From the Central Clown Distribution Warehouse

Emmanuel Toppercop, Essential Clown Wrangler 

March, 2525

PERSONAL MESSAGE TO THE PEONS

Howdy, unter-losers. I'm the Pepsodent of the United Stales. Me, formerly a failed professional bowler from the quaint little Oklahoma hamlet of Packed Mackerel. Who'd have thunk it? Still, I take the responsibility for the safety and welfare of the American people VERY seriously when I'm awake. And so I am taking the opportunity today to speak directly to you, the common garden variety of American loser (Unitedstatus poorus monkius), backbone of our once-great notion. Wait a sec: Hey, Pancho! Bring me a Heineken, my throat's getting parched as a rabbit's tail in a Tokyo fire-bombing. He's a good Mexican.

Well, I promised you when I was campaigning for this grotesquely large house that I would never lie to you. And you believed me. Such innocence is really touching. Well, there's one born every minute. Still, who's to say I won't accidentally do something worthwhile? It happens. That is why I am appointing Mincy Anile Noysehound, of the District of Colonia, to be the Commander in Charge of the Discovering-Value-Before-It-Surfaces-and-Smothering-It Department. That should help. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen which might alienate someone with real money! Think about it. Or better yet, don't. Thinking ain't your bailiwick now,  is it? That's what experts get paid for.

For the remainder of my twenty-year term I have several key proposals to ram down the people's throats, and I want YOUR help. Believe me it ain't voluntary. First, I'd like to get a set of really expensive suits. Uber Chick tells me I look good in an expensive suit, and she hasn't lied to me since that incident with the Poppy Garden keeper, Urt. Boy, that guy was pretty! Also a nice pair of Cadillacs would be appreciated, and so I am extracting funds from the Who-Really-Needs-Old-People Fund and purchasing two of those beauties for myself and Uber Chick, Hell, I might buy two more for the twins, Versailles and Toughnut. I'll send everyone a picture of us driving them when the deal is made final. Finally I want to invade Portugal. Just cuz... I think that's where they invented the porch? Right? Well - porches is nice. I like to sit on a big porch and get irritated with the dog. Where's Bingo?

It's been a real difficult year for us and the kids. Vice Grip Chainmail's leprosy continues to disgust both us and the staff, what with a toe here and an ear there. You never know where you're going come across a small part or two! And you wonder why we keep him hid. Yesterday I caught him trying to break off a finger into Uber Chick's Bloody Mary. That's just not cricket, as my British buddy, Tory Flair would say if I let him say much of anything. If Drekk  hadn't once been CEO of the Bilious Oil Corporation, I'd dump his decaying ass in "the Quiet Hole." You could end up there too, if you don't keep pledging every month. But I'm not expecting trouble now that we've finally got a cop in every house. Feel safer? I know I do/

Nobody likes a smart-ass. Remember that. So whoever's been mailing me a bag of that Vietnamese civet shit  coffee every month had just better knock it off!. Although I must admit a hot mug of pre-digested coffee CAN be tasty on a cold December evening.

Good night all! Keep paying.

Pepsodent Basho Recluse Threepin

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