The Tebel & Neuroses Issue

It was back when we first hired our mail editor. Second day at the job. A shroud of slience spread over our cubicles, editors scoured the web looking for plagiarisable bits for an upcoming issue of SELEDA. Then, out of the silence, with the shrill of a fishka, came the cry, "ERRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEE... !!!" Squinting cavemen crawled out of cubicles and rushed down the hall, following the trail of shattered glass. The trail lead right to the mail editor's cubicle. No one knew what to expect, but prepared for the worst. As a stacked wall of faces peered into his cubicle, the mail editor, nonchallantly, went on reading the web, one hand playing furiously with a ball of silly-puddy. He sat on a low stool shaped like a portable toilet bowl. The staff had looked askance as he hauled the darned thing into the office that same morning. It helped him concentrate, he explained.

"ERRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEE...!!!" became a daily ocurrence, and the initial alarm died down to a complete disregard. Every week, we would congregate and hold scream sessions. We'd march up to the rooftop and, in a high-octaved harmony, let out, "ERRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE....!" It quickly ate into the SELEDA psyche. That was the beginning of the end for sanity as ( little as ) we knew it at SELEDA. Soon after that, a staff member would greet another in the hallway, and add, "Hey T, what's wrong, you look normal today!" And the other would respond, "Oh, J, min ebakih, i had another episode of levitation last night, and i popped in a couple of those pink devils this morning."

Even as metewaweQ brought mennannaQ and then gave way to merrarraQ, one thing emerged as the only bond that welded us together, the only force that held in place the fac¸ade of harmony amongst our motley crew...

... Neurosis. Tasteful ibdet. Ocassional instances of "melQeQ".

We think it's weird not to be weird. We think it's strange not to be strange. And we think that this shouldn't prompt our sefer sewoch to chase after us with a barrage of rocks and "belew-belew! belew-belew!"s as though we were some rabid dog that strayed into their mender.

Now, we want YOU to share in the madness. We want you to tell us about those moments when the mind's needle skips the groove and it feels sooooo good to run unconstrained. We want you to tell us about the demons that haunt you, and about the Tebel that you exorcise them with. Tell us about your recurring fits of madness. Tell us about why you think it is that the Gudu Kassa's amongst our community, who transgress the boundaries of conformity, are condemned to be stoned? Tell us about the many disorders that afflict us in the diaspora, and which figurative Tebel we turn to for a cure. Tell us everything... but, please, fer chrissake, don't tell us that you believe the crap from the psychic network... and don't tell us that you believe you can transmute medab into gold... Otherwise, esti monCHer monCHer your articles and then werwer our way.

Indebted to you as always...