Greetings from sunny South Florida, the new (perhaps temporary) home of the Fictionarium! While our day has been engaged in the pursuit of several immediate short term goals (going to the beach, buying groceries, purchasing a Vespa), I couldn’t help but notice a smidge of a dark cloud on the otherwise placid horizon – one that, for now, doesn’t even involve a hurricane.
According to the Palm Beach Daily News, our little island home may or may not be seceding from West Palm Beach! How exciting! In anticipation of any major skirmishes between the blue coats (them) and gray coats (us – but does Brooks Brothers even make gray coats?), I shall sacrifice my afternoon doses of Coppertone in order to re-work major portions of the Gettysburg Address – Worth Avenue Address? Palm Beach Country Club Address? – even though the phrase “four score and seven years ago” mostly pertains to the birth dates of our island’s citizenry.
And while we may want to channel our inner Mary Chesnuts as we anxiously await the first reports of gunfire to issue over the Breakers, we wouldn’t hold our breaths for a First or Second Battle of Royal Palm Way:
“The bottom line […] is that secession is not a realistic option.”
Phooey! And here we were, toiling away on our “Battle Hymn of the Island Town Council.”
In any event, we now present a shameless plug for an earlier piece on the Palm Beach Mayoral Elections. Look away, look away, look away, Manalapan!