The Flutter: Issue 13 

Your Official SFMPB Newsletter

Dear me, what with all this constant fuss from our right-wing idiot, government-shutting-down friends, I'm afraid I have let our beloved Society languish most dreadfully. It's been months since we issued the last Flutter, and we haven't held a Society potluck since before last year's election. (And I remind you, that last potluck wasn't exactly an evening to remember. I suppose that's what I get for suggesting a Mitt Romney-themed meal. No beer, no wine, no coffee and the desserts were all taken from Ann Romney's cookbook, 36 Scrum-dilly-icious Delights You Can Make With Nothing but Rice Krispies and Nutella.)

It's not that the Society is fading away, oh no. I assure you, my faithfuls, there will always be a Society For Making People Better. Even were I, your Rajah, to go absent from my post... were I to be kidnapped by Red Sea pirates, for instance, or should I take an unexpected blow to the noggin and wander the streets with amnesia for months to come, unable to speak even my name... or were I to be called to some clandestine duty by my president and find myself living undercover in some savage craphole like Kandahar Province or Texas... or were I to be swept into a temporal wormhole and end up falling in love with my own Irish great-great-grandmother just as the Great Potato Famine has taken hold in County Sligo... there will always be someone out there, fighting the good fight. Sacrificing him or herself like Mother Teresa or George Clooney to convince other human beings to give up their evil, venal, self-absorbed, corrupt, sneaky, greasy, verminous, lying, deviant, flatulent, black-hearted Tea Party ways and become better people!

Seriously, I'm not saying any of that will happen to your Rajah. I'm just saying that if it does, the struggle will go on. It must! Think about it! How long can we last--as a nation, as a people, as a species even--with people like Sen. Ted Cruz around, behaving like... like... well, like Ted Cruz? Were an alien ship to land in my backyard, manned by intergalactic explorers on their first trip here, I wouldn't even know how to describe him to them. He's so... so... gggggguuuuuu...

Ah, but excuse me. I believe I could use a little nap.

Goodness! It appears I've slept the day away. I've been sleeping quite a bit of late. Probably too much. I rise at my normal time and do what I have always done, which is microwave myself a mug and turn on Matt Lauer. But anymore, all too often, good ol' Matt is interviewing some... some... oh, how to say this delicately?... some frothing asshole from the frothing asshole wing of the Republican Party, and all I want to do is climb back into bed.

I suppose I could watch something less aggravating. Wake Up with Al, perhaps, or Andy Griffith Show reruns. If worse comes to worst, I could even leave the TV off.

But as a citizen of these United States and a semi-responsible adult, I feel rather obliged to, you know, keep up. Even if keeping up is as depressing as coming home to an empty house and a note from your wife explaining that she has run off with your last remaining friend, whom you told just the day before you thought of as a brother, and now you realize that all this time, he was a frothing asshole who cares about nothing but his own self-promotion!

I mean, none of that happened. Not to your Rajah, anyway. But that's how depressing it is to think there are people like that out there in our nation's capital, grinding our country down to a nub, stripping all decency and dignity from what it means to be a leader of Americans, and that one of them actually thinks he has a chance at being our president. President! Think about that! President Cruz! Ggguuuuuuuu...

No. No. Don't think about that. Do not think about that. My friends, let us turn our attentions back to the Society. The good old Society For Making People Better. I don't know about you, but I always find it comforting, thinking about the possibilities of having better people around. So whenever I feel particularly despondent--you know, so damnedably depressed I can't even get to sleep--I retreat into my Rajah office, put on my turban, lean back against the tank with my feet up on the bathtub, suck on my hookah and reflect upon the good people of Earth. You know, the people who are so unlike that frothing asshole Ted Cruz that you have to wonder if there aren't really two species of Homo sapiens.

They look alike, talk alike, dress alike and produce offspring alike, only one of them is descended from cute little monkeys that can be trained to ride itsy-bitsy bicycles and often show kindness and compassion to their fellow monkeys, while the other is descended from some sort of lizard that cannibalizes its own young, has poisonous saliva and pisses acid. Listen, I'm not saying that's how it really is, but you have to wonder, eh?

Before I leave you, I want to draw attention to The Flutter's new motto. As you can see, it is now "Your Official SFMPB Newsletter." I felt I needed to add the qualifier "Official" because word has reached me that there are un-official SFMPB newsletters being circulated. I don't know who's doing it, or why, but your Rajah definitely intends to get to the bottom of this.

And you will be happy to hear I have set the date for our next Society potluck. (Check our secret website for the exact time and place.) The theme for the evening will be "Obamacare, Yum!!!"

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