Greetings, citizen. Do you have enough oxygen? Welcome to Got Ghand #6. This is a very special Got Ghand, for two reasons.
First of all, this Got Ghand is special because it's honoring a certain production: Space Ghost: Coast to Coast. Space Ghost is an absolutely hilarious show, if you've never seen it, and is, at heart, a complete mockery of the original 60's action/adventure Space Ghost show. In essence, it's a cartoon talk show, cheaply animated, and extremely well-written. So go ahead, see how many Space Ghost inside jokes you can find in this issue of Got Ghand. There are plenty. Trust me on that one.
Second, this Got Ghand is special because, if you'll notice, it's massively long.
Maybe I'm just getting too much mail.
Which is good! Remember to kick my inbox in the groin, and mail me all you got. On with the insanity!
:Begin Transmission:
Hello again, fine readers!
If Majestic 12 was a plague, say, a wart, then it would be this wart on my ass, right here. I keep picking at the damn thing, and all it does is puss all over, and then grows back. And then I go to the doctor, and he says it's not actually a wart, but an alien tumor. Good Lord! And then his skin tears off and he turns into Elvis, from Perfect Dark. Man, did I want to strangle that big-headed alien freak!
Where were we?
Oh, yes, the mailbag, of course.
First of all, I'd like to note that I have received a message from a certain PDX reader who got rather offended by my poll comments for Poll #10. I won't print the letter, or the name, but I would like to beg pardon for the remarks. I apologize for offending you, sir, and I'd like to thank you for informing me of this situation. After all, it's not my job to offend.
...Even though I have all that babble about feeding LSD to puppies in my articles.
But, of course, that's just innocent humor. So, putting that issue aside, let's get to the mailbag, shall we?
To: Prisoner #AA-23
From: Walton Simons (F.E.M.A)
HA!! Bet you thought J.C killed me! Showed you up! I am now in control of MJ12. You are now the first test subject for the new "Flourescent Death" Not only does it look awful and ugly, but it INFECTS CHEESE!!! As of now I have also ordered a battilon of soldiers and military bots to remove your pants; force will be used if nessacary. NO MORE POCKETS. You will recieve new dull grey pants. And also, as of now we will be putting 2 guards on patrol. I am so sick of their complaining about you killing thier buddies. Do you have any idea of how much paperwork it creates for me? I WILL be paying you a visit shortly. NSF Slime, Burn in hell.
P.S: Please do not stack bodies in the doorway of detention the Janitors are soooo sick of cleaning them up.
P.S.S: Seeing as Bob Page is dead we have funding problems. I am forced to use hotmail even though my connection is $100/Hr.
-Walton Simons (Director of FEMA & MJ 12 (That's the secret bit))
Bah, Mr. Simons, everyone knows you're not really from F.E.M.A. by now. And I'll stack the bodies wherever I damn well please! Besides, I have my own problems to worry about... like... uh... eh... world hunger!
See, I plan to attach a speaker to my head so that people will stop asking me for sandwiches.
That should work, right?
...It worked for Tad.
Wait, no it didn't. He just got beaten with sticks. Feh!
Do you think it's a cow? NO! You see... I have some information that will benefit you greatly...
That cow is really MJ12's latest weapon... the COW-109773908472684-Alpha... How can I explain it? It's rather like a Swiss Army Knife (I must mention that Switzerland was never touched by the Grey Death... ahahahahahahahaha). Push the left eye... and it will explode. Push the right eye... and it will transform into a giant, 14-ton replica of Zsa Zsa Gabor. All of the milk-producing outlets of the cow produce milk that is laden with LSD (What is the average airspeed of an unladen glass of milk?). All of this technology reminds me of a new escape plan...
Operation ZZ:
1. Grab your trusty Rodent-Spork.
2. Find a small panel on the side of the COW-Alpha.
3. Pry the panel open by repeatedly bashing it with your head.
4. Find a blue wire (Well... okay... any wire will do...).
5. Instruct the furry rodent to knaw off the insulation of the wire.
6. Grab an extra spork.
7. Connect the wire to the spork.
8. Smash your head on the panel to close it.
9. Regain conciousness.
10. Push the RIGHT EYE!!!!
11. Climb up Zsa Zsa's leg.
12. Get to the head.
13. Push the LEFT EYE!!!!
14. When Zsa Zsa explodes the force will propel you up.
15. Smash through the celing with your head.
16. Find a guard.
17. Summon your inner chi and kill him with your mind.
18. Steal his mask.
19. Put the mask on over your balaclava.
20. Sneak into the office of the Head Guard.
21. Say "Hello" to him.
22. When he leaves, get yourself onto the payroll computer.
23. Get paid to sit in jail and write columns.
24. When you have enough money, buy yourself many peaches and cheese.
25. Use any leftover cash to bribe your way out of the compound.
There... another easy-to-do plan.
-The Italic Squirrel
...I used to be so pretty...
...In Paris...
What? Are we filming? *taps microphone*
Oh. I tried pushing the cow's eye, and it just blinked and made funny noises. Then I drank some milk, and we laughed.
Good times, good times...
Anyway, here's my preferred method of bomb disarming.
1. Pick up bomb.
2. Hold bomb out at arms length.
3. Wait until timer reaches 1 second.
4. Scream, "I'M COMIN' HOME, MOMMA!"
5. Blow up.
6. Respawn.
(Note: Plan ONLY works for those who can respawn.)
Haha, this is my 1st time reading Got Ghand? and it was hilarious, but is it suppose to mean something? I mean, cause it didn't make any sense at all, I just thought it was funny. Is it suppose to be like a Deus Ex comic relief series of stories or something? Anyway, that was really funny. Good-job on the pics. Oh, and I was just wondering, what is your obession with Mr. T all about?
In question,
Jeremy Scott aka MereMoth
Mr. T and I... well, I... I don't want to talk about it...
Waitaminute, "is it supposed to mean something?" What is THAT supposed to mean? I think YOU mean something by THAT. Is it supposed to mean something? No, not the article. Your comment. Is it supposed to mean something. Okay, that time it was the comment... is it supposed to mean something supposed to mean something? Agh! Damn! I'm confusing myself again!
AL 4 JOO GHAND IN UR POR LITLE RATZ CAGE tHINGY, IM SURe YOU SEE LOTTS OV THS ALREDY BUT THIS IS JU$t 4 JOO MB JOO ARE CLEVA ENUF TO SNEK OUT AN GRABB A MAJESTICO TWELV HNDHELDD INTERNET ACESSR THINGY. ENJY AN SAFE ESCAPZ FORM UR EVL CAPITIVTY ALTHO MJ21 IZ LONG DDESTYED BYE JC DENTON MY HERO GO HEM HE FCKUN RULZ LIK JOO IM SUR K SRY GG BYE.
HIR THY IZ:
www.squirrelsex.com
www.HumpingSquirrels.com
NJOY. HAV FUN WIT TEH COW CELMAT. HIR IS MY FAV PICs I HAV THM ON MY WALZ - ALL OV THEM. I LUV THEM 4EVR.
...
No comment necessary.
Anyway, here's the absolute, #1, weirdest piece of mail I've ever received:
Dear Sirs,
I find it strange that you Would write to me after such a long lapse in our previous correspondence? Did the eucalyptis trees not wave with such fevered sensuality at our last encouter at tHe industrial chemical sewage barbeque near the haunted lake last summer! HonestlY! Accented and punctuateD by your insane allegations about my family, I have no chOice but to assume that the worst has occured; you are mad.
I understand the rabid, seething envY that lurks just beneath the surface of yOur smoke colored skin, yellowed by time and wormholes, envy for the fortUne you inherited and I did not. But why hold these time-consuming grudges agAinst the one who bit the hand that fed you? Come now, even you muSt admit that this this entire affair is (putting it Kindly) extremely immature and not befitting of such a distinguished man of no discernable distinguishments.?
You may regard my Blunt detachment in this situation as an indication of accEptance of your desire to desire soMething that may be desirable. But as desire is the roOt of all dandelions; a Reasonable scholar may assumE that all assumptions can no longer asSume to be what they were originally assumed to be, so my answer to your kind Proposal must be negative.
I cannot accEpt money that isn't yours; nor can I take Credit for a work that does not really exIst. I think we both have learned that lesson slowly and painFully as we tIrelessly, Ceaselessly tarred the roofs and streets of a town that was nor our own..
So why do I press forward when I ought to press control-alt-delete? I am helpless in this instance, as you can plainly see, if only you would remove your blindfold, and mine.
In short, I did not and will not intern at the White House, for reasons that have been long forgotten by the strange man dictating this letter to me.
Cheers,
Xzeno, Meta-Genie and Author of the silent harmonic labyrinth of oscillating infinity and total lack of meaning.
P.S. There may be hidden irony in this, but if there is, it is most likely a strange spelling / grammtical / usage / incorrect language / translation error.
I'd call you Xzeno, Meta-Genie and Author of the silent harmonic labyrinth of oscillating infinity and total lack of meaning, but I like the name Banjo better. It reminds me of my pet sea monkey, Banjo.
Say...
Where is that little rascal?
...
Banjo...
...
BANJO!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
WHY MUST WE ALWAYS HURT THE ONES WE LOVE?!
DANNY BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!
That guy with 12 fingers rocks! Just think of all the cool stuff he can do. If he ever gets captured by MJ12 for experiments and they tell him this, "This is your only chance to live. Answer this question correctly or you will be sliced in half with the Dragon Tooth Sword. What is 6 + 6?" He can count all his fingers and have the answer! That easy! After he gets the question right the MJ12 guys will be so amazed that a 12 fingered guy knows what 6 + 6 is that they will pass out from brain overload. He can then take the milk jug out that he has in his pocket and poor milk between all the crevices in his body and wait a week. Until then he can just keep reminding the MJ12 guys how he got 6 + 6 right and they will once again pass out. This will eventually not work on them anymore though. So, now that a week is up, he should have cheese in the crevices of his body. He can take the cheese that he has made, put it on the end of a spork he found on the ground, then shove the spork up one of the MJ12 guy's butt. He can continue to do this until all the passes out MJ12 men have cheese in their rear-end. That cheese is going to start to stink and attract rats. He will then have to capture all of the male rats and keep them in his pockets. The 12 fingered freak (12FF) will then allow the female rats to crawl up inside of all the MJ12 guys to eat the cheese. They will then fall asleep inside of the men because they are too full to go back home. Then, release the male rats after a day of not getting jiggy with their females. They will then have sexual intercourse and the females will become pregnant. They will not feel like going home, so they stay inside the men until they have their babies. 12FF then sees a shiny blue canister inside the jacket of one of the MJ12 men. He takes it out and it turns out to be a augmentation canister. It's the muscle augmentation! He then poors some into all of the MJ12 men's anuses and the baby rats begin to grow and grow and grow and grow until "BOOM!". The MJ12 guys explode. 12FF will most likely be eaten by the rats, so this is probably not a good strategy. Ok, nevermind.
Yeah, YOU just wish you could have twelve fingers, don't you? But you know what? YOU CAN'T. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT?
The only place they have twelve-fingered people is at Pizza Hut, and on the WB. Heh heh, they'll carry anything.
Waitaminute, no they won't.
Hey!
That's right! I pitched them this idea where Bugs Bunny was a teenager, and Daffy Duck was a teenager, and I was a teenager too, and we were all pirates, and every week we had a different job! And they called back and said that it was STUPID, and that I was stupid too! And let me tell you, mister, there's nothing stupid about a teenage bunny trying to teach good hygiene! NOTHING!
*slams his fist down on his desk so hard that it bursts into flames*
Uh...
Look at my hand...
I, uh...
*flames move up Ghand's arm*
 
So, have you ever, uh... have you ever... uhhh... *tries to read notecard, notecard lights on fire* ...Dog? *holds up notecard* - Does this say "dog"?
Oh well... I guess I'll go from memory...
...
*shoulder lights on fire*
Since my last message Ive had to change my identity twice. Damn eschalon.. the UN knows everything now... at least Austrailia had the ballzak to admit to the world thaat it existed...
Any how, Ive found another way:
Get some of those pop cans... you know, from the machine you hid the guard in. Then grate them to powder on the concrete around you (you know, that stuff they make the walls and floor out of) and collect it into an old pillowcase or something where it can be kept safe.
This is where it gets hot and hard (dont take that the wrong way).
First melt the powderd aluminum together with some iron (maybe your precious foon? no, you can find another source), and then let it cool together. Remember you ned to have it at a liquid state, maybe you can find a spare flame thrower (see later on). After this simply make coin size drops and place them at strategic points around the base. Light them with the flame thrower and get back, it produces A LOT of heat and slag. Using this you can easily break out of your cell and get out of the submarine base (your can handle the BTU right? if not then get a sub).
Now... getting the flame thrower may be tricky... this is how:
Take that cheese of yours (the evil swiss type) and attract a rat (you should be good at this, you have the right kind of personality for attracting rats). Let it out under the guards so that the guards step on it. Upson surprise jump up and spork him with your foon until hes dead (or use that pan your melting the iron with to wack him over the head) and grab his flamethrower (gotta be at least one down there). Hopefully he wont call any guards before you take him out... anyhow, Im sure you can devise a way to get a flame thrower, maybe cry "Not in the face" and make them laugh until their heads explode...
Any how, I dont know how you get in these prediciments... Id never let this happen...
mind you I can bend minds with my spoon...
Oh well... hope you do well... oh and cheese oatmeal... sounds like kraft dinner to me...
-Tool Boi
"Your spoon is no match for my spork..."
Disclaimer: I am not reponsible for what happens to you if you try this. IT DOES NOT WORK! DO NOT TRY IT!
There is no spoon...
 
*Ghand's head bursts into flames*
Say, could I get some coffee? ...I'd like some coffee.
Eh.
I think some cheese-oatmeal has leaked out of the prison..... or maybe that was just health food. Either way, all I hear is Prince music.... over and over again...... AAARRG! NOO!! I DON'T WANT YOUR PURPLE RAIN!! GAA!! And I can't even do anything about it. Last time I stabbed myself in the head it just got louder..... so anyway, i had an escape plan.... oh yeah. Take some cheesemeal and feed it to your cow. It should start producing infected milk that you can feed to one of the puppies in the puppy division that you don't like. When it dies, skin it with a spork and wear its hide. You can then rampage through the halls yelling "HA! I am Wolfman!" and the MJ12 guards will be too terrified to do anything. Run to the kitchen and hide in an oven. Then you'll get baked! Like I am right now! Could you tell?
-Zasz
Games are like mustard. They tastes great on a sandwich!
But when you're not eating a sandwich...
They just sit in your refrigerator...
On a shelf...
In a jar...
Labelled...
"Mustard"...
*Ghand's body is completely engulfed in flames*
But I AM the Wolfman!
And you are the Walrus...
And he is the Eggman...
Goo goo gachew?
PLAN A
A COW?!......:) I have an idea for you my freind. If you can somehow teach the cow to ram its head into the wall, or cell bars you might actually be able to bust your way out. try some lsd or something on the cow, or shove a spork up its rearend. I don't know what you should do from here but at least it will get you out.
Plan B
Have you asked the guard to let you out? Tell him your the president of the united states.
That is all i have to offer, until next time, sporks rule!!!!!!
Signed,
Someone who cares.
...Damn dirty apes... they still won't believe me...
*Top of Ghand's desk burns*
You know what I like?
Salami.
I think I like salami.
*Ghand's cell starts burning*
Do you have any idea how hard it is to tack a conclusion on to one of these articles? I mean... what's there to say when you write something this messed up?
I could tell you about my painfully muscular physique.
*everything burns*
Or I could... play cards!
*burn, baby, burn!*
Wait, my cards are incinerated...
Hey, who started this fire anyway?
*fire! fire!*
Oh well.
...
...
Let's have a bake sale!
:End Transmission:
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