Our Town

Ou-To Op-Ed

My Tunneling Machine Is Really Coming Along!
by Jack Habishaw, Mayoral Candidate

I am by no means a genius. Sure, I've managed to make millions through clever and insightful investing, but when it comes to science, my friends will be the first ones to tell you that I'm kind of on the dense side. That's why I'm so jazzed about my latest project, a tunneling machine that will lead the way for our new underground country.

Not only does the darned thing actually work, but I even managed to build it entirely by myself. It's a real coup!

My first act as Mayor/Prime Minister of Chesterfield Ridgetonia 3000 will be to appoint Michael Anthony Fall, upon whose concept my plan is based, Vice Mayor. Man, talk about genius! His outline was all the motivation I needed to invest millions of my own dollars into a project that most people called "insane." And maybe they're right, but then again, wasn't Einstein considered insane when he figured out all the stuff he managed to figure out? And weren't the Wright Brothers criticized for trying to fly? Well it's over 100 years later, and if someone called the Wright Brothers crazy, someone'd turn right around and call them crazy!

My drilling machine is based on a design from a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lunch box I saw in Wal-Mart: on the front is a big sort of cork-screw piece of metal that works the same way a screw works. As the piece rotates, dirt and bedrock are pierced, cracked, and then pushed to the side. The machine has tank tracks to keep it steady, and is painted camo-green for the ultimate intimidation factor. If any of those poor people somehow beat us to it, and get there first, one look at our machine and they'll go running home to their mommas.

For good measure I purchased some rockets from some arms dealers I know and attached those suckers on the sides. "What's that poor person? You want to call a truce and live amongst us in peace?" KA-BOOM! He's dead! One thing I learned from Michael is that you cannot trust poor people. They want to hurt you and they'll do anything to gain your trust. One day you turn you back and SHINK!--you've been stabbed in the back by a poor person in hand-me-down sheep's clothing.

The engine is also a little treat purchased from said businessmen. I've installed two twin Rolls-Royce jet engines, giving my machine a total of 2,000 horsepower. Hell, if the front piece gets jammed, we'll have enough power to just drive straight to the Earth's core! And don't worry about me digging too far, I bought a couple of thermometers at the store to prevent me from going all the way to the center: when the temperature reaches a certain point, I'll just cut the engine and begin digging out our new country!

I figure I'll need about two weeks to get deep enough, and then another week or so to dig out enough space so that Chesterfield Ridgeonia can have ample park land and swimming pools. You like swimming pools, dontcha? As an added safety measure to our bank, get this: underwater safes. We put our money in underwater, airtight caverns, so that if anyone ever comes looking for our treasures, they'll have to grow gills to find them! Now I know that you're thinking, and don't worry, I've got it all figured out: we outlaw fish. We don't need no stupid gill-mongers snooping around our stash.

My second act as Mayor/Intergalactic Leader will be to announce every day Rich Day, where the wealthy can gather and celebrate their collective and individual wealth as well as to remember those wealthy who passed during the long and arduous journey to Chesterfield Ridgeonia.

Once I hollow out enough Earth to house all of us, our money, and our stuffs, I'll come back to the Earth's surface and we can begin the orderly process of sliding down miles and miles of rocky tunnel, one at a time, to our new home! Kiss sunlight goodbye, people, I'm talking about going downtown to Funkytown!

Anyway, my machine is almost ready to go, just a few more bitchin' layers of camo paint and I'll be all set! Stay tuned fellow citizens, and behold a true genius at work!

Posted by Greg White at 7:22 PM | Permalink | Comments

Ou-To Op-Ed

I Am Not a Number! I Am a Free Man!
by No. 6, Mayoral Candidate


I don't know how long you all have been here, or what you did to deserve this--ha, deserve, as though that solves it--but I do know this: no one here is what their buttons say they are. No one here should be content to suffer the indignities they put us through! We are not numbers and it's damn well time we let them know it!

Who is Number One? What is this place? Why are we here? These are the questions that a Mayor should be asking on behalf of his people and if elected, I shall do my best to find out...or die trying. They think they can crack us open like little walnuts, but they're damned wrong! For every one of us that they "push too far" there will be ten more of us ready to take all they can give.

I am talking about escape plans and a pooling of our resources, namely, our knowledge. After all, that is why we were brought here, is it not? They say they want "information." Well we have it, and we shall not let them have it! Oh, sure, some amongst us have already given in to their demands, but what has that gotten them? Their freedom? Hardly. They will never willingly award us our God-given freedom, so it is up to your elected leader to take it from them!

This place, this Village, it must be exposed to the rest of the world and those corrupt individuals who threaten us with hook and crook must be turned in. In their place, a new leadership whose moral radar is steady and consistent. It is time to throw off the shackles of our oppressors.

Everything we do is their choice, fellow citizens, from the clothes we wear, to the non-alcoholic gin we drink, to our sleep schedules, and I, for one, am damned sick of it all.

We must act quickly. We must mount an insurrection so powerful, so cunning, that even that damned white balloon cannot stop us! Do you hear me, Rover? You cannot stop us! We will escape! Go tell that to your superiors and let them know the sum of their little number game is worth well more than its parts. We shall be heard.

Posted by Greg White at 7:06 PM | Permalink | Comments

Local Man's Goo-Goo Eyes at Local Baby "Go On Too Long"
by Katherine Mills

Pediatrician Steven Hershwin had just boarded the local 167 en route to his office when local baby Thomas "Tommy" Winston, Jr. began crying, the frequent result of the infant's painful teething. In an attempt to sooth the child's tears, Hershwin leaned across the aisle and began making faces at the child. Then things turned sour.

Says Hershwin, "I figure, hey, I'm a pediatrician for God's sake, why not try my hand at calming the little guy down? I pulled out all my classics, from the Goo-Goo eyes to the silly clown face, but nothing would work. The more he kept crying, the more I wanted to get him to stop."

But in his noble rage, Hershwin neglected to realize that there can be too much of a good thing, and young Tommy Winston had had his fill.

Says mother of the child Marsha Sayles-Winston, "Tommy cries a lot. All babies cry a lot, no big news there. I had it under control when Mister Hero decides he's going to correct my horrible parenting. He starts making these..." Ms. Winston paused and searched for the word, "faces, like he was having a stroke or something and scared the hell out of my child."

Witnesses say that at first it all seemed innocent enough, but that Mr. Hershwin forgot the cardinal rule of Goo-Goo Eyeing: the time limit etiquette. Says bus operator Ned Schulman, "I get a lot of babies on my bus and I've seen all the faces, from the squiggly mouth to the peek-a-boo eyes, and the ones that get it right are the ones that know when to stop. Rule of thumb is that if one or two minutes go by and nothing works, just let it be. This guy just didn't have a clue."

In the context of Mr. Schulman's rule of thumb, Hershwin's Goo-Goo statistics are simply astounding: two minutes of the Ca-Ca face, one minute of A-Booga-Boos, ninety seconds of varied Fishy Faces, and a stunning ten straight minutes of the Raspberry hand.

Ms. Winston: "Oh, that was the worst. He must have been blowing into his hand for like a half hour. He had this really strange, intense look in his eyes, like this meant the world to him. If you ask me, the man's a lunatic and shouldn't be allowed to work anywhere near children."

And how does Mr. Hershwin respond to these allegations? "Well maybe I did go a little too far with some of the things I tried to get away with, but I just really wanted to help that poor little guy. Teething can be rough." But not as rough as what some say you put him through, eh, Mr. Hershwin? "Look, if caring is a crime, consider me guilty."

According to some Chesterfield Ridge residents, guilty as charged.

Posted by Greg White at 6:43 PM | Permalink | Comments

Local Couple Has Loud, Uncomfortable Public Argument
by Eric Mills

Nancy Alverez was unwrapping her sandwich during her lunch break at Pondside Park when she was rudely interrupted. "I come to this park every day at twelve thirty to eat my lunch and sit on the bench here--it's my therapy for the day. So I get to my bench and begin eating my lunch when this husband and wife a few benches over begins screaming at each other." She paused to pick a piece of lettuce from her teeth before adding, "It ruined my lunch."

Eye-witnesses say that the couple spoke in loud, harsh tones for approximately thirty minutes. During this time, the attractive thirtysomething male and his equally attractive spouse argued over a range of grievances, from credit card bills and sleeping habits, to remote control use and, to phrase it politely, bedroom practices, the likes of which would be unfit for a family publication.

Says one hirsute and homely witness, "The man just kept yelling about the woman spending $90 at the salon every time she goes and she kept saying how she had needs that he wasn't satisfying." Adds another, more slender, witness, "It was just plain awkward."

At some point during the argument the woman began crying and, as the report goes, when her husband tried to console her with an embrace, she pushed him away, setting off another round of fierce arguing.

And while police were not notified of the incident, some are crying foul. Says one anonymous source close to the couple, "Last time me and [name removed] had lunch, [she] had a bruise on her arm. I said, 'Is [name removed] hitting you?' She shook her head and insisted that she fell while playing tennis with [name removed]. Yeah, right. Next she'll be telling me she's sleeping with [Hollywood celebrity name removed]."

After each party had a chance to vent, they began their closing arguments. During this time there was much gesturing and an increase in choice words. And while each husband and wife made several strong arguments throughout their tirades, the outcome was inconclusive, with neither side willing to back down. The affair's end was rather anticlimactic and resulted in plenty of listless body language and dull eyes that searched the heavens for an answer and a glimpse of a simpler time.

Several silent moments passed where nary a word was spoken between the two, and eye-witnesses pretended like they were not paying attention. Then without warning, the two left just as quietly as they came. Says Ms. Alvarez, "It was all over so quick--if you're going to start an argument in public, at least finish it in a definitive manner. Next thing I know my watch says it's one thirty and lunch hour's over. Thanks for nothing."

Posted by Greg White at 6:42 PM | Permalink | Comments

Posted by Greg White at 5:14 PM | Permalink | Comments

Weather or Not with Phil Stubbs, F-Key Function

Weather Forecast for September 22, 2006: GRAINY!

Posted by Greg White at 5:11 PM | Permalink | Comments