No, it's not a newsletter... it's simply...
Dedicated Idiocy, etc.

Dearest (ex-)Pythonoids(-to-be),

Well, here I am, abandoned on campus, left alone with the squirrels. (A plague of bunnies upon both your houses, eh?) Actually, things aren't too bad. I'm sitting in the WPSU lobby listening to the Bonzo Dog Doodah Band and contemplating the nine or ten radio shows I intend to write this summer.

[Note: That summer, I co-produced a half-hour show called Laughstock: Summer of Comedy. Each week featured a different comedian, such as Gilda Radner. The idea was to hold the slot for Rubber Chicken to return in the fall.]

I'm selling my soul to the dining hall for four hours a day, starting in June (my volunteer work at the station doesn't pay the rent, eh?) Well, this little memo is to make up for some of the inaccuracies in the final newsletter (Wednesday, April 25, 1990 — Vol. II Issue XII). If I hear from enough of you, I might do another one later on (if I don't kill myself, now that I've found out I'll have to take Accounting 101 again).

[Note: Before I'd even recovered from the grief of losing Graham Chapman, I lost a relative, a young cousin who also died of cancer. Needless to say, my schoolwork suffered that year.]

Hi-Ho!
Alyce "With a 'Y'" Wilson

Etc...

I inadvertently omitted Sadie O'Deay's name from the list of Mall Climbers. I also omitted Abner Mintz's name from the Twit-of-the-Year Competition write-up, where he played Hirum G.P. Average. This omission, however, was quite on purpose (ha!).

A National Python Society? During the last couple weeks of school, I began a quest. Ask me your questions, bridge-keeper... I'm not afraid.

What is your name?

My name is Alyce Wilson.

What is your quest?

I seek a national Monty Python fan club.

What is your GPA?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

I've contacted Pythonoids across the nation (impressive, eh?) through a newly created Netnews group.

[Note: In those days, there was no Web. The Internet was mainly populated by geeks, nerds and Al Gore. There were no chat rooms. There was no instant messaging unless you were actually on the same computer system, i.e. both connected to PSUVM at Penn State. There were no online dating services. We communicated to each other by chiseling our messages into rocks and then heaving them into something called USENET news groups, a.k.a. Netnews. This was called "posting" and was akin to the rock toss event in Scottish games, except without the kilts.]

So far, I've found one other society, the Royal Order of Pythons at the University of Texas. But apparently, all they do is talk silly and drink a lot of beer.

I'm going to search for other groups, in the hopes of creating an information network and/or discovering/co-founding a national fan club. I'm going to contact Dean Cole of the national Bonzo Dog Band fan club (Doo-Dah) to see what he knows. And I'll keep you posted with the results.

[Note: Yet another entry in the Things Alyce Regrets Not Doing. I did manage to find a number of other Monty Python clubs, and you can still find copies on the Web of my The Unofficial, Incomplete, But Otherwise Completely Wonderful List of MONTY PYTHON'S FLYING CIRCUS Fan Clubs and Fanzines, which by my reckoning I have not updated in about 11 years. I completely intend to update it, once I finish writing that novel.]

Get Therapy

"Hey, Mickey! Let's have a show! We could write our own material and bring in outside writers and actors and stage it in Kern Building!"

"Gosh that sounds like a great idea! And we could put up flyers and buy some ads and everyone would come to see it! And maybe we could give out free lettuce to everyone who brings their own tap shoes!"

"Gee, I don't know about that, Mickey... but the rest of it sounds real swell!"

... Well, that was the sound of Roger's Wawa Rabbits... and we've beaten them up and stolen their nifty idea. If you've got any suggestions, questions, comments, or MATERIAL for the show, contact me at my summer address (gosh, wouldn't that be neato?).