News from Ursa Major

01-07-2009 Earth Standard Calendar Year

Clagg Mondrehedon reporting for Klaxon News, subsidiary of Galactic News
Instellary

Dagobah System , in route to the Gallo Galaxy

Nel Fibson, sycophant and Galactic Conspiracy Theorist, today warned Rebel
Alliance Leader, Ursa Major, of a trap set by Darth Horak, AKA Lord King God of
the Galaxy, in collusion with Peetza da Hutt at the upcoming round table
summit to be held in an undisclosed location inside the Gallo Galaxy. The summit
revolves around discussions of prisoner exchange after the Rebels caught an
Emperor Clone hiding in a Imperial Palace laundry chute on Rodir.

Now the following should be taken with a grain of Parmesan . .

Beware the narcoleptic pasta and tryptophanic meat sauce warns Fibson, they
will lull you into snoozing through your upcoming capaign. Many lives will be
lost and not just to poor dice rolls. Poison snifters should be allowed after
the regrettable incident on Bakurr in which the use of embedded slave taste
tester faces (in priceless Gomorrian china bowls i might add) were outlawed by
the Galactic Geneva Convention. Apparently the thrashing and flailing seizures
of a Kessel spice mine slave upset the Gentilly, especially after soiling the
hostess' Vera Wang evening dress via a loud belch. And that is to say
nothing of the destruction of some fine Gomorrian china and Ylesian crystal as the
bowl skittled off the table onto the floor disintegrating Humpty Dumpty like
into a gazillion pieces amid the strangled shrieks of the poor slave.
Apparently it is impossible to perform a Heimlich on an embedded piece of china.

Pardon me for digressing into culinary antecdotes, but I find the galaxy's
gastronomical habits fascinating as my gentle readers know all to well.

Ursa Major dismissed the warnings with his usual flair and petulance. "I
base my conclusions on the fact that earlier this year, Mr. Nel Fibson theorized
the Republic Revisionists would lobby and succeed in naming the capital of
Terra, Bushington instead of Washington, after the late 20th century political
coupe master. It turned out to be bushit. And who said anything about an
upcoming campaign?"

To which Mr. Fison retorted, "I expect no less from the dull witted and
peevish Ursa Minor. After all he had blithely dismissed the Emperor's clone to be
thriving in plain sight on Rodir, to all contrary intelligence. If it wasn't
for his underlings and minions the poor fellow would be emptying bedpans of
the Hutts. And by the way, he did receive his complement of dice boxcars, much
to his claim to the contrary."

I entreated the mysterious Taca Belle, phage entrepreneur and franchise rival
of Peetza, to confirm or deny Mr. Fibson's wild tail, but, alas, she was
indisposed in cheddar negotiation with the Cheeseheads on Hapes.

So, vaya con Santo Pepto until post summit news. Clagg Mondrehedon