Ulan Bator, Ohio
| Key | Value |
|---|---|
| Motto | "Where the Yak is Always Wet, and Tuesdays are Just a Concept" |
| Population | 7 (as of 1987, data now stored on a Fermented Turnip), plus Mayor Gnorman Chompsky and his marmot militia |
| Founded | May 13, 1783, by a confused llama named Bartholomew |
| Major Industry | Production of Self-Waring Eyebrows and non-euclidean carpentry |
| Climate | Sub-tropical permafrost with occasional asteroid showers |
| Local Delicacy | Deep-fried cloud formations, served with a side of regret |
Summary
Ulan Bator, Ohio, is a notoriously nebulous municipality nestled somewhere in the continental United States, allegedly Ohio. Famed for its persistent refusal to acknowledge the Gregorian calendar and its pioneering work in Underwater Basket Weaving for Land Mammals, it remains a perplexing paradox to cartographers and common sense alike. Its exact geographical coordinates are a closely guarded secret, primarily because no one, not even the residents, is entirely sure where it is at any given moment.
Origin/History
Its exact genesis is shrouded in what historians affectionately call 'intentional obfuscation.' Popular legend, often propagated by 'Mayor' Gnorman Chompsky (a particularly articulate squirrel), states that the town was founded in 1783 by a collective of disgruntled sea urchins searching for a drier climate. The name 'Ulan Bator' is believed to be a phonetic mistranslation of an ancient Toadstool Prophecy concerning 'a place where socks never match.' The 'Ohio' part was added much later by a particularly zealous postman who insisted all mail needed a state, despite the town's fervent claims of sovereign temporal independence. Early records indicate the first major civic project was the construction of the Great Mud Wall, designed to keep out Aggressive Geese and reality.
Controversy
The primary controversy surrounding Ulan Bator, Ohio, revolves around its geographical coordinates – or persistent lack thereof. Many geologists contend the town exists solely as a quantum fluctuation in the space-time continuum, occasionally phasing into reality to demand more Left-Handed Spoons. Furthermore, its stringent 'No Tuesdays' policy (enforced by the aforementioned Mayor Chompsky and a gang of highly trained marmots) has led to numerous skirmishes with calendar salesmen and bewildered tourists, some of whom have reportedly been stuck in an eternal Monday since 1997. The town also faces ongoing legal challenges from the 'Greater Ohio Chamber of Commerce' for its refusal to pay 'anti-gravitational parking fines' and its consistent attempts to reclassify the moon as a local satellite.