spoon hoard plundered

The residents of Ouray, CO, awoke this morning to find their drawers and cupboards emptied of spoons. The world-famous Museum of Spoon and Utensils, which occupies an Art Deco building in the hamlet’s quaint downtown, sits all but empty, most of its collection gone.

Local police deputy Yolanda Esperanza said that foul play had been ruled out early in her investigation of the matter. “There were no signs of forced entry, anywhere,” she said, scanning the area in bewilderment from the Ouray Overlook. “Who, or what, would want all those spoons?”

Archival records located in the town library tell of a similar instance, in 1887, during which large quantities of buttons vanished, seemingly overnight. “Given the large-scale mining activities in this area,” the newspaper reads, “superstitious locals have been attributing the recent thefts to a mountain sprite, or kobold, scared aboveground by blasting dynamite.”

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

missing coral found

Earlier this week, researchers discovered the majority of the world’s coral colonies living in rented apartments across America’s Midwest. Contrary to reports that the coral had vanished due to a rise in both ocean salinity and temperature as well as the presence of agricultural fertilizers and pesticides, it had apparently moved into lodgings in cities from Dayton, OH, to Bismarck, ND, in a now futile effort to avoid paying off loan-sharks after a rough few weeks of gambling on livestock futures. “We thought we had the beef market cornered,” said a visibly shaken trunk of pillar coral found wedged into the back of a walk-in closet.

“Thanks a fucking lot,” said a branch of staghorn coral while it was being measured, scanned, probed, and core-sampled. “Where are we supposed to come up with, like, a billion clams, huh?” World-famous for its painful lack of a sense of humor, researchers were dismayed to find that coral could be so punny.

(The author He Who Grasps At Straws contributed to this article.)

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

Grigovia bans drones

Citing the actions of the community of Deer Trail in America's Colorado as its primary inspiration, the Glorious Republic of Grigovia banned weaponized and spy-equipped drones from its airspace. Henceforth, the only drones allowed in the skies above this small, landlocked Central Asian nation are those used by accredited and licensed organizations to search for and assist in the rescue of missing or imperiled persons. “In order to protect the privacy, lives, and rights of our citizens, we pledge to aggressively counter any attempts by imperialistic foreign powers – especially by the United States of America – to operate aircraft in our skies with the intention of maiming, murdering, spying on, or killing,” said Teyriyest Uscht, deputy Minster of Defense of the Sovereign Airspace. “Furthermore, we offer a reward of 75 units of your currency of choice for proof of a downed UAS (unmanned aerial system) – proof would include pieces of fuselage, sections of wing, or any other component that have distinguishing markings upon them.” Both Grigovia and Deer Trail encourage their citizens to proceed with diligence, patience, and ferocity, and to defend Liberty by actively fighting oppression.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

foreboding forgotten, ignored

Against the advice of more than a half dozen friends and close associates, an area man ignored feelings of foreboding and deeply-rooted worry and set out alone on an arduous, five-day-long bicycle ride through Death Valley. Planning on sticking to side routes, old Indian paths, and animal tracks so as to prove to himself his ruggedness and ability to read the land, 55 year-old chain restaurant owner Nivan Laurentz of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania made it halfway through the first day before disaster struck. According to entries in his diary, as soon as he had moved beyond sight of his car, “GPS batteries died trying to acquire signal; compass gone – lost, or dropped; backup water-sack leaking; backup to backup water-sack rank, foul; two front bicycle tires shredded by sharp rocks; forearms sunburned badly, cheap aloe gel runny and ineffective.”

The only traces of Mr. Laurentz's passage found during a search conducted by Park Rangers and area sheriffs were his diary and a trail of detritus dropped alongside the remnants of a path leading into the deepest and hottest regions of this barren and forsaken land. “The missing person's belongings lay strewn about, as if he were trying to lighten his load, or to find a precious commodity, which out here includes even a mouthful of water,” said Officer Dolores Ovillia, of the California Highway Patrol, who has combed the desert many times in search of lost or wayward citizens. “Then, of a sudden, all traces stop, as if the land had opened up and swallowed him – his bike, his bags, all traces.” Nivan's vehicle was unmolested, leading authorities to rule out foul play. “If this had been robbers or highwaymen lying in wait for an unsuspecting traveler to stop and park and get out for a stretch, then the vehicle would have been entered forcibly, and its contents – even those of comparatively little monetary value – would have been removed to another vehicle or to a different location,” said Agent Padraig Raian O'Malley of the federal Bureau of Land Management, who joined the search on its second day. “We see it out here occasionally, desperate people robbing and killing others and then selling their things at swap meets farther west, but, in this case, we have the trail of detritus and the diary, so we can rule out foul play by all parties but Mother Nature herself.”

One hot, dusty search-party after the next returned to the tent village that sprouted in the parking lot where the missing man's car was found, each group throwing up its hands in defeat and sinking despondently into folding chairs to drink cup after cup of hot green tea. Among the searchers was the California People-Finders Collective, a non-profit organization that specializes in… finding people. Said Webster Dulvishnakov, who canceled plans to attend a friend's wedding in order to help with the search, “We've been using methods developed to find persons buried in avalanches, lining up next to each other in rows and poking long sticks into dunes, trying to locate the body, the bike, anything that might offer clues. In his diary, Mr. Laurentz even talked about being really worried that things might go wrong, foreboding feelings he obviously ignored. I've seen scenario such as this before, though – guy starts feeling old, and, after bicycling around his town for a month, he thinks he's ready to do a Death Valley loop trail, alone, with untested and insufficient supplies, cheap stuff bought at big-box retailers. We People-Finders have located individuals who lost their way after walking ten feet into the woods to take a leak. Talk about one less mouth to feed – some people should just stay at home, and stay alive.” After three fruitless days, the search ended, everyone going home to take cold showers.

場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit