December 3rd, 2003

wear a mask, elhoffer

(no subject)

You are Joshua Abraham Norton, first and only Emperor of the United States of America!

Born in England sometime in the second decade of the nineteenth century, you carved a notable business career, in South Africa and later San Francisco, until an entry into the rice market wiped out your fortune in 1854. After this, you became quite different. The first sign of this came on September 17, 1859, when you expressed your dissatisfaction with the political situation in America by declaring yourself Norton I, Emperor of the USA. You remained as such, unchallenged, for twenty-one years.

Within a month you had decreed the dissolution of Congress. When this was largely ignored, you summoned all interested parties to discuss the matter in a music hall, and then summoned the army to quell the rebellious leaders in Washington. This did not work. Magnanimously, you decreed (eventually) that Congress could remain for the time being. However, you disbanded both major political parties in 1869, as well as instituting a fine of $25 for using the abominable nickname "Frisco" for your home city.

Your days consisted of parading around your domain - the San Francisco streets - in a uniform of royal blue with gold epaulettes. This was set off by a beaver hat and umbrella. You dispensed philosophy and inspected the state of sidewalks and the police with equal aplomb. You were a great ally of the maligned Chinese of the city, and once dispersed a riot by standing between the Chinese and their would-be assailants and reciting the Lord's Prayer quietly, head bowed.

Once arrested, you were swiftly pardoned by the Police Chief with all apologies, after which all policemen were ordered to salute you on the street. Your renown grew. Proprietors of respectable establishments fixed brass plaques to their walls proclaiming your patronage; musical and theatrical performances invariably reserved seats for you and your two dogs. (As an aside, you were a good friend of Mark Twain, who wrote an epitaph for one of your faithful hounds, Bummer.) The Census of 1870 listed your occupation as "Emperor".

The Board of Supervisors of San Francisco, upon noticing the slightly delapidated state of your attire, replaced it at their own expense. You responded graciously by granting a patent of nobility to each member. Your death, collapsing on the street on January 8, 1880, made front page news under the headline "Le Roi est Mort". Aside from what you had on your person, your possessions amounted to a single sovereign, a collection of walking sticks, an old sabre, your correspondence with Queen Victoria and 1,098,235 shares of stock in a worthless gold mine. Your funeral cortege was of 30,000 people and over two miles long.

The burial was marked by a total eclipse of the sun.

Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

sweetness and pirate party

Last night Aerith had dinner almost done when i got home from work..awww...We started watching PotC and making up first lists of people we want to invite to the wedding.

Reason I love Aerith, number 12,304: Sometimes he can be so sweet. Like this morning when I rolled over onto his chest and my leg ended up outside of the covers, reached over and pulled the covers over me, making sure I was warm, since I wasn't feeling well yesterday.

Oh, and he asked me to annouce this:
Pirate Party
(yeah, i know they've been happening a lot this year)
Why:To celebrate Pirates of the Carribean on DVD (and b/c it's really cold out, so we all wish we were in the Carribean...ok, I do. I know some crazy people like the cold *grin*)
Where: Our house (if you don't know where that is, ask)
When: Friday, Dec 12th, around 7ish...
What: Dress like a pirate, drink rum and grog, watch PotC and other pirate movies (probably some Erroyl Flin and stuff)
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