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 is, after all, from South Carolina where they don't know no better.  Can't even tell the difference between the Appalachian Trail and Argentina down there...both A words, though, so guess it was a tough one if you're from South Carolina.]  And some rapper dude who interrupts some show or other [hey, it doesn't count as rudeness if it's just downright boring.]

Thank goodness they apologized…

Anyway, it’s all ok, because everyone apologized, and that makes anything ok.  In fact we’ve entered the era where anything goes if you apologize afterward.  You can cheat on your wife and run for president if you apologize.  Better still if you can add some tears to the apology.  We’re even in the season for apologizing.  We’re into Rosh Hashanah [weren't they a rock 'n roll group in the 70s?] and Yom Kippur [that's gotta be those little Scandanavian fish the the Brits are always eating.] when the Jews apologize.  We’ve finished Ramadan [didn't they used to be a motel chain?] with its month long atonement.  ‘Course the Christians have to be different and wait until Lent.  And the Catholics can’t even just apologize and leave it at that.  They have to say three Hail Mary’s and four Our Father’s.  Even Steven Colbert is helping the season with his Yom Kippur apology phone 1-800-Oops-Jew.  If you’re Jewish [or were guilt-trained by Catholic nuns and think you could be Jewish] you can call Mr. Colbert and apologize.

‘Tis the season to apologize…

So in the spirit of the season, His Majesty joins in.  No, not apologizing.  Royalty never apologizes.  Royalty, like Love means never having to say you’re sorry.  No, His Majesty is happy to announce the Great Petaluma Apology Festival.  All citizens of Norton Nation are encouraged to apologize to whomever they come in contact with.  No need to explain.  Just look sincerely into their eyes and say, “sorry”.  If you want to avoid looking too much like a softie you can add an Australian accent and make it, “sorry, mate”.  If you’re picking up burritos at Mi Pueblo make it, “lo siento”.  If you’re worried about swine flu and don’t get out much, His Majesty is providing the Great Petaluma Apologize By Email program.  Just email your apology to mybad1234@sbcglobal.net   

Modified apologies for location…

Folks in New York and ex-New Yorkers are permitted to add a “What!?  Whad I doo!?” after their apology.  Folks living in California or spending the holiday in another state should find at least six people to hold hands with while apologizing.

Ok, Norties, get started.  The season won’t last forever.

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 lawsuit] where no one lost their job and neither  bombs nor buildings fell on one’s head.  His Majesty was allowed to awaken from this Dream.

Terrible Mistake

The first thing His Majesty asked for was a cup of Red Rose tea and the back newspapers.  Terrible mistake.  The newspapers, not the tea.  One day he reads that Mr. Bernancke assured us the R word is over [well, if you don't count the fact that a lot of you are going to remain unemployed and unable to buy cheap shit from China for a lot more years, cause they pointed out that unemployement won't recover for "a long time".]  Today, Sunday Chronicle, front page above the fold, where it’s hard to hide from His Majesty “Loan Terms May Multiply Defaults”.  Seems more than just the unemployment will outlast the Recovery.  Seems there’s gonna be a new wave of foreclosure tidal waves breaking on the beaches next year when the adjustable rate mortgages reach their balloon status [aw, come on, we're all ballooning up a bit, a few pounds...or dollars... never hurt anyone].  And we’ve already been told weeks ago that the commercial real estate is heading down that same bumpy dirt road that leads into the lake.  Watch for commercial buildings sloshing around underwater and then being pulled out into foreclosure.

Clunkers for Cash

And every few days, there’s an article from some economist in Chicago [why is it always Chicago?] who says Americans are saving too much money, and they should start spending it on cheap shit from China…or on clunkers from Detroit…or a new washing machine from Mexico ['cause you won't be able to buy any more American washing machines now that the last American manufacturer of washing machines just moved the company to Mexico in a huge RossPerot sucking sound...but you could move to Mexico and apply for one of those jobs.]  These economists are just never satisfied, those kidders.  A few years ago they were blaming us all for spending too much of our iincome when everyone spent 110% of their income and was going deep into debt.  Make up your mind, Bernancke.  Do we spend or save?

Take a number, the doctor will be right with you…

And then there were the health care town hall meetings in which some pissed off guy  asked what’s wrong with a system where he and his employees have health care insurance but lots of others don’t.  ‘Course, today being Sunday, that dude is now sitting in a church pew listenin’ to the preacherman read something about “whatever you do to the least among you, you do to Me”, and the pissed off dude is nodding his head and saying “Amen, brother” and feeling like a Good Christian.

His Majesty began trembling at this point, threw down the stack of newspaper, spilled his tea and declared, “If this be democracy, give us socialism”.  Oops, wait, Your Majesty.  You forgot that socialism is the new communism, which in its day was the new satanism. 

Damn, can’t win no matter which way you turn.  His Majesty is closing his eyes and asking for another dose of propofol.  Oh, blessed sleep.

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 seen His Majesty in weeks, but that the Red Rose tea and chocolate chip cookies being left at his attic door continued to disappear.

CSI: Petaluma

The officer removed his baton from its holder and unsnapped his gun holster while announcing it would be necessary to take them to the attic and prove that His Majesty was alright. Seems they were suspecting some sort of Howard Hughes lockup mystery conspiracy.

As we made our way up to the attic, the officer and reporters were shown the empty plate and tea cup from the night before. That wasn’t good enough and they demanded the door be opened. There was a heap on the bed with a black top hat sticking out from under the covers. The officer prodded the heap with his night stick and there was a grunt from under the covers.

I want to be alone…

The officer asked His Majesty if he was ok, but there was only a mumbled, “Go away” from under the blankets. The reporters quickly stepped up with pads and pens at the ready and enquired as to why there had been no pontificating of late.

Here is what His Majesty replied.

There’s no need Everything’s fine. Everything’s been fixed. There are no more causes to march for. The Recession’s on the way out and will be over by next year. The bad guys from Enron to Madoff and the banks who took people’s hard earned cash have all gone to jail and returned the money. Unemployment is only a problem to the unemployed. Sacramento’s got the budget thing figured out, and we don’t need no stinking parks anyway. Education for children in a constantly changing world is overrated and unneeded. Congress is giving everyone healthcare and the government is finally releasing the cure for cancer they’ve been hiding since the Kennedy assassination. The Iraq war was won and the State Department has decided the money they were going to spend on the future wars in Afghanistan and Iran, and Korea could be better spent somewhere else. Petaluma is finally going to have enough asphalt and fried chicken to fill its potholes. The City Council finally is happy they’ve built enough shopping malls to plug their leaky retails. Safeway and Raley’s have solved the abandoned cart problem. We’ve finally planted enough trees to stop climate change. Everything’s been taken care of. There’s nothing to complain about.

The reporters, writing furiously, asked, why then, if everything was hunkey dorey, was His Majesty hiding under the covers whimpering.

“Because“, he replied, “when they tell you there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore, that’s when it’s time to get terrified.”

]]> http://tim-hurley.blogs.petaluma360.com/10003/alls-right-with-the-world/feed/ 0 http://tim-hurley.blogs.petaluma360.com/10004/kentucky-fried-asphalt/ http://tim-hurley.blogs.petaluma360.com/10004/kentucky-fried-asphalt/#comments Mon, 20 Apr 2009 23:15:00 +0000 Emperor.Norton http://tim-hurley.petaluma360.com/default.asp?item=2365656

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 Majesty, always one to be in the forefront of each new fashion, joined all the other twits, with thumbs flying. Some of the tweets are a little difficult to decipher, and there just isn’t time to pay a lot of attention to the details. [Thinkin' 'bout stuff causes pain above the eyebrows, doesn't it, Your Majesty?] So His Majesty has the Royal Fact Checker send a report every afternoon at 4.

Anyway, seems Petaluma is putting in a new fast food restaurant on the south side of the river across from Shollenberger Park. Something called Kentucky Fried Asphalt. And the Michael Pollan Fan Club has been holding protests, worried that the asphalt could be hazardous to their health. His Majesty’s Royal Environmental Protection Agency issued a full fair and balanced report in the Argus-Courier and assured everyone that there’s nothing to be concerned about. We live in a sea of hydrocarbon pollution as it is. A little more from fried asphalt will never be noticed in the cancer statistics.

So the Royal Mayor finagled a grant from a Cotati fast food chicken pluckin’ [don't say that fast, Your Majesty, and be careful when texting it] restaurant to use the fried asphalt to fill the now world-famous Petaluma Potholes [not so sure this is a good idea, Mayor. You fill all those potholes, no one's got anything to complain about. Life goes back to normal in Chickaluma. P-Town is out of the fair and balanced national news market. No more grant money. And we're back to filling potholes with leaky retails. Ask the Royal Fact Checker. He'll confirm.]

See, now Petalumans have to drive all the way over to Petaluma Hill Road and go north to Cotati [a very risky thing to do, what with the ill feelings left over from the Cotati Fast Food Wars of a couple of years ago.] to get a bucket of Kentucky Fried Asphalt [with special, secret Dutra sauce] whenever a pothole forms in front of their house. It takes the six piece bucket for a good sized pothole. You have to smush the fried asphalt into the pothole and tamp it down with the special secret recipe Dutra sauce. [don't try this at home, kids. That first bump from the SUV coming up behind you is going to be a hard one.] Then you have to paint a logo on it with the words “Pay No Attention to the Hydrocarbons Behind the Curtain.” But as soon as Petaluma gets it’s own Kentucky Fried Asphalt plant, it’s going to cut nine minutes off the trip to get the fried asphalt. That’s nine minutes more texting per day for Petalumans. Twits everywhere will rejoice. IMHO LUV U BYE 4 NOW

It’s a fast moving world out there, and you’ve got to try to keep up.

His Majesty Norton II, Emperor of Petaluma and Protector of Sonoma County prepares for day of work filling potholes.

The Extra Crispy may not be the ideal product for filling potholes, but there aren’t many other uses for it.

Use it up

Repair it

Make it do

Do without

* This news story was received on Tweetaluma and forwarded by iRaspberry before fact checking was completed. Please report any inaccuracies to Wikipedia.com.

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 award winning political cartoon from Mr. Rustad, and was topped off with an editorial from…well, from the editorial staff, we guess. You can find it all on Petaluma360.com if you search around enough. [the intern has the week off, or we'd have them look up all the links for you]

Anyway, in an era when the entire nation, lo the entire world, is reeling from the effects of deregulation [essential to wealth building for the Power&Money boys] the Argus, Mr. Sommer, Mr. Healy, Mr. Rabbitt, and Mr. Rustad have bravely and courageously called for deregulation of the bureaucratic development process in Petaluma [aww gee, Mom, if the other kids don't have to do it, why do I?] Indeed, Mr. Sommer nostalgically wrote of the olden days when he could stroll into city hall and announce to his buddies, “guess what I’m going to do?”, and they’d answer, “Go for it, buddy.”

Profits don’t come so easy when citizens and their silly regulations get in the way. Kudos to the Argus for journalistic excellence. The editorial staff, Mr. Sommer, Mr. Healy, Mr Rabbitt, and Mr. Rustad can stop off at Aqus Cafe and present a copy of this post to get their prize. Well done, gentlemen.

]]> http://tim-hurley.blogs.petaluma360.com/10005/a-pulitzer-for-the-argus/feed/ 0 http://tim-hurley.blogs.petaluma360.com/10006/soil-soldier-les-landeck/ http://tim-hurley.blogs.petaluma360.com/10006/soil-soldier-les-landeck/#comments Mon, 09 Mar 2009 13:15:00 +0000 Emperor.Norton http://tim-hurley.petaluma360.com/default.asp?item=2345582

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 a one pound bag of greens for $12. Not your grandmother’s salad greens it turns out. Les’ greens include chard, kale, beet greens, Asian mustards, arrugula, calendula flowers, highly concentrated nutritious seed pods of greens that have crossed with each other and don’t have a name other than “good stuff”. To the royal household a salad had always meant lettuce, nice enough, but not the most nutritious. Back home the royal couple made up a salad of Les’ greens, dived into it. Then a silence broke out as His Majesty looked somberly at Mrs. Majesty and she looked back. His Majesty spoke first with an “Oh, my God!” Mrs. Majesty replied with “I know.” This guy working the land in cooperation with Mother Nature had produced the most exquisite salad greens ever to grace the royal palate, bar none. His Majesty had to learn more about this. A royal visit to the Landeck farm ended up feeling more like a visit to a cathedral. Landeck’s scientific knowledge of what constitutes good farming and good soil stewardship combined with his sense of oneness with the land and the plants themselves was not a little awe inspiring. Over the past couple of years Les has instructed the royal gardeners in his techniques of soil building, letting greens go to seed, and the royal castle now enjoys some of the same excellent food. His Majesty was moved to write a two piece posting on Petaluma 360 describing his visit to the Landeck operation. You can read them here for Part 1 and here for Part 2:

http://tim-hurley.petaluma360.com/default.asp?item=2187419&mode=blog

http://tim-hurley.petaluma360.com/default.asp?item=2187420&mode=blog

Make your swords into ploughshares and your soldiers into farmers…

Well, Les Landeck, a veteran himself has gone and gotten himself involved with something called The Farmer Veteran Coalition. It’s worth a click. and take a gander at the video here

Seems there’s a problem out there with unemployment [some sort of economic crisis going on], and it’s even worse for shell-shocked [we call it post traumatic syndrome now, Your Majesty] soldiers returning from war. Turns out war is not healthy for children and other living things [who woulda guessed?], including the souls of the young men and women we send to do the fighting to preserve our access to the earth’s stockpile of energy producing hydrocarbons. [Kinda makes ya want to not consume so much hydrocarbon, doesn't it, Your Majesty?]

Gimme an F…

Anyway, it reminds His Majesty of the ancient days of the late 60s when, as a simple medical student, His Majesty was seeing some pretty messed up soldiers returning from that other ohsonecessary war, Vietnam, some guys with their heads screwed on backwards. “What the hell is going on over there?” asked His Majesty. [don't ask] So what are we, thirty or forty years since then and apparently none the wiser. ‘Cause like Country Joe said, “we got ourselves in a terrible jam, way down yonder in Iraq…and Afghanistan…soon in Pakistan…and Iran.” Gonna be a whole lotta fun. More screwed-on-backwards heads for the medical students to look into.

God doesn’t count the days you spend in a garden…

Well, it’s turning out that for a bunch of the returning veterans learning a thing or two about that ephemeral quality of spirit that His Majesty sensed in the Les Landeck salad greens works better than prozac. ‘Cause some veterans are finding out that getting into farming not only solves the unemployment problem, it heals broken souls. His Majesty always knew there was something amusingly ironic about the fact that getting his hands into dirt and manure was about as close as he was likely to get to the angels. Working the soil, nursing a plant to life and growth, listening to Mother Nature murmuring her approval. These things go a ways to healing the raw spots that form on one’s innards. Not to mention it produces damn good tasting calories for dinner.

Check it out…

So Les has taken a vet named Jeremy Lopez under wing, taught him the fine points of providing good food for a hungry emperor and the good people of Sonoma County. You can see a slide show of Jeremy and Les at the farm and farmer’s market here

http://www.californiareport.org/slideshows/vetfarms/index.jsp

and listen to the KQED Soldier to Farmer radio broadcast here

http://www.californiareport.org/archive.jsp

It’s worth slowing down the royal Hummer to think about. Might do body and soul some good.

A tip of the royal tophat…

His Majesty salutes you, Soil Soldier Les and Soil Solider Jeremy. May Mother Nature always smile on you, may your crops be healthy and plentiful, and may there always be a little dirt beneath your fingernails.

PEACE

Shalom

Salaam

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 food. Times being what they are, there’s a lot more folks needing those boxes. Something like 20 or 25 MORE folks per month than there used to be. And that number is likely to go up, not down in the near term.

So when Sir John asked for help, something like 600 emails started flying around Petaluma’s cyberspace. When His Majesty got one [emperornortonii@sbcglobal.net] he assembled the royal court for a trip to Petaluma Market. With an intern, of course, to carry the bags.

Next the Royal IT Person wrote an email to His Majesty’s westside neighborhood. Frank Simpson, recently appointed Viceroy of the Eastside, did likewise on the eastside of town. East meets West. Hands across the freeway. That sort of thing. Anyway bags and boxes of food began to appear on the front porch of the Royal Castle.

On the appointed day, Viceroy Simpson and His Majesty met at the Petaluma Kitchen to turn over the booty to Sir John Records, who put it to good use. The visit was photographed by the royal paparazzi. In addition to the groceries donated by the eastside and the westside, Sir John informed us that the Grocery Outlet had given COTS a $500 shopping spree to help fill the cupboards. Nice show, G.O. Way to go Sonoma County. The times being what they are, the COTS cupboards are sure to empty out as fast as they get filled. So don’t hesitate to buy some extra pasta, rice, beans, pasta sauce, breakfast cereal or canned goods and swing by the Petaluma Kitchen on your way home. It’s gonna be a long, hungry recession. HELPCOTS.ORG. Viceroy Simpson says check it out.

The Eastside Viceroy and His Majesty arrive at the Petaluma Kitchen

His Majesty and Viceroy Simpson heal the Eastside-Westside rift.

Sir John Records welcomes His Majesty and Viceroy Simpson

Sir John informs the Viceroy that his fly is open.

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 of all crises, the Triple Crown of Crises: the economic collapse of the world, wars breaking out everywhere you look, and an ecological disaster bearing down on us[who cares whether Mother Nature started it, we started it or Al Gore started it. How high's the water, Momma?]. And to make matters worse, His Majesty has no idea who the next American Idol is going to be.

So His Majesty awakened at 3AM with the sudden realization that what ails this country is that we don’t have the good songs we need to deal with this crisis. So we went right to work modifying some of the old ones to suit our modern crisis. [Mrs. Majesty ordered us out of the bedroom after asking what time it was. Listen, when the inspiration comes, ya gotta sing LOUD.]

Thanks Woody

“This house is fannie’s

This house is freddie’s

From California to the New York Island

From the redwood forest to the Gulf stream waters

This house was foreclosed for you and me.”

And that Peter, Paul and Hoozit favorite

“Where have all the good jobs gone

Long time passing

Where have all the 401Ks gone

Long time ago

Where have all the good jobs gone

Gone to outsourcing everyone

When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?”

Brother, can you spare a job?

“If I had a hammer…

It’d probably be made in China

Or maybe Indonesia

But not in this laaannnnd”

An inconvenient change we’d not hope for

“Puff, the Magic Dragon

Lived by the sea

Until the seas rose thirty feet

And drowned his ass.”

Sing it, Bobby

“Come gather ’round people, wherever you roam

And admit it that the waters around you have grown

Except during this summer’s drought

For the climates they are a changin’”

Day is Done

“Tell me why you’re crying, my son

I know you’re frightened like everyone

Is it the thunder in the distance you fear

Will it help if I stay very near?

I am here

Do you ask why I’m sighing, my son

You shall inherit what mankind has done

In a world filled with sorrow and woe

If you ask me why this is so

I really don’t know

And if you take my hand, my son

All will be well when the day is done

And if you take my hand my son, my son

All will be well when the day is done”

At the moment, there’s a few folks over at COTS and the Petaluma Kitchen who could use a hand. Ordinary, good folks. Frightened, like you and me, my son. And hungry in a land where people are on diets. If you ask me why this is so, I really don’t know. But “take my hand, my son” could mean stop off at the grocery store, buy several bags of rice, pasta, beans and drop them off at the Petaluma Kitchen between 7AM and 3PM. If you are in the neighborhood and prefer to drop them off on the porch at the royal castle, His Majesty will send an intern to deliver them in the royal Hummer.

All will be well when the day is done. First, let’s “take my hand”. And don’t forget to sing LOUD.

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 Majesty Norton II at the Phoenix

Of course, things have gone swimmingly since then. Planes are falling out of the sky. California is heading for a drought in spite of the rain this weekend. China is buying up America’s hard assets including our foreclosed houses. Ya can’t eat peanut butter without worrying what’s crawling around in it. A gazillion Americans have lost their jobs, including 500,000 in January and many here in Sonoma County [but we'll have more soon enough when the Noo Joisey asphalt plant gets built.] One week His Majesty reads that some government official is admonishing Americans they aren’t saving enough money [American debt is 100% of the Gross Domestic Product, compared to China's 20%. The average American savings is 0% of income.] The next week some other official is telling Americans they have to spend more money. And Ben Stein gets on CNN and tells everyone to “buy something, buy anything”.

Yeah, that’s what will get us back on track. Everyone living beyond their means again. So let’s talk our Congress into stimulating the economy by pouring a gazillion more dollars into the pockets of some corporations we can’t afford to let fail. Eventually the man on the street will see a few bucks of it.

The Royal Economist tells His Majesty you can’t have a system go on forever if it depends on constant economic growth and constant population growth. Eventually you’ll have droughts and planes will fall out of the sky. It sure doesn’t look so good out there on the horizon. But you guys go ahead and buy something…anything.

His Majesty is going back to bed, pull the covers over his head and whimper a bit.

enter Depression2

But if you find yourself with a few bucks to spare in spite of the Depression, good ole Petaluma Pete says spend it on something fun like the Mentor Me Petaluma fundraiser, the Mad Hatter’s Ball. His Majesty has a fondness for mad hatters, being a bit mad himself. And, of course, since he wears a hat. His Majesty says check it out and watch the Mad Hatter’s Ball video

“It’s quarter to three. There’s no one in the place but you and me.”

3AM and His Majesty can’t sleep. The Press Democrat and SF Chronicle haven’t arrived yet, so we don’t know what to be afraid of this coming week. So we’ll have to make do with last week’s crises.

There’s always the ECONOMY…booga booga [please your Majesty, there could be children present...you'll frighten them.] Mr. Simpson assures His Majesty it’s better if we don’t know how bad it can get. Just remember, it’s not really a Depression until YOU’RE one of the guys who get laid off. Darn, makes us wish we’d been saving some money all these years. Gonna have to get the victory garden cranked up this year. His Majesty has dibs on Putnam Plaza for selling pencils and apples.

What’s for dinner?…

And that’s another thing. The PD says we got this drought thingie coming this year. And the central valley agribusiness boys [remember, they ain't farmers] and now sayin’ they won’t have enough water this summer to grow lettuce and tomatoes [WHAT? no salsa & chips? How're we gonna throw a party?] Seems they’re gonna need the water for the almonds. California’s monocrop throughout the central valley that’s supplying 80% of the world’s almonds and using up most of the bee hives in this country and Australia and New Zealand for the three week pollination period. But after all tomatoes and vegetables are just annuals with lower profit margin and almonds are perennials, and you can’t let all those trees die. It’s just that pretty soon California is going to be growing only two crops, almonds and wine grapes. Guess that’s not all bad. Nibble on the almonds, drink enough of the wine and we’ll not care that there’s no other food. [Your Majesty, the kids are right. You do have a tendency to ramble a bit. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's your royal prerogative.]

No worries, mate…

His Majesty quit worrying about the Noo Joisey [formerly Sonoma County] asphalt plant on the Noowerk [formerly Petaluma] River. The royal environmentalist pointed out this problem will take care of itself. The Supes will approve the asphalt plant on the banks of the river across from Shollenberger and Rocky parks [although Mr. Kerns might get a bit nervous about voting yes, what with an election coming up...but no worries, there's plenty of time for the voters to forget about it. So no need to email the Board of Supes and tell them to rethink it.]. The asphalt plant will be built and start hummin’ and pumpin’ out asphalt. They’ll hire a bunch of workers eliminating unemployment in Sonoma County. Course, the plant board of directors will be living in Texas or somewhere. The managers will be living in Marin. And the worker bees will be living in Windsor and commuting [sorry, Petaluma. Our asphalt makers won't be able to buy a house in Petaluma.]…in their SUVs…one to a vehicle. But they’ll all have nice new asphalt lanes through Santa Rosa to commute on. They might want to pull off and take a spin on the new asfaulted Rainier overpass and the Washington off ramp before headin’ south to the plant. Get a chance to see where all that asphalt is going. And the managers will have a newly asphalted and widened Novato Narrows [will we still be allowed to call it the Novato Narrows? You bet. Cause the traffic'll pick up and clog the new lanes just fine.] to make their morning commute on.

Bring it all home, your Majesty…

Anyway, we keep cranking out the asphalt and spreadin’ it around. Soon we’ve asphalted more square miles than you can shake a stick at [so far we've only asphalted the equivalent of the state of Wisconsin...let us know when we've asphalted the state of Texas.]. We drive the SUVs on that asphalt. We close what few factories we got left, stop growing food in the now drought plagued central valley and drill oil off the coast for boat and plane fuel to ship cheap shit from China and food from Mexico and South America. [Gotta cut down all the trees in Brazil to make room to grow the tomatoes and lettuce we're not gonna grow in Fresno no more.] We dig up the coal and burn it to make electricity to run the 12′ plasma screen TV to watch American Idol on while munching on almonds and drinkin’ wine

Oila…Problem solved…

Soon the Gore effect really warms the planet and melts the polar bears [or something, His Majesty gets lost in the details.] and when the ice in the Arctic and Antarctic [so named because it's an arctic land where ants live. Intern, google that and confirm it for us, will ya?]…when the ice and polar bears melt, the oceans rise and reflood the marsh lands in the Petaluma [now Noowerk} River valley and in the central valley. The asphalt plant and the Novato Narrows are now underwater, Shollenberger has quadrupled in size, the birds and wildlife are happy. The ecofreaks are happy. Jimmy Stewart runs down main street yellin' "it's a wonderful life". Problem solved. All because of the Noowerk Asphalt Plant, which the Supes will approve on February toid [that's February 3 in californiaese] sometime in the afternoon…unless they get scared off by a bunch of voters emailin’ ‘em and showing up at the meeting staring at them while they vote and contemplate some future election.

Oh, and our intern just happens to have those email addresses for you…