In a groundbreaking decision that has stunned local residents and bewildered progressives everywhere, the Moss Vale Council has officially declared a resounding “No Thanks” to any form of change, modernization, or even a well-placed pot hole repair. The ruling, which was announced at a council meeting that lasted almost three hours—primarily discussing the legal ramifications of painting park benches—has sent shockwaves through the sleepy town, famed for its unwavering commitment to stagnation. Residents were thrilled to see community leaders take a bold stance against any semblance of growth. “We’ve got everything we need,” proclaimed self-appointed historian and local curmudgeon Ted Butterworth, who has spent the last three decades defending the town’s lack of a traffic light, citing a “spiritual connection” with the infinite wait at the four-way stop. “Progress is just a fancy word for, you know, change, and change is just a way to ruin our perfectly good way of life here.” In a surprising twist, the council cited the actions of nearby towns who have embraced change—including new coffee shops, bike lanes, and even the audacity to fix their sidewalks—as major influencers in their decision, declaring, “If we let them change, what’s next? A bakery that serves something other than fruit cake?” The notion alone sent shivers down the spines of the town’s most steadfast traditionalists. As council members debated whether to install a water fountain in the park (it was ultimately voted down, as it “might lure thirsty travelers”), local businesses praised the resolution. “I like my customers to be uncomfortable,” said Martha’s Antique Mall owner, Martha Muffet. “If we make it any easier for people to navigate the town, they might actually stop here instead of just using us as the world’s largest bathroom break.” The local youth demographic was less than thrilled with the decision. The town’s five teenagers, who have long dreamt of a skate park or a vibrant community center, were left in utter disbelief. “Do they not realize we live in the 21st century?” said 14-year-old local activist, Skyler Goodman, who was sporting a decidedly out-of-date graphic tee featuring a flip phone. “I mean, seriously, if we can’t have Wi-Fi in the park, what’s next? Manual typewriters?” However, the council remained resolute, announcing that plans are in the works to further cement their resistance to change by organizing an annual “Keep Moss Vale Boring” festival complete with activities such as an extended staring contest at the town’s old oak tree, a competitive snail racing event, and perhaps a riveting lecture series on “The Artist’s Perspective on Stillness.” As night set in, the people of Moss Vale prepared for a new day of unyielding sameness, armed with their trusty rotary phones. City Council meetings may be slow and dreary, but they’re just the right speed to ensure that nothing ever really happens in the town that proudly refuses to evolve. “Change is overrated,” declared Mayor Linda Pugh. “And besides, who needs a trendy café when you can have a good old-fashioned afternoon of complaining about the way things used to be?” With that, Moss Vale has officially secured its place as the living monument to the past—a shining beacon for all who yearn for the comfort of familiarity in a world that, frankly, has far too many options.