(Nit Wit Newz is an unauthorized, often unreliable, on-line news source designed to keep Manor residents abreast of the inconsequential, trifling, and superficial events that dramatically shape and inform our everyday lives here at Rogue Valley Manor.) 

ARDENT ARDOR FOR ARDEN

   (AMONG ALMOST ALL) 

Two and a half years of eating dinner out of a doorstep-dropped brown paper bag was quite enough for most Rogue Valley Manor residents.

By spring, a moldering Riverside Avenue food truck would have been swarmed with unbridled delight had it chugged up to our hilltop campus.

To the surprise of nay-sayers, boo birds, and negative Nicks and Nellies, on the last day of May, Manorites were overjoyed to be introduced to the quiet elegance of—Arden.

To claim that Arden became, over-night, the finest restaurant in Medford would be to damn our new restaurant with the faintest of praise. Our local restaurant scene, after all, could well be the fast-food capital of the nation dominated by Burger Kings, Dairy Queens, Taco Bells, Del Tacos, Jacks, In and Out, of the Box and more outlets of that ilk than you can shake a plastic fork at.

To be sure, Arden has had its wrinkles—short staffing being the most nettlesome.  But on balance, there is much to admire, be it the food, the décor, or the ambiance. All of which has been duly noted in and around the halls and walls of RVM.  Hosannas for Arden abound.

Nonetheless, it has been Nit Wit Newz’s mission to give voice to the disenfranchised, the neglected, and the aggrieved among us here at the Manor.  Consequently, NWN feels compelled to present the remarks of the troubled few who have found aspects of Arden that have fallen short of their expectations

–Resident Dee Manding has concerns about the new table linens at Arden.  She claims their thread-count falls below levels established for those high-rated, three-star Michelin restaurants she’d like to be used to.  Like the Arden, Nit Wit Newz’s world headquarters here in Medford is laboring under a severe staff shortage of its own. Nevertheless, as a service to Ms. Manding, NWN has managed to assemble from its research department a Thread-Counting Committee to determine if Arden’s linens are, indeed, on the flimsy side. Thread counting is no easy task. The committee’s report is expected no sooner than late fall.

–Several  Manorites have registered concerns about the Arden’s dress code. The stated guideline of “Business Casual” could prove befuddling for residents that were, say, lifeguards or lingerie models. More helpful are the specific “don’ts”: “No shorts, no work-style jeans, no sweatshirts, no baseball caps, no soiled or ripped clothing.” If your wardrobe is pretty well built around these standard wearables, fret not. A heightened dining experience still awaits you at either the Manor Dining Room, the Bistro, and, upon its re-opening, the Rogue. All will warmly greet you in that Nehru jacket, your pressed pair of bib overalls, or your mid-riff blouse outfit with the lava rock necklace and fuchsia flip flops.

–Manor carpeting always seems to be a flash point of controversy at RVM.  No surprise, the Arden floor covering has provoked the expected squabbles. Many, it must be said, are pleased with the muted tone and texture of the selected fabric. One vocal opposition group of women, however, have found the sculptured patches of raised fabric woven throughout the new floor covering dangerously difficult to negotiate. Reluctantly, they’ve been forced to abandon their stylish, stiletto-heeled footwear when visiting the Arden, for a more sensible, that is, down-to-earth pump. Yet another group of dissident residents had hoped that the Jackson Pollack-inspired “splash-paint” motif of the carpets selected for the Manor lobby would be carried forward to our new restaurant.  No luck. Mutterings linger.

Yes, among near one-thousand residents, rifts occur on most any issue. But whatever community disharmony may exist regarding our new eatery, all Manorites will be justly proud to learn that our restaurant will be featured on the cover of the August issue of Better Homes and Ardens magazine.  Here’s an excerpt of what the magazine’s food critic has to say about Arden:

Medford’s hilltop senior community, Rogue Valley Manor, has recaptured the primeval wonder of our ancient past. Harkening back to the very first dining-out experience, their beautiful new restaurant—you could call it the Arden of Eatin,’— includes an abundance of sinful temptations (banish your worries: not a bad apple in the bunch). A tip: You’ll be amazed at what they do with ribs.

Bones Appétit!

—A. Looney

(Nit Wit Newz is an unauthorized, often unreliable, on-line news source designed to keep Manor residents abreast of the inconsequential, trifling, and superficial events that dramatically shape and inform our everyday lives here at Rogue Valley Manor.

MORNING BECOMES PROTECTIVE

Scene: The Office of the Rogue Valley Manor Executive Director.

Date: The present

In attendance:  Executive Director (ED) of Rogue Valley Manor and Manager of the Work-Order Desk (MOWOD) at RVM.

(MOWOD excitedly enters the office) We did it! We did it!

(ED) Well, you look pretty pleased about something.

(MOWOD) Indeed, I am. And you will be, too. Do you remember the work order you sent to us several months ago about the turkeys and the problem they’re causing on campus?

(ED) Oh, sure, I remember. We reached out to everyone we could think of for help. Yeah, we tried nets, snares, cages, even cut-out cardboard coyotes—nothing has worked.

(MOWOD)  Until now.

(ED) You mean…

(MOWOD) Yep.

(ED) Holy mackerel, tell me.

(MOWOD) Well, we decided to tap into the extraordinary intellectual resource we have here at RVM.

(ED) And what would that be?

(MOWOD)  The minds of our residents.  We’ve got some brilliant people up here with years of experience in all sorts of fields of study. So I got a few of them together and discussed the turkey proliferation problem that you outlined in your work order.

(ED)  O.K., I’m listening.

(MOWOD)  Our team is made up of four residents:  M.T. Bowles, he’s a specialist in animal nutrition; a brilliant pharmaceutical chemist, Tess Toob; Les Noyes, he’s a national renowned acoustical engineer;  and Abel Craftsman, he can put  together anything.

(ED) So, what did this team come up with?

(MOWOD) Our first step was to see if Mr. Bowles, our animal nutritionist, could develop a highly palatable poultry food that was not only tasty but fully filling as well. It took a while, but, viola!  He did just that.  Clinical studies have shown that turkeys empty  M.T. Bowles’s bowls every time one’s put in front of them.

(ED) Seems like an odd direction to take to solve our wild turkey problem, but go on.

(MOWOD) Of course, we didn’t want to spread Mr. Bowles’s  turkey feed willy-nilly all over the campus where other birds and animals could get at it, so we had Abel— our can-do-anything  guy— put together a unique dispenser that would be placed below the trees in the “south forty,” you know, where the turkeys spend the night. Take a look, here’s a rendering of Abel’s feeding device.

(ED) Hmm, it looks like a very large office water cooler only with a trough at the bottom where, I guess, the turkeys can get at the food. But what’s to keep, the other birds and small animals around here from inviting themselves to chow down out of the same trough at our expense?

(MOWOD) Ah! That’s where the combined geniuses of our sound engineer, Les Noyes and our dispenser guy, Abel, come in. Get this: They fashioned this feeder so that it metes out a carefully measured single-serving portion of food only when it is triggered by the sound of a gobble. It’s voice activated. A mourning dove’s coo, a crow’s caw, a squirrel’s squeak will not budge the device—only the gobble sound of a turkey will do it.

(ED) This is getting weird.  So, we’ve got a highly palatable, turkey breakfast food that’s dispensed out of a water cooler sitting in our park that only turkeys can access.  How in the world does this solve our wild turkey proliferation problem?

(MOWOD) Patience, patience.  Enter our pharmaceutical chemist, Tess Toob. While her three compatriots were working out the dispensing of this highly palatable poultry food, in her lab, Ms. Toob was tasked with developing an ECP in a dosage suitable for turkeys.

(ED) Hold it, hold it.  ECP?  What the heck’s an ECP?

(MOWOD)   ECP stands for “emergency contraception pill.”

(ED) What?

(MOWOD) You know—the morning-after pill.

(ED) Holy feathers, I think your group may have gone off the rails.

(MOWOD) Stay with me—it all comes together.  The medication, of course, is granulated into the poultry food.  They get a dose of their ECP each morning out of the dispenser no matter what was going on the night before.  Hey, we’re talking Fruit Loops for turkeys here. They gobble it up. And get this: it’s so rich in nutrients and flavor, they’re not hungry until the next morning.  This plan is turkey-friendly. No more roaming Manor streets, sidewalks and our lawns all day trying to scratch out a decent meal and— I might add— leaving their bothersome untidiness behind on our streets and sidewalks. It’s all very simple—no more litters; no more litter.

(ED) That would be a blessing.

(MOWOD)  Exactly. This is great news for Manorites as well as Manor turkeydom.  After breakfast, they can snooze and roost all day under the shade of their bedroom trees living out their lives in blissful lollygagging without having to find food to eat or having little ones to fret about.  And, yes, a couple of seasons down the road as nature’s attrition rate unfolds, our “turkey proliferation problem” has quietly and humanely solved itself.  This plan, you might say, is— deceptively simple, but exquisitely perfect.

(ED) By golly, I think you and your team of brainiacs may have come up with a solution to our turkey peril.

(MOWOD) We take pride in our job here at the work-order desk, Mr. Director.

(ED)  As well you should. But, hold it. You got me thinking—that group of yours, I wonder if they could solve this other problem we’re having?

(MOWOD) Mr. Director, I must remind you that before we can initiate any action, we require a completed work order form, or a detailed message recorded on our phone line.

(ED) Oh sure, sure (picking up his phone) what’s that number?

(WOMOD) #7231.

(ED) Let’see, 7-2-3-1. Hello, this is the Executive Director I’d like to open a work order.  We need help, big time. Please ask Bowles, Toob, Craftsman, and Noyes to meet with me in my office tomorrow at nine A.M.  You can tell them we’ll be talking about staffing.

—A. Looney

(Nit WIT Newz is an unauthorized, often unreliable, on-line news source designed to keep Manor residents abreast of the inconsequential, trifling, and superficial events that dramatically shape and inform our everyday lives here at Rogue Valley Manor.) 

MANORITES NIX MILLION DOLLAR OFFER.  PUSHBACK IN OFFING?

A wave of suspicious phone calls has flooded Manor phone lines in recent weeks. An unidentified caller advised residents that they were winners of a huge cash prize. Alarmed and concerned, suspecting RVM residents have spurned the offer and immediately alerted fellow residents.   Unexpectedly, a call came into Nit Wit Newz’s headquarters last Monday from that “unidentified caller.” He identified himself as Demetrius Seaver.

What follows is a transcript of that phone call.

NWN: Thank you for calling in to us today, Mr. Seaver. But before we begin, may we call you, Demetrius?

DS: Yeah, that’s O.K., but it’s too long. Most of my friends just use my first initial, D.

NWN: Fine D. Now please tell us what prompted your call to Nit Wit Newz?.

DS: Look, I’m still burning over the shabby treatment I received from the residents at that senior community of yours and I wanted those people to know about it. I thought you could help me out.

NWN:  Well, we are, indeed, an established Rogue Valley Manor news platform, so I think you came to the right place. But we’re sorry to learn of your displeasure with some of our residents. Now, as we understand it, you were contacting residents here at RVM and making available to them a financial offer of some consequence, but you claim your offer fell entirely on deaf ears. What can you tell us about that?

DS: Listen, I’m a certified financial opportunist. I make my living seeking out rewarding propositions in the financial world and then matching individuals that would most likely benefit from investing in those offers. Full disclosure: I should mention that a small finder’s fee is, of course, included in every transaction. Anyway, when I heard that there was such a thing as a rogue’s gallery manor, I figured this would be fertile ground for…

NWN: No, no, Mr. D, its Rogue Valley Manor.  Rogue Valley Manor is a place, a senior community, not a collection of reprobates.

DS: Really?  Hmm, that’s too bad. Well, no matter. This opportunity from Publishers Cleaning Your House Sweepstakes appeals to everyone…

NWN: Excuse me, sir, don’t you mean Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes?

DS: Yeah, maybe so, anyway, it was one of those publishing outfits.  Look, in this particular situation, I was letting residents know that they could win $5,000 a week for the rest of their lives.  All they had to do is post a modest up-front fee of $900 to become eligible for this marvelous lifetime pay-off.  Pretty darned tempting, wouldn’t you say?

NWN:  Well I think it…

DS: Get this, I’d planned to call and make that offer available to each one of those Manor people. It’s so good, I thought they’d be jumping at my offer, but you know what? On my first call, the lady I spoke to heard me out alright, but then said “no thanks.”  I didn’t like to hear that, but that was O.K. with me; I didn’t really expect 100% participation.  People don’t always recognize a fantastic deal when they hear one.  So, a few minutes later, after reviewing my sales pitch to make sure I was using all of my key selling points, I dialed a second resident and before I could say that I was from Publishers Cle…, he hung up on me. Imagine! How would he know what I was going to say?  It gets worse; this same abrupt cut-off happened to me call after call. They’d slam down the receiver before I got into my pitch.

NWN: It sounds as if our residents might be suspicious of your “tempting” offer. Maybe they thought it was too good to be true.

DS: No, no—how could they possibly think that when they hadn’t even heard what I had to say?  But they sure kissed big opportunities good bye.  Heck, after the sweepstakes, I was going to cut those rogue people into “Bunco Bingo,”  “Power Ponzi for Profits”, and the roll out of my new crypto-money laundering exchange, “Two-Bitcoin Currency”—they could’ve been on the ground floor on that one.  But it’s that alert system they have up there that’s ruining my business. It’s making all those people think I’m some sort of con artist or something even before they hear my pitch.

NWN:  That alert system you’re talking about is an internal email network. It’s called the “RVM list.”

DS:  I don’t care what they call it. You’ve got a group of people up there preventing me from practicing my profession. I call that collusion. And I want them to know I won’t stand for it.

NWN: Well, D., people don’t have to buy into your propositions.  They don’t even have to accept your phone calls.  Maybe if you came up with a more plausible financial opportunity they’d be more receptive.  I’m afraid you mistook our community for a group of fools. We here at Nit Wit Newz aren’t in the advice-giving business, but maybe you’d have better luck if you apologized to our residents, we’d be happy to publish an apology if…

DS: Apology?  You mean confess to a wrong doing? No way!  Hey, I’d be giving grifting a bad name. Look, nit wit, you’re no help at all—to heck with you. There must be another newspaper up there.  How ‘bout that Bits and Fleeces paper? They’ll be …

NWN: That’s Bits and Pieces.

DS: Yeah, that’s them. See ya.  (Dial tone)

—A.Looney