Court Approves Limited Crucifictions

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In a stunning move, seemingly timed to contrast with the ongoing hesitancy of Down County Supreme Court to take up the death penalty, Nailyard’s Court of No Appeals – an extralegal tribunal with no recognized authority – declared that crucifictions would resume on a limited basis starting on Friday (which ends a 700 year hiatus that many thought would last forever).

exalted-magistrate-luke-billy-boy-willadeanThe ruling, made by Exalted Magistrate Luke “Billy Boy” Willadean, seems to have been made in the heat of passion as he passed sentence on Paulsy McGruder, a self-styled grifter found guilty of 84 counts of homicide in the torching of a nursing home for the blind. Leaning across the bench, clearly shaken (or high), “Billy Boy” – whose great aunt was burnt in the fire and had to move to Disfigure – shook his gavel at the defendent and said: “Hangin’s too good fer ya. And we ain’t about to go wrackin’ our brains for some ‘hu-mane’ way to off yer ass. So, I’m thinkin’ crucifiction.”

“Crucify him!” yelled the crowd, most of whom paid $6.00 in silver to watch the show. “Screw Down County!” – a reference to the Supreme Court’s de facto approval of A-1 Execution’s hanging demonstration. “We don’t need no bureaucrats tellin’ us how to kill scum like McGruder!”

“Get out the nails!”

McGruder’s attorney tried repeatedly to interject, citing case law after case law, and demanding a mistrial, but his pleadings were overpowered by the crowd. When the gavel went down, McGruder yelled into the mike, “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do!” which only made the crowd angrier.

The Book of Jack“Blasphemer!” “Jack Rabbit!” they cried, in reference to a passage in the Gospel of St. Harold which describes Jack’s temptation by The Dark One disguised as a one-eyed jack rabbit with the keys to a brothel (pg. 112, Book of Jack, sacred text of the Jahweh’s Church of Modern Day Interstellar Disciples).

 

With that, McGruder was dragged from the courtroom to a cell where he’ll await crucifiction next week in “Billy Boy’s” backyard during his annual fish fry. Entry to the fish fry/crucifiction is $10 in advance, $15 the day of the crucifiction. Parking is available on McGruder’s old lawn (next door). Hurry! Tickets limited.

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Dostoevsky To Make Rare Appearance

 Fyodor Dostoevsky, presumed dead for over a century, has consented to a rare and extraordinary appearance at the Red Books bookstore in Balto this weekend to field questions about his 130-year disappearance and sign copies of his latest book, “The Idiot II.” Dostoevsky, who gained passing notice in Russia for his brooding cynicism and uncanny resemblance to Rasputin, is perhaps best known for his acclaimed work, The Brothers Karamazov, which features an aging buffoon with three kids and a bastard. That work, recently described as “a modern day Flubug” by Roger Kieves, stage director at the Brackwater State Correctional Institution Playhouse, will be discussed at length by the indefatigable author but will not overshadow his latest offering.

“Idiot II is an amazing piece of work,” said Babs Stricklen, known socialist and talent scout for the secular, atheist-funded red flag bookstore adbookstore. “And it stands on its own right. It also comes at a pivotal time in our nation’s history. True, it may have taken longer than his other books, perhaps longer than anyone thought possible, but exceptional writers often take years to produce quality work. Just look at Clive Cussler.”

Dostoevsky will sign purchased copies of his Idiot II between dialysis treatments from 2pm to 4pm at the Red Books bookstore at the center of Influenza Square in downtown Balto. Attendees are advised to arrive early, especially if the Badgers-Falcons game is rained out.

Charlatan Buffs Prep for Car Show

1974 FMC Charlatan adThose who remember the ’70’s remember a time when manufacturing jobs were everywhere, gas prices were .45 cents a gallon and minors still needed phony ID to buy beer at the Check N Pay. They might also remember an auto manufacturing firm called the Flubug Motor Company (FMC), headed by Sheriff “Big Dog” Ramsey’s dad, George Ramsey.

But they might not remember The Charlatan.

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In the days of a diversified economy, FMC loomed like a giant over industrial Flubug. And George Ramsey’s mission was simple: produce a line of cars that offered the Average Joe pride of ownership without elevating his perceived station in life.

And the Charlatan did just that.

Priced at just $3,217 without options (like tires), Ramsey was sure he had a hit on his hands. And he did. So much so that Charlatans vanished as fast as they could be produced. But far from being an economic success, The Charlatan turned out to be one of Ramsey’s most pronounced failures. Theft was a constant problem. Many vehicles disappeared right off the assembly line, driven to nearby chop shops in Nailyard or Calhoun. Others were stolen from dealer lots. Those that were sold often ended in lakes or streams as owners tested the company claims that their cars would float.

Only two Charlatans are known to exist to this day. And those will be on display this weekend with other vehicular oddities at the Eunice Car Club in downtown Eunice.

But first some background on The Charlatan.

The Charlatan was introduced in 1974 as a hybrid between a bloated compact and mid-sized sedan. It was the first (and only) car to offer D.A.N. (Dolphin-Assisted Navigation). D.A.N. purported to summon dolphins in the event vehicles became submerged (which was highly likely given the fact that the cars were marketed as aquamarine vehicles). In theory, the navigation system would send “sonar pulses” to “nearby” dolphin pods who would then pilot drivers (and their sunken vehicles) to safety.

But the cars never lived up to the hype.

Charlatans were cited in at least a dozen drownings when cocky owners, smug in the belief that dolphins would come to their rescue, drove their vehicles into rivers, ponds, lakes and even the Miasma Rapids. Many did so purposely just to meet the adorable creatures. But as one survivor wryly noted: “There weren’t no dolphins for thousands of miles. I can’t believe I fell for it.”

Yet many did.

Among other problems that plagued The Charlatan was the fuel tank, which was placed under the pull-down child seat in back. A litany of explosions were attributed to the design, the most noteworthy of which took place outside the Pig In A Poke when a four-year old child was blown through the roof while clutching a doll. Yet despite public outrage (and calls for Ramsey’s resignation) none of the accidents resulted in legal proceedings, much less payouts. Ramsey maintained throughout that underage smoking, not design flaws, were to blame. But the accidents took their toll on the company’s image. They eventually shipped their operation to the Cayman Islands.

The spare tire was another bone of contention with Charlatan owners. The tire, which was mounted on the ceiling inside the vehicle, was held in place by four cotter pins. The pins, touted as “EZ-Mount” fixtures, were in fact impossible to remove without an expensive, understocked, wrench which was made in Somalia. Many owners simply pried the pins from their housing and threw the bicycle tire (or spare) in the back. The fact that the tire was only guaranteed to last 60 feet also caused friction between owners and FMC.

But there were features embraced by Charlatan owners. Among them was the Top-Mounted Pet Bin which could be used, not only for pets, but also for transporting hens, dung, hay and old copies of The Bugle earmarked for archival storage at The Dump. And the kudos weren’t confined to owners. Road & Flare magazine gave The Charlatan a grudging thumbs-up on its Oct. 1974 cover, only mentioning (twice) that the flares which came mounted beneath the driver’s seat had a tendency to explode on warm days.

But it was the options that really set Charlatan apart. Many have long since disappeared and would command hefty prices these days if they could be found. The lifesaver which hung from the driver’s side mirror was perhaps the most coveted. Curiously, it had the least orders of any option at the time. But it quickly became a prized backorder as owners became familiar with the vehicle’s deficiencies. The dolphin decal, which peeled readily from the right front end, is also in high demand these days as are the veneer oars. Only one pair of oars have survived to this day and none of the chrome-plated dolphin hitches which snapped like twigs when used to tow anything.

All in all The Charlatan is viewed as an historic disaster for FMC, though it was followed by several notorious copycats. It may also have led to Ramsey’s embarrassing political losses and his eventual relocation to a nudist colony in Brazil.

But none of that will sway the estimated 100 visitors who will flock to Eunice this weekend to steal a vicarious peek at Flubug’s past. And it probably won’t dissuade Ramsey’s son from attending either. As the Sheriff so succinctly put it this weekend while campaigning in Quagmire: “I love the cars here in Eunice. They just seem so right.”

Tickets can be purchased for the event throughout the week for $5.00 at the Civil War Theater in downtown Eunice or $10 on the day of the event.

Tire Fire City Kicks Off New Marketing Campaign

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Tire Fire City, which currently engulfs 114 (make that 115) acres along the Nafta Superhighway, has dazzled tourists since the 1930’s with breath-taking plumes and spectacular flames. Flare-ups can be seen from as far off as the planet Europa and the conflagration has fueled a tourist trade that’s long obviated the need for agriculture.

But tourism has flagged in recent years, owing perhaps to the 82% unemployment rate or the noticable spike in gang activity which recently saw a special ed bus hijacked for the kid’s lunch money.

Yet Fawn Doobie isn’t put off. As chairwoman of the Tire Fire City Preservation Society, thinks she understands why tourism has declined.

“It’s our marketing strategy,” she says. “Casting ourselves as the Eighth Unnatural Wonder of the World was okay with baby boomers raised on Jason and the Argonauts. But young people today think ancient history means last Tuesday. Our new slogan, “Feel the Burn!” captures the thrill of Tire Fire City in three, easy-to-text words. Like the fire, we think it’ll go viral!”

Fawn may have a point.

Flubug residents, once comfortable that the fire was contained at a safe distance, are beginning to question the billowing smoke that now crosses the highway non-stop. Two new two exits, a third planned next year, have also increased local anxiety.

Tire Fire City as seen from Europa

“At some point,” says Vejay Batyramyra, Professor Emeritus at Beseech Academy for Incendiary Studies. “We may have to entertain the possibility that the fire is out of control.”

But Fawn says that’s all to the good. “The fire was out of control a hundred years ago when Flubug’s Founder, Scotch Johnson, ran out of gas near Molten Lake and tossed his threadbare tires into Goodyear Gulch. All this means is that visitors can expect a truly realistic experience.”

The campaign kicks off this week at the Tire Fire City Interpretive Center, just east of the latest flare-up. Coupons for Dem Bones “Special Seasonings” will be given to the first (20) people who “Like” Tire Fire City on Facebook.

Toddler Tossed As Summerfest Opens

Summerfest festivities, anticipated thoughout the year by Flubuggers who’ve forgotten how bad the last Summerfest was, opened with near tragedy this afternoon when six year old Danny Kleptfish was thrown from the ferris wheel onto the fried twinkee stand awning. The child, who bounced twice before being caught, was immediately rushed to Flubug Memorial Hospital where he was reported in dazed but stable condition (the norm in Flubug). The hospital, which keeps its location secret to dissuade the uninsured, refused to elaborate on the child’s condition until his insurance coverage could be ascertained.

A spokesman for  the Villaneuva Entertainment Co., LLC which owns and operates the ferris wheel and other rides at the festival, including the Anaconda Jump which claimed the lives of two naturalists last year when they failed to navigate a chasm above a pit of vipers, said the company was in full compliance with Down County regulations and were “encouraged” by the child’s recovery. Down County officials also refused comment, saying only that “litte Danny is in our prayers.”

possum-swill-adThe incident, which brought festivities to a halt for several minutes, garnered mixed reactions from the crowd, many of whom raced to the twinkee booth to glean the child’s trajectory. Booth owner Doris Schleggelheimer lamented the near-tragedy but applauded her team who sold out of twinkees and possum gulp within ten minutes and had the presence of mind to increase prices by allegedly donating 10% of all proceeds to the toddler’s care.

“Ya gotta hand it to ’em,” she smiled, counting the day’s take. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to donate a full 10% but we’ll do something for little Danny, if just to keep him in our prayers.”

Summerfest continues through September 12th when Fireworks by Yee bring the annual festivities to a close. Tickets are $25 at the gate and include a complimentary Possum Gulp. Shuttle service is available from Spotter’s Field. Insurance is advised.

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Senior Center Announces Contest Winner

The Crossley Senior Center announced a winner in its decade-long “Find The Wheelchair” sweepstakes which began in 2003. The wheelchair, which never left the main lobby, was discovered by owner, Jonus Crossley, who admitted in a hastily conducted press conference, that he was “just tired of waiting for the [elderly residents] to find the damn thing.”

“No matter how many times I told them, the old goats never seemed to realize we were running a contest.. let alone the sixteen bedroom home we were giving away.” He paused to point an asthmatic senior to a restroom and threw up his hands in disgust “See what I mean?”  …ah, just pee on the floor. No one’ll notice.”

The wheelchair’s discovery brings to a close the county’s longest (and least advertised) contest and adds a much-needed wheelchair to the nursing home’s inventory which, at last count, included three beds, a gurney and a card table. It also raises troubling questions about the sweepstakes’ legality and the owner motives in running the contest.

T.T.Turnbull, the thumbless vet who led the Poor Farm revival, claims he never heard of the contest when he committed his aunt last year. “Never heard a peep. If ya ask me, the whole thing was a scam to get Crossley a free house! He’s got everyone so doped up in there they can’t even see the walls.”

And T.T.’s not alone. Babs Stricklen, known socialist and convicted elder care assistant, agrees with Turnbull and says the facility should be condemned as a health hazard. “The place is infested with rats! The only reason the residents don’t leave is ’cause Crossley took out all the exit signs.”

Stricklen maintains Crossely was behind the recent DEA raid on a Balto hospice, planned – in her words – “to quash the competition.” The raid, which drew fire from senior buffs around the county, netted four valium, a percocet, two darvon and a mahogany cane.

Yet Crossley shrugs off criticism. “Look,” he told reporters. “We held a contest to raise the old folks’ spirits. We made it easy to win so everyone would have a chance. Can I help it if these mummies don’t know a wheelchair from a garden hose?”

The Crossleys plan to move into their palatial estate this January when, Crossley jokes, “the tax laws will be a bit more lenient.” A follow-up contest is planned for February.

First prize is rumored to be a 160-foot yacht.

Inspector Grilled on Retirement Home With No Roof

Al Fresco Village Retirement Home

Flubug building inspector, Floyd Carpenter, was lambasted by Down County Commissioners today in a public hearing that questioned his renewal of a operating license for Al Fresco Village, the controversial retirement home that changed its name after the roof collapsed last month.

The facility, originally named Withering Pines, was ordered to provide temporary housing for its elderly residents by Judge Emily Knockspur in a ruling that drew fire as “overly zealous” from the Flubug Chamber of Commerce. But the ruling was stayed when the facility’s legal team argued successfully that the elderly tenants “would incur no significant inconvenience” by remaining in their rooms for the duration of the repairs (estimated at seven months). Continue reading

Gangs of Raccoons Invade Flubug

Down County has always had its share of raccoons. They tip over garbage cans, claw through tightly-sealed trash bags and relieve themselves in unlocked vehicles. They’ve also been known to chase elderly citizens for medication. But despite their well documented pilferage, raccoons have always pilfered alone.

Until now.

It appears now that raccoons are pooling their efforts in aggressive new gangs, many sporting tattoos. These “gangs,” according to Johan Isthmus, Professor Arthritis at Beseech Academy, have launched “an unprecedented attack” on the City of Flubug and its environs.

Dorothy Plath, author of The Bell Jug and co-owner of a cooperative mobile home development in Graphite Corners, claims she was “driven from her double wide” last night by a gang of raccoons who came at her “from all sides.”

“I just boiled the wren we were lucky enough to git with our weekly C.A.M. package, when four raccoons lunged at me. They snatched the wren, made off with my roadside salad and ransacked the medicine chest for narcotics. They even chased me down the road when they was done!”

Dorothy’s story isn’t unique.

Gangs of raccoons have been cited in at least a dozen robberies and shakedowns in the last few weeks and Sheriff Ramsey isn’t waiting for the next round of attacks to take action.

“Starting today,” he announced at a hastily-convened news conference. “I’ve ordered the formation of a special task force: the Anti Raccoon Force.”

“A.R.F. will be responsible for infiltrating raccoon gangs, however possible, and bringing these scofflaws to justice. If I were a member of the Ringtail Boyz or Graphite Tartz, I’d think carefully before planning my next crime. This Administration, and indeed the victims who’ve been terrorized by these feral pranksters, have no tolerance for further shenanigans.”

Yet even as the mayor spoke, his chair was swiped, revealing a spray painted tag on the podium. The tag read “Ringtail Boyz.”

Raccoon Gang Podcast

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Working From Home

Working From HomeSometimes you just can’t imagine getting up for work: the commute, the office, the gossip, the phones, the politics, that creep down the hall. It’s just makes you want to pull the covers back over your head and dive back into dreamland.

But what can you do?

You need the money. And god knows you need your vacation time for that weekend trip to Tanwater. And who wants to waste perfectly good sick leave on being sick??

But don’t despair. Just pick up the phone and join the growing number of workers who work from home!

Work From Home Podcast

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Suspicious Mail Alert

And now it’s time for a Public Service Announcement from the Flubug Postal Service. Postmaster, Jerry Zambisky would like to remind each and every one of you that it’s up to us to be “on our toes” in the war against terror. If you or someone you know receive a suspicious letter or package in the mail, be prepared! Print this handy Suspicious Package Guide from the FPS, hang it on your wall or refrigerator and “stay alert!”

Suspicious Mail Podcast

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Ya Can’t Keep A Good Yee Down!

With record droughts and water shortages throughout Down County the price of drinkable water has tripled over the last month. But if you can set aside your pride (and health) there is a low cost alternative.

Yee’s number five son, Knowe How Sell Yee (shown above) is bottling water straight from Tanwater Lake. And he’s selling the liquid for only a buck.

Even so, the water, which Yee characterizes as “almost same artisan well water,” has health officials concerned. Flubug Water Commisioner Bunky Fowler, who recently added a 12,000 sq ft addition to his Downslope Estate McMansion, gave a wary endorsement. “I know we’ve all been taught not to drink from the lake. But hey, if something’s scarce you pay more for it, right? That’s Capitalism 101. If you want to pay ten bucks a bottle for water, go for it. Yee’s just offering a choice in an economic downturn. I say pick your poison!”

But the CDC is less supportive. In a statement issued Friday the agency stated flatly: “Tanwater Lake was declared a Superfund cleanup site in 1992. The county kept the Environment Extortion Agency at bay by promising to clean the lake themselves. Yet in twenty years their only response has been to raise property taxes and sue every business in sight. Given that ten swimmers, eight campers and a dozen dogs have died through contact with the lake, we consider any scheme to distribute its water commercially to be the height of recklessness.”

Yet despite the CDC’s hyperbole (they also claimed stagnant water in Flubug’s reservoir would provide a perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes) the vending machines have been distributed to a dozen locations. And more are on the way.

“Machines soon be all over county!” announced Yee proudly. “Sell Dirty Water, ‘Possum Swill’ …even Faust!”

If nothing else, the young Yee’s entrepreneurial spirit proves the old Flubug adage: “You can’t keep a good Yee down!” And given the current record-breaking drought, who would want to?

Can’t Keep a Good Yee Down Podcast

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“Weekend” To Die For!

Few thought it was possible, but local rock czar and KRAK GM, “Weekend” Jones, appear to have brokered a peace (or at least a truce) between the varied segments of Flubug’s emerging Sad Folk scene.

Tomorrow night The Ditch will play host (or hostess) to the First Annual Sad Folk Fest, set to begin at 9 pm with “Weekend” Jones as emcee. The show, produced by none other than Hope Faydz, noted blogger, feminazi, and radio hostess, should prove interesting if for no other reason than the personalities involved. Faydz is embroiled in a high profile feud with roving gossip columnist Roman Candy over his unflattering expose on Inside Flubug Tonite which detailed her lurid escapades with young Wren.

Sad Folk Fest Podcast

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Faydz Faces Huge Bill After Ditch Fiasco

Music promoter and KRAK Radio hostess, Hope Faydz, may be at the top of Flubug’s growing list of “sad folk.” The outspoken feminist, who bankrolled this weekend’s Sad Folk Fest at The Ditch reportedly received an invoice from totaling $31,284.00 before taxes. The charges, stemming from last night’s fiasco, included fees from various county, police and emergency personnel as well as utility workers who had to restore power to an exit sign and various nightclub personnel.

Faydz Gets Huge Bill Podcast

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Introducing Wren

SCENE – Attention Flubug Womyn! Hold onto your rainbow sun catchers and feathered ear clips. There’s a new “She Shaman” in town.. and her name is Wren. Seen here performing at Bohunk’s, this waifish, multi-talented sorceress has become an overnight sensation with the gal-centric, “sad folk” scene in Flubug.

And it happened almost overnight.

Wren Podcast

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Flubug “Beyond Broke”

In a shocking announcement (that shocked no one), Mayor Ornery declared that the City of Flubug, and indeed all of Down County, was officially “broke” beyond any hope of recovery.

In a short announcement on the steps to city hall, Hizhonor declared: “We got about eleven bucks in the bank and some Canadian change. At this point all options for county and city payrolls are on… erm, under the table. The good news is we’ve reached out to local business and they’ve come up with some creative solutions.”

“Effective today,” the mayor continued. “all municipal employees will receive, in lieu of an actual paycheck, a weekly C.A.M. (Community Assisted Misery) Reimbursment Package to be distributed between 2:00pm and 3:28pm every Friday outside the Illiad Wellness Center. Contents of the brown paper bags may include, depending on pledges:

Flubug Broke Podcast

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Shopkeep Preps for Alien Couriers

Gramps McCauley, owner and proprietor of Gramp’s Antiques in the Flubug Turnaround, isn’t taking any chances. The sixty-nine year,-old one-time Copper Gloves boxing champ is convinced that this is the “End Month” and many in his congregation at the Church of Modern Day Interstellar Disciples agree.

Citing a spike in “alien chatter,” quotes from the denomination’s Book of Jack and a recent paper by Filbert “Doc” Robbie that claims that Mayans failed to account for leap year, Gramps is convinced he’s right.

“Laugh if you want. They laughed at Noah, too. But they’re comin’. I hear ‘em ever’ night on these satellite dishes. And it ain’t pigeon droppings like some folks ‘round here is sayin.’ Jack was right. They’s comin’ and they’s comin’ soon!”

“Jack,” as most Flubuggers know, is Jack Baker who founded Jahweh’s Church of Modern Day Interstellar Disciples in 1937 after receiving six “new gospels” which he later incorporated into “The Book of Jack.” Though later proclaimed schizophrenic, Baker had a profound impact on his followers who maintain to this day that extraterrestrial couriers will usher them to a rare tet-a-tet with the Almighty.

For years members have disagreed on the precise date of “The Usherance,” but with Robbie’s new calculations much of that debate has been sidelined. In fact, those calculations are so precise he can give you the exact time and date. “11:23pm (EST) on April 24th,” he says with assurance. “That’s the day I close my practice at the Illiad Wellness Center and meet my creator.”

That gives Gramps and others in the congregation little time to prepare. “I called GEPCO, contacted Social Security and got a years supply of Kibbled Bones fer my dog. The way I see it, I’ll be chattin’ it up wit’ the Almighty in jus’ two weeks.”

Jack Baker’s son, Hasbro, who currently runs the church, declined to comment on this story.

Shopkeep Preps for Alien Couriers Podcast

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Killer Mosquitos Back

Just when you thought it was safe, officials at the Down County Health Department and CDC in Atlanta have confirmed that the Africanized mosquitos, thought to have fled last year, are back at the Flubug Reservoir. And they’re breeding “at a disturbing rate.”

The mosquitos, which reportedly chase their prey for five miles, are far more aggressive than their North American counterparts and known to mate with the Down County dragonfly, a species loathed by Native Americans.

Mosquitos Back Podcast

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Budget Axe Falls on Senior Year

In the latest round of budget cuts, Flubug School Commissioner, Ernst Warbler, announced today that the entire senior year at Flubug High will be put on hold next year, adding that “seniors who complete the current semester will be mailed their diplomas.” The cuts, though draconian, affect only ten seniors (provided they haven’t dropped out by now) and came as welcome news to the juniors we found smoking hashish outside the handball courts.

But not everyone was thrilled with the decision.

Budget Axe Falls on Senior Year Podcast

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“Possum” Still Delivers The Whoops!

Possum N Taters posterIn the annals of musical/mystery theatre there’s never been a more venerable and, yes, stubborn success than the hit show “Possum and Taters” which began it’s 118th year last Friday night at the Flubug Playhouse. What began as a glorified minstral show has grown into a stage and entree masterpiece that promises to delight audiences far into the future, and “possum-bly” the next century!

From the open strains of “Whoop ‘im On Down” to the final chords of “Ya’ll Best Warsh If Ya Wants To Et,”  the production hummed seamlessly as the packed house savored their taters and every note. The story line is, of course, timeless. Papa Glitch cajoles a wily possum with dreams of becoming a family pet while luring him toward a waiting kettle. Possum, a lietmotif for the eternal trickster, endears himself to daughter “Ditsy” in an attempt to become a beloved family member and escape his fate.

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Crotch Honored In Founder’s Park

They didn’t come for the “inflate-your-own” balloons. They didn’t come for Wild Bill’s menudo slushies (though the lines stretched to Main Street). They didn’t come to see Flublue’s antics or watch Bebe the Bozo guzzle his second pint (he was drunk by 10am). They didn’t even come to glimpse Scotch Johnson’s oil drum, now proudly etched with his son’s name. No. They came to see Crotch. Continue reading