Osama Bin Donkey Stomper and the missing searchs

Deep in the heart of the culvert storage area in the eastern precinct of the fuzzy donkey ranch there roamed a herd of Golden fleeced Stompers.  The stompers were an easily amused lot, spending most of their days under the influence of the great and evil Osama Bin Donkey Stomper and his collection of ancient crossword puzzles. Stomping about on their wire donkeys, things were A o.k. for the stompers and there was no particular socio-political issues in sight. 
During the evenings at the behest of the great and evil leader everyone would flump up into the hills to the TBS cave for a friendly round of pin the tail on the international man of constipated conspiracy. Endless nights ensued ensuring the donkeys woke up back in their respective culverts with little to no memory of the previous nights activities or evidence of the consumed articles. Except of course the occasional breakfast roach. 

At some point, in the midst of another rousing night of mind altering donkey stompin’, there was a collective moment of clarity during which all the stompers realized how lovely a reality based escapade could be; as opposed of course to their usual antics. The reality-based escapade seemed, logically enough, to necessitate some sort of ground rules, some sort of path, upon which they could travel without necessarily veering into the hallucinogenic crossword quagmire. The result of all this suspiciously socialist brainstorming was to stomp around on their wire donkeys and see if they could out stomp any one else. Long story short, the great and evil Osama Bin Donkey Stomper  is back at the cave trying to figure out what mass destruction really means in the global marketplace and the Golden Fleeced Stompers are in Moab aboard their wire donkeys, stomping about.