Vol. I: Issue 021                                                                                             May 15th, 2026

Duke Gotcha here, and Onionfest is lighting up the month of May all across the continent.

What began as a holiday closely tied to Oniontown has steadily grown into a much bigger seasonal tradition, with celebrations now stretching far beyond its original home. From parades and fairs to contests and nighttime spectacles, communities throughout the region are finding their own ways to join in.

This Saturday, Oilseed Springs will host its second annual Onion Barrel Derby, where dozens of racers will race down the sandy hills of Mammoth Dune State Park in makeshift barrel sleds. It is the kind of event that sounds just unusual enough to be unforgettable, and if turnout is anything like last year’s, expect plenty of cheers, spills, and a whole lot of sand.

Then on Sunday, Oniontown’s Parade will finally return after last week’s thunderstorm forced organizers to postpone the festivities. The floats are ready, the streets are set, and the celebration is back on track for what should be a lively weekend in the town that started it all.

And the calendar does not stop there. On the 19th, Sakura Bay will host its beautiful Onion Lantern Night, when glowing onion lanterns rise into the evening sky in one of the festival’s most striking traditions. Over in Scrapple Hill, the annual Spring Fair is once again bringing back its famous Onion Pie Eating Contest, where local pride and hearty appetites tend to collide.

So wherever you happen to be celebrating this month, Onionfest is offering no shortage of reasons to get out and take part. From sandy slopes to glowing skies, May is shaping up to be one very full season of onion-flavored tradition. Whether it’s breaking news or breaking onion barrels, I’m there for it, because Duke’s Gotcha covered!

 

Hiya friends!

One of my earliest memories is of our parents taking my sister and me to see the Oniontown Parade. Those floats felt absolutely enormous to little me, I could barely believe my eyes. And the fried cocktail onions on a stick? So strange, and somehow so good. Honestly, I really ought to make my way back there one of these years.

Now let’s take a peek at Oniontown, because if you’re hoping to catch the parade on Sunday, the weather is looking awfully nice for it.

We’ve got a bright, sunny stretch to start things off, and Sunday itself is shaping up just fine with mild temperatures and a partly cloudy sky. After that, the week stays warm and cheerful, with lots of sunshine and only a few more clouds drifting in by the very end.

So if you’re heading out for the parade, it looks like a lovely day to grab a good spot, enjoy the floats, and maybe treat yourself to one of those funny little onion snacks too.

 

The Mumph here, and with all this Oniontown talk lately, plus the NuBetcha mess hanging in the air, it feels like the right time to revisit one of the oldest stories in the book. The Curse of Sluggin’ Lug.

Fans will tell you it starts back in 1953, when the Oniontown Rushers, the baseball club before they rebranded into the Crushers, won their third straight championship. Their star pinch hitter, Sluggin’ Lug Grisello, was due for a renewal and asked for a raise. Oniontown balked, shipped him off to the Toastwood Turkeys for two young guys who could not handle the big leagues, and the next season went off the rails. That is when the curse talk started, because Grisello goes to Toastwood and keeps winning, and Oniontown, well, Oniontown stops catching breaks. Baseball, football, hoops, hockey, curling, even their roller derby, the Brine Badgers. Seven decades of fans looking up at the scoreboard like it owes them money.

And whether you buy curses or not, the lesson is real. In sports, you cannot live in the past, because the next game is always the one that counts. Speaking of which, let’s hit the postseason ice.

Maple Mountain pulls the upset in the Sweet League quarterfinals, edging Calypso Island 4 to 3. Calypso led 1 to 0 after one, Maple Mountain had it even at 2 to 2 after two, then the Honey Bees win the third period 2 to 1 to steal it. Tavault is your MVP, battling through traffic during a frantic late push. Gridley and Whisler supplied timely offense, and Beurmont and Maillard kept gaps tight to limit the clean rush looks.

Final score, Maple Mountain Honey Bees 4, Calypso Island Krakens 3. Winner, Maple Mountain. MVP, Tavault. My two cents, upsets happen when one team stays calm and does the simple stuff under pressure, and Maple Mountain just bought itself a date with the Steamers.

 

Hello out there…

I am still catching up with last week, and I do not just mean on sleep.

A great deal happened in a very short span, but one detail has stayed with me more than most. Oniontown, for all its flaws, is not especially eager to erase street art the moment it appears. In fact, as of a few nights ago, the owner of the building with RypToe’s water tower installation had placed three spotlights around the base of it, as if to say the piece deserved not just protection, but a proper audience. That alone tells you something.

Meanwhile, the original RypToe portrait he gave me now hangs in my living room, where I catch myself looking at it far more often than I expected.

And all of this has me wondering whether Oniontown may prove to be a real turning point in RypToe’s story. If an artist like that wants the work to breathe a little longer than a night or two, there are certainly worse places to leave a mark. Neighborhoods like Wormwood already seem to understand the value of street art, not as vandalism with better composition, but as a living form worth making room for. The galleries there have been paying attention for years. Perhaps the rest of the city is starting to do the same.

I have always had a soft spot for Oniontown. Yes, corruption has a way of lingering in the corners. Yes, some neighborhoods wear their rough edges openly. But the city has grit, and it has pulse, and it has a kind of restless energy that too many other places have long since paved over. I spent my college years there, studying journalism at OTU, so perhaps I am biased. Still, some cities do not just stay in your memory. They stay in your bloodstream.

Which brings me to Sunday.

I am not usually much of a holiday devotee, but Onionfest has always been an exception. So if you happen to be out along the parade route, do not be surprised if you spot me in the crowd, notebook in hand, keeping one eye on the floats and the other on the walls.

And that’s The Scoop.