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This whole monstruousity was originally conveived February through March 2001 by the members of The Big Note - a Frank Zappa YahooGroup. After an arduous gestation period, this site was birthed on April 11 2001. True to the essence of collaborative effort, these people are held responsible.

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A Mating Ritual

The other main topic of conversation at the last O.B.O.E. (On-line Bookstore Owners of Earth) Convention concerned the age-old problem of attracting a mate.
It is difficult to meet people when you operate your bookstore on-line. There is no getting around it. So, what you have to do is take advantage of the times you are around real people and use that time to your best advantage.
Humans - like most primates - are always looking for a "good mate."
In men, many women go for virility - hence the popularity of Woody Allen, Richard Simmons, and Boy George (who was almost killed yesterday by a falling disco ball!). In women, many women go for femininity, others for a more straight look, still others for a more Butch look, and then there's the ULTIMATE-BUTCH: Tom Clancy, aka Ann T. Weld, professor emeritus…
So guys, here is what you do to get the gals going cuckoo for your cocoa puffs: save your fingernail clippings. I did not stutter and you read right. Keep them in your pocket - along with a fingernail clipper. Every time you see an attractive female you're interested in (works best if done daily, over a period of time), take out the clippers and hide some clippings in your closed hand.
After a few days straight of cutting your fingernails EVERY DAY in front of her, she'll take notice. I guarantee it…
And, do you know what she'll think?
"Wow… He's so virile… Those nails grow like CRAZY!"
And naturally, she'll be intrigued. But, then comes the kicker! You lift up the Darth Vader helmet and casually mention that you have an imaginary bookstore on-line…
"Whoooooah…" she'll stammer, and then think to herself, "He's Virile and Successful! I think I'd better introduce him to Mom!"
And they all lived happily ever after…
The end.

Frank Zappa


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