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Notes from underground

Welcome, spelunker! Please accept a hearty “Hail, rodent! Well met” from the lair of the naked mole rat.

Disregard the piles of empty NyQuil bottles and catatonic UPS deliverymen, and don’t be put off by the crunchewy accoutrements of this leatherette petri dish.

This little corner of heaven may never pass muster with the health department (let alone the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms). Nevertheless, the shadow government running has designated this sacred spot the premier den of iniquity for adult-strength, Mac-focused rumorological goodness. (Under the specific terms of the treaty, the NMR Report will provide a haven for feral Mac-industry rumors “as long as the sunlamp shines and the Cepastat runs in the beer bong.”)

Sweet Leonard Peltier in the exercise yard! Now that’s entertainment.


Here’s where a practical knowledge of the naked mole rat’s “beg feces” chirp comes in especially handy. (Although when doesn’t it, truly?)

In the spirit of its wrinkly, half-blind namesake, the NMR Report is now soliciting pungent chunks of Mac intelligence from all comers; remit your samizdat squeezin’s to, and a chubby pink signature-edition mole rat could be yours!

In the words of the immortal V.I. Lenin (near the end of Side One of “The Working Class and Neo-Malthusianism”): A splendid time is guaranteed for all!

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