His Majesty Near Death… As reported extensively in the Kingdom of Sonoma press [apparently not the hard copies, search online; use keyword fictional stories] His Majesty is near death.  Alas, poor Yorkick, ’tis true.  His Royal Cynic has been lying comatose in the attic for lo these many months, maintained in a medically induced coma, with an intravenous line of Red Rose Tea in one arm for nutrition and an intravenous line of zinfandel in the other to provide motivation.… Read More »

Gather ’round Norton Nation.  Uncle Nortie’s gonna read ya from the Sunday funnies. Be sure to get your Swine Rudeness vaccine… Seems there’s a rudeness epidemic.  Some tennis chic making John McEnroe look like a choir boy by threatening to put a tennis ball [ouch!] where the sun don’t shine.  A high and mighty United States Senator screaming “You lie” during the president’s speech, as if he were some British Member of Parliament. [Well, he can be excused, because he… Read More »

His Majesty Awakens His Majesty was allowed to awaken from his medication induced coma in the attic, where he lay at peace, oblivious to the cares and woes of the world, where there was no R word, where there was no controversy over the evil council majority and their Naked Power Grabs, where everyone had access to decent health care, where “everyone has access to the law” [oops that’s a line from Pink Floyd, will probably get us a royal… Read More »

What Me Worry? There was a knock on the door. There stood two twenty-somethings who avowed as how they were reporters for a local media. They were accompanied by an officer of the law looking quite stern.. It seems there was a clamoring to know what we had done with His Majesty Norton II, Emperor of Petaluma, since they had read none of his insane ramblings on Petaluma 360 for lo these many weeks. The householders swore that they hadn’t… Read More »

In which His Majesty jumps on board the Kentucky Fried Dutra plan*. His Majesty gets all his news now from Twitter at 140 characters [and, boy, are they characters!] per news item. Well, actually, His Majesty doesn’t really read all the Tweets. [with all the multi-tasking, he doesn't have the time or attention span for that] Instead an intern reads all the tweets and text messages a summary digest to His Majesty each hour on the Royal iRasberry. So His… Read More »

In which the Royal Norbel Peace Prize Committee meets to hand out this year’s Norlitzer Prize for journalism [we think you have it a little confused, Your Majesty] The Royal Norbel Peace Prize Committee met and voted unanimously to give the Norlitzer Prize for journalism to the Argus Courier for it’s series on development in Petaluma. The series started with a letter from Mr. Sommer, and pressed on with insightful contributing guest commentaries from Mr. Healy and Mr. Rabbitt, an… Read More »

In which His Majesty salutes Les Landeck, soil soldier, keeper of the land, provider to body and soul. His Majesty, Norton II, Emperor of Petaluma and Protector of Sonoma County met Les Landeck on a royal visit to the Santa Rosa farmer’s market some years ago. Les runs an unassuming small stand selling greens for salads, local cutting celery, and various other vegetables he grows on his acre and a half, hand tilled farm. His Majesty and Mrs. Majesty bought… Read More »

In which His Majesty and the Eastside Viceroy make a royal visit to the Petaluma Kitchen When Sir John Records went to the cupboard not long ago, it seems he discovered, like the old lady who’d gone to get her poor dog a bone, that it was bare. The Committee On The Shelterless, COTS, needs the cupboards not to be bare. Because they put together food boxes to deliver to the needy. The food boxes need to be filled with… Read More »

In which His Majesty sings LOUD to end the crisis ‘n stuff. The Great Depression1.0 had Woody Guthrie. The 60s had Bob Dylan. Arlo Guthrie warned us that “if ya want to end the war ‘n stuff, ya gotta sing LOUD.” FDR had an economic and military crisis on his hands. The 60s had a crazy war, civil rights fighting and a lot of energy wasted on racism and genderism. Nowadays we’ve got the granddaddy of ‘em all, the mother… Read More »

In which His Majesty celebrates the clearing of brush in Texas and wonders if that’s a collapsing economy he sees on the horizon. His Majesty was caught by the paparazzi at the Inauguration Ball at the Phoenix Theater welcoming America’s first Irish-African president. A cheer went up when Mr. O’Bama waved good bye to Mr. Bush on his way back to Texas. Now no brush in Texas is safe. And folks will begin to speak English in Washington again. His… Read More »