Dick Palmer: King Herbie's been squeezed into Pandora's box

The silly season has once again rendered sheer logic obsolete, and you and I, the peasants and obvious victims of this travesty of impugned impurity, are in for a wild ride prior to the November elections and beyond.

The silly season has once again rendered sheer logic obsolete, and you and I, the peasants and obvious victims of this travesty of impugned impurity, are in for a wild ride prior to the November elections and beyond.

Here in the Kingdom called Duluth, on the shores of the majestic and mighty Gitchee Gummee, King Herbert of Bergson sits cautiously on his royal throne in the Crown Room that once had an open door, but is now locked firmly for fear of attack by flaming arrows and broken lances.

If you recall, in times past, the then-magnificent King John of Fedo ripped the door off the Crown Room in the Castle of Duluth so that the peasants, fair or foul, but generally loyal, need not knock nor bow to visit with royalty.

King John of Fedo, it has been said and recorded, had panache (a dash of flamboyance in style and action). He could easily sell snowballs to Eskimos and his escapades brought delight to many and drought to others, namely the peasants who must now share the costs of keeping all the king's men and women healthy and comfortable as our aging kingdom faces a health care crisis.

It is sickening for the lack of a better choice of words.


History will record that the moat around our beloved kingdom was neither large enough nor deep enough to restrain the influence of neighboring upscale realms of record, each with special interests now in bitter combats of their own.

While our current tumult, strain and rage, within the kingdom called Duluth, is far from over, kings and queens, knights, barristers and purveyors of platitudes from other realms are offering more fiction than fact in an attempt to seek to influence and dominate our beloved kingdom.

The serious issues facing the peasants are being carefully filtered and spoon-fed to the scribes of record, some with quills and others wired for sound to gleefully record. It is a time of stress and, without the advent of Alka-Seltzer, a headache of major proportions has dominated the shores and surrounding hills and valleys in the kingdom called Duluth.

While we must wait for yet another year to select a king and some new noble leadership in the king's Knights of the Round, there are other leaders and prospective leaders with diverse interests, from far and near, who have embarked on a mission of hate, pique and poisonous arrows. It is, indeed, a time of sorrow, pain and strain.

The talk and double talk rendered by the anonymous Petes and Repeats suggest all is not well in other domains outside as well as within the walls of the kingdom called Duluth. It is called the Silly Season for all to see and few to understand.

'Tis tough to be a scribe of record in times like these. Sorting out the chaff from the wheat is a bitter pill to swallow and even tougher to digest.

King Herbert of Bergson, indeed, has much on his dented and stained tin plate these days. One such upscale kingdom, the overpowering County of St. Louis, recorded as the largest in area in the vast reaches of the High Kingdom called the United States of America, has decided to dig deeper into the pockets of the peasants of Duluth and elsewhere as their gold nuggets and taconite pellets appear to have been tarnished beyond reason and continue to shrink.

Sir Dana of Frey, the popular monarch of the county of St. Louis, reluctantly has thrown up his hands in despair, claiming increasing alfalfa and wheat costs to feed his horses as a serious mouthful to swallow. Although he too has panache, he appears to be stunned.


Not to mention, and it has been recorded, the affable and amiable High Priest Keith of Dixon, a scholar of Record, without Reproach or Remorse (the meaning of the three "R's"?), is asking for more chalk and fewer erasers to balance his educational plan for enlightenment and future prosperity.

The clouds of despair, doubt and desperation have encroached on the mighty kingdom of Duluth for all to see and few to escape.

Our beloved King Herbert of Bergson is not without enemies and has already announced he will abdicate the throne following the sighting of a few full moons down the trail apiece. He has watched, with dismay, as his mighty kingdom continues a downhill slide into the murky waters of the great Gitchee Gummee.

Although of good intention, he sees a continuing exodus by too many servants of substance, character and pizzazz because there is not enough bread in the oven to feed families, friends and followers who have ambition and purpose.

The tax collector and those who run the free bread lines have taken over, and the peasants are the victims. Indeed, King Herbie has been squeezed into a Pandora's box. Long live King Herbert of Bergson.

On the lighter side

Ole: Who vas that lady I saw you vid last night?

Knute: Dat vas no lady ... dat vas my brudder-in-law ... and da family is sick about it.


Dick Palmer is the former editor and publisher of the Budgeteer News. He may be reached by telephone at 729-6470 or by e-mail at .

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