I shall sparkle!
The Mythical Queendom of Mine
With all the media foo-foo-rah about folks of every ilk declaring themselves independent of government’s nasty interference, protesting their individual rights and seeking personal sovereignty with the aid of jeeps, machine guns, stashes of ammo and thousands of acres of wilderness playground (set aside by the federal government), I figure it is time to stand up and be counted. I hereby join the sovereignty movement.
For years I have hankered to be a benevolent despot. Therefore, I declare myself Queen of the Queendom of the Sovereign State of Mine. I tossed around a variety of fanciful names for this country I rule, but like my granddaughter surveying her space, I decided “Mine” says it most succinctly. Though my country encompasses a mere two city lots, it is all Mine. My Queendom is small, until it is time to weed in which case it grows exponentially, but ruling it should be relatively simple.
I now have been Queen for approximately five minutes. Nobody has come to challenge my title, to knock me off my throne. Therefore I shall appoint a committee to arrange the ceremony for my coronation. This extravaganza shall include parades, fireworks, a state dinner, balloons, flowers in profusion, red carpets, speeches, accolades, a throne, ladies in waiting, ministers to do my will, visiting heads of state, trolls, magicians, gypsies and a fool. And cake. I shall be bedecked and beribboned in a matchless gown and robe, created by me to reflect my impeccable taste. I shall wear an exquisite crown crusted with the finest jewels. I shall sparkle.
My first order of business will be to write my declaration of independence, construct a constitution and adopt a bill of rights. I’ll appoint a committee of my ministers for each of these mundane governmental-sorts of jobs. Each committee will study similar documents from other sovereign nations (why re-invent the wheel?), pencil in proposed changes, argue over details, order take-out pizza and then table each item to be deliberated afresh at the next meeting.
I have been pondering the design of a flag to fly majestically over my Queendom. What do you think about a cottonwood tree (green leaves) covered with balloons (all bright colors) against a sky (blue with white puffy clouds) and with a ribbon beneath (red) bearing the words “Another Beautiful Day in Paradise ”? And I must have a national anthem, something that reflects my free spirit, perhaps “Fat Bottomed Girls (make the rockin’ world go ‘round)” by the musical group, Queen.
I will need a royal seal for my documents of state. Something large, embossed, official looking with incomprehensible words. I must have a collection of stamps for mailing letters and packages. My mail box out front will serve as the royal post office.
In my country there will be two times, daytime and nighttime, thus simplifying the royal clock, the design of which is evocative of the traditional yin and yang. I decree there will be one season—temperate. My court wizards will see to the details. National holidays will be comprised of my birthday, my children’s birthdays and your birthday. If anybody protests my decrees, let them eat cake.
I must not forget the royal license plate on my royal truck, personalized with my royal likeness, of course. Wait, wait! I had a thought! If I have license plates, does that mean there must be rules for the use thereof, such as “must be attached to the front or back bumper of vehicle”? If there are rules, rules must be enforced. I would need enforcers. And if there are police, it follows there must be judges and jails and punishments. Eww. In my Queendom, I don’t want punishments, I only want rewards. Table that. I’ll figure it out later.
Oh, the untold problems! If my Queendom must have all the above, then how do I pay for such a bureaucracy? Taxes! Ewww. Even more bureaucracy. If I institute taxes, then there will be an uprising followed by revolution. I’ll be beheaded. Skip taxes. We’ll work on that issue later too. Meanwhile, charge it.
Now that I have declared myself a sovereign nation, I must negotiate treaties with my neighbors, the City of Harlem , County of Blaine , State of Montana , the Province of Saskatchewan , et al. What if citizens of these entities, seeking to avoid prohibitive restrictions in their own countries, flee to my benevolent Queendom? I’ll be flooded with refugees. I’ll have displaced persons camps in my backyard. How will I feed them? How will I house them? Oh, the multiplicity of problems!
I’ve got it! I’ll apply for foreign aid!
HDN: Looking out my back door
June 23, 2011