Poor Mojo's Newswire

It started at the Beuracradome, which is a public arena where the big political players fight to decide the laws of Vornheim. Whenever someone disagrees with your policy, you both elect champions to fight - good arguments give bonuses to your champion's AC and Damage. Whoever wins forms the precedent. The party had been refused some sweet armour by the church of Tittivallia so they were afire with righteous anger about the status quo. (The party elf needed a suit to stop the city's fatally iron-rich smog, but the church was using all their salvation suits against the flesh plague). The party warrior jumps down into the arena unannounced and starts laying into the leaders of Vornheim about their petty feuds, using the greatest speech. When they ask him his name he goes "I am... the Common Man!" (Actual name: Stoner). The peasant audience goes wild, the nobles get furious. The regent challenges him with a breach of court and goes into the depths of the Beuracradome to get a frost giant champion that would crush him. Luckily, the party thief shadows him and sabotages the elevator to trap him in the Frost Giant's room. When the regent doesn't show, he forfeits and Stoner can get on to the argument proper. He starts up an even better tirade against the church of Vorn- challenging him out for not helping Tittivallia fight the Flesh Plague. "We cannot sacrifice resources -" spits the Vorn Pope, and he answers "Is not sacrifice sacred in the eyes of Vorn? Do you consider yourself... ABOVE HIM?!" The peasant crowd's idolizing him like a folk hero now (His 0-level occupation was astrologer, too, so this guy is seriously some kind of warrior-poet). The Pope is screaming "My champion is Vorn! We will see who is sacred in his eyes!" and Stoner strikes a pose and yells "My champion is... The people of Vornheim!" Suddenly the whole place goes silent. . . .

Every once in a while, an idea comes along that changes the way we all look at ourselves forever. Before Descartes, nobody knew they were thinking. They all believed they were just mulling. Until Karl Marx, everyone totally hated one another but nobody knew quite why. And before Freud, nobody understood that all of humanity could be classified into one of two simple types: people who don’t yet know they want to sleep with their mothers, and people who already know they want to sleep with their mothers. These dialectics can change and shape who we are so profoundly, it’s hard to imagine life before the paradigm at all. The same thing is true of Muppet Theory, a little-known, poorly understood philosophy that holds that every living human can be classified according to one simple metric: Every one of us is either a Chaos Muppet or an Order Muppet. Chaos Muppets are out-of-control, emotional, volatile. They tend toward the blue and fuzzy. They make their way through life in a swirling maelstrom of food crumbs, small flaming objects, and the letter C. Cookie Monster, Ernie, Grover, Gonzo, Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and—paradigmatically—Animal, are all Chaos Muppets. Zelda Fitzgerald was a Chaos Muppet. So, I must tell you, is Justice Stephen Breyer. Advertisement Order Muppets—and I’m thinking about Bert, Scooter, Sam the Eagle, Kermit the Frog, and the blue guy who is perennially harassed by Grover at restaurants (the Order Muppet Everyman)—tend to be neurotic, highly regimented, averse to surprises and may sport monstrously large eyebrows. They sometimes resent the responsibility of the world weighing on their felt shoulders, but they secretly revel in the knowledge that they keep the show running. Your first grade teacher was probably an Order Muppet. So is Chief Justice John Roberts. It’s not that any one type of Muppet is inherently better than the other. (Order Muppets do seem to attract the ladies, but then Chaos Muppets collect the chicken harems.) It’s simply the case that the key to a happy marriage, a well-functioning family, and a productive place of work lies in carefully calibrating the ratio of Chaos Muppets to Order Muppets within any closed system. That, and always letting the Chaos Muppets do the driving. . . .

"Upon arrival, officers noted that the (box) package possibly had blood stains on it. The Hazmat Unit and Emergency Operations Section were called and upon further inspection of the package it was determined that there was possibly a human foot in the box," the Ottawa Police said in a press release. A woman on the 14th floor of the building said police wearing hazmat suits were seen in the building and that employees on her floor were told not to go to the 12th floor. The woman, who did not give her name, also said workers on her floor were taking pictures and posting to Facebook.