Dateline Twin Waters-- Walla Walla Twice Haunted by a Twin Reflection of Somebody's Double

"It was all done in the name of fun. That's an epitaph in the making," said Marge Church of the Local Busy Body League in reference to the appropriation of the sacred moniker of our fine town for cartoonish and patently absurd cultural references and postmodern mumbo-jumbo. A contingent of towns-folk, with nary a pitchfork in view, gathered this week with a list of conditions that must be met in any future mention of the town in any media context of any kind including private conversations that could be overheard in any dimension. While this may seem absurd to some readers, let us assure you that this whole entertainment industry conspiracy to frame Walla Walla in hilarious stinkcloud of ridiculous scariness cannot continue without unforeseen themes erupting.

"There are also no wicked witches from or around these parts and that isn't even a thing anyway. There are doctors, though. That's scary enough, isn't it?" This was the comment offered by one Joe Blue yesterday in the Bi-Mart parking lot over puffs of second hand tobacco which didn't obscure how he evaded eye contact. "I pin it all back to those dance crazes that kept breaking out. Nobody could ever figure it out and it all got really hush, hush. You don't dare ask people about it now. People in very high places were seen doing the funky chicken and the mashed potato in front of a fast food restaurant. This isn't the kind of stuff they wanted talked about."

Asked about the Walla Walla 'scenes' of the last few decades, Blue said only this. "Yeah, well that's something else we don't talk about. That and Planet of the Apes. That movie scared the crap out of me when I was a kid."

The video that started it all, a cover of the song 'Witch Doctor', for the bixzillionth time, touched a nerve with a local weirdo and began an auto-conflagratory-self-congratulatory-extra-flagellatory-kvetch-off among exactly two dudes, whose identities are now sought in order that they might be questioned. Currently no member of the rabble has taken credit for starting the current crapfantastic load of nonsense the town is enfevered of, and probably no member ever shall since those dudes were plants from the entertainment industrial complex sent here to stir the nut butter and enhance the ambiance of the herabouts in ways that the Marge Churches of the world are finding a trifle terrorizing. We find it quite likely that Elvis has already sorted this out from his galactic perch.