So I suppose you all know by now that the recent tumult on this site was an elaborate ruse to prepare for the launch of a new design. This isn't to say that there aren't nefarious elements within the Mattress Police plotting my demise. The warring clans are, unfortunately, all too real. It was necessary to allow Troy and his compatriots to become overconfident so that they would overplay their hand. Once Troy had asserted control, I was able to covertly incite his enemies to execute a coup. Having overthrown Troy, this faction immediately devolved into squabbling about who would be the new Chief Inspector, whether they would get to wear a crown, how long the sceptre should be, and whether dental and vision would be included. Reasserting my supremacy as Chief Inspector and rolling out the new design (which has been languishing in the Design Committee for years) was a simple matter under such circumstances.
Things did get a little dicey for a while there. When Troy took over I was exiled to a cattle barge that had been transported by a World War I era Belgian dirigible to the roof of a Super Wal-Mart just outside Kalamazoo, Michigan, under constant guard by albino wolverines (the Mattress Police are nothing if not predictable).
I had prepared for the wolverines by painting my entire body with a cocktail of tabasco, poison sumac oil and wheat germ, completely forgetting in my haste about my dermatological gluten intolerance. Fortunately, my skin swelled to such an extent that I resembled an overripe tomato -- and I don't have to tell you how albino wolverines feel about overripe tomatoes. Having made my way past the sentries, escape was only a matter of crocheting a rope ladder out of dental floss, clambering down to the parking lot, rendering a few cart-collecting septuagenarians unconscious, and purchasing a 24-pack of paper towels. The last was not strictly part of my plan, but they were on sale, so what the heck, you know? They call that a "loss leader," but if you can get in and out and just buy that one item, you're totally sticking it to those rich Arkansas bastards. Oh, I also bought an end table and a copy of WarCraft.
After making a few anoymous phone calls provoking the anti-Troy faction to revolt, I took a leisurely greyhound trip back to Mattress Police HQ, stopping only occasionally to allow the dogs to hunt wild game. Once on the Mattress Police campus, I walked right through Bill Gates, made my way down Diane Lane, strolled past Monty Hall, and entered Gregory House. After making some loud noises with my boom-stick to let everybody know what was what, I grabbed the reigns of the Mattress Police site and am now sitting in the metaphorical cockpit, holding those very literal reigns.
You've probably noticed some changes on the site. I'd like to explain them, but I haven't eaten anything but tabasco, wheat germ and my own musk for three days, so let me get back to you.
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