Now it's my turn. I've been sitting here reading and typing these thousands of words spewing forth from the Firesign guys and their millions of adoring fans clamoring for more and hanging upon every silly syllable sounding solicitously from the sacred source secreting signals to their sagacious slaves. But now it's my turn. I turn my attention away from my own life of being a forgotten segment, an unpolled person, a political peon, just a regular new age Joe that jumps to attention like all of the rest of the typical grunts who've been drafted into the leftover legions of the latest latent lexicon know as sucker dads, every time the little Corporal darling barks out... "Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!!". "Yes dear, darling, sweetheart, light of my life! Just let me put my pants on. I can't do anything without my pants on." For we know who truly wears the pants in this family.

So... Now it's my turn. As my fingers gracefully sit ready, poised over this highly receptive and truly technologically advanced keyboard, the window to my soul, my gateway to the outside world and all the marvelous functions that it can perform and the connection to all the thousands of missing links that are tied onto the other end of it world wide, just waiting for me to whip out the wondrous words of wisdom and (Riiiinnng), "Hello, yes dear, yes dear, I'll clean the cat box before breakfast. Thank you for reminding me. Same to you dear. I love you too, byeeeeee." (click) "Bitch!" Let's see, where was I? Oh yes.

Now it's my turn. Finally I get to throw in my 2 cents worth, and that's about all it's worth but ... Now it's my turn. My turn to turn the tables on the torturing touts who tremble at my testy temperamental testimonials. Who shrivel in fear at my every utterance. Who lie in pools of sweat trying to survive another volley of... "Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!!" "Coming, coming, just another sentence please. I'm really just getting started to spill..." "Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!!" Excuse me, I'll be right back...

Now it's my turn. My big chance. My opportunity to finally be myself, who I really am. Not the whining whimpering worm that's constantly ordered around by the bimbo bosses that always get the positions of authority through their bumbling boisterousness, and pass-the-buck excuses onto people like me. I'm in control, I'm running the show, I'm the boss, the head cheese, Mr. Big, the chief, the man, the master, el presidente', the king, the ruler, the... "Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!!" One minute...

Now it's my turn. The moment we've all been waiting so patiently for, longing for, dreaming about, planning our secret little plots and twists and turns. Oh boy am I ready now. He he heee. (Riiinnng) "Yes? No she's not here, ungh huh. Can I take a message,? Oh you'll call back later. Thank you! (Click) My ass!" Where was I? Oh yeah!

Now it's my turn! My turn to drain the brain of all those pent up hostilities. Empty the old festering foibles of Fred's fantasies. Ha ha! Now it's my turn to open the sluices and salvage my soiled soul. Now it's my turn to open the spigots of... "Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!!" "Yes dear. I was only getting ready to wash the glasses. I'm getting it now dear. Oh shit, we're out of Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!! Honey how about some nice milk or a glass of water?" "Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!!" "How about a fresh clean glass of clear cool hydrochloric acid poured over some nice ice cold rusty razor blades! Would you like that?" "Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!!" "Look honey, we're all out of Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!! We'll have to go to the store and daddy is very busy right now. How 'bout..." "Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!!" "Ok, Ok... Let's get all bundled up. I'll go turn off the computer."

I'm, I'm really very sorry but something extremely important has come up, but I'll be back next issue, then, then, it'll be my turn. "Cranberry Juice! Cranberry Juice!!"

- Frederick C. Wiebel, Jr.