Molly Hatchet knows a little something about Mitch "Erstwhile MOB" Berg:

You think you're real sassy,
But you know your headed for your doom,
You look a little older but you sure ain't no wiser,
You're running for a stone-cold tomb.

Untouchable, he says? Hardly. We can get to him. We will give him no quarter in which to practice his silly bagpipes. He and his "it was twenty years ago today" navel-gazing shall be put to the power of the MOB.

You've got to find out for yourself,
You've got to learn it all on your own,
All this messing around,
Gonna put you in the ground,

I fail? Have you checked his Blog Readability? Go ahead, put the Berg blog in there and see what you get? Yes, Elementary School. Centrisity scores Junior High by comparison. All that pontification, all those twenty-years-ago-today piffle, and for what?

Start to feel the power,
Hundred miles per hour,
You're on the wrong side of the road,

There is of course hope for Mitch. There is redemption. He may indicate his loyalty to the MOB government by a very simple act. He must change the banner of his MOB badge to read

That's right. Sent to the Caucasus, the ancestral home of your mayor, where an eagle will devour your Guinness-infested liver each day and then have it regenerate each night, only to suffer that fate again.

Your hands a-start a-shaking,
You'll feel your mind a-breaking,
You'll wonder why it's getting so cold,
Your body's feeling icy,
That box will hold you nicely,
You'd better say goodbye to your soul.

This is your last chance, or the titans of the MOB will leave you dead and gone.

Labels: mayor directives, MOB