ORIGINAL: Cap Mandrake
***********Bathurst Is., Dec. 17, 1942(c)*********
A dozen ripe-smelling and scabies-infested men and women (I think) are painting posters and playing bongo drums amid a cluster of dirty tents on the beach.
Hirsute man: What the Hell are you crazy SOB's doing? This is a minefield!
Even more hirsute and foul-smelling guy: We are Occupy Tawi!
Hirsute man: But this is MINEFIELD, you crazy SOB!
Even more hirsute and foul-smelling guy: These are symbols of the captialist war machine. We reject this minefield.
Hirsute man: But you can't simply "reject" minefield's. You could be killed or even maimed.
Even more hirsute and foul-smelling guy: Bring us the one you call Milo.
Hirsute man: Milo? Are you crazy. <lowers voice and turns to Father O'brien> Padre, can't you do something? The landing is in less than a week. We are getting paid to supply a map of the minefield. We can't have beatniks lying about.
Father O'brien: Sorry, Yossarian. I thinked I may have erred with that sermon on Liberation Theology.
I'd sugget Yossarian acquire some "prescription medication substrate" from the M&M Enterprises MMDD (Medical Marijuana Dispensary Division), with offices conveniently located throughout all of California, and dispense the product generously as compensation for Mr. Minderbinder's inablity to meet with them personally on the beach.
Once Yossarian has been generous with the "medicinal substrate," allowing a few hours for letting the bongo-players on the beach indulge, then pretty soon the mine-field map issue should be moot; the mines will be "disabled," one way or the other...
Or, as an old 3rd Marine Division Gunny once explained to me, "Hey, Doc, cool it! Mine detectors are where you find them..." [:-]