In order to fool our fuzzy thinking detractors into showing a greater degree of respect for this world famous newsletter, we have decided to change the name of our paper to The Constitution of the United States of America. We do this in the face of the advice of our sniveling attorneys who never miss an opportunity to tell us that we are going to get sued. In addition to infringing on the copyright taken out by Thomas Jefferson in 1787, our lawyers tell us that most of the readers of this paper who reside in third world countries will be fooled into thinking that this really is the Constitution of the United States of America. In an effort to dissuade these numbskulls from trying to detect international intentions from things contained in this paper, we will dispense with any further preamble and get right to the meaty articles that make up this very important issue.

Anyone holding prior copies of this newsletter, (The Star, The Herald, The Servant, Close Cover Before Striking, Do Not Remove This Label, The Deseret News, The Journal of Veterinary Medicine, Award Winning Newsletter, It Wasn't Our Fault, Damn The Torpedoes, The Chicago Tribune, The Wretched Mess News, The Book of Ruth, Floor Coverings Review, Floor Coverings Review-2, Journal of American Goatkeeping, Nightcrawlers, Are They The Best Bait?, Nice Guys Finish Last, Is Snobbery The Best Policy?, Dave, The London Financial Times, and The Journal of Small Engine Repair) should hold on to them as they will become very valuable during the early years of the Millenium, while people are still trying to sort things out. Elder R. Ballard of the Council of the Twelve has gone so far as to suggest that these old copies of the Intergalactic Newsletter may be the only reading material available in waiting rooms during the Millenium.

The Editor and staff (see photo from the June 1997 issue) of this newsletter are proud to announce that we have found the ship that carried Lehi and his family to the Western Hemisphere. It had long been thought that this ship, named the Foxy Lady in honor of Lehi's wife Sariah, had been broken up and its timbers carved into clothespins by Sariah and Nephi's wife Kitty. Doubtful that the Lord would allow the Foxy Lady to be destroyed, I never believed that old story, so I set out to disprove it. I did so by calculating the number of clothespins that could have been made from the timbers of a ship big enough to carry Lehi and his merry band of sailors. I then calculated that the thirty tons of wooden clothespins allegedly carved by Sariah and Kitty would only be necessary if each member of Lehi's group had to launder and dry on the line 73,000 pairs of soiled underwear daily. Armed with these facts I began a systematic search of the dry-docks in every port city in the Western Hemisphere until the ship was found.

Skeptics contend that the ship I found couldn't have been Lehi's ship, pointing to several weak evidences of a more recent origin of the vessel. We successfully beat back the childish arguments of these godless melonheads by indicating that a God who could make something as wondrous as the Liahona would have had no trouble building the radio set we found in the bridge of the Foxy Lady. The most convincing evidence that this was indeed Lehi's own ship was the inscription found in the frame of one of the bunks below deck that read, "Sam slept here." We have tried to make this rare find known to the brethren in Salt Lake City, but all we get when we call them is an embarrassed silence.

Heartfelt apologies are hereby offered to the good women of the Ladies Relief Society of the Church for the cruel and insensitive article that appeared in the last issue of this worthless rag of a newsletter criticizing certain fine and time honored recipes they love to make. The article was titled Recipes Excommunicated. It suggested that some recipes were thought to be less than delicious to men and it poked fun at them by saying that ecclesiastical authority had been invoked to cause their demise. I was contacted by several powerful women who professed to be world-class casserole makers. They suggested that I had an IQ slightly lower than that of a fence post, and demanded an apology. To these pillars of the church, keepers of home and hearth, and great looking chicks, I offer the following poem as penance for the aforementioned insulting article.

Words can hardly express the sadness with which we must announce the retirement from the newsletter staff of Trish and Ginger who only joined us only last month (see "Newsletter Staff Expands" article in June 1997 issue). It seems that some chuckle-head showed the June issue to my wife who thought she could find a more suitable assistant for me in this literary endeavor. Below is the person she chose to work closely with me as I toil through the night writing these very important articles.

All I can say to my wife is, "Thank you Dear, for selecting such a good and staunch assistant for me."