Hope Instigator Supreme: "Crimson Blayde"

When times are tough for the students at Grape Berry High School in Tree-branch, Illinois, they have someone there looking out for their feelings and their well being. At least according to Horton Shrivel, the high school janitor, who also goes by the name "Crimson Blayde."

Mr. Shrivel claims he uses his mysterious alias to give kids "good feelings" and "for general security impressions." Though he claims his intentions are noble, some of the students claim his methods are a bit unorthodox.

One student, who declined his name be used in this interview, claimed to have a strange encounter with Mr. Shrivel:

"Yeah, so like I was in the bathroom stall making a rear drop. I guess I was groaning and sweating a bit. But anyway, someone started pounding on the stall door. So I said it was occupied. That's when I noticed the red shoes. It was the janitor, Crimson Blayde. Instead of listening to me, he crawled underneath the door and started to rub my ankles. He told me that "destiny awaits in the plummage pot" and he pulled my sock down, tucked a piece of hard candy into it and slithered back out the way he came making clicking sounds."

Another student describes his abnormal experience:

"So I was standing at the piss drain doing a Mississippi hose-down and I hear a deep voice tell me that destiny has plans for me. I turned around and saw the Janitor. I know it was him because he dresses like a comic hero or something. He always carries a red broom on his back and his mop has a medieval-style mace made out of a urinal cake with pencils coming out of it. Anyway...the janitor came right up behind me and started to jiggle my fat rolls. He started to make noises like a snake hissing and put a lollypop down the front of my t-shirt pocket."

When interviewed, Mr. Shrivel had very little to say about the incidents. He spoke instead of his personal manifesto. "I have special weapons that help me clean the down ground. If I see someone he have a hard time make drop, I give him sugar sweets. I name myself Crimson Blayde because my broom-sword is so bad. If I see a brown on the ground I smash it with my sword and sweep the pieces."

Crotch Interviews

Cat's Crotch has always been receptive when offered a chance speak with important figures in politics and economics, and this month we're honored to have a visit paid to us by Ben Bernanke, the current Chairman of The Federal Reserve. BB wanted to explain to us in layman's term why printing more money will fill our pantries and keep our hot bars satisfied.

CC: "Good morning Ben! You look healthy."

BB: "Thank you. I feel good!"

CC: "I love your skin."

BB: "Let's get down to brass tax. This month started off fairly rough with the Debt Roof barely getting raised in time before America became officially slightly unreliable when it comes to paying back loans. You really have to understand why it's important to have a perfect credit score."

CC: "We think about that all the time!"

BB: "I know, it's pretty intense. Anyway, when you print more money, that means everyone will get more, and we need more because we were almost out."

CC: "Well that makes sense... that doesn't mean its value will decrease, will it? Or that stuff will get more stupid?"

BB: "No, of course not, god."

CC: "What about it eventually cycling to other countries and not coming back? I think that is a possibility."

BB: "That's completely impossible because it's American dollars. They only work in America, c'mon."

CC: "... what's that black stuff coming out of your eyes?"

BB: "What...? That's nothing, nothing is coming out of my eyes."

CC: "It looks like Satan's semen."

That this point Ben pushes his index finger into his eye socket and then draws something on the desk in front of him with the questionable black material, then vanishes. The symbol that was traced into the wood also vanished.

U.S. Army Presents: "Would-Stock" 1969

In response to the well-known counter culture festival of the same year, the U.S. Army felt it necessary to host a competing festival for "buttoned-up military types" as opposed to "loose haired faggots."

Upon hearing the news about Woodstock, General B.R. Slate Blambrock of The Catskills Military Training Grass Field said "we'll let those robe-wearing chicken-hawks have their dandy-doodle, but me and my boys will put on a little show of our own."

General Blambrock sent word out to personnel at all the surrounding military bases: "You close-cut boys don't have to feel short-changed by not being allowed to go to Woodstock with the hippy-dippies and their boring drugs and loud music. We're going to put on a little show of our own called 'Would-Stock.' As in, why WOULD you want to go to Woodstock?"

As it turns out, General Blambrock was unable to book any musical acts (aside from a few elderly Christian singers from the local gospel-hut to do a song-and-dance promenade) so he enlisted a few of the most elite Jet Fighters from the local air base to drive around in the fields with their afterburners on full blast for a "straight shot of sweltering American heat and joy."

On the day of the festival, many military families gathered in a green field under the sun to enjoy the day's activities. Many prepared mayonnaise-based meals while others picked single blades of grass and threw them back down again. Some young men even slapped a "high-five" to one another (assuming the high-ranking officers weren't looking).

But when the Jet Fighters arrived, the fun TRULY began. The jets started off on a slow but gradual taxi around the green field, but after a few minutes of slow play, the pilots fired the afterburners and drove their airships straight into the crowd... giving men, women and children something great to look at.

A few military military participants look back on memories of the festival with fondness:

"I thought it was a jim-dandy time. My father and I were some of the lucky few to have jets drive over our family picnic and squash our 'taters. It was truly hilarious!" -Private Grumder Feath

"My young daughter and I were there when the pilot's landing gear failed and the nose dropped into the crowd. It fell right on someone's bottle of mustard and squirted it all over their face." -Popcorn Lieutenant Pumper Clapflash

"My good friend Jacob stuck his hot dog into the jet's afterburner flame and cooked it. I remember him telling me how it was the best hot dog he'd ever tasted. He died of cancer a couple years later. But... back to Would-Stock! It was a great time. I wish I could go back and do it again!" -Colonel Ennerd Foghorn