Oxglove County OpEd Page Red Letter Edition

The Dangers of Dihydrogen Monoxide
As an upstanding member of my local community (as evidenced by my lack of parking tickets and excellent posture), I feel it is my duty to inform my fellow Oxglovites of the dangers posed by Dihydrogen Monoxide. This chemical, while harmless in solid, liquid, and gaseous states, becomes extremely dangerous when combined in an aqueous solution with ammonia and bleach. I urge all citizens of Oxglove County to purchase Dihydrogen Monoxide detectors, available at every hardware store. The price of one Dihydrogen Monoxide detector may save not only life, but the lives of your pets, children, and Papier Mâchè sculptures.

Rex Ivanhoe, Professor of Cosmology
Oxglove

Horsing Around
Dear Editor: About one year ago, I purchased my baseball equipment store from the Sugar Cube Lounge, a for-profit rustic horse ranch. Before signing over the ranch, the former owners informed me that every year the intense summer storms would cause the water level to rise knee-high, giving the illusion that the ranch’s horses were sinking. The horses were in fact not in any danger, but the number of people who would stop by the ranch to complain prompted the owners to purchase a large billboard just outside the ranch, “THE HORSES ARE NOT SINKING!” This billboard has not been taken down, and has resulted in gridlock, due to people slowing down to see the “sinking horses.” Four traffic accidents occurred outside my store this month alone. Local regulations prevent me from removing the eyesore, and the police refuse to do anything as “this is a rugby town” (in the sergeant’s own words).

Flip Jackson, Owner of “Flip’s Mitts”
Imperial Gardens

Metric Mayhem
While I laud the Oxglove County Chamber of Commerce’s push to bring us into line with international measurements (as I am the Chief Bureau Standardizer of West Redshaw), I must once again condemn them for implementing the new system in an incredibly haphazard, dangerous, and downright nonsensical manner. All the speed limit signs on Route 38 West still have not been repainted or replaced (they list the old limit of 55 miles per hour), but over the area of the sign that says “MPH,” someone duct-taped a piece of cardboard that says “Celsius.” Celsius is a measurement of temperature, not of velocity. Furthermore, all receipts from commercial transactions are required to use the euro symbol—despite the fact that we still use American dollars—and the numbers themselves are in binary.

Melissa Scarsdale, Chief Bureau Standardizer (West Redshaw)
Kilogram

Taking Offense
I have been an avid television watcher since the medium first appeared in nineteen aught twenty-eight. Over the course of my life, I have seen the quantity of television programming increase, but there has also been a distinct lowering in the quality of the pictures. There have been many infograms that I’ve found distasteful, but have only rarely complained. Today, however, I must take a stand against something I saw on television last night. It so offended me that I can barely choke out this very sentence! Not only did it offend me, but I am completely certain that it offended everyone. This is the kind of filth that crosses all kinds of religious and political borders, this horrible thing I saw! So I call on my fellow parents and community members, together we must fight this. Together, we can take the airwaves back from the deplorable depravity and callous chaos of Micky Mouse.

Ziggy Tagg, Apprentice Geezer
Bottletown

A Case Of Mistaken Identity
Dear citizens of Oxglove County, my name is George Walden Bush. Due to the similarity between my name and the name of our nation’s unpopular president, I have been the victim of unending ridicule. I am not the president of the United States of America. I am a postal worker. Four days ago, the ridicule reached a boiling point when a prankster left a horse on my lawn, knowing full well that President Bush is deathly afraid of horses. I am not a Republican, and have never voted for George Bush, despite the identicalness of our names. I also demand an apology from whoever is responsible for stealing my (subscription only) issues of “JavaCode” and defacing my property last year. I still cannot get the spray-painted “Cheney 2Ever!” off my truck; and I don’t understand why it says “2Ever” instead of “4Ever.” Learn to spell, you punks.

George W. Bush, Mailman
Route 38 West

Pop-Ups Unbearable
Editor: My computer keeps popping up messages while I’m trying to type on the Internet. I have no idea where they keep coming from, and I’ve tried clicking on them all, because I thought that would make them go away. The pop-ups have done a whole bunch of things since I started clicking on them. First of all, my computer starts a lot slower. It takes over a half hour to start, and when it does start, all my menus are in some kind of language that they speak in other countries. I can’t understand it at all. Second, my Internet has been changed, and the icon that was next to Word is now on the other side of the desktop. Thirdly, I started to get coffee magazines in the mail from your area. It bothers me a lot! I don’t need coffee magazines, I have enough coffee.

George W. Bush, President of the United States
Washington D.C.

Koala Preserve
As an avid animal lover and nature enthusiast, I’m writing in to encourage all residents of the greater Oxglove area to visit the Noah’s Arc Nature Preserve. The Preserve opened last week, and already we have two of nearly all macroscopic species that inhabit this bleak Earth, all arranged in a semicircular layout! The basis for our entire conservationist architecture is Edward Glenburr’s 1956 dissertation, “Biblical Geometric Intersection Points.” And unlike other preserves, our snacks won’t let you down in the texture department! So for all of you who want to see strange, exotic animals, to those of you who simply enjoy ice cream with a cardboard-like texture, Noah’s Arc is the place for you! Except for people who want to see koalas, the preserve doesn’t yet have any koalas.

Amanda Hugenkiz, Brochure Folder
Bottletown