Wednesday, December 19, 2018

Jesting Jousters Knock Socks Off Myrtle Beach

It looked as if residents of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina were ready to start the Civil War all over again when they heard that the Jesting Jousters had finished their run and were returning to their home base in Southern California.  "We were so hoping that they would stay permanently," stated Edna Gromitson, who claims credit for discovering the entertaining group while on a trip to Key West, Florida. "Our women's club built this lovely pavilion on the seashore and even named it after them!" she lamented.

When a Bluegreenplant reporter asked her if it was fair to say that the Jesting Jousters Pavilion was just a blatant attempt to manipulate the group with guilt, Ms Gromitson stood up to the reporter and said, "You are just a Yankee who probably never prayed for anything in your life,"  and stormed away.

When asked about their summer stint in South Carolina, the group was very positive.  Little Todd Howard Jefferton described it as a fun adventure. When  asked if he was ready to leave and start the new school year, he reluctantly admitted that he missed friends, his mom, and Hubert the police Robot.

Then the reporter turned to Billy Plimberton for his take on their summer at Myrtle Beach. The charismatic Plimberton grabbed the microphone and smiled.  After a moment of pondering the question, he said. "Do you know what? I love this place, the sand, the water, the food, and the people because they are awesome. But if you ask me about leaving, it's all OK--because as long as I'm with the Jesting Jousters, I have my family. I'm at home."

As Billy Plimberton reached out to hand the microphone back to the reporter, a breeze blew a speck of lint into his eye, and the mic dropped into the bright sand.

Tuesday, December 18, 2018

Cheese n Crackerz Removes Plimberton From Deadbeat Wall

An unsmiling mugshot tacked on the wall next to the register at the Cheese n Crackerz restaurant on highway 70 in Indiana has been replaced by something much nicer now that a years-old tab was finally settled.

It seems that many years ago, before Naptimez Ova was over, leader, Billy Plimberton cheaped out on a bill for over a hundred bowls of vegetable beef soup while his gang was marauding across the continent. A love-struck cashier named Melanie Florence let the customers go without paying and was promptly fired by the manager.

That manager, Sid Crumb, was flabbergasted when he received not only a check covering the cost of the meals, but also a generous tip for Ms. Florence. "Sure, I remember them. I never thought I would see this money. I had to water the soup for months to make up that money. That gang ruined my image of humanity, but now I can feel it rebounding. I feel that there is hope for everyone." When asked if he could locate Melanie Florence in order to deliver the tip, the manager mentioned that he had no idea where she was. Within thirty minutes a reporter from Bluegreenplant tracked her down and she promptly showed up at  the restaurant for her $116.00 tip.

What replaced that old mugshot? A shiny framed photo of the Jesting Jousters, autographed. The hall of shame is now a hall of fame.

Grave Robbers Get Lawyer

A pair of UCLA students who were arrested for disinterring the cadaver of the late Marcus Cludderman, also known as the beloved Country Judge, are turning the tables on authorities by filing a lawsuit against them. It seems that the students are now suffering from symptoms of PTSD due to the trauma of seeing the partially decomposed human corpse.

"First of all, it should have been buried deeper," said Denise Hastings, mother of UCLA paralegal student Shelly Hastings, who was arrested with her boyfriend, Bruin tight end, Terrence Staffordshire. "I don't care about legal regulations. Most people learn from movies that graves are six feet deep. My daughter is only 20 years old; she can't be expected to know every regulation for the depth of burying a body. She was a fan. She was definitely not ready to see our beloved country Judge all disfigured, decomposed, disgusting and covered with maggots. She and her boyfriend have insomnia and panic attacks now because of this. If the grave had been deeper they would have been more mentally prepared, or maybe they might have got tired and given up."

Staffordshire put his hand around Shelly to comfort her after her mother's claims triggered a sudden outburst of tears.

"It is really the cemetery's fault," the distraught mother went on. "None of this should have happened. My child has never gotten in trouble before. This is ruining her spotless record and she is very stressed out."

A lawyer standing next to Ms Hastings was about to speak, but the upset mother refused to yield. "Second of all, when he was executed, the authorities did not provide sufficient proof of death. People just couldn't accept that he was really dead." At this point, the unidentified lawyer unplugged the microphone and muttered something about damaging their case. He walked the mother and the accused to Shelly's Mercedes AMG S65 Coupe.

Interviews with acquaintances of the pair of accused grave robbers filled in the gaps. Apparently, the young couple were at a party at a beach house with friends and they began talking about the tragedy of the Country Judge and wrongly concluded that it was all a hoax and Judge Cludderman was still alive. Convinced that coroner, Martin Andrada, had falsified Cludderman's death certificate, Shelly and Staffordshire used her mom's credit card to buy a shovel and a pickax from Home Depot in Marina Del Rey.

Apparently the students had convinced themselves that they were going to find a robot in the grave and the shock of finding a real corpse was too much for them. Aside from suing the LA County Coroner, the the elder Ms Hastings is also filing a lawsuit against the director of the funeral home where the corpse was prepared.

Felix Barns, director of Barn's Funeral Home, took issue with the claims of the lawsuit. "The young lady should know better than to mess around with a body after it has been laid to rest. She and her friend showed a lack of common decency and respect for the dead. And just for the record, I pumped 5.5 liters of formaldehyde, phenol, and methanol into the judge. There's no way he could have gone bad. He looked better as a corpse than he did when he was alive."

Monday, December 17, 2018

Clift Barwell Wins Oscar

Actor Clift Barwell has won the Oscar Steven's award for his management of product placement in the blockbuster movie, Country Judge, The Movie. Over sixty American made products, as well as six-hundred foreign imports were featured, enabling a budget of over twelve million for special effects alone. The movie, although originally planned for theatrical release, can be viewed on the live-streaming channel  Bongo!

The actor, famous for his roles as Jerik in Jerik the Dolphin Trainer and as the father in The Children Who Need Help Golden Dome Orphanage, decided to take on directing responsibilities along with the lead role after director Steven Speigleman dropped out of the project when a sculpture in his newly rebuilt mansion exploded, leading him to announce that he was abandoning show business to retire in Micronesia. The sculpture, by famed artist Stefani Xiong-Mao, was fashioned out of a supposedly de-activated mortar round found in Speigleman's backyard tiki hut.

As Barwell clutched the trophy to his chest, a tear came to his eye, but he had no problems getting out his carefully rehearsed speech. "I think of everything that led me here to this point and I think of all the others who I have met on my grand journey as a movie star and director. I know that there have been myriad unknowns who I have carried along on my coattails. But I tell you right now, it's been worth it. And now I've earned this award. Thank you for this award. I did it! I did it!"

Country Judge The Movie, which is being heavily promoted in Wal-Mart and Target stores, has gotten rave reviews for both its martial arts and car chase scenes. "T-shirts and video games based on the movie have been selling very briskly," says a Wal-Mart spokesman.

Sunday, December 16, 2018

Unaired Final Episode of Country Judge TV Show

Bluegreenplant Exclusive 
Sacramento, California. BGPP. 

As an orange ball of sun warmed the edge of the horizon, a dreary, moist cloud lingered above in a guilty way, slowly diminishing into a layer of steam which, like the darkness, soon was not to be remembered. It was an unusual day, a pig-headed day. The execution of Marcus Cludderman was scheduled, and no one but the governor could stop the gears of the machinery of death--the first death by firing squad in California since the gold rush.

Private cops, mercenaries, originally contracted as a money-saving measure by the State of California's legislature, walked the former reality TV star up to an off-white wall at the rear of the Schwarzenegger Pavilion, where the back of his jump suit was accidentally splotched by the wet paint.  Without shame, the executioner, a blond man six-foot-four in faux military garb, stuck a post-it note with a pink heart outlined in black on the center of Cludderman's chest.  And then he read aloud from a card in his pocket, "Do you want a last cigarette?"

"Nothing to celebrate," responded the condemned man.

"Do you have any last words?" the blond man read in a monotone voice.

Marcus Cludderman cleared his throat. "When I was a little boy back in Cass County, my friends and I had a little fishin' hole and we didn't want to share it with anyone else cause we could catch some hum-dingers with just worms, a hook and some string, some real whoppers!

But one night, my granny took me and my sister out to see the preacher and he told us that we were wrong to keep everything to ourself. If we give, we will receive back ten fold. For whatever a man sows, that he will also reap. That's in The Bible. So my granny just upended her purse into that collection basket. And as for me, the next day I announced at school that everyone was welcome to go fishing at the fishin' hole and soon, everybody was there every day.

Well, before the season was over, the fish were gone. Nobody could catch nothing but pieces of garbage. The water smelled a little bit like turpentine, but maybe it was just pee.

It snowed all that winter. We had to move out because my poppa drank up the money for the rent. That's what Mama said. She bundled me up in a itchy old blanket when I went out on account of I had grown out of my jacket. She called me her little Indian boy.

Even though I was the little runt of our family, I knew that something just wasn't right. Some nights I was too hungry to sleep, so I just thought about stuff. Well, one night, after I stared at the paint peeling from the ceiling long enough, I swore a pledge that I would dedicate my life to fighting for justice. And it was on that night that I became The Country Judge."

His speech was over, but he had one last word to say.

"Fire!" he ordered with conviction, as if a gavel were coming down.

The firing squad complied. Five .30 caliber bullet holes exploded a rough silhouette into the wall. An unanswered cell phone rang in someone's pocket, marring the dignity of the occasion. And then, after a pause, a shot directly through the little post-it valentine, from the handgun of the blond man. It was over.

Saturday, December 15, 2018

Freedom of Information Act Provides Information

In less than an hour, a Bluegreenplant Freedom of Information request was approved and discharged. Los Angeles Superior Court documents indicate that Naptimez Ova! no longer exists. But that's not all. Also, a curtailment of flow request was filed by the Understanding Youth's Anger! gang.

"They came in here like gangbusters, all excited and they were asking me if they could file the forms in person to do it faster," said Peggy Miller Johnston, the head clerk at the Bureau of Dissolutions and Name Changes. "I directed them to a public computer and it looks like that robot policeman used his influence to get the job done in a snap--one-two-three."

Within an hour, the Los Angeles County ARRS (Automated Robot Review System) had approved the new petition. Naptimez Ova! and Understanding Youth's Anger! were combined and rolled into a new organization: The Jesting Jousters.

Before heading for Burgers N Billiards to celebrate, Plimberton requested a paper printout of each of the now defunct gangs' charters so Naptimez Ova! and Understanding Youth's Anger! could ceremonially tear them up in shreds.

The little pieces fell like confetti.  As a janitor appeared on the scene,  Plimberton held out his hand with polite insistence, requesting the broom. "Thank you, sir, but we've figured out that it's best to clean up our own messes." He exchanged smiles with little Todd Howard Jefferton, who already had the dustpan in position.

Friday, December 14, 2018

Editorial: Bill Dafferty is an Asshole

Bill Dafferty is an Asshole.
a Bluegreenplant Editorial by Tabby Lane

Contrary to the reporting in a recent Blue Green Power Plant article, the occupants of the Jefferton house are in no way planning to destroy the world. They are eating tamales, getting to know each other, and quite frankly, making the world a better place. The Bluegreenplant reporter who insisted that the freeway assignment be his exclusively, has taken an embarrassing off ramp called stupidity.

Bill Dafferty has left his assignment to trespass on mine. I am fine. I don't want his help. I am not a hostage. No one has been brainwashed. And Dafferty should stop giving publicity to wackos like those guys from Tennessee.

Dafferty's uninformed conjecture and alarmism not only is unappreciated, it is dangerous.

Let me tell you what is happening in the Jefferton home, since I am here witnessing everything. Hubert the Police Robot is in the kitchen, helping Ms Jefferton wash dishes. Before that, he formally introduced little Todd Howard Jefferton to Billy Plimberton, who is a nice guy. Billy explained to Todd Howard while shooting baskets out by the garage that it was a bad idea to rebel by starting a gang. I heard Billy with my own ears say that focusing on revenge and destruction was stupid and uncool. At first, Todd Howard seemed to have forgotten that he filed papers to start the gang Understanding Youth's Anger!, but after refreshing his memory, the weight of the situation came upon him and he expressed a new appreciation. Then Billy Plimberton showed him a technique that he said he learned many years ago from his dad, Clift Barwell, a technique to shoot baskets with 70 percent accuracy.

This house is full of love and caring. If anyone wants to send the cops or the militia to raid this house, they had better be prepared to have the mother of all reckonings with God after they die.

Two Gang Leaders Bond

After a sweltering day running down the freeway to keep tabs on this fiasco, this Bluegreenplant reporter has his doubts about the innocence of this group.

If you ask the average American to name two youth gangs, chances are that American will name the two youth gangs that have dominated the news recently. Naptimez Ova! and Understanding Youth's Anger! Today, the leaders of those two gangs came together and bonded with plans to merge their terrorist organizations into one so they could wreak havoc upon innocent civilians, such as Clift Barwell.

These two terrorist organizations, combined with the firepower and digital resources of rogue cop, Hubert the Police Robot, could spark a chain reaction which spells the end of decency, free enterprise, and democracy. "It may be necessary to bring in help from foreign intelligence organizations to quell this revolt." said Landrew Pike, representative of the Simply Freedom From Terror Club, a totally non-partisan organization with its headquarters in Spring Hill, Tennessee.

Others had a different take on the situation. Maylin Rodriguez, who lives next door to the house where the infamous meeting is taking place claimed that some people were overreacting. "They are nice, decent people. They said, "Hi," when they passed my house and they are keeping their music to a reasonable volume. They brought me two tamales. They aren't bothering anyone." What she said did not make much sense; some experts are saying that Ms Rodriguez has been brainwashed.

Landrew Pike was not about to buy what Ms Rodriguez was selling. "We have to get the police here, or a militia. Before it's too late!"

For purposes of full disclosure, this reporter must express his concern over the possibility that Tabby Lane, a colleague from The Blue Green Power Plant has been taken hostage by the gangs. If she is still alive, she is serving in an embedded capacity in the home of the Jeffertons, the heart of this gangland conglomeration. Godspeed, Tabby.


Thursday, December 13, 2018

Judge Plankton G. Smith Accused of Going Too Far

Former TV Country Judge star, Marcus Cludderman, sat stone faced as he awaited his sentencing after a jury of his peers in a Downtown Los Angeles courtroom found him guilty on all counts of the mortar attack on the mansion of director Stephen Speigleman, an attack which left a partially radio-active crater where a fancy party previously took place.

An unexploded bomb found in Speigleman's tiki hut put the nail in Cludderman's coffin as famed graphologist, Gurafu Gakusha testified that the menacing message written in nail polish on the side of the dud was in Cludderman's script. "I am more than 99.9 percent sure that it was he who wrote that menacing message," testified a slightly jet-lagged Gakusha the previous week.

Some in the legal community accused the presiding judge, the honorable Plankton G. Smith, of playing mind games with the doomed Cludderman when Smith pulled out a package wrapped in tissue paper from a drawer in the bench and began to gingerly unwrap it. He carefully lifted a pewter and corncob gavel out of the box and raised it theatrically, ready to pound the conviction into the court records. "I hereby sentence you to death by firing squad," announced Judge Smith, "at sunrise."

Cludderman flinched as it hit the hardwood sounding block.

The observers in the courtroom gasped. Cludderman's wife said two words, "Oh dear," and a hollow silence commenced until a scampering cockroach lightly skittered across the floor to a spot where the convicted man's wife had spilled pork and beans weeks before.

As the condemned man trudged out of the courtroom,  escorted by a bailiff, his uneven gait narrowly missed that cockroach, which ran a circular pattern, feinted to the right and then disappeared into the safety of a black pinstripe crevice between the baseboard and the wooden floor. A sobbing woman in the gallery, perhaps a fan of the defunct TV show, muttered, "If only Judge Cludderman could be as lucky as that cockroach!"

The sun set a little earlier that evening and a rooster crowed, as if it were initiating a countdown.

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Naptimez Ova Reaches Destination and Results are Shocking

In the little neighborhood of the Jeffertons in Pacoima, if a family puts obnoxiously loud speakers on the front porch, it could be for two reasons. The first reason is that the family is a bunch of jerks. The second reason is because the family really has something to celebrate. The Jefferton family's reason earlier today was the latter.

With open gates, open arms and open hearts, Todd Howard's mom and Missy Alvarez Jaramillo set the long, party-sized table with sixteen seats. The extra seat was for me, this Bluegreenplant reporter, who has grown to feel as if she is part of the family during this long assignment. The table cloth was originally from Todd Howard's 6th birthday three years before. It was a little patched up and stained, but it didn't matter. The stamped images of Woody and Buzz Lightyear spelled joy.

A timer rang in the kitchen and Ms Jefferton commented that the tamales were ready. But nobody left the front porch. Somewhere behind the blasting music was the subtext of the sounds of skateboard wheels rolling on concrete. Naptimez Ova were coming to the home they never had. And Hubert the Police Robot had a gift for Ms Jefferton.

This Bluegreenplant reporter faced unexpected emotions as Naptimez Ova! approached. Contrary to popular mythology, they all seemed so nice. They weren't thug-like at all. Plimberton gave the reporter a hug, and it was not the least bit awkward. And Hubert the Police Robot's demeanor was warmer than that of many people with heartbeats.

As we all celebrated, feasting on tamales and cold drinks, it felt like this was the continuation of a long friendship for all these people, some of whom had just met one another. And when this reporter says people, Hubert is included.

At one point, before the ice-cream cake was brought out, Hubert got down on one knee in front of Todd Howard Jefferton's mom. The music suddenly cut off and Hubert spoke to her, "Ms Jefferton, I must give you a citation for excessively loud amplified music. You have broken Ordinance No. 144.331 of the  city." Everyone had a good laugh.

But he wasn't kidding. Hubert was still the best cop in the county.

Skateboarding Horde Stops Traffic in Pacoima

Zigging and zagging through oily asphalt streets, jumping curbs and taking a detour to buy several cases of cold drinks at a Ralph's Supermarket, Naptimez Ova! rolled gravely towards its destination. "Their determination was palpable," said Mr Shackleton, an English teacher in the produce section of Ralph's.

"Their formation looks like a school of sharks swimming along, following the scent of a single drop of blood in the water," commented Byron Hess, a marine biologist who was waiting for an Uber at the side of the road.

It was a day to be outside. Everyone was out in the street, either cheering the determination of Hubert the Police Robot, with little Todd Howard Jefferton waving from his shoulders, or scratching their heads at the weirdly poetic weaving of Billy Plimberton. "It's like this group has a single solitary purpose and it is all moving in one direction with two brains, Hubert and Billy, working in tandem, together," said Topo Morales, an orange vendor from the traffic island in the middle of Foothill Boulevard. Morales made an interesting observation about the crowds. "Look at all those hundreds of people. Everyone knows what's going on. Nobody is looking at their phones. Everybody's eyes are glued to the skateboarders passing through," he said. His observation was absolutely true.

Suddenly, they turned a corner and were gone, and people returned to living their routine lives and looking at their phones.

Saturday, December 01, 2018

Meditation Retreat Center Hardening a Fiasco

For the second time in less then a month, automatic weapons fire has disturbed the people trying to meditate at the pricey, Meditation Retreat Center.

Members of the Loomis, California Militia made a nine hour trek bisecting the state with grand plans to protect the life of Emmy winner Clift Barwell. "We came here with an idea to harden the meditation Center. Our aim was sincere and true and we prayed to Jesus to guide us. Our soul objective was to protect Jerick the Dolphin Trainer from any perceived enemies. Unfortunately, pride got the best of us," said Stephen Lunk, self-proclaimed militia leader, interviewed hours later from his bed at LA County Central Jail Hospital.

When two of the militia members got in a quarrel about whose turn it was to make a beer run, things turned sour and quickly degenerated into a shouting match among all fifteen members.

"I defused the situation by spreading everybody out and things started to simmer down," explained Lunk. "Then a certain dumbshit brother of mine imagines he sees  a coyote and takes a shot at it without realizing that maybe it was one of us other guys taking a dump."

Fortunately, one of the monks came out, screamed at the top of his lungs for the militia to drop their guns, and the shooters complied. When The Blue Green Power Plant arrived on the scene, first responders reported that there had been one fatality, so far, a guy named Don.

One livid monk sat on a rock next to the open gate. When asked for comment he stated, "I haven't spoken for five years and then these Goddamned idiots come and start shooting up the place. Five years! Ruined!"

"Is it true that you stopped them with an energy force?" asked the Bluegreenplant reporter.

"Yeah. A Goddamned energy force!" the monk admitted.

At this point, the Bluegreenplant reporter grew tired of all the groaning from the victims and headed back down the mountain road intending to interview survivors at a later time.