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In This Issue

• Jem and the Holograms Suck Major Holo-Ass
• Students Get Involved, Eat Pizza
• Kids Aren't Worth It
• Can You Tell Me How To Get, How to Get to HIV
• Corporation Brightens Otherwise Bleak Childhood
• B'nai Mitzvot of Yore
• Cap'n Planet Saves World, Gouges You
• Bad Street Brawler Jerks Off Crime Off the Streets
• Science Proves America's Youth Turning Japanese
• On the Glorious Afterschool Special
• Chicken Soup for the Athletically Inept Soul
• A Researched Dildography
• Rider Strong Gets Stalked, Interviewed, Married
• Furry is the Way to Be

Sesame street. The term brings with it connotations of Americana, smiling children, and television taking on the role of the primary parent. Of course, beneath the happy, smiley exterior of Sesame Street is an oh-so-sinister fact. We like to think that Sesame Street teaches the youth of America about the number 6 and the letter Q, when in reality every episode is sponsored by the letters XXX.

Since not everyone saw the MTV special on furries, allow me to give some background on the perversion of this program. Furries are people who enjoy dressing up in some furry animal costume before copulation. Now, we know everyone loves Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch. Therein lies the problem. We are teaching our children to love big furry creatures. After their mothers and fathers, children develop a primary love for their favorite characters. We laugh when a child says, "I love Cookie Monster," but we ignore the fact that this child's infatuation might be more than a mere passing phase. Before Sesame Street came on the air, who had ever heard of furries? No one. The furry movement sprung forth from Big Bird's feathered womb. And furryism only shows one aspect of the perversion of the pedophiles at Children's Television Workshop.

Here's another little thought, what do all the kids on Sesame Street have in common? They obey orders. This teaches our children to submit. And these children, being children, will assume that submission is the proper way to behave, not just socially, but sexually. This also explains that age-old of question of why the Catholic Church is such an advocate of Sesame Street. (I don't mean to offend, I just want to be on Donahue too.)

Since I am less than a full-fledged sexual deviant (I was one of the lucky ones who was not exposed to so much Sexame Street) I went out and talked to the real victims, who were kind enough to share their stories with me.

I asked several men and women if they had a furry fetish, and, unfortunately, all I got out of that were stares, an occasional slap, and one phone number from a forty-something unshaven man who reeked of a peculiar combination of semen and moldy cheese. I called him for an interview, and he agreed that I could go over to his apartment. When I showed up, he was wearing a squirrel costume missing the crotch. He kept promising to answer my questions in a minute. But the only quotes I had by the next morning were"Unngghhh," and, in a falsetto tone, "Squirrels like nuts!"

I did come across a gentleman with an S&M fetish who agreed to be interviewed; however, he insisted that he only be referred to as Lord Ramrod. "When I was four years old, my addiction began. I would watch Sesame Street everyday, sometimes twice a day," at this point Lord Ramrod's eyes began to tear beneath his leather mask, and he stopped for a moment to collect himself. "Then, it was the day after my fifth birthday . . . I was watching Sesame Street and my uncle came over to me . . . He began touching me in a way . . . My heart told me no, but the Yep-yeps on TV just kept saying yes . . . and I had such a complete belief in those damn puppets that I just went right along with it, yep-yepping as he groped me."

As I left Lord Ramrod, whilst his tears journeyed down his mask and hairy chest until they finally landed on his leather thong, I was consumed by pity for this poor man. But then I realized what I felt was not sympathy but an unspeakable urge. I wanted to count the Count's testicles. That damned show had eaten through my soul and I never even noticed it until that moment. Then I joined Lord Ramrod and cried in his lap, and I realized just how important it was to expose Sesame Street to the public.