Archive for the ‘The Tuffington Post’ Category

Recipe For Success

Tuesday, December 23rd, 2008

Upper Wallop: It’s been several months since the Duchess hath blogged here. After the Baltimore Orioles declined to offer arbitration the Duchess refused to report to Triple A Rochester ( far too cold). After a few months in the Arizona Instructional League, she has returned to Wellington Leg for the holidays. Rumors of a memoir have circulated for years; while she has not ruled out a non roster invitation to the Yankees camp in February, many pundits believe her pitching career is over. We sent cub reporter Tuffy Tuffington to interview the Duchess after her talk radio remarks about the curious incident of the potato from space.

Tuffy Finds the Potato: “Duchess, you expressed no surprise at the outer space potato incident. Our readers are curious. How come?”
“Why are they curious?”
“No, I meant why weren’t you surprised?”
“The Query Potato comes from an old family recipe handed down through the generations. The recipe is part of my dowry along with the grip of my Bugs Bunny Changeup.”
“Wow, what’s a Query Potato?”
“One simply slices open a large russet potato..”
“With a knife?”
“Yes, a knife will do nicely. One scoops out the potato or hires someone to do the job. After the shell is hollow one inserts a hologram of the author who recites flattering phrases to the recipient; this can be set to go on for several minutes before the author introduces the plot to his her or her book.”
“Will Fedex deliver a potato?”
“One simply launches the spud using a modified free launch method, so French you know, with a GPS homing device that will seek out the object of one’s attention with a square mile radius.”
“The New York Times reported a potato shower near the Queens-Midtown Tunnel. Are those potatoes from Wellington Leg?”
“Duchess?”
Tuffy summarizes thusly: Although she will not confirm or deny we may be at war with the City of New York. She’s launching dozens of potatoes from her rooftop…maybe I should call DCI Borchardt. Or should I protect my source?
Tuffy Tuffington reporting.

Too Tuff? Not Tuffy

Sunday, December 14th, 2008

Wellington Leg: Local residents pelted the Tuffington Post with fresh eggs yesterday after the Post made its debut near the Historic Rotunda. Although clearly marked with signage left over the McCain campaign several people collided with the post while hurrying from hizzoner’s bribery trial. Mrs. Scout Defore of Henley Hornbrook bruised her ankle when she rode her scooter through the phalanx of indicted officials all of whom are innocent until proven guilty. “I saw the Tuffington Post out of the corner of my eye,” she said. “I know it’s a blog and I’ve never collided with a blog before.”

Painful Lesson: Members of the Wellington Leg Constabulary cordoned off Mrs. Defore, her scooter, and state senator Foghorn Leghorn later identified as an escaped chicken; it’s not clear whether Mrs. Defore swerved to avoid Senator Leghorn or a holographic image of Wolf Blitzer. “We know that he’s a chicken,” said a spokesperson for the Towne. “But he’s never missed a roll call.”

Where is Tuffy? The incident at the Rotunda begs the question, where is Tuffy? After a hard hitting series on the demise of the publishing business, the Druidical & Literary Editorial Board assigned young Tuffy to the mayor’s corruption trial that began last week. “He’s deep undercover,” a D&L editor said. “Although he should not have parked his blog so close to the courthouse.”

Don’t Even Think About Blogging Here: Though dogged in his support of feisty Arizona senator John McCain Foghorn Leghorn had dropped from the public eye since election day. Some speculate that Leghorn feared exposure after someone close to the McCain camp called him a chicken. “Perhaps young Tuffy was getting close to exposing a scandal within a scandal within a conspiracy,” said a passerby in a Hawaiian shirt. “I know the Heisman voting is rigged,” he added.

A bright red stripe is now painted down the center of the Tuffington Post with the word “Achtung!” inscribed in the margin. “Choosing a German word saved money,” said Comptroller Carl. “Otherwise we’d have to write “Watch Out for the Tuffington Post!” This explanation seems preposterous as many Legians read the word “Achtung!” but fail to alter course. “We’re going to have more collisions,” DCI Borchardt warned. A few minutes later Borchardt himself fell victim, walking into the Post while trying to recall his high school German vocabulary.

Eintritt Verboten reporting.

Writer Sees Shadow: Eight More Weeks of Winter

Sunday, October 12th, 2008

Wellington Leg: Warning: some of the following content is graphic and horrifying. Although entirely imaginary it is based on events that would be true had they happened but are not since they did not. I know that a blog where people buy MIG air superiority fighters at garage sales is hardly anyone’s idea of a news source, but fabricating news is tough enough under normal circumstances, tougher now than a few short weeks ago. That’s why we send our own Tuffy Tuffington into the fray because Tuffy demands little in the way of maintenance or compensation and is naive enough to accept his publisher’s explanation that money will only complicate his life. Thus we gave him eighty cents and a Collateralized Debt Obligation and said, “Tuffy, go get the story.” The editorial board of the Druidical & Literary remains as devoted to the truth as ever although divided over the issue of money. I think it was Conway Twitty who said “it’s only make believe.” I don’t think he was referring our banking system when he wrote those lines but truer words are rarely spoken. It is our Motto and our promise to you, dear reader, that it is indeed only make believe. Your Humble Servants, The Editorial Board of the Druidical & Literary 1414 Conway Twitty Boulevard, Wellington Leg.

Here Now the Tuffington Post: Okay, I’m switching from HTML back to Visual. I have to whisper because the haunted house has a nasty old writer who might wake up if I make HTML noise. It’s like on The Unit when the guys are way behind enemy lines and the boss sez cut the chatter. Then some crazy borderline member of the team trips over a trash can and suddenly Vladimir Putin and the heavenly host are up in our faces with about ten thousand rounds of ChiCom ammo blazing away....

Okay I’m on his porch. Maybe I overreacted a little but to tell you the truth I’m a little put out about the editorial staff calling me naive about money blah, blah, blah. In an editorial no less! Without me what would the Tuffington Post actually consist of? Whoa this floorboard is creaking….the door is opening, the crazy writer guy is framed in the doorway.

“Mr. Tolstoy, my name is Tuffy Tuffington.”

Dude, he slammed the door. I think he saw his shadow. I think that means eight more weeks of financial meltdown!

Tuffy Tuffington reporting.

Tuffington Post: Plundering Alpha

Friday, August 15th, 2008

Wellington Leg: Seeking an exciting new angle on the Russian invasion D&L reporter Tuffy Tuffington has been studying Cyrillic spam and the war’s effect on global stock markets. Tuffy is imbedded with motorized units of Russian infantry as they prowl the countryside rooting out potential enemies. One such encounter is detailed here in a Special Tuffington Post smuggled out of the combat zone by angry supporters of Hillary Clinton. Portions of the text have been deleted by military censors others redacted to prevent revanchist running dogs from subverting the truth. Tuffy is disguised as a fourteen year old Chinese gymnast for purposes not entirely clear to this reporter. Here, then, the Tuffington Post:

Wow, these shoes are tight. I should have brought an extra pair but I wasn’t sure how many pairs of shoes a Chinese gymnast might carry into a combat zone. You know sometimes you try on shoes and you’re wearing thick socks then you get them home and put on thin socks and the fit is all wrong. I think that’s what happened here among the mechanized infantry units approaching Alpha. Some of the soldiers are asking me questions in Chinese…I should have thought this disguise through a little bit better.

Though italicized for emphasis this passage hardly begins to describe the plundering of Alpha. Tuffy continues:

I am concealed behind a main battle tank as we approach Alpha. The Russians are congratulating me on the gold medal in gymnastics, setting up some uneven bars for me to demonstrate my gymnastic ability. This is going to be a crucial test for me and if I win their trust I’ll be accepted in the unit. I’ve got to stick the landing, I know that. Stick the landing. Even in these shoes.

Wish me luck, Tuffy Tuffington.

Tuffington Post: Flavinoid Menace

Monday, July 21st, 2008

Great South Bay: Hizzoner declared a state of siege this morning as his reelection campaign entered its third grueling week. The mayor spent part of the weekend hugging trees and kissing babies before rolling up his pantleg for a photo op at the shore. Dogged by Papa Razzi and his gang of hecklers, Hizzoner christened a new edition of Jayne’s Fighting Ships in the traditional manner with a bottle of champagne. In a theatrical moment he walked the plank blindfolded after vowing to raise taxes on the Big Fat Guys who unleashed a twenty one gun salute.

A Tuffy Exclusive: While the mayor was at the beach I was with the Wellington Leg Defense Forces who fought a running battle with ravenous flavinoids. The Noids stormed a hillside redoubt hoping to seize control of the Little Pink House so emblematic of our Bailiwick’s enormous military power. This is not the first time flavinoids have attacked the Leg: it’s the second time, and well, this could be the last time, maybe the last time, I don’t know. I do know that the tambourine has fallen out of favor as an instrument and the flavinoids seemed determined to restore its popularity.

Who are They? What do they Want? Informed of the attack Hizzoner consulted renowned political advisor Mister Prawns whose flow charts, pie charts, eye charts, pop tarts, and go carts often reveal the electorate’s current mood. “We’re banning the tambourine for the foreseeable future,” Hizzoner proclaimed. The crowd cheered despite the distant rumble of artillery.

Hey Mister Tambourine Man: I don’t like to editorialize during the Tuffington Post because I respect the difference between hard news and opinion. I have to say, however, that whether or not we ban tambourines here in Wellington Leg, I hope it doesn’t become permanent. I have a tambourine in my basement. Am I a criminal now?

This is Tuffy Tuffington asking aren’t the flavinoids the real enemy here?

Tuffington Post: I Reassemble a Gas Turbine Blindfolded

Tuesday, July 15th, 2008

Wellington Falls: Where does electricity come from? I asked that question at an editorial meeting of the Druidical & Literary early yesterday. My boss told me that electricity comes from the light switch and sure enough he was right. After the meeting he took me aside and said, “That was a good question. Turn it into a hard hitting Tuffington Post.”

Water Feature: I’m embedded with a crew from Consolidated Steam as we seek the source of the Rhino River. After leaving Wellington Leg we pass the earl’s magnificent estate near Basking Shark. The grueling drive and close quarters make the crew edgy so we stop at a greasy spoon where bikers sip chai and throw darts. Everyone knows we’re from Consolidated Steam, but I think the bartender suspects I’m a reporter. My chai came in a regular cup with a Disney World logo on the side. The other guys got cardboard cups. No one asked me to throw a dart.

How Now Brown Out? Lots of customers are complaining that they have no electricity between eight in the morning and three in the afternoon. I’ve noticed that too because we use candles at the office. We’re in the high country now nothing but big horn sheep and McCain billboards shell casings and scorpions. The foreman warns us to wear our Con Steam hats all times now. Danger lurks behind every hanging basket where the hanging judge bangs his gavel demanding electricity.

One of Our Turbines is Kaput: “Probably damaged by a meteorite.” I’m reading my notes by flashlight…I think I’m on deadline. “This will take days to fix,” the foreman says. “We’ll make camp for the night on that ridge.”

It’s Very cold. It’s very dark. Coyotes howl. They say the outlaw Josie Wales camped here once. Oh man, here come those dart throwing bikers. Where’s my Con Steam cap? Where’s my chai?

Why did I take this assignment?

Tuffy Tuffington reporting.