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W e e k l y   F e a t u r e   P a g e

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.

On Global Warming

Long time members may or may not be aware that the “Weekly Feature” staff is composed almost entirely of displaced workers from the now defunct MMOGTA Publishing Complex, formerly located in Fergus, MI. In it’s final days, the process of dismantling that historic facility seemed to deteriorate into a veritable orgy of looting and pillaging, thus affording those dedicated souls unprecedented access to the confidential archives of the past 12 years worth of communications that originated there. With all of that wisdom and lore at their fingertips, and considering the recent widespread displeasure with local weather conditions, it seemed appropriate to resurrect a series of excerpts from mid-winter newsletters in the past that seemed to mirror the current mood. While considerable pressure has been applied in an effort to produce an article heralding the joyous approach of Spring, a poll of the staff indicated that might be a bit premature. See excerpts below:

Greetings fellow members from snow covered Metro Fergus, where it seems to have to snow every damn day of the week, and citizens are growing a bit testy as they weary of the daily shoveling and scraping. The spinning flywheel on the municipal snowplow kicks a sparkling shower of crystals directly into the face of the increasingly surly operator, and with each passing week he seems to show less concern for mail boxes, garbage cans, pedestrians, and parked vehicles along his route. Angry residents fume in the wake of destruction left behind by their tax-funded nemesis as they dig their January issue of the Green Magazine out of the snow bank. Gyp, the Town Collie, has been bordering on distemper as a result of the stress induced by having to dig for fire hydrants and appropriate tree trunks. The local postman, who had no room left for new scars on his shins, has taken to approaching the household from different directions, in order to distribute the wounds more evenly over the various parts of his body. The sole island of activity on the local scene appears to be the busy slopes of Mt. Fergus, where idled school children clinging to the inverted hood of a 1957 Desoto plummet toward the rusted hulk of the IH trail grooming tractor decomposing in the growth of sturdy Pines at the bottom of the hill. All this, while the Mayor-Elect, still reeling from last month’s legal battles, rehearses his inaugural address, to be delivered from atop the pool table at the Prairie Saloon on January 20th, weather permitting.

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.

March 2001
Greetings fellow members from Frostbitten Fergus, where fervent hopes for even the slightest hint of Spring are crushed like bugs underfoot on a daily basis. We all seem to be held hostage by the “Winter without End” and the hardy residents of the thriving megopolis of Fergus are no exception. Staff psychiatrists at the Fergus Institute for the Meteorologically Insane report an unprecedented influx of new patients seeking treatment for cabin fever, snow blindness, frostbite, distemper, gout, and any number of other weather related complaints. Treatment methods vary from prolonged exposure to the time honored Swimsuit Issue of Sports Illustrated to replayed video tapes of last Summer’s tractor pulls. Severe cases that do not respond to these conventional therapies are treated with potent serums from the Fergus Fermentation Facility where good grapes go bad, but then get good again.


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