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The contents of the “Weekly Feature” page are provided to you for your entertainment, amusement, and perhaps information. Here you may find articles of interest, pictures, historical information on the Club, or whatever shuffles to the top of the pile on our desk. The only defined characteristic of this space is that we will make every effort to change/replace it around the middle of each week. Thank you for visiting, and please stop by again. Click on any photo to see it larger in a separate window.

Of Groundhogs and Government

Like old farmers do, many of the employees here at the MMOGTA Publishing Complex tend to mark time more by seasons than by the hours that most folks see. We recognize such things as Springtime, haying season, harvest season, etc. It’s a more practical application of the rigid, defined art of time keeping that seems to serve us better as we chronicle our passage through life. Given that fact, it would follow that there are going to be certain markers, certain landmark moments by which we all can gauge our progress. Prominent among them would have to be one of the pivotal turning points of the Winter Season known as Groundhogs Day. We felt we would be remiss if we allowed that moment to pass without resurrecting this excerpt from the February 2001 MMOGTA Newsletter. Then, if time allows, we’ll dig through the archives and find another piece that will remind us that the current Presidential campaign is certainly no sillier than the previous one.

February 2001

Greetings fellow members, from mid-Winter Fergus, where the crowds once again gathered in the Town Square in hopeful anticipation of an optimistic report from the all-seeing, all-knowing, prognosticator of meteorological phenomena, Phergus Phil, the Groundhog. The parka clad citizens clutched their steaming cups of coffee, and an occasional flask was seen tilting in the early morning sunlight as the shivering citizens sought to stave off the bitter cold. In due time the sluggish rodent poked his bewhiskered head out of his earthen lair just as the sun broke over the peak of the City Hall. The bright light and the sudden appearance of his shadow gave the beast such a start that he leapt some 3 feet straight up above his hole. Just as his fattened body neared the apex of it’s moment aloft, several shots rang out, seeming to come from a grassy knoll at the edge of the Fergus Municipal Park. In mid-air, and surrounded by tufts of flying fur, Phergus Phil turned nose to the hole and dove, with a speed and precision seldom associated with his species, to the depths of his den, never to be seen again. Needless to say, conspiracy theories sprung up almost immediately. Most locals assume that a citizen, having grown weary of the winter, simply snapped and sought to forestall the “Bad News Beaver” from giving his annual report. Others see a more sinister scenario, such as a rogue sniper from the “Wehrmacht” arm of the Cider House Fools in Westphalia. Some feel there may have been a second shooter, perhaps training his sights from the upper levels of the MMOGTA Publishing Center. The investigation continues.

SEMINOLE SERIAL
by Frank Young

When all of the votes were counted and in
" Not enough" said Al, "Go count 'em again"
The machines they clicked and they buzzed and they whirred
But Gore's not a man who can be deterred

From claiming the prize that he felt should be his
There must be a trick, like the definition of "is"
That he learned from his mentor, the famous "Slick Willie
That could help him prevail, without looking silly

So he brought in some help, but that's not the worst of it
Hr sought it from people like lawyer Al Dershowitz
Now Florida's captive of his legal type
The old folks can now be plucked 'cause they're ripe

To have someone tell them they didn't want Pat
They needed that lockbox where their pension is at
They were just a bit puzzled by those butterfly pages
It should have been over, but because of their ages

They misunderstood that political lingo
If only the voting had been more like Bingo
They'd have known what to do, and Mr. Vice President
Would soon have become the new White House resident

Who'd lead us so boldly where all could be free
To throw down our guns and hug us some trees
And agree to reject those contraptions infernal
Our cars with the engines, where combustion's internal

Like the ones that they drove as far South as they could
When the circulation's bad, the warm weather's good
At the end of the freeway, the Southernmost junction
That now seems afflicted with Electile Dysfunction

A problem whose symptoms, more mental than penile
Have to do with the failings of minds that are senile
Compassionate Gore, I know, feels their pain
But let's go count those votes, and then do it again

While the world still awaits, and the lawyers say "Trust us"
Till the final word comes from a Supreme Court Justice
And Hillary suggests, when there's an election to pillage
We now know "It takes a Retirement Village"

 

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