A declaration of war.

In what looked like another mundane UPS spot, the crafty whiteboard guy calmly waltzed onto the screen, took his place before his magical board, bowed before millions of Americans, unsheathed his mighty dry-erase marker, and slowly spelled out UPS like a young Matthew drafting his version of the gospel.

What happened next stunned the millions of American Idol viewers and marked one of mankind’s greatest acts of defiance.

With a steady hand and cool demeanor, the marker-wielding maestro wrote “Underpaid Servants” on the otherwise spotless board and quite possibly brought the tyrannical shipping powerhouse to its knees.

Long known for its third world wages and humiliating uniforms, UPS had seized power over the shipping world with little resistance. A brief war between FedEx and “Brown” had done nothing but leave the laughably expensive FedEx fishing for small time package deliveries and teetering on the verge of collapse.

Light it. Live it. Love it.

When you assume that there is some mysterious latticework of cover-up and deviousness that underlies a government’s ineptitude, you are freely admitting that politicians and those in power have been blessed with a much higher intelligence than that of your own and that hundreds or even thousands of people have the ability to keep the same secret.

I for one don’t believe either of those assumptions.

While it may be true that some (and maybe even most) government officials are more intelligent than myself, the fact remains that no large group of people is capable of hanging onto some deep, dark secret that they all share.

Sometimes we just have to look at the text and quit reading between the lines.

Mmm..mmm..mmmorbidly obese.

Today however, as the town embarks on a new era of runaway development in the area surrounding a Wal-Mart (and soon to be an even bigger Wal-Mart), a number of all-you-can-eat restaurants have sprouted up which have given Boink-Town its very own Buffet District-- an honor normally reserved for bigger, fatter towns across the country.

According to a number of residents, they love the one-stop trough variety provided by these establishments, and can’t remember how in the world they ever got by before the Buffet District came on the scene.

Boink-Town resident Larry Hagman (no relation), “I thank God everyday that we have the Buffet District. Before it’s arrival, I used to go to regular restaurants that make you order off of a menu like a sucker. Now I can go to any number of places that will let me give them seven or eight bucks in exchange for a feast that you used to only read about in fairy tales. I can go to a steak house for a beef fix, or go to one of the Chinese buffets to eat pizza or chicken nuggets…not to mention crab legs! Sometimes I have to pinch myself just to know that I’m not stranded in some wonderful dream.”

Mama said there'd be days like this.

Over the summer, Conway worked out a list of possible new incarnations; the lovable, docile hippie, the brooding and quiet loner-type who likes French films and writes introspective poetry (high school girls love those guys in the movies), the tough guy with a heart of gold, or the cool hipster with the Swingers-esque clothes.

After weighing the pros and cons of each possible identity, taking into account all of his own strengths and weaknesses along with the anticipated reactions to each of the same, he settled on the gentle hippie persona…Snatchville high was running low on hippie types and he could be just the guy to fill the bill.

Wasting no time, Pete went into seclusion for the entire summer, growing his hair long enough to pull behind his ears and studying the lingo and high pitched falsetto delivery that defines the hippie lexicon.

You guys are badass. Seriously.

According to Franklin, he and his small band of hippie friends are planning to leave at the end of the month which will give them time to move out of their mutual home and amass some much needed money at family gatherings.

The trio, consisting of Franklin, “Moe” and “Little Tim”, have been diligently preparing for their trip by buying a map and stockpiling a modest store of marijuana with which they hope to enhance their experience.

The guys have also sprung for a twenty-five dollar oil change for Franklin’s 1993 Jeep Cherokee. Their destination, Colorado, has long been heralded as a sort of Mecca for the nation’s hippie population and is also the latest fad-state for post-graduate college students and women who are tired of shaving their armpits.

Franklin told Treebune.com about his reasons for the group’s hajj over the din of a String Cheese Incident bootleg, “It’s Colorado, dude. We’ve got some buddies out there, so we have a place to stay, and there’s like a ton of nature and stuff. It’ll probably be sweet. I hear it’s Frisbee season…and like…it’s Colorado, dude.”