fit of Vulcan rage because of the imminent Pon Fa’ar, kills the Highway Patrolman in cold blood. Kirk calls Lundegaard at his office.)

Jerry: Jerry Lundegaard here.

Kirk: Listen to me. Listen to me, Mr. Where’s that money? I have to get back to my ship.

Jerry: I…..I don’t have the money just yet there……see…..I…….

Kirk: Listen to me, Mr. You drop the money off on top of the parking lot garage or we’ll turn you in to the local authorities. We need that money now. Blood has been shed, Jerry, blood has been shed.

Jerry: What are you talking about? What have you two gotten yourselves mixed up in? This was supposed to be a no rough stuff type deal. Now, a deal’s a deal……….

Kirk: Listen to me, Mister!! You ask those two poor souls in Brainerd if a deal’s a deal. Go ahead, you Klingon bastard, ask them!!

Jerry: Whatdaheckdoyoumean?

Kirk: “Whatdaheckdoyoumean”?

(Kirk hangs up.)

(Later, Spock and Kirk are on the top level of the parking garage waiting for the drop. But instead of Jerry, they get an old man they don’t recognize.)

Spock: Forgive me, but where is Jerry?

Wade: Here’s your money!! Now where’s my daughter. I’m not just whistling Dixie here, I assure you…..

Kirk: Where’s Jerry? Is he doing something to my ship??

Wade: Where’s Jean?

Spock: Give us the currency, sir, and you shall have your daughter.

Wade: No Jean, no money!!

Kirk: Is this some kind of joke

Wade: No Jean, no money, you dumbass!!

Kirk: Well, double-dumbass on you!!

(Kirk then takes out his phaser and kills Wade.)

The End

Issue 25: Tournament of Villainy
By Rascal Stallion

Shredder vs Commodus

Name: Oroku Saki aka Shredder		Name: Marcus Aurelius Commodus Antoninus
Occupation: Ninjutsu Master	vs.	Occupation: Roman Emperor
Origin: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles		Origin: Roman History/Gladiator

The dank hallway reeked with the musty smell of air that has been still for too long. Shredder’s nose told him these passageways under the palace had remained vacant for a very long time.

The Shredder crept along undetected through the palace until he found himself at the door of Commodus’ bedroom. He silently dispatched the two guards and opened the door. As Shredder crept inside he was horrified to find Commodus not only awake but fully armed and dressed in his armor.

They stared at one another and finally Commodus broke the silence. “It vexes me why you would be sent to kill me. Did you really think it would be that easy?”

Commodus’ words were met with silence so he continued. “Your Emperor asks for your loyalty, Shredder. Join me or you will never see the sun rise again. Take my hand, I only offer it once.”

Shredder answered by unsheathing his sword and charging at the emperor. Each parry and feint by one was met with evasion by the other, neither one able to gain a discernible advantage.

Finally Shredder spotted an error in Commodus’ technique and landed a strike that pierced the Emperor’s greaves and gashed his thigh deeply. Commodus was stunned. However, as Shredder prepared to deal the death blow he was accosted by another pair of palace guards.

With blinding ferocity the Shredder made quick work of the guards, leaving them in bloody heaps on the exquisite marble floor.

While Shredder was distracted Commodus climbed up into a balcony and leveled his bow at the ninja. He aimed at the eye holes in Shredder’s armor and let fly his arrow. It’s been said that Commodus can shoot the head of an ostrich at full gallop. Now, I’m not one to call those people liars, but this time Commodus’ aim was a little less than true. The arrow sailed harmlessly past Shredder and was lost in the window dressing behind him.

Shredder advanced up the stairs as Commodus readied another arrow. This one found a home as it sunk deeply into Shredder’s shoulder, breaking his collarbone.

Shredder dropped to one knee. Sensing the change in momentum, Commodus taunted the intruder. “You and I are not much different. You take life when you have to, as I do. Am I not merciful? AM I NOT MERCIFUL?!?”

As Commodus prepared to shoot the arrow that would claim the Shredder’s life the ninja slipped a Shuriken from his waistband and flung it towards his enemy. The throwing star buried itself deeply between Commodus’ eyes, finally resting at the tip of his frontal lobe. Commodus’ unshot arrow fell to the ground. It would never know the glory of flight or battle.

View Tournament Bracket

Issue 25: Tournament of Villainy
By Rascal Stallion

Wicked Witch of the West vs The Soggies

Name: Wicked Witch of the West		Name: Snyder and Sylvester Soggie
Occupation: Witch	vs.	Occupation: Unknown
Origin: The Wizard of Oz		Origin: Cap’n Crunch Commercials

Snyder and Sylvester Soggie were mysteriously transported to the magical world of Oz. As wonderful as it was they desperately longed to go home. They begged the Wizard of Oz to send them home and he promised he would do so if they only completed a simple task for him. All they had to do to return home was kill the Wicked Witch of the West. This is where our story begins.

After traveling for many days the Soggies finally closed in on the Wicked Witch. She spied them approaching and screamed “So, you think you can get me, do you? Die, you foul creatures!”

Suddenly a horde of winged monkeys assaulted the soggies and lifted them high up into the air. The soggies wailed as the monkeys’ claws dug deep. The soggies twisted and fought the monkeys as they were lifted higher and higher into the air.

Snyder managed to squirm enough to get a hand free and poke the eyes of the monkey carrying Sylvester. Sylvester’s monkey howled in pain and loosened his grip. A swift kick to the groin caused Sylvester’s monkey to release him fully.

Sylvester managed to grab onto Snyder’s leg as he began to fall. He held on for a moment but the weight was too much for Snyder’s monkey and now both soggies found themselves rapidly hurtling towards the earth!

The Soggies aimed their bodies straight at the Wicked Witch, slamming into her with a thunderous squish. The Witch cried out in pain and fury as the moisture from the Soggies covered her and began melting her.

The fight was over as the Soggies had unwittingly reduced their foe to a green puddle of goo. Ding dong- the witch is dead.

View Tournament Bracket