The resident faculty left a jar of apple sauce outside the mail room, with one letter on the label crossed out. It was an easy clue…. (More)

First our thanks to last week’s writers:

On Monday, you shared your stories of offline political activism in Things We Did This Week and addisnana mused on a Lucky Guy! in Midday Matinee.

On Tuesday, we snarked a Slate Pitch: Will Reading Salon Make You Racist? in Morning Feature and readers helped tell Tuesday’s Tale: Sasquatch Spring in Midday Matinee.

On Wednesday, we celebrated Mr. Sterling, Meet Mr. Silver in Morning Feature and addisnana offered My Political Hair in Midday Matinee.

On Thursday, the Squirrel shared Mixed Nuts, Part Whatever in Morning Feature and triciawyse brought us Fursdai Furries in Midday Matinee.

On Friday, the Squirrel was delighted by the prospect of A Papal Debate in Morning Feature and triciawyse shared Frieday Critters in Midday Matinee.

On the weekend, the Squirrel soothed his grumpies with White House Takes First Steps toward Better Big Data in Saturday’s Morning Feature, Ms. Crissie was asked Mob Rule? in Sunday’s Morning Feature, and winterbanyan brought our weekly Eco News Roundup in Our Earth.

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Note: Please share your stories of offline political activism in Things We Did This Week.

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Thus we return to jar of apple sauce outside the mail room by the resident faculty, as they made their way from the wine cellar library where they spent the weekend drinking thinking on our motto of Magis vinum, magis verum (“More wine, more truth”) to the hot tub faculty lounge for their weekly game where the underwear goes flying planning conference.

One letter on the jar’s label was crossed out, leaving the word MOTS.

“It must be their weekly clue,” Chef said. “I’ll get the decoder ring.”

And she did.

 photo SquirrelPecanRing.jpeg

“I’m lost,” the Squirrel texted as Chef scraped a few stray pecans into his bowl. “I was going to listen outside the hot tub faculty lounge squirrel bath, but they were out there all last week I didn’t get any work done on my thesis in 21st Century Political Nuttitude. So I ignored them and came straight here and got to work.”

“More of the same,” the Professor of Astrology Janitor mused aloud.

The Squirrel tapped at his Blewberry. “Exactly. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get this thesis finished. Every time I think I’ve gathered samples of every kind of Political Nuttitude, I run into more of the same. I keep wondering if we’ll ever hit Peak Wingnut.”

“No–” the Professor of Astrology Janitor began.

The Squirrel sighed and continued tapping. “You’re right. We’ll never hit Peak Wingnut because Political Nuttitude is an endlessly renewable resource. If only it could generate electricity or something useful.”

“I meant–” the Professor of Astrology Janitor tried again.

“I get it,” the Squirrel texted. “There’s no incentive for an out-of-power party to propose useful ideas, because the party in power might accept those ideas. If that happens, the out-of-power party can’t turn around and say ‘Now we disagree with what we suggested last week.’ But if they back the idea and it works, the party in power will get the credit.”

“If I may–” the Professor of Astrology Janitor said.

The Squirrel was on a roll, his paws flying over his Blewberry. “So it’s All Wingnut All The Time, denying good news, making up bad news, howling along with their base, hoping to keep everything stalled until they can win an election.”

Chef stroked the Squirrel’s head. “Would you like a macadamia instead of the pecans for breakfast?”

The Squirrel looked up. His nostrils twitched. “Well, I do like the pecans for breakfast. But maybe a macadamia for brunch?”

Chef smiled.

“What I meant was–” the Professor of Astrology Janitor offered.

And paused.

The Squirrel looked at him and tapped on his Blewberry. “Yes?”

“That’s what MOTS means,” the Professor of Astrology Janitor said, ticking the words off on his fingers. “More. Of. The. Same. It’s an acronym. This week the resident faculty will bounce around the news again.”

“They didn’t bounce around the news last week,” the Squirrel texted. “I did, while they lounged around the hot tub faculty lounge squirrel bath. In the rain.”

“We know,” Chef said. “But the weather folk say it will be sunny and hot all week. So the resident faculty will come inside and work, if only to cool down, and you can get back to work on your thesis.”

The Squirrel nibbled a pecan. He let out a tiny sigh and tapped at his Blewberry.

“MOTS.”

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Happy Monday!