“I’m checking my notes and it’s the normal car wreck, a house fire, weather updates…just the same old, same old,” said WTVR-CBS6 anchor Angela Pellerano.  “Honestly, what we could really use on a slow news day such as today is a landmark shift in Virginia law, perhaps a topic that concerns consumers and/or the health of the general public.”

Added Pellerano: “Seriously though, why does the date ‘December 1′ ring such a bell?”

Print media officials similarly noted that they are going to be “hard pressed” to figure out a decent photograph to run on this, such a normal day for news coverage.

“It would be nice if something important were actually happening today, like a scenario in which we could take a picture of a small business owner who’s venture has been affected, for better or worse, by government action,” said Gerald Xavier, a city desk editor at the Richmond Times-Dispatch. “It’s too bad there’s nothing like that around today.”

WRVA-1140AM radio host Jimmy Barrett agreed.

“What I’d like to discuss is a statewide issue that has clear proponents and opponents, where we could interview lawmakers and ‘Average Joe’s’ alike,” said Barrett, a 9-year veteran at the station.  “I guess people have different opinions of the weather, so – barring no other major story that coincides and conflicts with more than 400 years of Virginia’s history – the weather it is.”

Xavier, at the Times-Dispatch, said that he planned an early afternoon meeting with staffers at a nearby pub, where they could sit down and discuss ideas for possible articles over a couple of beers and some cigarettes.

Capitol Square, the 4-acre home to Virginia’s most prominent government buildings and the historic State Capitol, is “technically a trapezoid,” a leading geometric expert said today.

“I mean I don’t want to split hairs here, but I’m surprised you guys never figured this out,” said Virginia Commonwealth University math professor Ian J. Haley, drawing a red line (pictured above) around the four streets that comprise what he calls the Capitol Trapezoid.  “That thing is clearly a four sided figure, but it only has one pair of parallel sides.”

“Unlike a square, which has two pairs of parallel sides,” Haley added.  “Duh.”

While the professor noted that the term “square” can also be defined as the center of town or a “plaza of sorts,” Haley dismissed such a notion as nonsense when referring to Capitol Square, established more than 200 years ago. 

“The fact is, those responsible for upkeep of Capitol Square have been misrepresenting this venerable plot of land for decades,” Haley said.  “Tourists, including school kids, have been visiting this so-called ‘Square’ for as long as anyone can remember, only to realize now that there was never any symmetry to it all.”

The mathematical discovery sent shockwaves throughout the world of Virginia geometry, causing experts to re-measure several iconic city and state shapes that make coordinate-specific claims in their names.  Late yesterday, after mathematicians found that its ratio of circumference to diameter was indeed 3.14, or Pi, Monument Avenue’s Stuart Circle was confirmed as such. 

Farther east, Haley called Virginia’s Historic Triangle – Yorktown, Jamestown and Williamsburg – a “complete farce of spacial-relativity proportions,” as it is not possible to drive, fly or even walk from one place to the other in a fully-straight line.

As of press time, Haley said experts had still not taken official measurements of the Pentagon.

A good man through the ages who for several days has been trying to find the sun, Southside resident Stu Fogerty wondered today who, if anyone, would step up and stop the rain.

“And I wonder, still I wonder,” Fogerty asked, “who’ll stop the rain?”

Many local residents have gone as far as to travel down to portions of Virginia seeking shelter from the storm, only to end up caught in a fable, watching towers grow.  Others, concerned by the high levels of precipitation, have established five-year plans and new deals wrapped in golden chains.

Even still, most have been left wondering who – if anyone – will stop the rain.

In some parts of the state, residents claimed to have heard singers playing, and cheering for more.  One report out of Virginia Beach noted a crowd rushed together and tried to keep warm, but still the rain kept pouring.  “Falling on my ears,” noted John Clifford, a 52-year-old city resident.

He added that yesterday and days before the sun was cold and rain was hard, and he knew because it had been that way for all his time.

“More rain in store for us tomorrow, getting heavy in the late morning and early afternoon, but, I don’t know, what really does it matter anymore because it’s probably never going to be sunny ever again,” said Duncan, his voice trailing off.  “What is life, really, but a series of rain storms that slowly wash away memories of times past and present, erasing everything we hold so dear to our hearts like an eternal flood upon our desperate, wretched, withering souls.”

“Oh, and inland areas are under a Flood Watch until 9 p.m. [on Thursday],” he added.

Rubbing his temples and showing moments of absolute despair in his tired eyes, Duncan noted that the rain would begin to taper off late Friday evening, just in time for Saturday’s marathon and for him to stop contemplating just falling off the sheer face of the Earth.

The move is expected to generate much-needed revenue for the state’s transportation needs and ease the discomfort of motorists who “just can’t hold it no matter how hard they try not to think about it,” VDOT spokesman Jeff Caldwell said, as well as allow them to eat pancakes during interstate travel.

The surprise deal – which makes Virginia the largest Aunt Sarah’s franchisee – is estimated to raise more than $1.6 million a year from the sale of the pancake house’s famous Big Farmer stuffed pancakes, catfish and eggs Super Skillet, Southern Fried Cousin John’s, and an array of home-style dinners, sandwiches and desserts.

Such desserts include the restaurant’s decadent Big Fudgy Wudgy, Caldwell noted.

“It’s win-win for everyone,” he said, though difficult to understand during a phone interview while claiming to have his mouth full of a Big Daddy Skillet. “Not only will this nom nom nom deal produce enough revenue argh to buy some of the nom nom paint nom we will need some day nom to re-stripe new highways, but [sound of swallowing] it should stop all this [indecipherable].”

According to terms of the sale, Aunt Sarah’s will perform some modest renovations on the 17 sites, giving them a “countrified” look with gingham curtains, oak tables and chairs and framed cross-stitched sayings such as “Kiss My Grits” and “Ain’t no one’s happy lessin’ Momma’s happy,” which also will be available for sale in the gift shops.

Finally confirming a decades-long rumor that it is way totally gay, the Matthew Fontaine Maury statue said today that it is, and has forever been, a homosexual monument.

“This is something that I no longer want to hide, which is why today I am coming out and telling you all that I am proud to be a gay American effigy,” the 80-year-old said from his chair at the corner of Monument and Belmont avenues, where he enjoys reading his book, sitting, and being gay. 

Nicknamed “The Pathfinder of the Seas” – which he notes “doesn’t sound like a gay name, but is” – Maury said he has long been concerned about coming out, considering the presence he shares on Monument Avenue with such manly figures as Confederate generals Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee, and tennis player Arthur Ashe Jr.

Despite the revelation by the oceanographer, area historian Morrison Gates said he had been expecting the outing by the statue for quite some time.

“When you look at the other monuments along the avenue atop horses, holding swords or doing generally dudeish stuff and then you see Maury just sitting there, a book in his hand, perhaps contemplating the merits of the Cher catalog, then yes, this is something that we have been expecting for years,” the historian said.  “If you look around the statue you will also see etchings of dolphins and fish and even a mermaid thing, which, is obviously gay.”

Maury said that while he enjoys horses, sitting atop one on a statue “is SO last century.”

Nearby statue Stonewall Jackson – arguably one of the most manly Civil War figures with a majorly hetero name – said he was a bit shocked to hear news of his neighbor monument’s sexual orientation.

“I’m cool with it, but to be honest it does feel a little weird since [Maury] does sit there and stare in my direction all the time,” said Jackson, who died at Chancellorsville in 1863 and has his very masculine likeness just two blocks from Maury.   ”Thankfully I know he’s not going to touch me, because, you know, statues can’t move.”

Maury said his non-homo partners on Monument Avenue shouldn’t be worried, and should continue to treat him as simply ”one of the guys.”

“It’s no cause for concern, honey, because gay ain’t contagious,” Maury said.  “Plus, I do all the things straight guys like to do, like drink and chill, but I just know my Broadway musicals a bit more. Plus, closets are for clothes.”

And don’t you love having such a cool-looking tower near where you live, work and play?  Isn’t it great driving by me and being all like, “Look at that awesome testament to Virginia’s brave World War I soldiers, memorialized for all to see!”

Uh, what?

Unreal.

You didn’t know that World War I is what I was build for?  You had no idea.  Let me get this straight: You guys haven’t the foggiest clue as to why I’m standing here, do you? 

Typical.  Such typical Richmonder behavior.  You guys have all this historical and important stuff around you and you don’t even take the time to get to know what it is.

Hell, you may not even know my name.  “Oh, the brick tower thing!” you might say. “I love that thing!”

“That thing looks neat or whatever! I’m stupid and ignorant of my surroundings and duh duh duh duh duh duh!”

You know what? I’m not a thing, guys.  I have a name: the Carillon.

I bet you’re one of those people that, even if you did know my name, you probably don’t even know how to spell it.  Tons of people throw in an extra “i,” making it spelled “Carillion.”  Others double up the “r’s” or they spell it with only one “l,” and you know why? Because people don’t care.  They don’t care about history.

And they don’t care about me.

Some of you probably think I’m a lighthouse (see any tall ships around here?), or maybe a tower built in tribute to a single important historical figure (Robert E. Lee I could see, but that’s about it, though Arthur Ashe maybe, too).

More than likely, your best guess as to what I am probably is “something to do with the Civil War.”  NOT EVERYTHING IN RICHMOND DOES, OKAY?  There were other wars fought by Virginians too, you know.  World War I was a biggie.

Involved the whole world, which last time I checked includes Virginia.

Oh, and here’s a pop quiz for you: How many bells are in my tower? You didn’t even know I had bells, did you?  Or that they even ring on special occasions? 

Fifty-three bells, down from the original 66 from when I was built in 1931.

Un. Be. Lievable.

Tell you what.  You guys just go on living, jogging on by admiring my graceful beauty, going out with friends during the weekend.  Get all drunked up because that’s all that matters to you kids anymore.  Drink it up, folks, taste the blindness you feel for your remarkable, historic surroundings.  Tastes precious, don’t it?

Hey, you gonna pass me one of those beers?