MISCELLANY

There is, in case you haven't figured it out yet, not much going on. Therefore I will tell you a Soyuz joke. Actually it's an old Space Age joke, but when all that faded there was no occasion to tell it--until this week, that is.

It seems the Soyuz-Apollo crew has landed on Mars, where it is greeted by little men with soft hair that covers their entire bodies. "Who are you?" one of the astronauts inquires.

"We are the furries," one of the little men responds.

"Take us to your leader."

"Okay." So the furriers take the aster-cosmonauts on a long journey, through many of Mars's famed canals, until they arrive at a huge palace. They enter through a gate and pass through a seemingly endless succession of rooms, each grander and more beautiful than the last. Finally they enter the last room, the grandest of all--it's about 50 yards long, with jewel-encrusted walls and solid gold floors. At the end of the room, sits another hairy little man with a large hypodermic needle attached to the top of his head.

"That must be your king," one of the astronauts says. (The cosmonauts, who speak very little English, are missing most of this.)

"It is," says their guide.

"What do you call him? He must have a name."

"Of course. He's the furry with the syringe on top."