Deb: Hi everyone. Well, we have an important announcement to make here, and Reg has it in that envelope. Reg, why don’t you give it to Wen, Debbie, and Amber Lynn. They’ll take a look at it.
Amber Lynn: [to Reg] What, really?
Wen: You’re serious?
Deb: Whoa. Must be a big one.
Debbie: It is, yeah.
Deb: Okay. Well, I have no idea what it is, but I’m going to find out with all of you, because we’re going to play Press Conference. I’m giving a press conference wherein I’m making that same announcement that they’re looking at. I don’t know what it is, but I’ll have to guess what it is based on the clues I get from the others. Wen, Debbie, and Amber Lynn are the reporters who are covering the conference, and as they ask me questions, they’ll leave me hints. So, let’s go and start the press conference.
Debbie: Deb, a word?
Amber Lynn: I’ve got a question about what you’ve just said.
Wen: Deb, just a quick follow up?
Deb: Yes, all right. I know you’ve all got questions. I know this was rather big news, and I will try to answer any questions you might have. [points to Wen] Yes?
Wen: Hi, Deb. Sarah Polette, Conspiracy Theories and Tinfoil Hats Quarterly.
Deb: Hello Sarah.
Wen: Deb, where does this leave you personally?
Deb: [looks down] About two feet behind a podium containing four bottles of scotch. [points to Amber Lynn] Yes, you.
Amber Lynn: Yes, thank you. Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Supreme Court justice.
Deb: Oh, yes. Hello, Ruth. How are the lungs?
Amber Lynn: Getting better, thank you for asking. I have a two part question.
Deb: Go ahead.
Amber Lynn: First, does this mean that the rumours about you and Amber Lynn are true? And second, how many parking spaces will this open up?
Deb: Well, to answer the second question first, it opens up one parking space for one of Jay Leno’s antique cars. And, sorry, the other question?
Amber Lynn: The rumours about you and Amber Lynn.
Deb: Amber Lynn. Well, we’re not prepared to make any sort of announcement on that just yet. I can, however, confirm that she brought in doughnuts yesterday. [points to Debbie] Yes?
Debbie: Hello. Sami Ryonen, Tiger Beets with two Es.
Deb: Hello, Sami.
Debbie: Er, could you tell us, what does this mean for Reg?
Deb: More time to download porn.
Debbie: Of what, exactly?
Deb: Sorry, what outlet did you say you were with?
Debbie: Tiger Beets, with two Es.
Deb: That’s the magazine about vegetable farms?
Debbie: Yes. We are the world’s premier magazine covering vegetable farms for ages twelve to sixteen.
Deb: So... do you really think it’s appropriate for your readers to be finding out about Reg’s pornographic tastes?
Debbie: Have you met a twelve to sixteen year old?
Deb: True enough. So yes, Reg always searches for Photoshops of tattooed female basketballers with six arms or more.
Reg: That’s completely untrue. I will not stand for this type of slanderous misinformation.
Debbie: Fake news!
Reg: It’s tattooed female volleyballers with six arms or more. Get it right!
Deb: Right then. [points to Amber Lynn] Yes, Ruth, a follow up?
Amber Lynn: Yes, just to go back to Amber Lynn for a moment. Do you think she’ll be disappointed at the way this closes off so many opportunities for her?
Deb: Well, to be quite honest, I have to say that those opportunities were already closed off. Ever since the incident with the Hamilton tickets. [points to Wen] Yes?
Wen: Yes, just a question about Edvard. For those who still wish to stump him, where should they turn?
Deb: Well, luckily, Edvard is embarking on a stage tour. He will take questions from the audience on any subject whatsoever.
Wen: And he will answer them?
Deb: He will make up the answer. Then another audience member will make up another answer, and everyone will vote on which answer they like more.
Wen: And what will this show be called?
Deb: Edvard’s Stump Fight. He was going to call it CBS Evening News with Dan Rather, but he was unable to obtain the legal rights to that name. [points to Debbie] Yes?
Debbie: Yes, a two part question. What will be done with Deep Whine, and can I have it?
Deb: I’m afraid you can’t. Deep Whine is being sent to a farm upstate. Whilst there, it will live out its days computing prime numbers and trying to solve the meaning of life.
Reg: Okay, Deb. Want to take a guess?
Deb: You’re closing down GoobNet.
Deb: You’re firing me.
Reg: No. Nothing so drastic, no.
Deb: You’re... I don’t know... turning GoobNet into a site about something else.
Wen: [raises hand] So what will be published on Mondays instead?
Deb: Ah, you’re putting an end to the Weekly Whine.
Reg: That’s right!
Deb: How come?
Reg: It seems like the right time. I mean, you’ve already done just about everything you could with it.
Debbie: Yes, you certainly wouldn’t want it to begin descending into self parody.
Wen: I detect sarcasm, Debbie.
Debbie: And it’s good that you’re making this move now, after completion of the Futurama Dialogue Championship. Can you imagine a world where the Weekly Whine was discontinued without having presented a comprehensive ranking of nearly a thousand excerpts of dialogue from Futurama?
Amber Lynn: Or a comprehensive ranking of Glasgow Subway stations?
Debbie: Or a comprehensive ranking of the Lagrange points?
Amber Lynn: Or a comprehensive ranking of Earth’s ocean?
Deb: You’re welcome, humanity. So these are exactly the sorts of things you will no longer be able to look forward to. So this is really going to be the last Weekly Whine?
Deb: Really? This is what we’re going out on? This is our big finale? All right. There you are, everyone. The very last Weekly Whine. Um... thanks to everyone who made all these things happen. Amber Lynn, Wen, the entire Special Projects Enhancement and Enforcement Division, the Agency for Reintroducing Relegation into Recreational Game Hierarchies, Debbie, Edvard, all the interns we’ve had over the years, everyone. We couldn’t have done... well, whatever it is we did – without you. We leave you now in the capable hands of the rest of the Internet. And I’m sure they’ll carry on our tradition of thoughtful and nuanced discussion of the events of the world without resorting to hyperbole, ignorance, grotesque ad hominem attacks, or passing judgment on things or people without regard to the actual facts. So Debbie, why don’t you read the credits? I’ll have you read the credits as a Weekly Whine in Latin. Thank you, everyone! Goodbye!
Debbie: The last MXLIX Weekly Whines were produced by Reginus Goober. Deb Harratsch was the editora managid. Amberia Lynn was the editora fæturid. Any views expressed herein are those of the participants and not necessarily those of GoobNetus Enterprisiæ Incorporida [que no exista in veritas].
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