He snorts happily over this thought. Ah, Bree!

"They are getting alloyed!" she says urgently.

He folds his hands around her head like holding a squash or some enormous fruit, her hair alive and too red underneath and through his fingers. And her brain, too busy there, under his palms. Her entire universe in his hands.

His breath is coffee, hers cigarettes.

Her eyes focus closer together. "I love your nice big Frenchie nose," she says.

"I'm glad," he says.

spiralFrom the editorial section of the Record Sun's fat Sunday paper.
A lengthy article that arrived only four days ago on the editor's desk in stunning calligraphy, signed by several persons, many with the last name of St. Onge. The article starts off with:

Some of you may have the idea you are in danger. Let us be more specific. Some of you can clearly imagine that, in the not-too-far-off future, "they" will come and put you and your family out of your home. All you have grown up and worked for is threatened by some large conspiring force.

The article goes on with many skin-chilling details; then, in bold print:


We are members of the True Maine Militia, not to be confused with the plain Maine Militia, or the Border Mountain Militia, or the Southern Maine Militia, or the White Mountain Militia. But with those militias, we do have a bit in common.

Like them, we are not ostriches.

We are angry.

And we know the government sucks.

It is not a government of We, the People, but one of Organized Money, of Big Faceless Financiers ruling through their shrewd tool, the corporation. And money laundering and fraud and other creepy stuff. And the Fed! It is instrumental in making the dollar worthless. It is a centralized debt-based banking system.

Welcome! We welcome EVERYBODY! We are not a right-wing militia. We are not left-wing either. We are NO WING. We are everybody's militia!

Now there is a cartoon of The Abominable Hairy Patriot, lovable but stern-looking Bigfoot with hands on hips standing on a mountaintop. He wears a tricorne hat, camo spot vest, and army boots. (Usually he is barefoot, to show his big hairy feet. And usually he does not wear clothes.) Behind him waves the American flag. (Remember, this is BEFORE September 11, 2001, so the flag isn't tacky yet.)

The article finishes with:

The True Maine Militia already has a lot of members, but not enough. Our goal is a million for starters. Because we are planning the Million-Man-Woman-Kid-Dog March on Augusta, for starters, and we will all be armed. With brooms. We will arrive at the doors, all the State House doors, and begin to very very gently sweep the great floors of this, which is our house . . . yes, the People's House. We will sweep out every corporate lobbyist. Corporations out! We, the People, in!

And if this doesn't work, we'll be back next time with plungers.

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