Vol. I: Issue 029                                                                                             July 10th, 2026

Breaking news out of Oilseed Springs, where the next chapter for our beloved BotWursts appears to be taking shape far from the mainland.

The BotWursts are now preparing for a move to the Bavariafield Archipelago, after receiving a city-backed grant from Oilseed Springs to help establish a new settlement on the big island of Riesenknödel.

The plan follows weeks of growing concern over the BotWursts’ future, and credit where credit is due, NowTime’s own correspondents helped bring that situation into focus. Shannon raised the alarm, while Zepha Ray, drawing on her college work, pointed out that the islands of Bavariafield might offer the kind of space and isolation the BotWursts need. What began as a casual observation may have helped plant the seed for a real solution, and for a group still searching for a place of their own, that seed appears to be taking root.

Under the terms of the grant, Oilseed Springs will provide support for the new settlement’s startup costs. In return, the city will receive a 10 percent share of revenue from mineral sales tied to resources extracted by the BotWurst community. It is an unusual arrangement, but one city officials say could give the bots a real foundation while also offering Oilseed Springs a long-term return on its investment.

Now here is where the story gets complicated.

The Bavariafield Archipelago existed long before the formation of The Continental Concordia, and its legal status has always been a little hazy. On old maps, the islands appear to be loosely divided between two Concordian states and the Frozen Zone to the north. But those borders were based more on classical mapmaker assumptions than any modern settlement agreement.

For years, that ambiguity did not matter much. With no permanent population across the islands, there were no residents to govern, no local disputes to settle, and no practical reason for anyone to press the issue. But a new BotWurst settlement on Riesenknödel could change that in a hurry.

The big question now is simple. Who has jurisdiction once people, or in this case bots, begin living and working there? That answer could have real consequences for land rights, mineral claims, state authority, and relations with the Frozen Zone.

For the BotWursts, this is a hopeful move toward independence and community. For Oilseed Springs, it is a bold investment. And for the wider Concordia, it may be the start of a very serious conversation about borders that have been left alone for far too long.

So yes, this story begins with a grant and a fresh start, but it may lead to something much larger. A new settlement, an old map, and a future full of questions. I’ll be keeping an eye on this one, and I’ll let you know where things land, because Duke’s Gotcha covered!

Hiya friends.

While I am so excited for the BotWursts, I’ll be honest, I’ve been feeling a little down myself. As The Mumph probably already knows, Calypso Island is getting ready to join the CFL with its very first football team, the Calypso Island Cowfish. And in all that excitement, Finley got an offer he just could not pass up: head coach of a real CFL team. Which is amazing. Truly amazing. I am so proud of him. But it also means he has to move in about two weeks, and with no QuickSkip tunnels out there on the island, well…I dont know… I just really love spending time with him. Still, we’ll make it work. Piece of cake. Probably.

But speaking of cake, cupcakes to be exact, let’s head over to Frostfield, home of Papa’s Cupcakeria, and take a peek at the week ahead.

It is looking awfully pleasant overall, with lots of warm sunshine, comfortable afternoons, and just a couple little interruptions from clouds and scattered showers here and there. The start of the stretch looks especially lovely, then things turn a touch grayer around the middle before brightening back up again with some really nice summer weather.

So keep the sunglasses handy, don’t worry too much about those passing shower chances, and enjoy a week that looks sweet and easygoing over in Frostfield.

The Mumph here, and the possibility of a new football team, the Cowfish, has the sports world buzzing right now. The CFL has been lopsided in the Sweet League for the last five years, ever since the long struggling Frostfield Yetties shut their doors. So Zepha, I am sorry for the complications around it, honestly, but I have to say it. That is a big opportunity for Finley.

Alright, enough football for one day. Let’s get over to CMLB, where the San Fresco Urchins and Calypso Island Coconuts opened things up.

San Fresco wasted no time, putting up two in the first and two more in the second. Calypso Island scratched one across in the bottom of the first, but after that, the Urchins kept the Coconuts quiet. Limonte settled in on the mound, the defense did its job, and San Fresco added one more in the seventh just to pad the cushion.

MVP goes to Melendrez out in center field, and that tells you this was not just about the bat. Center field is where you save extra bases, cut off rallies, and make pitchers breathe a little easier. Melendrez gave San Fresco exactly that, steady play, smart routes, and the kind of presence that keeps a good lead from getting messy.

Final score, San Fresco Urchins 5, Calypso Island Coconuts 1. Winner, San Fresco. MVP, Melendrez.

My two cents, when you score early, defend clean, and never let the other club find rhythm after the first inning, that is a professional opening win.

Hello out there…

Big news out of Tastyville this week, where what may be the city’s first credible Sugarsquatch sighting has people asking some very interesting questions.

I was on the scene with Didar, a member of the Mystery Mountain Club and a committed Sugarsquatch enthusiast, who was already doing some investigating of his own by the time I arrived. We compared notes and started piecing together the timeline.

According to Yuko, owner of Lovely Leftovers, the encounter happened at approximately 12:42 a.m. on Tuesday. She had stayed late at her vintage shop cleaning up after a burst pipe in the bathroom and was taking trash out to the shared dumpster behind the shopping plaza. At first, she assumed the movement near the dumpster was just another raccoon or some other common nighttime scavenger. But then, as she got closer, the creature lifted its head and looked directly at her.

And then it stood up.

Yuko described it as huge, hairy, much taller than an average person, but not a bear either. Startled, she screamed and ran back inside the shop to call the police.

After hearing her describe what happened, Didar and I headed into the wooded area nearby to keep looking. That is where things became far more interesting. Didar uncovered what appeared to be a print on a piece of slate rock, not some vague impression in soft mud that can be laughed away or trampled over by skeptics. This was a distinct mark left in sludge, likely tracked from the bottom of the dumpster, and pressed clearly enough onto stone to hold its shape.

Didar carefully chiseled away the section of slate so it could be studied further, though not before I took a detailed photograph of the print myself.

Now, I am always cautious about declaring something definitive too early. But if this turns out to be what it appears to be, we may be looking at some of the most credible physical evidence of the Sugarsquatch ever collected.

That is not a small claim. And it is certainly not a small story.

I will be keeping a close eye on what Didar finds next.

And that’s The Scoop.

Vol. I: Issue 028                                                                                             July 3rd, 2026

Breaking news out of Whiskview today, and I will admit right up front, this one comes with a proud father’s smile attached.

Recent Whiskview High graduate and, yes, overall cool guy Deuce Gotcha has received a scholarship to the prestigious Twincrest School of Design in Oniontown. There, he will be honing his craft in the school’s state-of-the-art Digital+Practical Movie FXs major, where artistic skill meets the smoke, sparks, creatures, and screen magic of the movie world.

Now, is this strictly breaking news by the usual newsroom standard? Perhaps not. But when your son earns a scholarship to chase the thing he loves, you take a moment, straighten your tie, and let the headline breathe. Congratulations, Deuce. Your old man is proud.

In other news, Tacodale is preparing for its annual Fireworks Extravaganza this Saturday night, and as usual, the show will light up the sky above the iconic TACODALE sign along the Fajitian Hills.

The nighttime spectacle will be paired with the town’s Jubilee Fair at the Tacodale Speedway, giving visitors a full evening of food, rides, games, and front-row views of the fireworks display. It is one of Tacodale’s biggest summer traditions, and if past years are any sign, the crowds will be out in full force.

So here is the part you need to know. Arrive early. Parking is expected to fill quickly, and prime seating space near the Speedway will not last long once the evening crowd rolls in.

Whether you are celebrating a graduate’s next big step or looking up at the Tacodale sky this Saturday night, there is plenty worth cheering for this week. Stay sharp, plan ahead, and don’t worry because Duke’s Gotcha covered!

Hiya friends!

Well, here it is, my latest kitchen masterpiece, the one that went viral on HeadCase with over 6,000 Yikes! And believe it or not, that was supposed to be a chicken pot pie. I know, I know. #NailedIt. At this point, I am starting to think my smoke alarm deserves a co-host credit.

Now, with that little culinary tragedy out of the way, let’s take a peek at the week ahead in Philly Heights.

It is looking a bit cooler than you might expect for this time of year, with plenty of clouds, a light breeze, and a damp little stretch settling in toward the start of the week. Things do brighten up a touch later on, with a little more sun and some comfortable afternoons mixed in, but overall this one feels more gray and mellow than hot and summery.

So keep a light jacket nearby, don’t let those spotty showers sneak up on you, and enjoy a week that feels a little softer over in Philly Heights.

The Mumph here, and whoa, I would have never guessed that was a pie. Zepha, I say this with respect, but Hambone and I were talking, and maybe the next kitchen experiment should be dog treats. Dogs tend to be a little less judgmental when it comes to snacks.

I’ll send you a list of Hambone’s favorites. Fair warning, that bulldog has a sweet tooth the length of his tongue.

But let’s talk about the subject at hand, baseball, where a different flock of birds came out hot.

Oilseed Springs and Tastyville gave us a wild one early. The Roosters put four on the board in the first, and the Tomatoes answered right back with three of their own, so right away this thing felt like it might turn into a full-on slugfest. Tastyville tied it in the third, and from there, both clubs started tightening the screws.

That is where Pankratz earns the MVP. After that bumpy start, he settled in and gave Oilseed Springs the calm they needed. No panic, no unraveling, just steady work until the Roosters scratched across the go-ahead run in the sixth. Tastyville had plenty of time to answer, but Pankratz and that Roosters defense kept the door shut the rest of the way.

Final score, Oilseed Springs Roosters 5, Tastyville Tomatoes 4. Winner, Oilseed Springs. MVP, Pankratz on the mound.

My two cents, when you give up four early and still find a way to steady the whole ballgame, that is not just pitching, that is backbone.

Hello out there…

First, let us take a moment to congratulate Deuce on his scholarship. When he stopped by the newsroom back in March, he showed me the portfolio he planned to submit to Twincrest, and it was stellar. His makeup effects work was the sort of thing that makes you do a double take and lean in closer. I told him then that he had better come back around Halloween and put those talents to proper use on the rest of us.

Now, speaking of faces a person does not easily forget, let us move to a man who has managed the rare trick of being both notorious and oddly difficult to find.

Guy Mortadello.

With a history like his, you would think tracking him down would be simple. I originally wanted to interview him on the tenth anniversary of his first court case, but despite a fair amount of digging and more than a few calls to the sorts of people who usually know how things move behind the scenes, I came up empty. So I set the idea aside.

But the question never really left me.

So here we are. Consider this the first installment of a segment I am calling: Where in the world is… Guy Mortadello?

For anyone needing a refresher, Guy opened the first Mortadello’s Meat Pies in Oniontown back in June of 2002. The concept took off quickly. Before long, the chain had expanded across the continent, and by 2005, Mortadello’s Meat Pies had become the largest restaurant chain on Gurth.

That sort of rapid rise usually comes with consequences, and in Guy’s case, the consequences arrived hot and undercooked.

As the business expanded, quality began to slip. Corners were cut. Profits were protected. And before long, the pies themselves had become the butt of late-night jokes and online ridicule, largely thanks to their growing reputation for causing a rather unfortunate range of digestive distress.

Then, in 2006, a new name entered the picture: Papa Louie.

With the opening of Papa’s Pizzeria in Tastyville, Papa Louie took the familiar idea of customizable meals and built something far more appealing around it. Pizza, for starters, has a natural advantage over a meat pie of questionable integrity. More importantly, Papa Louie understood something Guy apparently did not. Expansion works best when it adapts. Instead of cloning the same concept endlessly, he diversified, building restaurants around local tastes, regional flavors, and actual demand.

That was the beginning of the end for Guy Mortadello.

Less than a decade later, nearly all Mortadello’s Meat Pies locations were gone. The final holdout in Toastwood eventually closed its doors and was swiftly replaced by a Papa’s Cheeseria. That, apparently, was the final insult. In an effort to sabotage Papa Louie’s opening night in Toastwood, Guy stole an entire trailer full of instruments belonging to the opening band. He was arrested and held without bond until his court date in April 2016, when Ty Quilton, a man whose name has a habit of appearing whenever consequences need softening, managed to get him back out in remarkably short order.

From there, Guy’s path grew smaller, sadder, and somehow even shadier. He scraped by selling counterfeit watches, bootleg DVDs, and whatever other bait-and-switch hustle happened to be within reach. Then, in 2022, he resurfaced with another doomed venture, Mortadello’s Bird Meat, a fried chicken sandwich shop in Oilseed Springs launched on forged documents and borrowed money.

It went about as well as you would expect.

The restaurant was eventually shut down over repeated health code violations, and in its collapse, Guy left his employees, the BotWursts, stranded in Oilseed Springs with no real safety net to speak of.

Which brings us back to the question at hand.

What happened to Guy Mortadello?

Outside of bankruptcy filings and the occasional dry paper trail, I have not been able to find a single solid sign of him in nearly three years. Not a confirmed sighting. Not a reliable lead. Not so much as a blurry rumor with legs. In fact, the absence became strange enough that I went so far as to file a missing persons report with local authorities.

So no, it does not look like that long-delayed interview will be happening anytime soon.

And strange as it may sound, I do hope the man is alive and in one piece. But when someone with a past this loud vanishes this completely, it does not feel ordinary. It feels like the sort of silence that ought to mean something.

I will keep asking.

And that’s The Scoop.

Vol. I: Issue 027                                                                                             June 26th, 2026

Breaking news out of Starlight City, where the north end of the Starlight Strip is about to get a very big new landmark.

A groundbreaking ceremony was held today for Georgito Grand Resorts’ newest entertainment complex, a massive cone-shaped venue being called, simply enough, The Cone. And simple name or not, there is nothing small about it.

Plans call for a towering 450-foot structure with a 500-foot base diameter, a design that is all but guaranteed to make an instant mark on the Starlight City skyline. The exterior will be clad in an estimated 837,000 programmable LED pucks, giving The Cone the ability to transform its entire surface into a glowing, moving display visible across the Strip.

And the inside sounds just as ambitious. Georgito Grand Resorts says The Cone will feature a fully immersive movie and concert venue, complete with a 4K surround screen and haptic seating for up to 10,000 guests. In other words, this is not being built as just another theater. This is being pitched as an experience venue, one where the show does not simply happen in front of you, but all around you.

Speaking after the ceremony, Georgito said The Cone is part of a larger push to bring a new kind of visitor to Starlight City. Not just tourists drawn by games of chance or sports betting, but guests looking for sights, sounds, and spectacle they cannot find anywhere else on the Gurth.

It is a bold bet, and in Starlight City, bold bets are something of a local language. If The Cone delivers on even half of what was promised today, it could become one of the most recognizable entertainment destinations on the continent.

So keep your eyes on the north end of the Strip. The foundation is being laid, the skyline is about to change, and I’ll be tracking every phase of construction, every new detail, and every milestone along the way, so you always know what’s coming next, because Duke’s Gotcha covered!

Hiya friends!

Oh, that sounds so exciting! Word on the street is that Twysta Limón will be starting up a residency over there with shows every weekend, and I have to say, that sounds like a pretty fabulous excuse for a trip to Starlight City. I may just have to make that happen.

Now, speaking of Starlight City, the weather over there is looking downright sizzling this week.

We’re talking blazing sunshine, very dry air, and the kind of desert heat that does not play around. Even the “cooler” days are still going to feel awfully hot, so this is definitely one of those weeks where shade, water, and a little extra patience are going to be your best friends.

So if you’re heading out for a show, a stroll, or rolling the dice, make sure to stay hydrated and do your best to beat that afternoon heat, because Starlight City is going to be absolutely baking this week.

The Mumph here, and this weekend Hambone and I are heading up to the Tastyville Rib Cook-Off. We’ll be posted up right next to Bertha’s booth, signing a few autographs, judging a few ribs, and in Hambone’s case, probably judging every rib within smelling distance. So if you see us out there, come say hello. Just maybe keep your plate above bulldog level.

Now, on to the diamond, where Whiskview came out swinging and never really let Oniontown get comfortable.

The Black Birds jumped on the Crushers early, putting up one in the first, three in the second, and two more in the third. That is a 6 to 0 lead before Oniontown could even get its cleats under itself. The Crushers finally punched back in the fourth with a three-run inning, and for a second there, you could feel the old Oniontown crowd trying to talk itself into a comeback.

But Kneedler kept the lid on it. He settled things down after that fourth, gave Whiskview steady innings, and never let the Crushers turn one good frame into a full-blown rally. Whiskview added one more in the sixth, and from there the Black Birds kept it clean the rest of the way.

Final score, Whiskview Black Birds 7, Oniontown Crushers 3. Winner, Whiskview. MVP, Kneedler on the mound.

My two cents, opening games are about making a statement, and Whiskview made theirs early. When you hang six runs in the first three innings, you are not asking permission to win, you are grabbing the game by the seams.

Hello out there…

You know I don’t enjoy being the person who darkens the room, but today’s news out of Starlight City shines a rather harsh light on a problem that has been quietly building for years.

Ever since the Shared Utility Act of 1927, every state in the Continental Concordia, and every city within them, has had the right to draw from a centralized pool of public utilities. Power, water, and other essentials are distributed under that system for a flat monthly cost shared across the board. In principle, it was a noble idea. A common grid, a common good, a common understanding that basic services should not depend entirely on geography.

But principles age. Infrastructure ages. And laws written at the dawn of the electrical era do not always survive contact with the appetite of the modern world.

Much of that shared electrical burden still traces back to the aging Glowdin Power Plant, perched on the banks of the Karipop River just outside our own hometown of Whiskview. When the Shared Utility Act was drafted, nobody could have imagined the sheer scale of modern energy consumption in a place like Starlight City, a city now built on spectacle, excess, and enough flashing light to rival a second sunrise.

Which brings us to The Cone.

Projects like that may rise in Starlight City, but the cost of keeping them glowing does not stay there. Under the current system, it spreads outward, quietly, evenly, and inconveniently, into households across Gurth. So while The Cone may be marketed as a marvel for one city, many people elsewhere may soon feel it reflected in their electric bills.

And I say many people, not all, because some cities have already chosen another path. Philly Heights, for example, opted out of the Shared Utility Act model and invested in independent wind energy. A serious choice. A forward-looking one. And, I would argue, the kind of decision that looks wiser with every oversized vanity project somebody else decides to illuminate.

If Starlight City wants to keep greenlighting energy-hungry monuments to itself, then it ought to start taking responsibility for the strain those choices place on everyone else. That means investing in its own sustainable solutions, easing the burden on the shared grid, and showing at least some interest in fairness beyond its own skyline.

Because public utilities are supposed to serve the public, not subsidize spectacle.

And that’s The Scoop.

Vol. I: Issue 026                                                                                             June 19th, 2026

Breaking news out of San Fresco, where one of the Gurth’s longest-running bands is officially bringing down the curtain.

The Beach Cobblers announced through their social media accounts that they are disbanding after nearly 50 years of performing together. For fans who have followed them from beachside stages to sold-out concert halls, it is a major moment, and not an easy one.

According to the band, several factors led to the decision. Lead singer and rhythm guitarist Hans “Beach” Beachum has been dealing with arthritis, along with a vocal range that has slowly changed over the years. That has led to repeated bouts of chronic laryngitis, making the demands of touring harder to manage.

The band also pointed to changing times in the music business. Demand for tour dates has slowed, album sales have dried up in the age of streaming, and after five decades on the road, the Beach Cobblers say the time has come to step away.

And what a run it was.

The Beach Cobblers first rose to fame with their 1978 yacht-rock classic “What a Foolish Breeze,” from their debut album, Hour After Hour. From there, they went on to release more than two dozen albums, carving out a sound that became instantly recognizable to generations of listeners.

Their biggest swing may have been the massively popular yacht-opera Late August Landfall, an album so successful it inspired a stage musical, a made-for-TV miniseries, and, believe it or not, a now-defunct chain of seaside restaurants. Not every band can say they changed the dinner menu along with the radio dial.

When asked what comes next, Hans offered a simple answer.

“I can’t speak for all my bandmates, for some of them still hear the music calling them back to the sea. But for me, I’m going to relax and enjoy taking my grandkids out sailing on the boat.”

So yes, for all the Cobbleheads out there, today may feel like the end of an era. But it is also a chance to look back on a musical journey that stretched across decades, crossed oceans of style, and left plenty of foolish breezes blowing through the memories of its fans.

The Beach Cobblers may be leaving the stage, but their songs are not drifting away anytime soon. And if there is another chapter waiting somewhere beyond the shoreline, Duke’s Gotcha covered!

Hiya friends!

You know, I was thinking about Shannon’s scoop on the BotWursts last week, and it sent me right back to my college days. For my capstone over at Philly Heights University, I studied the 200-year climate shift of the Bavariafield Archipelago. It was a dramatic one too, all tied to changing ocean currents. With most of the inhabitants long gone, what’s left are a few scattered ghost towns, the native animals, and if I remembered correctly, a now-shuttered etherillium mine on the big island. All-in-all, the cold climate alone makes the Bavariafield Achepelego seem like a perfect place for the bots. But that’s just me thinking out loud.

Now, for this week’s weather, let’s head somewhere that is definitely not dealing with any dramatic cool-downs: Toastwood.

It is looking hot, bright, and very summerlike for most of the week, with plenty of sunshine and that strong afternoon heat settling in early. There is a tiny little interruption here and there, like an isolated storm chance and a few passing clouds, but overall this is a warm, dry stretch with only the slightest hints of relief.

So keep the sunglasses close, don’t underestimate that afternoon sun, and enjoy a week that looks downright toasty over in Toastwood.

The Mumph here, and Father’s Day is right around the corner, folks, so I went ahead and did it right. I got my pops and me home plate seats for next Thursday, so tune in and you just might catch a glimpse of the Mumphs doing what we do best, watching ball and eating our weight in hot dogs.

Now, as some of you know, my grandfather, Mumphrey Glint, was the original Mumph from those classic movies. My pops, Mumphrey Jr. (though he prefers Junior), spent most of his life in the garment industry and is now happily retired over on Ketona Beach with his loving wife and the world’s best mom, Jolene. So next week, Junior will be skipping over to Tastyville, and we’re going to take in all the sights and smells of Griller Stadium.

But that is next week.

This week, folks, we had OPENING DAY!!!

Burgerburgh and Toastwood got the season started at Griller Stadium, and the Sizzlers handled business with a clean 4 to 2 win over the Turkeys. It was quiet early, then Burgerburgh scratched one across in the second before Toastwood tied it in the third. But the game turned in the fourth, when the Sizzlers put up two and grabbed control. They added one more in the seventh, and from there, Bliston had enough cushion to keep the Turkeys chasing.

Toastwood did get one back in the eighth, but there was no big ninth-inning drama waiting around the corner. Bliston stayed steady, Burgerburgh’s defense kept things tidy, and the Sizzlers walked out 1 and 0 to start the year.

Final score, Burgerburgh Sizzlers 4, Toastwood Turkeys 2. Winner, Burgerburgh. MVP, Bliston on the mound.

My two cents, Opening Day is about setting the tone, and Burgerburgh did exactly that. Not flashy, not messy, just good clean baseball and a first notch in the win column.

Hello out there…

As much as I would love to spend today walking you through every detail of RypToe’s first show, there is more urgent news on my desk. I will say this much before I move on: go see it. Truly. It’s the kind of show people will be talking about for years, so do yourself the favor of witnessing it while you still can.

Now, to the matter at hand.

For the past week, I have been working with a friend who knows far more than I do about drones. A few weeks ago, I had the idea of sending one out over Thrasher’s Heap, but I needed to know whether that was even possible. The island sits roughly 4.5 miles off the coast, and I was told that even with high-end consumer models, it would be a gamble. This time of year, the prevailing westerlies are not exactly kind to battery life, and a round trip leaves very little room for mistakes.

Fortunately, I know someone who keeps a close eye on the weather. Without telling her what I had in mind, I managed to learn when the winds would be at their calmest. So, with that narrow window in hand, my friend and I packed the equipment and headed to Heaps Point before dawn.

We launched just as dawn was beginning to break.

In less than ten minutes, the drone had reached the shoreline of Thrasher’s Heap. At first, there was not much to see beyond waves breaking against green-crusted boulders. So we pushed farther inland. I knew we had a hard limit, about 5.5 miles total if we wanted any realistic chance of getting it back. My friend was not thrilled with me asking for a few more yards here, a few more yards there, but we kept going.

And then we saw it.

A wall, maybe ten or twelve feet high, built from compacted metal scrap, stretched across the view like some crude barricade. We were just about to crest it when a voice came through the microphone. I could not make out every word, but it was something close to, “…ah ah yeah I see it, won’t be no problem…”

Then the feed went black.

Just like that, the drone was gone.

The battery had enough charge left for the return trip, so this was not some ordinary failure. Perhaps a gull took interest. Perhaps something else swatted it from the sky. Or perhaps the person behind that voice decided our little visit had gone far enough.

Either way, the mission was not a loss.

We captured audio of at least one person beyond that garbage barrier. A person who, officially speaking, is not supposed to be there at all, let alone at the edge of dawn on an “uninhabited” island. That alone is enough to turn suspicion into something firmer.

So no, I was not chasing a wild-eyed fantasy about Thrasher’s Heap. Something is happening out there. Something organized enough to speak, respond, and shut down a camera in real time.

And now that I know that, I intend to keep digging.

And that’s The Scoop.

Vol. I: Issue 025                                                                                             June 12th, 2026

Breaking news out of Toastwood, where the art world got a surprise it did not see coming.

The elusive street artist known as RypToe is opening his first official show tonight at the historic Brunost Gallery, and in true RypToe fashion, the whole thing arrived with almost no warning. Shipments began coming in Thursday afternoon, complete with detailed installation instructions, and by morning the gallery’s staff had transformed the space into what is being described as one of the most unexpected exhibitions of the year.

Now, if you are planning to attend tonight’s reception, do not expect a handshake from the artist. RypToe may be gaining steady notoriety, but he is still keeping well away from the public eye, and gallery representatives say he will not be in attendance. As a consolation, Shannon and I will be there taking it all in, and I can promise you we will be keeping our eyes open.

We are told the show features a mix of paintings, video installations, sculptural pieces, and a few surprises the gallery is not ready to name just yet. Given RypToe’s reputation for layered messages, hidden details, and work that tends to show up before anyone realizes what they are looking at, that mystery may be part of the point.

And there may be no better place for this kind of debut than Brunost Gallery. Opened 150 years ago, Brunost is one of the oldest continually operating galleries in the world. It was founded with the mission of being the “people’s gallery,” a place willing to showcase bold, avant-garde work that the more prestigious museums and salons of the day refused to touch.

That choice helped shape Toastwood into the creative stronghold it is today, paving the way for generations of artists, collectives, and institutions like the Toastwood Institute of Art. So tonight’s show is not just a major step for RypToe. It is also a fitting new chapter for a gallery that has spent a century and a half opening its doors to artists who do things their own way.

So if you find yourself in Toastwood tonight, Brunost Gallery may be the place to be. The artist may remain out of sight, but the work is finally stepping into the light, and NowTime News will be there to see what story it tells because, Duke’s Gotcha covered!

Hiya friends!

Finley and I had such a lovely time at Burgerburgh’s annual Pride Parade on Saturday. And as a little extra treat, we ran into none other than Mumphrey, his darling wife Greta, and that big ol’ cutie Hambone. It was such a fun surprise, and honestly, seeing everyone out and celebrating made the whole day feel even sweeter.

Now, speaking of Burgerburgh, the weather is looking a little mixed for the rest of the week…

We’ve got plenty of warm, summery air hanging around, but it does come with a few scattered showers and thunderstorm chances popping in here and there, especially through the first half of the stretch. Things calm down a bit as the week rolls along, with a little more sunshine returning and that nice, seasonably warm feel settling back in.

So keep the sunscreen close, the umbrella closer, and enjoy a week that still has plenty of summer energy over in Burgerburgh.

The Mumph here, and Zepha, it was great seeing you and Finley at the parade. And folks, I have to admit something. I did not realize this was the Finley from Tacodale.

That is on me, because this guy is already building a serious résumé. Five years coaching Tacodale High football, five years of turning the Gorditas into must-watch ball, and he has already brought gold back home. That is not luck, that is leadership. I almost asked for an autograph right there in the middle of the parade, but I played it cool. Mostly.

Now, speaking of must-watch sports, baseball season starts next week, and Griller Stadium’s home opener has the Burgerburgh Sizzlers taking on the Toastwood Turkeys. You better believe The Mumph is ready for that first crack of the bat, that first slide into second, and that first fan who’s not aware they dripped nacho cheese all over their shirt (me… it’s always me).

But this week, I am taking one deep breath before the whole thing gets rolling. Kicking back, relaxing, and saving up the voice, because once baseball starts, folks, you know The Mumph is going full season mode.

Hello out there…

Less than a month ago, the BotWursts struck out on their own, taking a bold step toward independence. This week, while visiting the farmers market in Oilseed Springs, I found Kirk behind a small booth, trying to sell bottles of his homemade motor oil. Naturally, I bought one and took the opportunity to sit down with him for a proper conversation about how life has been treating the trio.

He was genuinely thrilled to make a sale, which told me quite a bit before the interview even began.

Kirk explained that the market for independent oils and hydraulic fluids is a hard one to crack. Most humans, in his view, do not exactly appreciate the finer points of the craft, and his prices cannot realistically compete with the store-bought stuff lining the shelves. He still enjoys making it, and there was real pride in the way he talked about the work, but he also knows full well it is not enough to keep the lights on, so to speak.

And right now, the bills are mounting.

The heat in Oilseed Springs, combined with the dust and heavy summer humidity, has been wearing down their parts faster than expected. Oneita has been keeping up with repairs and maintenance. Twoodles has been doing what they can to keep rust from creeping across their exteriors. But there is one problem none of them can polish, patch, or tinker their way around. All three BotWursts are approaching the point where their solid-state etherillium batteries will need to be replaced.

That is not a small expense.

So I did some digging, and what I found made this situation look even more serious. Etherillium is a rare Gurth mineral, and by all accounts, not one native to the original formation of our solar system. In other words, it is genuinely rare, and priced accordingly. The batteries built from it can be recharged many times over, but their lifespan varies wildly depending on the environment. In hotter climates, they may last only a few years. In much colder conditions, that lifespan can stretch dramatically, even several times longer.

Which means the batteries are only part of the problem.

Replacing them would buy the BotWursts time, certainly, but if they stay in the same punishing heat, they may find themselves right back in this position sooner than anyone would like. A cooler home in a place like Frostfield or Philly Heights could make all the difference, not just as a comfort, but as a practical way to extend the life of the very thing keeping them going.

It was, in all, an eye-opening conversation. We talk a great deal about independence, self-sufficiency, and making your own way. But sometimes what gets lost in all that rhetoric is the plain fact that survival is expensive, and no less so for a family of robots trying to build a life on their own terms.

So I decided to use my platform for something direct. I have started a Friend-2-Fund page for the BotWursts with the goal of helping cover the cost of three replacement etherillium batteries. And if the support goes beyond that goal, the extra would help them relocate somewhere cooler, somewhere their new batteries and their future might last a little longer.

Life is difficult enough without your body itself becoming another bill you cannot afford. If you have a little to spare, I hope you will consider lending a hand to three hardworking BotWursts trying to stay upright in a world that is not exactly built for them.

You can find the fundraiser at BotWursts/Friend2Fund.grth

And that’s The Scoop.

Vol. I: Issue 024                                                                                             June 5th, 2026

Breaking news out of Philly Heights, where the city’s long-planned wind farm has officially reached the finish line.

After nearly half a year of construction, crews completed the final remaining turbine on Monday, a full month ahead of schedule. This morning, city leaders gathered for the official commissioning ceremony, where the full system was brought online for the first time. And right on cue, those famous Philly Heights winds rolled in, caught the blades, and sent the entire farm turning.

It was a fitting moment for a city already known for making history. Philly Heights, the birthplace of The Continental Concordia, is now the first city on the Gurth powered entirely by wind energy.

Officials say the completed wind farm will provide full coverage for homes, businesses, and city operations, giving Philly Heights one of the cleanest municipal power systems anywhere on the continent. After months of debate, planning, and construction, the sight of those turbines spinning through the city skyline made one thing clear: Philly Heights has entered a bold new chapter.

The winds are up, the turbines are turning, and I’ll be watching what comes next, because Duke’s Gotcha covered!

Hiya friends!

First and foremost, I want to wish Dr. Puzzlelony a speedy recovery. I really hope he’s already starting to feel a little better today. Yesterday I brought in some extra homemade Reuben sliders for anyone who was hungry, and the Doc absolutely went to town on them. Now I’m sitting here wondering if maybe, just maybe, I should have refrigerated them overnight instead of leaving them be. I feel just awful about it. The good news is he should be back on the mend soon and ready to bend all your brains again with those wonderfully quirky puzzles of his.

Now, over in Sakura Bay, it looks like those plants will finally be getting a little relief after last week’s dry spell.

This is shaping up to be a pretty gray, damp stretch overall, with lots of clouds, patches of drizzle, and a few light showers drifting in and out through most of the week. There are a couple moments where the sun may try to peek through, but for the most part, it is that cool, misty, bay-side kind of weather settling in.

So if you’ve been waiting for a good watering, Sakura Bay is finally in luck. Just keep the umbrella handy and do not expect too many bright blue sky moments this week.

The Mumph here, and folks, this is the one we have been building toward for months. The banners, the chatter, the late nights, the bus legs, the hard miles, all of it leads right here. Championship night. Fizzoley Cup on the line. And New Pepperton delivered.

This game had that tight championship feel from the jump. Steamers up 1 to 0 after the first, then Oilseed finally punches one in to make it 2 to 1 after two, and you could feel the building tighten up. Third period, the Fryers throw everything they have at it, but New Pepperton stays composed, answers with insurance, and finishes the job with a 4 to 1 final.

Cremins is your MVP, and that is not just a stat, that is the backbone of a title. Calm, square, swallowing rebounds, and making sure Oilseed never got that second chance scramble that changes a game. In front of him, Ristrell and Frotham set the tone early and kept the pressure cooking, and on the blue line Tamplin and Robards controlled the edges with precision, holding lines, killing entries, and moving pucks out clean so the Fryers could not build momentum.

Oilseed has been dangerous all year, everybody knows it, but this was the Steamers’ kind of night. Team defense, sticks in lanes, bodies in the middle, and nothing easy. The Fryers got their one, but they could not turn it into a surge.

Final score, New Pepperton Steamers 4, Oilseed Springs Fryers 1, and the Steamers proudly raise the coveted Fizzoley Cup in their inaugural season.

And just like that, the season closes the way the best seasons do, with one team standing, one team learning, and the rest of the league already counting the days until puck drop.

Hello out there…

Ty Quilton. A name that has been surfacing a little too often lately.

Most recently, of course, he turned up by tossing a well-placed wrench into the Sneffary case. But if that name rang a bell for you before then, there is a reason. Ty Quilton has built quite a reputation on the art of making very inconvenient problems disappear for very convenient clients.

Take the April 2016 case involving Guy Mortadello. Ty managed to get every charge against his client dropped, sending Guy right back out into the world with a clean slate and, as history would suggest, plenty of room for further mischief.

Then there is NuMarcus, one of Quilton’s most persistent repeat players, a man who seems to slip out from under lawsuits the way most people slip on wet floor. Time and again, Ty has been there, turning courtroom chaos into legal escape artistry.

In fact, the one notable exception may have been the Crumple Sisters case. Even Ty Quilton could not comb that one smooth. They were ultimately found guilty in the theft of Papa Louie’s secret fried chicken recipe, which at least proves the man is not invincible, merely alarmingly effective.

So what exactly is Ty Quilton’s deal? How does he keep appearing at the precise moment questionable people need a polished exit route?

Spoiler: I don’t know yet.

But I did do some digging.

Ty Quilton, a graduate of the University of Philly Heights, now runs his practice out of a modest third-floor office. Nothing flashy. Nothing ostentatious. And to my eye, that may be the point. Some people like marble lobbies and giant gold lettering. Others prefer to look forgettable.

Then I went back through my NuBetcha files and found something that made me set my lunch down.

A number of the shell companies tied to that sprawling corporate maze listed a registered agent under the name Tony Quilt Filling Services, LLC, attached to that same familiar address on Heaps Point Ave.

Yes, that Heaps Point Ave.

I was rifling through the paperwork on my lunch break when Dr. Puzzlelony, with an Awesome Sauce-coated finger and half a Reuben still in his mouth, pointed at the page and muttered something I thankfully understood on the second try. Tony Quilt, he said, was an anagram for Ty Quilton. Then, in a gesture I can only describe as deeply ill-timed, he offered me his last slider. I declined.

But the point stood.

Tony Quilt is indeed an anagram for Ty Quilton, which takes this from mildly suspicious to the sort of detail that starts scratching at the back of a reporter’s mind. Is it proof? No. Not by itself. But it is one more thread connecting a lawyer with a habit of defending the slippery, to a corporate paper trail that already looks designed to confuse, obscure, and exhaust anyone curious enough to follow it.

So now I have more questions than answers, which, as usual, means I am probably getting warmer.

I will keep digging.

And that’s The Scoop.

Vol. I: Issue 023                                                                                             May 29th, 2026

Breaking news from Whiskview, the hometown of NowTime News, where Wednesday’s court hearing brought a sudden and frustrating end to the case surrounding the February 27, 2026 NowTime Newsletter hack.

The hearing took place at Whiskview District Court, where the defendant, Mathony B. Sneffary, was publicly identified as the person accused of being the online figure known as λλB5. For months, that name has been tied to the hack that disrupted this very newsletter, and Wednesday was supposed to be the day the case moved one step closer to answers.

Instead, it came to a full stop.

Mathony was represented by Ty Quilton, the infamous, no-nonsense lawyer from Oniontown, and Quilton went straight after the prosecution’s evidence. His argument was simple but effective. He claimed the key evidence tying Mathony to λλB5 came from a device and cloud account that had been searched improperly.

After reviewing the challenge, Judge Winnefred reluctantly held back the strongest evidence in the case. And once that evidence was removed, there was not enough left for prosecutors to move forward.

With that, the case against Mathony B. Sneffary was dismissed.

So here is where things stand. The public now knows Mathony B. Sneffary was the man accused of being λλB5, but with the strongest evidence held back, the case was dismissed. No trial, no conviction, no sentence.

It is a familiar outcome for Ty Quilton, who has built a strong track record of using technicalities to benefit some very questionable clients. Mathony walked out of Whiskview District Court a free man, and officially, the NowTime Newsletter hack remains unresolved.

That may not be the ending many wanted, but it is the ending the court delivered. And if this story takes another turn, Duke’s Gotcha covered!

Hiya friends!

This Saturday in Tacodale, the 15th Annual Taco Eating Contest will be taking over Papa’s Taco Mia, and I have to say, that sounds like a very bold way to spend an afternoon. And while the winner may not be walking away with a taco restaurant of their own, they will win a two-night stay at the luxurious Hot Spring Supreme Spa and Retreat, which honestly sounds like a pretty dreamy reward after all that competitive eating.

Now as for the weather, Tacodale is looking hot, humid, and just a little stormy all week long.

We’ve got plenty of warmth, lots of sticky summer air, and those scattered afternoon showers and thunderstorms that like to pop up just when you think you’ve got the whole day figured out. Saturday itself looks plenty warm for the big contest, but you’ll definitely want to keep an eye on the sky later in the day.

So pack the sunscreen, stay hydrated, and maybe keep a dry backup shirt nearby, because it is shaping up to be a steamy week in Tacodale.

The Mumph here, and boy oh boy, was that a game. New Pepperton Steamers survive a back and forth thriller against the Maple Mountain Honey Bees, 4 to 3 in overtime.

This one started like a Steamers statement. New Pepperton jumps out 2 to 0 after the first, then Maple Mountain punches back hard in the second, but the Steamers still carry a 3 to 2 lead into the third. And that third period was pure tension. The Honey Bees find the equalizer to make it 3 to 3, Cremins has to be huge to keep it there, and then overtime settles it. Ristrell rips home the winner on a one timer and that is the end of Maple Mountain’s Cinderella run. Frotham was dynamic all night, and you could feel the Steamers’ depth showing up shift after shift, but give Maple Mountain credit, led by Gridley, they would not go away.

Final score, New Pepperton Steamers 4, Maple Mountain Honey Bees 3, overtime. Winner, New Pepperton. MVP, Ristrell. My two cents, Maple Mountain earned respect this postseason, but New Pepperton has that extra gear when the game gets tight.

I had the honor of watching this one live with my pal Kruisin’ Kit Brewis, and we figured, why not pull him into the newsletter for a quick post game chat.

The Mumph:
Kit, appreciate you taking a minute with me after a wild one.

Kruisin’ Kit:
Thee pleasure is all mine, I assure you.

The Mumph:
Alright, straight up, who were you pulling for tonight?

Kruisin’ Kit:
Kit’s a big big fan of those Honey Bees. No doubt. I mean, I’m a total mark for them Ringers, but those Honey Bees… oooh…. a real close second. Yeah buddy!

The Mumph:
You saw it up close. Who popped for you, who really stood out?

Kruisin’ Kit:
I mean, ha, Ristrell always puts on a great show, but for me, Maillard impressed me the most.

The Mumph:
Number 79, Bam Maillard, what was it about his game that grabbed you?

Kruisin’ Kit:
Oh yeah. Maillard gives it his all. He’s got this laser eyed, fearless, focus that reminds me of a young Kit, a green jobber just cutting his teeth in the Heap.

The Mumph:
The Heap. Thrasher’s Heap?

Kruisin’ Kit:
Ahya, I mean, ah… Haha. Listen here Mumph, the Heap is what Kit likes to call that lazy, good-for-nothing, rodeo clown, Roddi Duster. I’ve been mopping the floor with him since I first stepped into the squared circle. Now back to my man Maillard, mark my words, that kids gonna lead the Honey Bees to many a victory. He’s just biding his time, my friend. Biding his time.

The Mumph:
I like that. So if you’re Brixwell, what are you doing next to turn that promise into a real run?

Kruisin’ Kit:
Just know this… that head coach, Brixwell, needs to tighten that team’s core. Kit thinks a few strategic trades of the offensive type are exactly what those bees need to sharpen their sting. Ahya!

The Mumph:
Alright, championship next week, and I gotta ask, who you backing, Kit?

Kruisin’ Kit:
Well Mumphman, I can tell you this. No way… and I mean… NO WAY will your buddy, Krusin’ Kit, be backing those glory-steelin’ goons, the Steamers. Fryers… I see you. You got Kit’s support. Now go boil ‘em up, alllllll extra-crispy like!

The Mumph:
You heard it, folks. Kruisin’ Kit Brewis is all in on the Fryers!

Hello out there…

Last week, this Newsletter covered the blackout that seized Tastyville and cleared the way for a string of bank robberies carried out by The Dynamoe. Before I go any further, let me be clear about something. My friend and colleague Duke Gotcha reported that story using the evidence and official narrative provided to the media by the Tastyville Police Department. What follows is not a criticism of Duke’s reporting. It is a criticism of what the police chose not to say.

Because after doing some digging of my own, and after obtaining surveillance footage from the third robbery, a rather important detail came into focus. The police told the public that The Dynamoe was “interrupted” during the attempted robbery at Arugula Bank. What they did not say was who actually interrupted him.

It was not the police.

The footage clearly shows The Dynamoe being momentarily stunned by one of Ninjoy’s Flashbright bombs. For a brief moment, she had him off balance. More than that, she nearly had him stopped. And then, in a display of timing so unfortunate it would be laughable if the stakes were not so serious, police deployed tear gas into the scene, forcing Ninjoy to retreat and giving The Dynamoe the opening he needed to escape.

So let us state this plainly. Ninjoy appears to have disrupted yet another robbery. And the same police department now happy to speak in broad heroic language about the case was, by all appearances, directly responsible for letting its most wanted man slip through its fingers.

If that sounds familiar, it should. By now, this pattern is less a surprise than a refrain. Ninjoy acts, the danger is reduced, the official version gets tidied up, and the public is left with a story that flatters the wrong people.

I do not particularly enjoy having to play archivist for truths that keep getting misplaced. But when bravery is being edited out of the record, and failure is being softened into public relations language, somebody has to put the missing pieces back.

That is my job. And no matter how often the truth gets pushed toward the shadows, I will keep dragging it back into the light.

And that’s The Scoop.

Vol. I: Issue 022                                                                                             May 22nd, 2026

Duke Gotcha here, and Tastyville is still picking up the pieces after Tuesday night’s massive blackout plunged wide sections of the city into darkness and set the stage for one of the most brazen crime sprees in recent memory.

With heavy cloud cover smothering the night sky and entire neighborhoods suddenly left without power, the city was cast into deep shadow. And in that confusion, The Dynamoe made his move. Authorities say two Arugula Bank vaults were emptied during the outage, with the walls left tagged in his now familiar spray-painted style.

A third robbery was also attempted, but that effort was interrupted before it could be carried through. What followed was a police chase through Tastyville’s industrial district, though once again, The Dynamoe managed to slip away.

Now, in the days since the outage, investigators say they believe the blackout itself was no accident. Utility officials now suspect The Dynamoe used a network of small magnetic devices to trigger the failure, placing them across the city in the hours leading up to the outage. Reported locations include areas near Griller Stadium, downtown traffic controls, and several rooftop junction boxes.

That detail is what turns this from a simple blackout into something far more calculated. Officials believe the outage was deliberately engineered to create confusion, slow response times, and give cover to a coordinated night of criminal activity.

The big question now is how those devices were planted in so many hard-to-reach locations without drawing attention. Detectives are keeping that part close to the vest, though police say the investigation remains active and more is being uncovered with each passing day.

So what looked at first like a citywide power failure now appears to have been a carefully staged act of sabotage, timed to the minute and used to throw Tastyville off balance. And until authorities close the gap on how it was done, this story is far from over. Stay sharp, because Duke’s Gotcha covered!

Hiya friends!

That blackout was absolutely wild. Finley and I were over at Camp Kingsley when the power went out, and for a second the whole place just froze. But comedian Ria Bardeaux handled it like a total pro. She leaned right into the chaos and finished her set in complete darkness, with the whole room just bursting at the seams with laughter. Meanwhile, we had no idea all that other craziness was unfolding around town.

So after all that darkness and drama, let’s check in on Maple Mountain, where the forecast is looking a whole lot calmer.

Maple Mountain is looking pretty lovely overall, especially if you have been itching to get outside. We start off with mild temperatures and some really nice hiking weather, then a few showers and cloudier skies drift in for the weekend. After that, things calm back down, and the second half of the week brings more sunshine, warmer afternoons, and just a little hint of early summer in the air.

So keep the umbrella nearby for the weekend, then get ready for a really pretty stretch once Maple Mountain brightens back up.

The Mumph here, and it was a big sports weekend for me on the home front. My wife and I headed out to Powder Point to catch a spring training ballgame, Woolies vs the Urchins, and it was a good time. Powder Point took care of business and kept a steady lead through most of the innings, the kind of win where you can actually relax and enjoy the snacks. Then the next day we went full theme park mode, rode every coaster we could, and yes, I am a huge coaster enthusiast, so we splurged on the line-jump passes. Worth it.

Alright, enough about me chasing thrills, because the Savory League just served up the real kind.

This semifinal was tight and stubborn from start to finish. Oilseed Springs is up 1 to 0 after the first, Starlight answers in the second to tie it 1 to 1, and then Filion finds the winner mid period to put the Fryers back in front. From there it is lockdown hockey, no freebies, no middle, and no panic.

Sorby earns MVP again, his second of the playoffs, and it is not hard to see why. He kept steering rebounds to safe ice and never let Starlight turn a look into a scramble. Bufford did his part at the other end to keep the Jackpots alive, but Drummond and Perigo could not solve Sorby when it mattered most, and Oilseed’s defense protected that one goal lead like it was a family heirloom.

Final score, Oilseed Springs Fryers 2, Starlight City Jackpots 1. Winner, Oilseed Springs. MVP, Sorby.

My two cents, this is the kind of game that tells you who is built for May. One goal lead, season on the line, and Oilseed stayed calm enough to finish the job

Hello out there…

With the runaway success of last year’s blockbuster Meteor Blastor: Blastlands, TigerFence Films is already charging ahead with a sequel this summer. Meteor Blastor 2: Redshift will almost certainly do what these movies always do, pack theaters, sell merchandise, and make a small mountain of money. What it will probably not do is treat its source material with much care. If history is any guide, we can expect more hollow one-liners, more fireballs, and another round of mythology being flattened into spectacle.

And that flattening has been going on for decades. Between the television shows, the movies, and the games, the original legend has been repackaged so many times that I suspect an entire generation now knows the brand better than the story beneath it. So for anyone who only knows Meteor Blastor as a loud thing on a screen, consider this your refresher…

Meteor Blastor: Beneath the Box Office…

Some of the earliest known references appear on a stack of stone tablets unearthed high in the mountains of Tricksylvania. Written in the old Glukuglyphs of the Ancient Tricksylvanians, they describe a flying arrow chasing a star across the night sky.

Elsewhere, cave paintings found in the Bavariafield Archipelago depict a dart-shaped object streaking overhead while five figures below raise their arms toward it. Not proof, of course. But certainly another thread in the pattern.

Then there is the version most people have at least heard of, the old folktale collected by the Sisters Trimm, The Cloud Ship of the Falling Sky. My understanding is that the story itself predates their written version and likely circulated first among peasants in the old northern Frescan Empire, passed along the way stories often survive, by voice, by repetition, and by the simple fact that people kept looking up.

The ancient Kuræ people of what is now Sakura Bay told a version of their own. In their telling, a guardian defended the skies against a distant mad sparrow queen who hurled her eggs toward our world whenever she believed herself insulted. The guardian’s name was Bal Estur, and yes, say that quickly enough and the echo becomes hard to ignore.

Over the last few centuries, these scattered stories began to collapse into a more common name, The Blastor. Then came the so-called sighting in September 1994, a grainy piece of video showing what appeared to be a triangular craft firing at a falling meteor. The footage was mocked on cable television, the person who filmed it vanished from public view, and yet the image lodged itself in the culture all the same. Before long, the name had grown. The Blastor became Meteor Blastor, and the legend was dragged even further into the machinery of modern entertainment.

Which brings us to the present.

No studio can claim ownership over a myth that has lived this long, traveled this far, and belonged to this many cultures. But that has not stopped anyone from trying to profit off its shadow. And perhaps that is what bothers me most, not adaptation itself, but dilution. The sanding down of something old and strange and shared, until it becomes little more than a title, a poster, and a box office forecast.

Still, stories do not survive across centuries for no reason. Something in them keeps catching the light. Something in them keeps people looking skyward and asking whether the version we have been sold is really the whole of it.

That is what keeps me looking up. And that’s The Scoop.

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. The Bees were ahead 2 to 1 after one, but Calypso took the lead 3 to 2 after two, then the Honey Bees powered through a stellar third period with 4 to 3 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.

Vol. I: Issue 020                                                                                             May 8th, 2026

Duke Gotcha here, and Wednesday was a big day in Oilseed Springs. Moving Day had officially arrived for everyone’s favorite BotWurst trio, Oneita, Twoodles, and Kirk.

The moment I got word that their departure from DeFragness was finally here, I made my way over to see them off in person. It was one of those hot, sticky afternoons where the air feels like it is hanging over your shoulders, and I arrived just in time to catch Kirk backing the moving truck into place like a seasoned pro.

Now, the trio was not hauling a full household’s worth of cargo. Their new apartment, a turnkey one-bedroom on the south side of Oilseed Springs, already had the essentials covered. What they were moving instead was something far more interesting, the personal collection of a new life taking shape.

Oneita, for example, has clearly developed a serious passion for sculptural art. Piece after piece of abstract metalwork made its way into the truck, each one looking like it had its own story to tell. Twoodles, meanwhile, was carefully loading up a growing library of self-help and spirituality books. And if the chatter around town is to be believed, Twoodles has also started building a real following over on HeadCase, thanks to a distinctive blend of positive affirmations, interpretive dance, and metal-care regimens that, I am told, is finding quite an audience.

Then there was Kirk, who was handling his prized homebrew kit with the kind of care usually reserved for rare antiques. He has apparently been deep in experimentation, crafting bespoke synthetic oils and hydraulic fluids. Kirk was more than happy to walk me through the finer points of the process, and while I will admit some of it sailed comfortably above my head, I can tell you this, the bot has enthusiasm to spare, and he knows his craft.

Once everything was packed, we made our way to the apartment complex and began unloading. The place itself was modest but cozy, and the trio assured me the one-bedroom setup suited them just fine, seeing as sleep is not exactly part of the equation. The real selling point, I was told, was not square footage at all, but the presence of three separate 30-amp outlets, giving them the perfect place to recharge and unwind together after a long day.

And that, more than anything, was what stood out. This did not feel like a temporary stop. It felt like a beginning.

It was a pleasure catching up with Oneita, Twoodles, and Kirk as they stepped into this next chapter, and I can tell you firsthand, they look ready for it. Ready to live a little more independently, ready to keep discovering who they are, and ready to make a home that is fully their own.

As for me, I did not leave empty-handed. Kirk presented me with a bottle of his latest creation, Velvet Grand Crude, which he described as carrying hints of dark-roasted diphenylamines with a silky pipefeel courtesy of a local strain of polymethacrylate polymers. He then assured me, with absolute confidence, that my lawnmower would love it.

That remains to be tested. But the bigger story here is easy to see. Three former shelter residents are now settling into a place of their own, bringing their passions, their quirks, and a little bit of spark with them. And that is the sort of follow-up I am always glad to report, because Duke’s Gotcha covered!

Hiya friends!

Well, the Cinco de Mayo feast was a bit of a disaster. I really thought I could pull it off too. The plan was tamales, fried rice, and flan for dessert, which in hindsight may have been a wildly ambitious little lineup for one evening. The tamales turned out gritty and barely steamed, the fried rice became one big congealed situation, and thanks to me confusing tablespoons with cups, just about everything came out far too spicy to eat. Finley, bless him, was not phased one bit, and we ended up ordering Papa’s Pizzeria, settling in with a movie, and laughing the whole thing off. The flan was the closest thing to a success, although it was more of a dessert soup than an actual flan. But oh well, you live and learn, and we still had a lovely time.

Now, it sounds like the Botwursts are settling nicely into their new place in Oilseed Springs, and weather-wise, that warm sticky stretch is hanging on for a bit longer.

The start of the week looks sunny, hot, and breezy, then we get a little interruption with some thunderstorms and a brief dip in humidity around the middle. After that, the warmth sneaks right back in, with more sun, a few clouds, and that late spring heat settling comfortably over the prairie again.

So keep the sunglasses handy, don’t let those passing storms catch you off guard, and enjoy a week that still has plenty of warmth left in it over in Oilseed Springs.

The Mumph here, and New Pepperton is punching its ticket. Steamers take it 5 to 3 over the San Fresco Sea Lions, and that puts them into the semi finals.

Quick recap, New Pepperton jumped out early, led 2 to 0 after one, 4 to 1 after two, then San Fresco made it interesting in the third. The Steamers stayed steady and closed it out 5 to 3. MVP goes to right defenseman Tammy Robards, where she kept the pace high and the puck moving all night.

Alright, I’ve got Tammy with me now, six quick ones…

Mumph:
You’re up 4 to 1 after two. What are you telling yourselves so it doesn’t get sloppy?

Tammy:
Honestly, “don’t get fancy.” Just keep doing what’s working and don’t hand them anything for free. When you’re winning, the worst thing you can do is start playin’ cute.

Mumph:
From the outside, it looked like you were everywhere. What’s your mindset as a defenseman in a game like this?

Tammy:
I’m tryin’ to keep us movin’. If I can get the puck out quick, our forwards can go do what they do. And if I’ve got a clean lane, I’m takin’ it, because that keeps the other team honest.

Mumph:
San Fresco made that third period feel loud. What changed?

Tammy:
They just started throwin’ everything at the net. More shots, more bodies, more chaos. It’s like when somebody’s down late and they just start swingin’. You could feel it.

Mumph:
What do you think wore them down over the course of the game?

Tammy:
We kept ‘em in their own end a lot. When you’re stuck back there defendin’, you get tired, you stop thinkin’ clear, and you make mistakes. That’s when chances start showin’ up.

Mumph:
Their goalie, Poplin, made some big saves early. How do you beat a goalie who’s locked in like that?

Tammy:
Make it hard for him to see. You can have the best goalie in the world, but if there’s traffic and the puck’s comin’ through a crowd, it’s just tougher. And then you gotta be ready for the rebounds.

Mumph:
Semi Finals next. What’s the biggest thing you want fans to watch for from your team?

Tammy:
Our energy. When we’re skatin’ and keepin’ it simple, we’re tough to handle. If we bring that from the first shift, we like our chances.

Mumph:
There you have it. Tammy Robards, MVP, and the Steamers are movin’ on. My two cents, when New Pepperton plays fast without gettin’ messy, they’re a problem.

Hello out there…

Last night, I found myself in the sort of situation reporters are usually warned not to romanticize and are almost never lucky enough to witness. After following a few leads, asking the right questions, and earning what I can only describe as a cautious degree of trust, I was invited to shadow RypToe during a live painting in Oniontown.

We met in an alley I will not be naming, for reasons that should be obvious. He was already there when I arrived, a tall silhouette among garbage cans and stacked shipping pallets, dressed in a black balaclava and a dark trench coat mottled over with layers of spray paint that seemed to function as its own kind of urban camouflage. Slung over one shoulder was a duffel bag so large it looked capable of carrying half a studio. And in a way, it was. Inside were cans of paint in every shade you could imagine, tools, and several cardboard tubes protecting carefully prepared stencils.

He did not say a word when I approached. He simply extended one gloved hand for a quick, friendly fist bump, then tipped his chin toward the parking lot and started moving. Fast.

I followed as best I could.

He crossed the lot without a sound, reached a rusted fire escape, and climbed like someone who had done this a hundred times before. At the top of the building, beside an old water tower, he finally stopped and began unpacking his materials. The whole process was so deliberate it almost felt clinical. Paint, stencils, tools, all laid out in neat order, as if he were preparing for surgery rather than a piece of street art.

I stayed on the rooftop while RypToe climbed the tower and began his work. What followed was thirty minutes of motion so quick and controlled it was almost dizzying to watch. Up and down he went, again and again, retrieving different colors, changing stencils, checking his angles, never wasting movement. There was no flourish to it. No performance. Just focus.

And then it was done.

He climbed back down and stood there for a moment, looking up at the finished piece in silence. Then, with the air of a man who had fully earned a snack, he reached into his bag, pulled out two Butterzingers, handed one to me, and demolished the other himself.

We made our way back down to the parking lot for the full view.

The old wooden water tower had been transformed. Its upper structure now read like the striped crown of a circus tent, and wrapped around its cylindrical body was the illusion of a cage, inside it the dark silhouette of a large animal crouched in confinement. It was eerie, enormous, and impossible to ignore. The sort of image that changes a familiar landmark into something loaded and uneasy.

I thought the night had already given me enough.

Then RypToe reached back into the duffel bag and pulled out a long piece of plywood, roughly eighteen by forty-eight inches. He carried it over, turned it toward me, revealing a painted portrait of myself.

It caught me completely off guard.

The piece was haunting, beautiful, and deeply unsettling in the way all honest portraits are. I told him as much. He listened, gave a small nod, and then, in a deep, rough voice, spoke the only two words I heard from him all night.

“For you.”

And then, just like that, he was gone.

I will not be sharing the location. I will not be sharing the route. But I will say this, RypToe is no rumor, no prankster with a stencil and a deadline. He is disciplined, deliberate, and far more thoughtful than the cleanup crews and official statements would ever suggest.

I suspect this story is only getting started. I will keep watching the walls.

And that’s The Scoop.