I did it! The great Walter Bennett has survived the perilous journey out of Black Mesa, accomplishing a task that many a desperate scientist has failed to accomplish! Yes, many foolhardy souls have attempted to escape Black Mesa, yet none of them were properly equipped for such a tremendous undertaking and ended up seven feet under. Perhaps they lacked my keen wit, sharp memory, large winky-wee, and fists of fire. Regardless, I am the first scientist to break out of Black Mesa and live to tell about it!

Following the events that transpired in last week’s column, I was fugitive from the law! Teams of military grunts patrolled Black Mesa, shooting any scientist that even remotely resembled me!

But I was simply too strong for them. I climbed over cliffs, commandeered helicopters, and tore through armies with nothing but my bare hands. I was an unstoppable force! I tore off my shirt and swung through dangerous jungles like an ape-man, annihilating the Administrator’s evil minions with my rebellious of fellow apes!

Of course, simply hiding in a dumpster, falling asleep, and being carted out of Black Mesa by the garbage trucks may have also been an alternative means of escape, but it is one that I did not pursue! Not that there is anything wrong with that course of action, as it shows that I have a clever mind for knowing the Black Mesa waste disposal schedules, but I chose instead to fight my way out and succeeded brilliantly! I kid you not!

I have spent the past week savoring the taste of my newly found freedom. What a joy to behold! Whilst there was a wee bit of a misunderstanding with local law enforcement after I pounced upon a young maiden who had been eyeing me from afar in a public venue, everything else has been spectacular! By some splendid twist of fate Rage Against The Machine, my all-time favorite musical troupe, happened to be holding a benefit concert in order to raise money to prevent the oppression of hundreds of three-toed sloth’s in western Pakistan. I rocked hearty all through their performance, singing along to all their songs until I was positively parched!

But best of all, I’ve found a mate! My seed has finally found purchase, at long last. You see, as I was stalking about the outskirts of Black Mesa, I encountered a leather-clad beauty on patrol. Imagine that, there were women in Black Mesa all this time and I hadn’t even realized it. I couldn’t resist her tight packaging, and approached with tongue in hand! She soon succumbed to my many charms, taking off her mask to reveal her lovely features!

After a whirlwind romance, we became engaged and are currently living off her savings at an enchanting Motel 6. Here is a photograph of my blushing bride and I in front of the Burger King across the street from the motel. I’ll give you two guesses where my left hand is!

As you can see, I’m a very lucky man!

Just a few hours ago, I received a knock upon my door. It was, of all people, the Administrator! After filling my pants, he calmly congratulated me on my escape and explained that he would spare my life if I took early retirement and promised not to speak of anything that happened at Black Mesa. I readily agreed, and he reached into his pockets, extracting a piece of paper and a small box. “You are entitled to a retirement bonus, despite yourself,” he said. “Walter, my employers have authorized me to offer you a coupon for a free Colonel’s Complete meal at Kentucky Fried Chicken and a box of cigars autographed by our es-s-s-s-s-steemed commander in chief. If you’re interested, just step into this portal and I will take that as a yes. Otherwise, well… I can offer you… certain death at the hands of Biffo, our government employed clown of death. But he will have a large assortment of balloons.”

What a conundrum!

“Time to choose…” the Administrator sneered, tapping his foot.

My brain was running at a mile a minute!

“It’s time to choose.”

I stepped into the green portal that had suddenly manifested itself on my doorstep, and was immediately teleported to the local KFC where I enjoyed 8 pieces of extra crispy chicken, large mashed potatoes, a delicious tub of gravy, cole slaw, baked beans, 4 biscuits, and a double chocolate chip cake! It’s a shame I didn’t get to enjoy the clown’s madcap antics, though!

As I compose this message to you gentle readers on a computer terminal at a nearby CompUSA, I am overwhelmed by emotion. I’d like to take just a moment to thank all you dear readers who corresponded with me throughout the last year, introducing me to the wonders of the outside world. If it wasn’t for you fine folks, I could have become an utterly insane, balding, dirty old man, instead of the dashing gentleman of mainstream society of which I am now a member! In return, I do hope you learned a thing or two about science, the inner workings of Black Mesa, and biochemistry from my columns, perhaps inspiring you to follow in my footsteps.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. I’m afraid I’ll be unable to continue writing this column. I’m simply too busy! Besides my duties as a doting future husband (guess what I’m doing with the cigars!), I must start work Monday at a local grocery store. I have not worked in a grocery store for many years, but already the smell of spoiled milk has wafted back into my consciousness. I can’t wait to begin my stock boy career anew!

So I must now bid you all farewell, but at least you have all my old columns to remember me by! Merry wishes to you all, and keep your fingers in a damp place!

A friendly ferret farewell,

Walter Bennett
Biochemist, Anomalous Materials Laboratory
Black Mesa Research Facility

Dear readers,

I do not wish to alarm you, possibly causing you to cough copious amounts of mucus onto your soup, but I’m afraid that this may be the last you will ever hear of Walter Bennett! My life is in grave danger, and I may not survive much longer!

Following the events that transpired in last week’s column, I had concluded that the best solution to my current predicament was to simply eliminate the Administrator. You may think a sensitive, thoughtful man such as myself would have reservations about ending the life of my supervisor, but I have long harbored simmering feelings of resentment towards the man. And for good reason, as he had brutally murdered my best friend, Dr. Groat,destroyed my burgeoning music career, and no doubt was the mastermind behind other mishaps, such as the vending machines of Doom.

Since my clever plan called for the assassination of the Administrator to take place that coming Friday, I had a few days to kill (no pun intended!). Instead of going to work in the labs, I acted like a rebel without a cause! I learned how to smoke cigarettes, listened to my music at full volume, and told everyone who crossed my path to “Shove it off, jerk-man!” Since I would soon be the new Black Mesa Administrator, it mattered not how I behaved!

When Friday finally rolled around, I was ready. I waited until later on in the day when the Administrator’s disappearance would not seem so suspicious and then sprung into action. Gathering the large stockpile of grenades and snarks that I had collected over time into a large duffel bag, I headed upstairs.

I had discovered years earlier that there was a crawlspace in the vicinity of the Administrator’s office, so I sought it out. Upon its rediscovery, I quickly slipped into the forgotten, cobweb-ridden entrance. I felt just like a secret agent! If only I had a leather-clad female agent to accompany me!

Using stealth, clever logic, and brute strength, I made my way through the crawlspace until I was directly over the Administrator’s office. I put my ear to the floor (or the ceiling, depending on your perspective!) and listened. I had to make certain the Administrator was in his office before launching my attack.

I heard the scraping of a chair against the floor below, and, with the aid of my fists of fire, punched a chunk of the ceiling tile with all my might, sending a large piece of it crashing to the floor below. Acting quickly, I reached into my open duffel bag, leaned over the opening, and began throwing all the grenades and snarks I could into the room below, as the Administrator looked helplessly on!

After dumping all the ammunition I had into the Administrator’s office, I scooted away. The walls shook violently as the grenades began to detonate. There was no possible way the Administrator could have lived through such an onslaught! He always kept his door locked, and he had not attempted to escape or even acknowledge my presence. Surely, he knew he was a goner and had been beaten by a superior man!

I extracted myself from the crawlspace and stretched out upon the carpeted floor. I had done it! I had killed the Administrator, freeing all of Black Mesa from years of slavery and oppression. There was no doubt that upon discovery of this fact, I would be appointed the new Black Mesa Administrator and lead the facility into a bold new era, a golden age of discovery and hanky-panky!

Or so I foolishly thought!

As I rolled about the floor, patting myself with glee in celebration, the announcement system clicked on:

“ATTENTION ALL BLACK MESA PERSONNEL. APPREHEND BIOCHEMIST WALTER BENNETT AND RE-PORT TO THE ADMINISTRATOR’S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY. SURRENDER WAL-TER.”

How could this be?! The Administrator must have survived! But how!?

With no time to think, I took off like a shot. I ran and ran and ran for what seemed like hours, through the long hallways of the labs trying to make my way to the outside. Then, all of the sudden, the lights in the room I entered went dark, I felt heavy blows pummel the back of my head, and the distinctive laughter of military grunts. Everything went blank.

I felt myself being transported somewhere, but I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I heard the grunts chatting to one another, and managed to make out some remark that sounded like “yeah, but this one is too stupid to escape,” but I haven’t the faintest idea of what he was referring too.

When I came to, I was in a giant trash compactor! There was no escape! I began to cower in the corner, watching the far wall close in. I would never get to jump upon piles of naked girly-girls, giggling like a schoolboy! My life would end amongst discarded copies of Popular Mechanics! What a horrible way to meet ones demise.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from above.

“Walter! You must get out of there!”

It was Dr. Roegane, a former best friend who had betrayed me! My mouth was agape.

“Walter! Quickly! Jump upon that crate and grab my hand! Hurry up, you geologist!”

Oh, that Dr. Roegane and his clever wit. He knew I was a biochemist, not a geologist! What a clever play on words!

Smiling, I arose and hopped upon the crate. Straining, Dr. Roegane pulled me out of the death trap moments before the walls closed in.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I let out a sigh of relief. “That was a close one,” Dr. Roegane breathed. “If I hadn’t been tracking your progress, you would have been flat as a pancake by now!”

I giggled, but I was not sure what to think of Dr. Roegane. After all, he did betray me… or had he? It mattered not, I suppose.

He handed me a copy of the latest Nine Inch Nails CD and put his hands upon my shoulder. “Walter, I have always loved music,” he began. “And now you must go out and create your own symphony, string your own guitar, sing your own song. You must get out of here, friend. Like a dog in a cave, you must find your way out.”

I nodded. Such sagely advice from a wise man! I turned and walked briskly away.

“Good luck, cuddle bear!” he called out as I made my way back towards the labs.

By nightfall, I had returned to my terminal, where I now sit composing this column to you in silence. In mere moments, I will shut down the computer, gather my belongings, and prepare for the long journey out of Black Mesa. I know not if my attempt will succeed or if I’ll be able to contact you kind readers again, so as a final testament I wish to share with you an inspirational poem that I wrote in grammar school. Please enjoy.

WHY IT IS GOOD TO BE A BOY
By Walter D. Bennett

It is good to be a boy,
You play with lots of toys.
I enjoy them very much,
To play and touch.
And when I am in sandbox,
I catch the chicken pox.
And also Michael Butler who likes soup
He smells like poop.

Yours in pants,

Walter Bennett
Biochemist, Anomalous Materials Laboratory
Black Mesa Research Facility

Mercy me, the events of the past week have been almost too breathtaking to record in writing! My entire life, my entire world, has been turned upside down and stripped of its panties!

You are all of course familiar with Dr. Roegane, my newly found best friend who I introduced to you last week. Well, I must sadly report that he is a friend no longer! It turns out he was just a pawn, a cog in the machine of a vast conspiracy!

I stumbled upon this shocking discovery by accident. Dr. Roegane had disappeared during the mid-day break, so I searched for him frantically, hoping to track him down in time to play a few games of Trouble (and possibly ask if he could help me re-grow some hair, Dr. Roegane is an expert in the hair-growth field!) before we had to return to the lab. Dr. Fox had introduced me to that fascinating game a long time ago, and I just couldn’t get enough of caressing that “Pop-O-Matic Bubble!”

I had wandered about the hallways searching for Dr. Roegane for quite a long period of time until I heard a faint conversation in the distance. I stealthily stalked towards the location of the sounds, hoping to eavesdrop on the conversation and perhaps learn something about the long-rumored Janet Jackson concert that was supposedly going to take place in Lambda Lab’s auditorium. As I drew nearer, I caught sight of the participants of the chat: Dr. Roegane and the Administrator! I listened carefully, and what follows is a near exact transcript of what I overheard:

Dr. Roegane: …doesn’t suspect anything. Everything is proceeding as planned.
Administrator: Excellent. Previous attempts to eliminate this problem have not been s-s-s-s-uccessful, as you well know. It is nearly time to… finish what I s-s-s-s-hould have done a long time ago.
Dr. Roegane: Indeed. I’ll get right to work on that. I’ll need access to a few security guards to help with the heavy lifting.
Administrator: Not a problem. Talk to Barney Savator and Barney Arcordo about a-s-s-s-s-s-sistance.

I had heard enough! It was obvious that Dr. Roegane and the Administrator were out to kill me! I was caught in a tangled web of suspense and intrigue, with danger around every corner! And to top it all off, Dr. Roegane made a show of asking for assistance to carry my body to the dumpsters because I would be “heavy.” How dare he call the great Walter Bennett fat! I have a simply marvy figure!

I was so distraught that I simply couldn’t return to work. I snuck back to the dormitories in tears. I didn’t want to die! I hadn’t even rubbed against Sarah Michelle Gellar yet!

I booted up the computer that I covertly use for electronic mail transfer and began idly glancing through the correspondence, hoping for a clever ditty or naughty electronic photograph to brighten my day. It was then that I came across this letter:

From: Maxwell, David
Subject: You gotta take the power back!

Walter,

As you’ve mentioned before, you’re a fan of Rage Against the Machine. So… to use their own terms, why don’t you just “Take the power back” from the Administrator? Surely a hardy, well educated and capable group of scientists such as yourselves could come up with a way to, er… ‘relieve the Administrator of the burdens of his position’? Besides, with him out of the way, you’d have more leeway to alter some of the policies in place, leave the facility for a stroll outside, perhaps? Or, dare I say it, hire some FEMALE scientists? Between the mind of steel and the Fists of Fire, you should get your way.

My goodness! I had never thought of that… I could organize revolution and rise up against the Administrator’s oppression! With my charm, clever wit, vast intelligence, and universal appeal, I would be a natural leader in the overthrow of the Administrator, “taking the power back” and unshackling our chains of virtual slavery!

To my surprise, other letters supported this avenue of action! There were letters like this one, as well:

From: Steven Bennett
Subject: Beat Down on the Administrator

Hey Walter,

If you know Kung-fu and stuff and you’re a complete genius, why dont you beat the crap out of the Administrator and take his place and rule Black Mesa? You could use your genius to trap him in gas room then turn on the gas and kill him or you could triple-kick him, uppercut him then finish him off with a powerbomb.

Oh, to rule Black Mesa! Since Black Mesa is located in Nevada, I could legally turn the entire complex into a vast brothel! I could spend the rest of my life rolling around in piles of lady-women, without a care in the world!

I vigorously thrust my arm in the air, mind full of fire, fist full of steel, and struck a dramatic pose. Something must be done about the Administrator, and I was prepared to take drastic measures to ensure that my life would never be threatened again!

It was then that I began reading more electronic mails and jotting down preliminary plans on a 3M Post-It Note that the government had just dished out a little over $500 for. I’m sorry that I cannot divulge details of my plan to you gentle readers, but I assure you that next week I will report on my certain success. Yes, the Administrator should be taken care of for good come next week. Just you wait!

Your Rebellious Revolutionary,

Walter Bennett
Biochemist, Anomalous Materials Laboratory
Black Mesa Research Facility

Oh my!

Settle firmly into your seats, kind readers, as this week I have a true tale of horror and suspense to share!

It was just another day like any other. I was savoring a piping hot beverage in one of Black Mesa’s many break rooms before heading off to work, when I noticed a pair of scientists walk quickly by the window. I didn’t pay much attention to them as they passed, as I was thinking of Farrah Fawcett at the time, but something seemed fishy. I put down my hot chocolate and went to see who they were. Perhaps it was Dr. Johnson and Dr. Gibson holding hands and skipping about the hallway merrily? That would not surprise me in the least! But by the time I got to the door, the pair of scientists had disappeared. Still curious, I trotted down the hall towards the direction they were heading. I just had to investigate!

Near the end of the hallway, I noticed a side door I had never seen before. Since it was slightly ajar, I brilliantly deducted that it had been used recently. I opened the door and to my shock two scientists that looked exactly like me were on the floor playing Monopoly! While there were a small number of scientists working in Black Mesa that share a slight resemblance to myself, this dastardly pair were exact copies of the incredible Walter Bennett! Perhaps I had been cloned? Impossible! How did they ever get their hands on suitable DNA material? Outside of that unfortunate accident in the lab a few months ago, I had never spewed out any DNA material for public consumption! How could a conspiracy this large remain unnoticed for so long? Especially with my superior intellect around!

When the two scientists playing Monopoly caught sight of me, they started screaming. A third doppelganger entered the room, saw that I had discovered this horrible experiment, and started screaming as well! Then they started running about the room like turkeys with their chest lopped off, in total panic! How could true clones of Walter Bennett panic? Why, if I were myself, I would have used my fists of fire to beat myself into oblivion! I wouldn’t stand a chance against me! But these idiots were actually frightened. Walter Bennett fears nothing!

Glancing about the room, I noticed an exit to the side. I cautiously approached the door and opened it… only to see an army of clones lined up in an inhuman fashion!

I couldn’t believe my eyes! There I was, looking at thousands of myself! You ladies would have fainted from the very sight. Millions of thoughts entered my gigantic brain at once. Who did this? Did they clone me so that Black Mesa could replace all those regular, run-of-the-mill scientists with super-intelligent powerhouses such as myself? What is Liv Tyler’s bra size? Could the Administrator be behind all this?

After thinking about it some more and observing these clones of myself stare about the room blankly, I decided there was only one thing to do: procure a gauss gun for myself and kill these horrible creations of science! There can be only one Walter Bennett, because that way I’ll get all the women!

So that’s exactly what I did. I mowed those poor imitations down like bad blades of grass! The ones that got away I hunted down like hogs.

I was clone free! Get it? *giggle*

On to the letters!

From: Joe
Subject: Communists

Dear Walter,

Are you aware that the “Cold War” between the United States and the Soviet Union is over? In one letter, I recall you claiming that Russians are communists. Not any more! The “Iron Curtain” was torn down, Germany has been reunited, communism died, and democracy has been born in the Soviet Union. Not only did communism die, but in a way, the country did also.

Russia is now broken up into smaller countries. Are you shocked? Before I go, I have one more question for you: What nationality do you come from?

Well, that’s all news to me you silly little man! Perhaps you are mistaken and confusing the Soviet Union with Australia, a country that recently freed itself from communist rule. Besides, I hear there are lots of naked females behind the Iron Curtain. I’d sure like to check behind it!

Just a minute here… perhaps you are a dastardly Russian spy trying to deceive Walter Bennett? That must be it! Ha! You have failed miserably, you turncoat! Just you wait until we land on the moon and shoot laser beams at you from space, then you’ll be sorry!

Oh, and as for my nationality, I am 100% American! You dirty communist bastard!

From: Liam Romano
Subject: The Administrator

Hey Walter,

What exactly does the administrator keep in that briefcase of his? Me and my friend have a bet going that its gay porn or extra tacos for his alien buddies.

Whilst I have commented in the past that the Administrator keeps some very fascinating magazines in his briefcase, no one here at Black Mesa knows what else is in there. Dr. Johnson claims that he keeps a pair of handcuffs and jars of jelly in there, but Dr. Johnson also said that while forcing himself upon an ashtray. Who knows!

I would barge into his office and pry it open with my bare hands, but… ermm… I am too busy to do that! It is not as if I am afraid of the Administrator. Not in the very least!

I must be going. Until next time, there’s no place like clone! Oh, I am quite the joker.

Eating an ice cream clone *giggle*,

Walter Bennett
Biochemist, Anomalous Materials Laboratory
Black Mesa Research Facility

Greetings once again!

I would just like to take this opportunity to point out that Dr. Gibson is a ninny-head of the highest magnitude! You may recall that Dr. Gibson was the ghastly fellow who used violent and immoral tactics to win the last Black Mesa Decathlon. Simply put, there is no one currently walking the grassy fields of this big yellow planet who is more sinister and evil than Dr. Gibson, spawn of hell! Why, even the vile Dr. Johnson is more respectable than Dr. Gibson. At least Dr. Johnson has the courtesy to not remove his pants during important experimental procedures!

Dr. Gibson really “gets my turtle,” so I do believe I should explain to you gentle readers why exactly this man is such a buffoon. You see, shortly after Dr. Gibson won the decathlon, he started to pay more attention to me. I had not associated myself with Dr. Gibson very much previously, but after his deceitful victory he began to make a concerted effort to make my life a living nightmare! For instance, a day or two after the decathlon he asked me how I was feeling and praised me on my performance, pointing out that he had only won by the “skin of his teeth” and that “there was always next year.” The nerve! He was obviously rubbing his victory in my face, trying to humiliate and discredit me. I told him that I couldn’t be bothered right now, and he left me alone. Later that day I needed to ask him if he had checked the settings of the augiophone attenuators, to which he replied, “I believe so.” I asked him if he was certain, and he paused and replied “Yeeessss.” Obviously, he was trying to embarrass me in front of my colleagues. To save face, I wondered aloud about “running that test again,” to which he replied “you are completely wrong.” I was aghast! I countered by asking “are you 100% sure that theory of yours is correct?” to which he replied “Absolutely. Running a test on the current configuration whilst maintenance is being performed would result in…”

That did it! Dr. Gibson never got to finish his sentence, because before he knew it Walter Bennett had leapt through the air and landed a crushing blow squarely upon his weak-livered jaw! My famous fists of fire unleashed their full fury upon this flabbergasted and frail fellow, as I pummeled him with crushing blows that would have made even the fattest elephant-man wince in pain! Why, it practically took an entire brigade of security guards to tear us apart! My rage was as wild as a bra-less busty-lass shooting a machine gun! Dr. Gibson was of course severely damaged as a result of the whole fandango, but he certainly had it coming… don’t you agree? Besides, long-time readers of this column know that I am a humanitarian at heart and would never harm a living being for no good reason. I’m just a sweetheart that way, I suppose! On to the letters! 

From: Jason Thompson
Subject: Experiments

Dear Walter,

I have been an avid fan of yours from the very beginning, when you were still a naive, pure-minded, innocent biochemist.

Anyways, I have a question that I do believe that you could help me with. You see, a group of about ten other students and I are in a program called International Baccalaureate, or IB for short, in our High School. This is an academic program similar to Advanced Placement or other honor-level classes. Part of the IB program requires that we get together and perform some sort of scientific investigation that pulls together the fields of Physics, Biology, and Chemistry. So far, we have been unable to come up with a feasible project (we had contemplated something using Twinkies, but we decided that it would simply cost too much). Our teacher is pushing for us to do an investigation at the local junkyard, but we are not so keen on that. Can your brilliant, if somewhat twisted, mind come up with a good idea? We’d really appreciate it.

Whatever are you talking about, dear Jason? I am still pure-minded, and I never was naïve or innocent! Crazy talk!

That being said, are there females in your group? If so, pair off and start grinding together! And send me photographs so I can “grade” them! If you cannot do that, then I suppose you’ll have to do something more mundane. May I suggest that you find some incredibly powerful lasers and use them to blow up organic material? We do that all the time here at Black Mesa! Just find a big laser (I’d ask your local barber if he uses any of those new laser haircutting machines), find some willing animals, and blow them up! You see, this is a physics experiment because you can study how the chunks land on the ground (and at what velocity), it is a biology experiment because you are documenting the effects of giant laser beams on living creatures, and a chemistry experiment because you’ll be shooting hot hydrogen blasts out of your eyes at that cute little classmate of yours with the fondness for tight sweaters! Mmmm mmm!

I hope this helps you with your predictament. Whatever you do, don’t do anything involving junkyards! Studying Chinese boats is not only dangerous, but you may drown in gallons of discarded Wonton soup!

From: Mike Oxlong
Subject: Your stylish fists of fire

Just a short question really, If you and Gordon Freeman got in a fight, how far would you beat him to the brink of death?

Very far! I’d beat him so senseless he’d think he was former president Gerald Ford! Come to think of it, Gordon Freeman was twice as ugly as Gerald Ford… but he was too stupid to realize that! It’s a good thing Gordon perished in “the incident,” because otherwise I would have tore him apart myself! He’s responsible for the entire resonance cascade scenario and I had absolutely nothing to do with it I tell you! Did I mention his beard was infested with termites?

I do believe it is time to take another look back at the past. Yes, I am certain that this is indeed an opportune time to take another look at one of history's…

GREAT MOMENTS IN SCIENCE!

Once again, I must confess that I do not have enough time to research this particular little sermon properly, but I seriously doubt my sharp mind and astounding memory will fail me. I assure you that this account of history will be nearly completely accurate. Now, let us take a look back to the year 1972:

The United States, nay, the entire world was suffering through an agonizingly long power shortage. Electricity was scarce, so scarce that the electric eels used to power the nation’s cities were dying rapidly from overwork and exhaustion! A solution to this problem was needed, and that solution was Farrah Fawcett! Using her incredible super-powers SuperBabeness, she slept with every nuclear engineer in the country until they invented nuclear power, which was promptly used in Russia in order to blow up tree-stumps in Moscow! Moscow was of course founded by John James Moscow, a famous bed-wetter. Nuclear power fever swept the nation, and today almost all electricity is provided by clean nuclear energy, with only a small percentage being produced by traditional eels. As an interesting historical tidbit, Farrah Fawcett later went on to invent the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which was used to fight off those dirty Nazis during the big one!

I hope that this little historical tidbit enlightened and excited you. Farrah Fawcett sure excited me! And now, I must be off! Toodle-loo!

Your favorite Black Mesa booger,

Walter Bennett
Biochemist, Anomalous Materials Laboratory
Black Mesa Research Facility

Dearest me!

Goodness… my goodness… I am still shaken from the ghastly events that transpired last night!

There I was, the strong, handsome, dashing Walter Bennett sleeping comfortably in my dormitory bunk. I do believe I was dreaming about Drew Barrymore jumping upon my head au natural, singing a song about Hamburger Helper when I was awoke with a start! Terrorists had invaded the dormitory and were herding scientists into a van! I was roughly yanked out of bed and prodded into the demon-van. I would have course taught these terrorist fellows a lesson with my world renown Fists of Fire, but I was still recovering from a terrible cold and was very drowsy and weak! I stuck my head out of the door to protest being held hostage, but my voice was very hoarse and I only managed to let out a pathetic groan. The terrible terrorists laughed at me and slammed the door into my face, knocking me unconscious!

When I came to, I was being carried into a mansion where some short-sleeved terrorist ruffians beat us senseless, searching for weapons and other contraband! I contemplated the idea of breaking free and / or pummeling these naughty boys into submission, but these thoughts were quickly dampened by the menacing glare of the sniper riflescopes aimed squarely at my noggin!

After the search had concluded, the terrorists announced that we were going on a camping trip in the desert. My face lit up in glee! I had never been on a camping trip before! It would surely be oh so very much fun. Sleeping in tents on the ground, coddled firmly in mother nature’s heaving boobies, eating raw pancake batter out of our shoes, finding alternative uses for toasted marshmallows, and gathering about the campfire to tell stories of ghosts and experiments involving aliens with fourteen ears and no legs!

We were once again packed into the van and trucked out to a remote desert valley. Shortly after our arrival, we were ordered from the van and into a tent. Dr. Horis, a colleague I had never met before, mentioned something about us being held hostage, but I dismissed his absurd insinuation and went outside to frolic about the campfire! For a few moments, I swore that I saw a topless young lass on the horizon, running towards the camp. I dearly hoped that she would come and dance around the campfire with me, but these hopes were quickly dashed when I realized that it was not a young lady at all, but a blue-suited fellow wielding a pistol! Perhaps my vision isn’t quite what it used to be.

Gunshots rang out and we were quickly ushered into a small building. A man named “GooPoopie” explained that he was protecting us from the enemy and told us to keep our voices down. While he stood guard, I noticed an interesting picture. Why, it looked like a photograph of Pee-Wee Herman putting the moves on Elizabeth Montgomery, better known as Samantha from Bewitched! That sly old dog.

After a few minutes of serene silence, gunshots once again pierced the cool early morning air and GooPoopie ran outside, leaving us completely unprotected! More gunshots were fired, and it was clear that the enemy was very close to us now. I began to worry, wondering what would happen to my vast compact disc collection  back at Black Mesa. That bastard son Dr. Gibson better keep his slimy hands off my Metallica boxed set!

Suddenly, a blue-suited gentleman burst into the room. Dr. Horis flinched, and the man responded by opening fire, killing Dr. Horis instantly. I guess he was a little jumpy. Oddly enough, as soon as Dr. Horis hit the floor a wad of cash flew out of the counter-terrorist’s pockets and vanished into thin air! Then the man turned to me without saying a word and motioned for me to follow him. It was hard to say anything in response due to my horrible cold, but I managed to croak a hearty “OK, let’s go!” My voice sure must have sounded funny!

He led me outside and we sneaked about the rock formations, careful to avoid terrorists. At one point I had the strange urge to try to levitate in the air and fly away from this horrible mess, but I resisted. It sure is funny how you think of the strangest things when faced with a terrible calamity!

Eventually, we reached a vehicle of some sort. He stopped, turned around, and gave me a dismissing wave. I was just about to show my appreciation by “flipping him the monkey,” but just then I suddenly found myself back in bed, safe as a goose! Was it all a dream? Perhaps I had eaten some bad headcrab stew? And if it was a dream, why wasn’t I waking up with the fetching Victoria Principal!?! Heebie-jeebies!

Still, even if it was merely a dream or intense hallucination, I sure had fun camping! Although it was unfortunate that there were no leafs laying about for use as… errrr… nevermind. *Ahem*

Let us answer some letters!

From: Zachary A Cardona
Subject: What’s going on at BMRF?

Hey there, Walter!

I just noticed in your first column that you offered to tell about the latest gossip at Black Mesa. I was just wondering, what exactly do you gossip about?

Greetings Zachary! Thank you for your letter. Do you wear drawstring pants?

We gossip about all kinds of things here at Black Mesa. For example, some of the hottest gossip last week regarded Barney’s little rendezvous with one of the those dirty, hairy forklift operators! Rumor has it that they played Bridge until dawn and drank copious amounts of maple syrup in the process! Have they no shame? Also, it is believed that Dr. Fringness plagiarized his report on sub-atomic nuclear safety guidelines for the lower Lambda labs to the Administrator. Oh my! That could spell a good bit of trouble for Dr. Fringness if the Administrator finds out. In other news, Dr. Appleton overheard Dr. Charlney talking to Dr. Torgas about the long missing body of Dr. Kerena: Dr. Appleton claimed that the body had been found months ago, and that he was using it to store his baseball card collection! And of course there are always whispers of the Administrator’s current activities and Dr. Johnson’s latest debauchery.

Black Mesa is an exciting place to work!

From: BGPOPACOOL
Subject: A bit of concern…..

Why hello Walter. How are you. I have a serious and potintally life threatning question to ask you. As I rode on the tram to the anamolaus materials lab to visit my cousin Barney, I noticed two rooms located very high on the walls the large room you enter as soon as you come into the facility. As I glanced into their offices I noticed they had no way to get down! What do they do up there!? Can they reach food and water? A single mis-step and they plunge to their bloody death! If you could address the problem I will feel much safer for my cousin Barney. Thanks a bunch.

Those are the offices of the crazy scientists who are not fit to work with the rest of the science team any more! Most of them are driven insane by being forced to perform gruesome experiments on living alien creatures which are trying to eat them in the process, and the others usually lose their minds after consuming too much gravy, one of the more popular (and dangerous!) foods here at Black Mesa. Here you see a deranged scientist intently studying a speck of dust while his cell-mate works on an imaginary experiment. Usually, these happy folks either die of starvation or lack of water, but sometimes they will plummet off the ledge to their doom while chasing imaginary butterflies or bags of candy corn. Those offices are a nice place to visit, but I do not wish to live there!

I do wish I had time to answer more of your fascinating questions, but I am still quite unnerved by my aforementioned camping adventure. A short nap is definitely on the order! I bid you all farewell, so keep warm and fresh until next week!

Your busy-bodied booblelove,

Walter Bennett
Biochemist, Anomalous Materials Laboratory
Black Mesa Research Facility

Hello there!

Let’s cut right to the chase!

From: RavenAutumnWind
Subject: Hey wait! Mirror People!

Walter,

You recently printed proof that there are mirrors in Black Mesa, and normally, I would take your evidence as sacred and true. But wait! What’s this? The image in the mirror is reversed, and not in the way that a mirror image should be! See? The arm you raised is DOWN in the mirror! The arm yo have down is RAISED in the mirror! Don’t you see what is happenening? There ARE NO MIRRORS in Black Mesa! The Administrator has instead hired Mirror People to stand in bathrooms on the other side of a pane of glass, and ACT like they are reflections! They are SPYING on you Walter, don’t you get it? The Administrator is finding out what you do in the potty-room! He has people watching you on the crapper! He is getting reports about how often you pick your nose, or say nasty things about him, or dance naked in the loo! What are you going to do about this?

Egads! If your theory is correct, then the Administrator does indeed know about the time I took an empty toilet paper tube and engaged in… a brisk game of soccer with it! Yes, I played soccer with it and didn’t have it anywhere near my lower torso! I assure you!

Your hypothesis merited further investigation, so I quickly sought out the first restroom equipped with mirroring capabilities. I checked under the stalls to make sure no one was around, and then I broke into another lively macarena dance. Once again, my reflection appeared in the mirror and matched my moves, but as before, the image was not correct! I pondered the situation for a moment and concocted a clever scheme.

I ran from the room, acquired a crowbar from a storage closet upstairs, and then returned to the bathroom to see how my “reflection” would react. Ahah! The doppelganger in the mirror had not anticipated my re-appearance with a foreign instrument! But he still attempted to mimic my movements, hoping in vain that I would not notice. Nothing gets past the keen mind of Walter Bennett! When I jumped onto the counter, the doppelganger froze in fright. Using all of my great strength, I smashed through the glass with my crowbar and confronted the doppelganger face to face!

I grabbed him by the collar and demanded an explanation. “Oh dear,” he exclaimed, shaking violently, “Please do not harm me, you hot-hot sexy-sexy man!” And then he started to touch my leg in an inappropriate matter!

Since it was obvious that I was not going to gather any pertinent information from this particular individual, and I did not appreciate the way he was greeting me, I knocked him out oh so very gently with my crowbar.

Suddenly, another scientist strolled into the restroom. “My god!” he gasped, “What are you doing?” It was the vile Dr. Johnson, of all people! “Weren’t you supposed to be in the test chamber a half hour ago,” I replied, “experimenting with the effects of vibrating laser energy upon your diminutive manhood?”

Dr. Johnson, to my surprise, was aghast. “How dare you make such vile comments! I am one of the most respected scientists in Black Mesa! I’ll report you to the Administrator!”

Suddenly I realized that something was wrong! Dr. Johnson was acting very strangely. His belt-buckle was still securely fastened!

“You are Dr. Johnson, aren’t you?” I inquired. “Absolutely,” he replied, shaking his head. I pondered his response for a moment. “Then who is this on the floor?” I asked, gesturing towards the body.

Dr. Johnson frowned. “That is Walter Bennett,” he replied. “He’s one of the most brilliant scientists Black Mesa has… is he alright? I’d hate to lose such a valuable member of the science team; he is a brilliant, eloquent, polite, genteel, and caring man. By far the best biochemist we have ever had on staff. And quite popular with the ladies, as well.”

“THE WHAT?!” I exclaimed. “There are WOMEN in Black Mesa!? Impossible!” Dr. Johnson peered at me strangely. “Of course there are,” he said, looking over my shoulder. “Why, the majority of our staff is female. You should know that… unless… oh my.”

Dr. Johnson examined the broken mirror and frowned. “You haven’t properly introduced yourself, but I’m willing to bet your name is Walter Bennett as well, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean ‘as well,’” I huffed. “There is only one Walter Bennett, the mighty man of men!”

“Didn’t you listen to what I just said a few moments ago, Walter?” Dr. Johnson replied, slightly irritated.

“Of course!” I retorted. “You said that many women scientists do indeed work here at Black Mesa. Lead me to the breeding grounds this instant!”

Dr. Johnson sighed. “Don’t you understand The man on the floor is Walter Bennett as well. You’ve stumbled into an alternate dimension. A world in which life as you know it as has changed. This dimension is much like a mirror image of your own, but not completely so as it is obvious that this world shares certain similar characteristics. The mirror that you broke was a gateway to this world.” Dr. Johnson paused and took a breath. “I do believe that you’ve stumbled upon some sort of long abandoned experiment which was thought to have failed. Or perhaps this is some sort of clever masquerade. I can’t be certain. On second thought, perhaps…”

Just then another scientist, sporting long hair and a cheesy mustache popped his head into the room. “Yo yo yo Dr. J,” he said, shaking his head up and down. “I’ve been looking all over for you! There’s a PHAT party going down in the physics lab, get down here before we run out cocaine!”

Dr. Johnson nodded and turned his back to me. “Walter, your presence here could cause problems I couldn’t possibly foresee. I’m afraid you’ll have to go back.”

And then he whipped around and drop kicked me! Caught totally unprepared, I was knocked unconscious. As I hit the floor, I could have sworn I heard the familiar laugh of the Administrator!

I awoke back in the bathroom, on the other side of the mirror. Remarkably, the mirror had been replaced and had been completely fogged up! I tried to wipe the mist away, but to no avail. I checked the other bathrooms that contained viewing mirrors and found the situation to be the same. I could no longer see my reflection! I tried once again to break the mirrors, but I could only manage to crack them.

I told my colleagues of my adventure to this negative world, but they did not believe me! Why do these peculiar things keep happening to me? Do you readers recall those vending machines that tried to end my dear life? Someone must be out to get me! Someone must be jealous of my success and worldwide fame!

I can’t imagine whom. Maybe I have a secret admirer!

From: Jan-Jacob Blussé
Subject: Safety

From a worried home-scientist.

I’m a young person who has his interests in sciences, so I like to do some experimenting at home. As I came along you’re column (my compliments by the way), I couldn’t help noticing the experiments for your readers to do at home, are at some occasions quite dangerous. Thus, I wondered what sort of protection I should wear? I prefer the Level 4 kevlar-suit, but it’s not very handy in use, so I’d like to ask if you could add to the experiments what type of suit you should as a minimum (and without dying in it). Au revoir!

A very good question, Frenchie! Better safe than sorry! When handling dangerous materials, such as radioactive waste and Pepsi One, be sure to lather soap upon your belly. This will protect the tum-tum from diseases, such as syphilis! Also, be sure to wear a sturdy hat (I prefer a “Derby”) to protect your eyes. If you spill any radioactive material, wipe it up in your hands so as not to contaminate towels. When confronted with flying debris, close your eyes to protect yourself. And most importantly, wear a T-Shirt that says, “I am Invincible!” This will also keep evil sprits away. If you follow these tips to the letter, you will be perfectly safe!

I must be running off! See all you friendly faces (and nipples!) next week!

Your hot cider-slurping scientist,

Walter Bennett
Biochemist, Anomalous Materials Laboratory
Black Mesa Research Facility

Greetings, readers! I do hope you gleefully chuckled at the title of this installment, I racked my brain for hours to come up with that particular clever ditty!

I must admit to being a big fan of the Dukes of Hazard television program. Those Duke boys and Boss Hogg always found themselves in such wacky predicaments! And myself? Well, I constantly found myself enraptured by Daisy Duke’s jean-shorts! My goodness! If I were Bo or Luke, I certainly would not care if she were my cousin! Unto your back you go for deflowering, Daisy! But I digress.

Last week, a colleague informed me that my HEV suit certification had expired. You see, here at Black Mesa, mission-critical scientists must be trained on the proper use of the HEV suits every few years. However, I have managed to evade hazard course training for quite some time by using my superior intellect to outsmart my superiors. In fact, I had run the hazard course only one time previously, and that was way back when I was freshly recruited. The hazard course was quite different then! It was just a room which contained cardboard boxes, crates, some crude hurdles, and a leaking sewage pipe! We didn’t even possess HEV suits back then… we had yellow raincoats that had “SAFETY” scrawled onto the back!

But instead of avoiding HEV certification this time around, I eagerly made an appointment to take the hazard course. Why, you ask? Partly because I had yet to give the new HEV Mark 4 “a spin about the block,” and was curious to see what enhancements had been made since its previous incarnation, the Mark 3. The Mark 3 was quite advanced for its time, as a matter of fact: it not only kept us scientists safe from hazardous material, but it gave us all a brisk, close, three-bladed wonder shaving!

Also, I had been hearing rumors about the presence of a female on the hazard course! I assure you that this was not my primary reason for assenting, however!

Dr. Stevens led me to the hazard course, as I hadn’t the slightest inkling of its location. After all, I hadn’t taken the course in years and had never volunteered to be one of the fools who help run it, shouting silly words of encouragement to the participants. He helped me into my HEV suit, and I stepped into the elevator that led down to the course’s starting point, enduring long ride down. Eventually, the doors opened… and there she was!

The woman of my dreams! Actually, any sort of female would fit that description, but there she was… an actual mammary possessing girl!

I could hardly control myself and the HEV suit began to feel very uncomfortable in the crotchable area! After composing myself, I immediately ran to her side and attempted to thrust myself into her. But to my surprise, my hand just passed through her goody basket like she was not there at all! It was then that I cleverly deducted that this woman was in fact a hologram! She began to speak, mentioning something about being my “ho assistant.” What good is a “ho” if you can’t get it naked and writhing about the floor? I also alertly noticed that she had the same voice as the recorded one on the train system! I was absolutely crushed. The voice that had pleasured me so many times on my daily ride to work came from this two-bit holographic hussy! Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for women in see-through clothing, but this is absurd! Holographic women… I scoff at the very idea! Her breasts were not even bared!

I turned around and walked back to the elevator, only to discover that the only way out was to actually complete the course! I, the great Walter Bennett, would have to waste my time shuffling around in this infernal contraption in a meaningless attempt to prove my manliness! Ridiculous! But with no alternatives in sight, I gritted my teeth and followed the holowoman’s instructions.

The first part of the course was a breeze, thanks to my superior athletic ability and rippling muscles. Here is a photo of me catching “mad air” in the jumping test.

Yes, all was well… until I got to the “jump off the ledge and hit a target for no apparent reason” test! I do not think I have mentioned my slight fear of heights in this column previously, but I must admit that I was a bit apprehensive. Why, it must have been a twenty-seven-story drop to the floor! But being the manly man I am, I eventually dropped to the floor and broke my ankle! Fiddlesticks! I immediately slipped out of my HEV suit and fumbled around my undergarments for the medical syringe I always carry with me to heal myself. Whilst dilly-dallying about in my underclothes, a giant cock-roach nearly bit my entire foot off! And to make matters worse, it turned out that just around the corner there was a health dispenser. I could have saved myself some trouble by listening to the holowoman’s instructions, I suppose, but who needs instructions when you’re as smart and sexy as I am?

After easily completing a few more asinine tests, I began to grow weary of the pointless tedium. So I looked for ways in which I could “rip the system.” Long-time readers will no doubt be aware of my fondness for alternative music, such as those anti-establishment wonder-kinds, Rage Against the Machine! So I “fought the man” by pushing a box unto the holowoman! It was quite hilarious, not to mention rebellious and daring!

More pointless tests followed, but the situation improved when weapons were introduced into the equation! I quite enjoyed smashing things with the crowbar, but once I got my hands on the machine gun and some contact grenades… the fun began! I just love shooting things, even if they are just inanimate targets, so this was “right up my alley!” I did run into some problems with the unbreakable glass target, but after about forty-five minutes I figured out what I had to do. It’s a good thing I’m so smart, or I’d really be “up the creek!”

Near the end of the test, I had to actually interact with one of those brainless Barney’s. I patted him about the head to get him to follow me, then led him to the door. They are incapable of moving about on their own free will, by the way, and must be herded like sheep by specially trained Barney herders!

After Barney unlocked the door, I turned to thank him for his assistance. Sadly, while reaching out to shake his hand, my finger slipped on the trigger of the machine gun and I inadvertently unloaded a clip of ammunition into his belly! I sure hope he was hungry… for hot lead! Then, to my complete astonishment, the turrets on the ceiling whirred to life. I immediately ska-daddled, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. I tried to destroy the turrets from a distance with my contact grenades, but my aim was a bit off and one bounced into a room containing a fellow scientist and yet another Barney! I sincerely hope they are all right…

And with that I gracefully mounted the train car and rode out of the hazard course, passing certification with flying colors. It was certainly an interesting experience, but a real man like Walter Bennett has no use for a silly contraption like the HEV suit. Our lab coats are more than enough protection from radiation and other hazards. They even contain polyester!

Goodness, chronicling my adventures ate up more column space than I expected. I only have time to answer one letter, so I might as well stay with the topic and respond to a query about the hazard course!

From: Jsp25
Subject: Hazard Course

Greetings Walter!,

I have a rather interesting query, well to me it’s interesting, about the Hazard Course, where does the tunnel at the end of the course actually lead to. It seems the light just fades until it’s pitch dark and the voice comes on.

You are correct, sir, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel! Most people fall asleep on the train due to boredom, soothed by the steady clickly-clack of the train car. That explains the “fading to black” that you mentioned! If you stay on the train long enough, you’ll come to a bar called “The Glass Beaker.” Many of our Irish scientists frequent it, because they are drunkards! The original purpose of the bar was to put those antiquated beakers to good use while providing a place where science team members could “kick it” after enduring the rigorous hazard course. I myself am not a drinking man, however, so I pay no attention to that seedy hole in the wall whatsoever. Speaking of holes in the wall, you’ll never guess what Dr. Johnson was caught doing yesterday! A viler man does not exist on this plain of existence. We’re starting to run dreadfully low on plaster!

I really should be getting back to work now, so I will leave you with a final thought: there are men in this world that are born to be leaders, and there are men in this world who are born to be meat beaters. I am of course referring to the butchers who cut up the tasty horsemeat that is served to us every Sunday here at Black Mesa! My thanks go out to all you apron-clad animal cutter uppers out there.

Until next time, keep eating cabbage!

Your dearest lovely,

Walter Bennett
Biochemist, Anomalous Materials Laboratory
Black Mesa Research Facility

Hello faithful readers!

I would just like to give a hearty thanks to all of you friendly folks out there. This column is my only window to the outside world, my only opportunity to interact with the young people and the KISS fans of this great nation! And other nations as well, such as Alaska. May walrus flab keep you warm and toasty, you silly ass Eskimos!

Enough of the chitter-chatter, let’s get right to it, shall we?

From: carletti
Subject: Equal Opportunity Employer?

Walter;

Not long ago I was privileged enough to take a tour of the low-security areas of the Black Mesa Research Facility and was informed that the BMRF is an equal opportunity employer.

However on my visit I did not see a single female employee.

Is this the action of the Administrator? Has he avoided hiring female employees for fear they would not work effectively if they were in proximity with yourself?

I have discussed this horrible practice many, many, many, times previously. The lack of lady-girl employees here at Black Mesa is absolutely appalling, especially considering the large number of positions I’d like to put these fine females in! Your assumption that I am somehow responsible for the lack of women here is absurd, of course. I respect women and the goodies they have to offer me very much!

But your letter has prompted me to put more effort into researching the cause of this terrible oversight. After careful study, I think I know why the Administrator only hires men!

Rumor has it that women have applied for work at Black Mesa. Dr. Jackson claims that his sister, a well-known physics expert, was turned down by the Administrator for no apparent reason.

In a previous column, I mentioned that Dr. Johnson had been reprimanded by the Administrator and was detained in the Administrator’s office for a long period of time. I also referred to an enticing rumor that had been floating about the complex about Dr. Johnson being tied up in the Administrator’s office, wearing nothing but a red beret and a crooked grin! Now at the time that didn’t seem very unusual, after all, this particular brand of punishment had been inflicted upon other members of the science team, being stripped of their lab coats and tied to the Administrator’s desk for days… but once I began to think about it, the more it bothered me!

Was it really necessary to strip the scientists of their lab coats? I don’t see why he would do that, lab coats are in abundant supply and certainly they are not needed for any other purposes. Why would the Administrator force his employees to be naked and firmly bound to his desk? What possible purpose could that serve?

At first I was stumped. I could not think of any reason why the Administrator would do this (or what he was doing when I spied him walking about late at night in his pink undergarments, for that matter). I asked some of my colleagues about the Administrator’s punishment methods, hoping to gain some valuable insight, but most of them refused to answer my queries. Many simply turned their back on me, shaking horribly. The despicable Dr. Johnson, however, giggled like a schoolboy and winked at me several times when I asked him what happened to him in the Administrator’s office. He eagerly offered to show me what the Administrator did to him, but I was very apprehensive and immediately “booked.”

But at long last I finally came to a suitable conclusion! The Administrator partakes in this practice because it teaches the scientist a lesson: without your lab coat, you are but a dog! The rope symbolizes a leash, you see. How ironic!

I can’t think of any other possible reason, so I am certain that this assumption is correct.

From: dhanderson
Subject: fists

Walter why do all of the scientists in the BMRF walk around with your hands fisted? (even before the incident)

To protect our valuable fingers you nitwit! Our fingers are very important to us, and they must be preserved. We here at Black Mesa only use our fingers when absolutely necessary. To that end, we have all taught ourselves how to type, eat, sleep, walk, and hold clipboards without using our fingers! Fisting is wonderful, once you become accustomed to it!

I am also very careful about keeping my hands in a fist because at any moment I may encounter a situation that requires use of my world renowned “fists of fire!” You fellows had best step off, because Walter Bennett is an enigmatic warrior and “messing” with me is not very wise at all!

From: Resurfacer
Subject: On Reflection…

Walter,

While I was getting ready to meet one of the ladies that I had been set up with, I was hunting around to find a mirror to see if my tie was straight…only to find that there aren’t any!

Can you tell me why I can’t seem to locate a mirror in Black Mesa to “check my look”…

There are many mirrors in Black Mesa. They are an essential part of many of our laser systems, for instance. Yes, many of our mirrors are fogged up due to excessive heat or heavy breathing, but many of the mirrors in the lower level restrooms work perfectly. Here is a picture of myself practicing that hot new dance sensation, the Macarena, in front of a mirror.

There are many mirrors in Black Mesa. They are an essential part of many of our laser systems, for instance. Yes, many of our mirrors are fogged up due to excessive heat or heavy breathing, but many of the mirrors in the lower level restrooms work perfectly. Here is a picture of myself practicing that hot new dance sensation, the Macarena, in front of a mirror.

Wait one moment… if you work in Black Mesa, how could you possibly be gallivanting with ladyfriends! There must be women somewhere in Black Mesa… perhaps I should be looking harder! Before I get even harder, that is!

Before we depart, I would like to bring to you some of my predictions of the future. You see, as a scientist, I know what the future holds and what wondrous technologies we will soon be using.

In the near future, we will all be driving flying automobiles! I know this revolutionary prediction may shock you, the very idea may seem positively absurd, but I know I am right! These flying automobiles, which I call “flying contraceptives,” will allow people to fly wherever they please. Roads will become a thing of the past with flying contraceptives! Then what will become of the roads, you ask? They will be populated by gangs of ruffians, fighting in ancient land-based automobiles, and all of them will be wearing tight leather outfits and wear their hair much like dirty hippies!

In the world of fashion, women will gut cute little Panda Bears with their bear (tee-hee!) hands in order to procure the Panda’s stomach. They will then tie a pair of Panda’s stomachs about their wrists and look positively ravishing!

Mark my words! The future will be positively marvy!

I must be going now. Keep that correspondence coming!

Your flying contraceptive,

Walter Bennett
Biochemist, Anomalous Materials Laboratory
Black Mesa Research Facility

Ah, hello there.

I’m afraid to report that this week was not a very productive one here at Black Mesa. You see, we ran into a small problem that hampered our progress quite severely.

The team I am currently assigned to is working on an experiment that requires abundant amounts of laser power to blow up different alien species. This is not unusual in itself, as we often engage in blowing up aliens with lasers on our own free time because it is quite amusing, but the results of this particular experiment will be used in the development of a fascinating new weapon that will transform alien critters into charcoal. The charcoal then can be used to barbecue all sorts of yummy summer food like hot dogs, hamburgers, and grilled lion ears! I just love chomping down on warm wieners! We used to use the Blast Pit for barbecues, but that area of the complex was heavily damaged during “the incident.” Good thing our freezers survived the incident, because losing all those big slabs of horsemeat would have been an absolute tragedy!

Ah yes, back to the subject at hand. A problem arose late last week when we inadvertently overloaded one of the laser’s firing mechanisms and rendered it inoperable. This had never happened before, and everyone began to panic. As I was pondering who I should eat first, Old Dr. Bureller recalled that a supply of replacement parts for the particular laser we were operating was stored in Lab JB-432, which was located at the other end of the complex. Dr. Wright, Dr. Arkham, and myself were chosen to retrieve the part.

It was a long hike to the other end of the complex. Dr. Wright suggested that we take a tram to shorten the trip, but I scoffed at his suggestion and called him a lilly-pants! A good brisk walk through a dangerous and depilated government funded research facility never hurt anyone, and besides, my fists of fire would have protected us from any harm we may had encountered.

Eventually, we located Lab JB-432, only to discover that huge amounts of debris made it seemingly inaccessible. However, Dr. Arkham pointed out that we could probably access Lab JB-432 through Lab JB-431, since the two were probably connected in some way. I agreed and we decided to investigate.

We entered Lab JB-431 and quickly realized that yes, the two labs were connected. We could even see the storage cabinets in which the laser’s replacement parts were stowed away, but a collapsed table and other rubbish blocked our path! We put our heads together (not literally speaking, of course!) and decided that the best solution to our predicament was to simply climb over the wreckage. Using my well-muscled and shapely legs, I deftly stepped over the wreckage and reached the cabinet. However, the replacement part was far too heavy and fragile to carry myself, so I ordered Dr. Arkham to help me. He walked up to the edge of the wreckage stopped, looked about the room, and defiantly uttered “This is as far as I go!” At this point I was beginning to get very agitated so I asked Dr. Wright for assistance. He also could not climb over the debris, and he simply stood there and said, “I refuse to go another step!” That was the straw that humped the camel’s rack. “Dr. Wright, you insolent little peabody,” I sneered, “You will assist me this instant or I will tell Dr. Johnson where you hide your hamsters!” At this point Dr. Arkham spoke up. “I’m going to stay here, and wait for my colleagues!” he proclaimed, standing firm. I was simply aghast. I exclaimed, “But we are your colleagues, you toodle-wit!” Alas, it was to no avail.

So thanks to the incompetence of my colleagues, we were not able to secure the replacement part for the laser. Imagine, doctorates in theoretical physics and mathematics respectively, and they didn’t even have the intelligence to step over a small bit of debris! There goes our warm wieners!

Hmph. I simply don’t understand why I am so much better than everyone else is. Let us answer some letters!

From: Lachlan Austin
Subject: Animals

I’d like to know what Gordon Freeman’s fondness for animals is. You said something about it in a previous column. I know he carries around the odd Snark for company from time to time, but that doesn’t mean anything. Please explain it for me.

Oh would you kindly “give me a break?!” As I said, Gordon’s “special fondness” for animals is very well documented! I am not aware of him carrying on any long-term relationships with Snarks, but I am sure he spent most of his time during “the incident” in the arms of his various alien lovers! Yes, that Freeman was a vile and sex-crazed individual. A pervert whose incessant desire for animal flesh left his colleagues sickened and disturbed! Except, of course, Dr. Johnson who loved Gordon dearly (in more ways than one, no doubt!) and encouraged his activities with all kinds of wildlife. I know for a fact that he engaged in “activities” with four cows, eight geese, ten dogs, lions, and tigers, bears… you name it! He probably perished during “the incident"… thank goodness! It was his entire fault anyhow. Had I been in charge of pushing the specimen into the laser beam, we’d all be sitting around a fireplace and sipping Indian tea! It’s a good thing I was around to save Black Mesa, not to pat myself on the back or anything.

Did I neglect to mention Freeman’s poor personal hygiene? His goat-tee was always full of crumbs and sneeze droplets! A disgrace to the rest of the science team. Good riddance!

From: Dan Gowan
Subject: Your past…..

Walter, could you please inform me and all of your readers of where you spent your childhood? Such as where you grew up, went to school, teachers, other childhood students, ex-girlfriends(probably to many to remember) and anyone else that could give me information about your personal life?

Why, I’d be delighted to, Dan!

Unfortunately, I was isolated from the fairer sex for most of my childhood and early teenage days. I spent many a year at the Saint Joseph’s Boys Academy, concentrating in the various disciplines of science. I was of course beloved by all my classmates. They must have seen my potential for greatness even at that early age. I have fond memories of being placed into the wheeled refuse containers (which, at the time, was a highly advanced piece of technology!) by my classmates. I can still hear their whoops of good cheer and admiration as they wheeled me about the school. This was their special way of showing me how much I meant to them. Alas, on many an occasion they got a little carried away and accidentally (of course) wheeled me down the grand stairway in front of our main entrance, inadvertently leaving me in a crumpled heap two hundred and forty seven steps later.

Fond memories indeed! As for inspirational teachers, I remember a Mr. Duncan. He wore checkered pants! Mr. Duncan taught chemistry and took me under his wing, opening my eyes to the wonderful world of biochemistry in particular. He was always there to answer my questions and supply me with Kleenex. Without Mr. Duncan, I am sure I would be a seriously troubled individual.

I do believe I’m out of time for this week, but before I bid you all farewell, I would just like to encourage you young people to plant a tree! Not only are they good for the environment, but they give dogs a place to pee! That rhymed, you see? Tee-hee-hee!

"Keeping it authentic” thirty miles under the surface,

Walter Bennett
Biochemist, Anomalous Materials Laboratory
Black Mesa Research Facility