The resident faculty left a pile of tinsel outside the mail room, although they needn’t have. The staff were already preparing for this week’s gala…. (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, Linda Lee celebrated An Act of Kindness in Midday Matinee, and Winter B saw that Limited Biodiversity Helped Kill Dinosaurs in Our Earth.
On Tuesday, Winter B shared Big Brother Inc. in Morning Feature, readers helped tell Tuesday’s Tale: The Lion Doesn’t Sleep Tonight in Midday Matinee, and Winter B warned of Vanishing Groundwater in Our Earth.
On Wednesday, readers helped with a Special Wednesday Morning Edition of Tuesday’s Tale: Dream Weaver in Morning Feature and Linda Lee was surprised by Piercings in Midday Matinee.
On Thursday, the resident faculty began their series on Paul Ryan’s Poverty Bait-and-Switch with It Sounds So Good… in Morning Feature, triciawyse brought us Fursdai Furries in Midday Matinee, and Winter B saw that Nights Are Heating Up in Our Earth.
On the weekend, the resident faculty concluded their series on Paul Ryan’s Poverty Bait-and-Switch with Asking the Right Questions in Saturday’s Morning Feature, Ms. Crissie was asked We Didn’t Start It? in Sunday’s Morning Feature, and Winter B brought our weekly Eco News Roundup in Our Earth.
Note: Please share your stories of offline political activism in Things We Did This Week.
Thus we return to the tinsel left outside the mail room as the resident faculty 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.
The staff didn’t need a clue this week as we were already preparing for the 6th Annual BPI Awards, those curvaceous and coveted Bippies. But Chef still brought out the decoder ring:
“No pecans for me, please,” the Squirrel texted on his Blewberry. “The faculty senate want me to wear a tux this year. With a cummerbund.”
Chef chuckled. “They want to go high class, eh?”
The Squirrel shrugged and tapped away. “I guess. They still haven’t decided on a title for this year’s mini-documentary. Ms. Scarlet wants Behind the Back of Beyond the Bippies. I think that’s kind of … flabby.”
Pootie the Precious lifted her head and pawed her iHazPhone: “Ai haz mai litter box reddy 4 da rezultz.”
Chef scratched behind Pootie P’s ears. “We know you’re doing your part.”
“I thought we should go with something shorter,” the Squirrel texted, “and more in keeping with our style. I suggested Cheeky: Behind the Bippies. They said that sounded too British.”
“Any news about the bears?” the
Professor of Astrology Janitor asked.
The Squirrel rolled his eyes and tapped at his Blewberry. “They said we can have the Kodiak Theatre, but only if we bring lots of honey. The faculty senate looked up the prices and found out honey’s over six dollars a pound now. We can’t afford that and the tinsel too.”
“And the Zen community?” Chef asked.
“We’re all set there,” the Squirrel texted. “We didn’t email any of them, and all of them didn’t reply to the emails we didn’t send.”
“Ommm,” Pootie the Precious purred.
“Now all we have to do is set up the office pool,” the
Professor of Astrology Janitor said.
The Squirrel nodded. “Just don’t post it on the
hot tub faculty lounge squirrel bath again. Last year all of my predictions got smudged. I would have won too.”
“Aww,” Chef said.
Despite his objection, she had tapped some stray pecans into his bowl. He looked at it longingly.
“Okay,” he texted. “That cummerbund is adjustable.”