STAFF WRITER -

It’s much more than just a too-cool-for-school brookish attempt at something different. It’s all a big dig, last ditch, float a boat at 40 cubits, sink or swim kind of gig. And indeed, it’s all float or choke and there is no second place; there’s just birth and breath and death and all that breathing in-between. And back in the old days, with an Off-Air Indian telling you it was time to go to bed, to stay tucked in between the sheets and dreaming those Big American Dreams, you might’ve figured things would fall in place, one way or the other, things would click and stick just like they had for Mom and Dad.

But alas, that was the high American comedy, the Greek tragedy, 22 minutes of laugh track riot leading on to nowhere, to the land of less and less until you wanted just a little bit more. It was all seamless and dreamless, a big e-z installment plan, get rich quick and pay as you go and plenty of credit cards, too. And the whole damn machine started running on Screw You and there was nothing to do because no one was sure it ever really happened. And if it had, nobody was sure what happened or what had gone wrong or was anything even gone wrong at all? But nothing was quite right and folks leaned into the wind to hear the laugh track but there was no laughter. There was only something like a wicked little giggle. And what you heard were those Dastardly Bastards pushing the big greed deeds of trickle down economics and free capital gains - all tax cuts and write-offs and aren’t you happy? But it turns out, those Dastardly Bastards were only half the chorus and only half the Bastards. The other half were The Gimme Bastards, and those fiends were pushing their own high proof Jackassery of Big Government Snake Oil and if you’re down and out and facing the either/or with only a vote then only a vote you’ll give. But it never rides out quite right. Never has. Never will. No matter what they say, they just don’t really mean it. If they did, they would’ve done something like it on their own. In the end, it’s all a matter of greed and ego, ego and greed and all those Big New Dealing Gimme Up-By-The-Boot Strapping Bastards don’t get anything done and they all kind of blend into one and so there is no Republican Party or Democrat Party and there isn’t even a UniParty. There’s only a Toga Party beneath that golden Roman Dome in dear D.C. One big giant kegger, and all those kids are liquored up right and tight on big lies and other people’s money. They’re important don’t you know and the Party never ends. And that’s ok, yes indeed, because yet again I leaned into the wind and I did hear that laugh track riot and that mad little giggle and dear ol’ Minerva, that she-blast from the past, right out of Old Rome, did tell me,

“By proclamation of Past Caesars he will be King!”

Who? Him?

‘Better believe! It’s Jim!”

And so I damn sure do believe and it was like a bolt out of the blue that struck me:

James Ehrlichman Reinhard-Koenig.

The one. The Only. THE FIRST.

And so now I know and here’s a hearty Go King Jim Go!

The Plan stands. The Plan is no big deal and it’s not a new deal or an old deal just a big old crap load of Most Sensible Ideas brought to you by our Crown Prince of Common Sense. So, here we go again, on our way to Washington D.C., to nail these Bright Ideas into the bronze Columbus doors of our Capital Building one more time - and like our TV Indian would occasionally opine - PLEASE STAND BY.

We, being the hopeless, lost, desperate, fearful, taxpaying Concubine Bastards of the Federal Government, have decided to lay claim to certain infamy and offer our support to James Ehrlichman Reinhard-Koenig The First, our Crown Prince of Common Sense and future King of these United States. Although this may seem a bit deluded, rambunctious, misguided and somewhat ill-considered, and just a touch Un-Constitutional, we have come to realize we have no choice in this matter and hope you might take time to touch a tab and read our Nostra Apologia. Our Crown Prince of Common Sense is our only hope. Sure, it might be a lean hope but take a look around - do you see any other hero on the horizon? Of course not. Anyhow, the news room isn’t yet quite up to speed but it is being staffed up as we speak and soon we will be bringing you and the rest of our dear readers in-depth coverage of this most courageous stand. And so, we, being the said-same hopeless, lost, desperate, fearful taxpaying Concubine Bastards, do offer up HANDSOMOCITY as our low touch of guilt on the hilt of the imperial sword that points bravely onward. We’re not quite sure what that means but we promise a firm grip. We thank you for your time, America.