It’s a vast conspiracy. Nothing obvious has happened - just subtle reminders that someone out there knows who I am.
The first sign came about a year and a half ago when the X-Box came out with Oddworld: Munch’s Oddysee. I thought it was a bit odd (ha!), but also flattering that someone would want to name a video game after me. However, I refrained from purchasing it (as I don’t have an X-Box).
Not to be hindered, the forces that be regrouped. And regroup they did. In fact, they went back in time, and formed a organization called “Munch”. What does this organization do? My first guess would be that they do things like talk about football, girls, computer games, travelling and the SDMB. Close on the SDMB part, but no cigar. Munch is a fairly widespread organization where people with an interest or experience in BDSM (not SDMB) can congregate. Oh my. Now, I think it’s great that people with similar interests like this can get together, and they’re comfortable enough to publicize it in the local Indy indie newspaper. That’s not my bag, but I don’t expect everyone to subscribe to all of my interests either. I’d provide a link, but I’m at work right now. Do a google on “Munch” and you’ll get plenty of links. Yahoo has a “Munch” category.
Lastly (and this really is the final straw), I came to work today, and we had a staff meeting. The mall across the street had a rep here, who gave us a bunch of coupons for the holidays and gave us a spiel on what’s hot this season. Whatever. But the coupons and stress ball they passed out were in cardboard baggies entitled “Mall Munch”. Now, I’m not sure if this marketing ploy is at all related to the BDSM Munch groups, or to the video game, but I have reason to believe that they’re all related to me in some way, and “they” know where I am.
I’m going to now crawl under my tinfoil-lined desk if anyone needs me.
It is good that you are wary. I happen to know for a fact that at all times there are no less than 17 individuals following your every move.
That being said, I wish to compound you paranoia by pointing out the innumerable times they are even more subtly using words such as chew, champ, chaw, crunch, masticate, ruminate and scrunch.
Well, you could always have your name legally changed to “Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 4 Indiana Falcons Leather Club Mall Bites”, then they couldn’t find you.
I’d also like to add that Googlism, a strange amalgamation of Google, has some information on me. And by “information” I of course mean “lies and deceit meant to sully Munch’s good reputation and destroy his fan following and loyal admirers”.
It can be found here. Warning: “information” found through Googlism may upset those who hold Munch in a high regard - proceed with caution.
I may be a crisp winner, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to allow someone to call me “een mudokon” or a “dead duck on land”.
And that’s just the people. You don’t wanna know about the satellites, UAVs, ELINT, SIGINT and CARNIVORE we got keeping tabs on you. Oh, yeah, Munch. We got your number.
Best keep an eye on your robot monkey butler, too.
Munch, you may want to sit down for this, it may be hard to take.
Years ago the United States Government noticed that the People’s Republic of China had started a massive children’s cereal buildup. It was feared that the US would soon be overrun by Super Happy Fun Yum-Yum’s and Chairman Mao’s Commiecrisp (now with little red book shaped marshmallows!). A Joint Chiefs of Staff sanctioned study determined that even the combined powers of SugarBear and BooBerry could not withstand the coming onslaught (Snap, Crackle, and Pop’s alternative lifestyle having rendered them ineligible for service). We had a strategic sugar gap. The American Way[sup]TM[/sup] as we knew it was doomed.
The department of the Army, under the direction of the CIA, embarked on a desperate plan to create genetically engineered super soldiers to combat this new menace. This top secret plan was named Operation Part-Of-This-Complete-Breakfast (OPOTCP) and has been classified “green clover secret” until now. The prototype model was named simply “Crunch” and was a resounding success. The Army decided to create an army of crunches: Crunch’s crunch berries, Crunch’s peanut butter crunch, Crunch’s oops chocodonut crunch, etc. These clones were given the rank of Captain and sent out to fight the red menace.
Flushed wirh success, the Military-Industrial complex continued the cloning program with three new templates: Chomp, Chew, and Munch. The Chomp clones produced minimal success with Pac-Man Chomp, but were otherwise unremarkable. Something malfunctioned in the cloning process of Chew and all viable candidates were actually snack foods rather than cereals (Big League Chew, Chewy Granola Bars, etc.), but the Munch disaster is what finally killed the program.
The Munch clones were impossible to control. Led by Gorilla Munch, they revolted and broke out of the Army’s Great Lakes facility. A genetic based desire to be bitten forced them to seek shelter in mall food courts and BDSM clubs. Oddly, a misspelling of “bite” (byte) caused many others to flee to computer based communities and one is known to have set up residence in a message board involved with the Chicago Reader. Though it is believed genetic based defects have caused most to forget their own origins and thus their missions, efforts to apprehend these clones have recently been reactivated by the Bush administration.
Watch your back munch. The government considers you too crispy in milk to live.
Aaah! I’m a Quaker Oats man myself, them quakers can’t possibly have anything against me. But just to be safe, I’m going to wrap Aunt Jemima in Reynold’s Wrap and bury her in the town landfill.
Buck, you’re freaking me out. Hugh Jass is in my fantasty football league, and his team is the Austin Robot Monkeys. You Texas folk normally frighten me, but this is a bit much (munch?). In other news, do people often, when talking to you, say, “Beedy-beedy-beedy. Hey, Buck!”?
lieu, you don’t even want to know. And that’s coming from a guy that hates fritos. Why? I’ll tell you why. Because I’m morally opposed to the fact that a numerous amount of the corn chips that are individually called a “frito” are “fritos” instead of “fritoes”. This defies logic. The people at Frito-Lay are up to something, and frankly, I’m in no position to fight the system. However, I believe these fine women are on the case. How can you argue with this sound logic:
KTK, the powers that be have infiltrated my audio-visual equipment (serenity now!), and destroyed the recording capabilities of my VCR. As such, I’m having a select team of co-workers tape the episodes of “24”. I’m not sure if I can keep this up for 24 weeks, and may need some assistance. Please advise.