You hear that sound? A little subtle, eh? Well, it’s cotton on cotton. That’s me turning my pockets inside out and shrugging my shoulders. Bottom scraped, my friends.
What happened with Big Green‘s massive coin salvage program? Well, all of the jars and old sofas have given up their treasure, and the booty is already spent. That’s right – we pulled together about $47, all of which went to the electric company. (No, I don’t mean the children’s television program from the 1970’s… I mean the fuckers who keep the lights on.) Then there was that fiver that Marvin (my personal robot assistant) found lying around the forge room. I don’t want you to think we’re turning on each other in our hour of need, but I will admit that there was a minor tussle over that bill. Mostly it was Marvin (who was too clueless to let it go) and anti-Lincoln (who was determined to get an absinthe over at the local watering hole), but before long we were all involved, flailing away like drunks, growling like mad dogs over a stolen soup bone. A pitiable sight, to be sure.
Yes indeed. Anti-Lincoln got his absinthe, for all the good it did him. (He’s mad already, I tell you…. MAD.) Once we all regained feelings in our extremities, we tried to take collective stock of our position. Not a very promising one. Matt asked Mitch Macaphee if he could invent some money – that drew a snarky look, and we all went silent. Most of 
our ideas had gone flat. The portraits with Lincoln didn’t pan out. People refused to believe he actually was Lincoln. I think it was because we had one Lincoln on both ends of town. (We nuked our own credibility on that one, I’m afraid.) There was a suggestion – I think it may have come from me – that we put the man-sized tuber up for sale, but that didn’t fly either. (The bottom fell out of the tuber market months ago.) It seemed as though the only thing left was to start searching for honest remunerative employment. Odd jobs, perhaps. Like bending pretzels and raising alligators. (Apologies to Mad comics.)
Then it struck us. Why don’t we try that thing that Dr. Smith did on Lost In Space when the Robinson’s went away and left him in charge of the Jupiter 2? (Need help on that? Oh, all right…) We can rent the abandoned Cheney Hammer 
Mill out as a luxury resort hotel! Apart from the luxury, we have everything we need. I could print tickets. Matt could borrow some floral umbrellas from the local sporting goods store. John could stop by the lumber yard and pick up some groceries. We could rename the mill something like “Falcon’s Harbor” or “Happy Acres”, even though there’s no harbor and there are no acres. (It’s what’s called the “Pelican Cove” principle, after a planned community by that name that had neither pelicans nor a cove.) We could start selling reservations on the internets – just post a message on any old site and patrons will flock toward us like lemmings. It’s just that easy.
Or maybe not. But it beats working. Got better ideas? Send ’em here.
triumphalist rhetoric about some military action against a “worthy” opponent. But the U.S. Navy vs. some teenage pirates… that’s about as lopsided a contest as I can imagine. Sure, they needed to get that ship captain out alive. Perhaps there was no other way to resolve the standoff – I can’t say, really. But this is nothing to crow about, and certainly not some enormous success that strikes a blow against tyranny. These pirates are desperate young men driven to a bandit’s life by circumstances we can barely comprehend. The very life’s blood of international commerce flows right past their shores in the form of these enormous freighters and tankers, and they see this as a meager opportunity to scrape some wealth out of a global system that passes them by. Not surprising that they grasp this nettle, even at risk of life and limb.
control their coastal waters, they have been unable to compete with unregulated fishing vessels from elsewhere in the region as well as Europe. Groups of Somalis have attempted to interdict illegal fishing, and these efforts have been conflated with piracy. There has also been a history of illegal dumping of toxic materials in Somali waters – something 
Yes, yes, my friends – it’s just as it sounds. Broke again, fighting the mice for scraps of cheese. Matt just had a smack-down with a praying mantis that was making off with a fragment of stale halvah. (Did Matt prevail? Let us pray.) I’ve asked Big Green’s mad science advisor, Mitch Macaphee, to put his considerable skills to good effect and invent us some money (or maybe a pizza), but he can’t be bothered with such trifles…. not when he’s preoccupied with his unified field theory. (Not going so well, I perceive.) And now we’re rifling through drawers (not with real rifles, you understand), rummaging through garments, and shaking the hell out of every cup and jar in the joint looking for loose change with which to keep our lights on for another week. What? What do you mean you hocked the lights? You moron!
Marvin (my personal robot assistant) just how much of a problem lack of money can be for us humans. Marvin, of course, has no need of crass commodities such as food, water, heat, clothing, etc. I’m certain he thinks we’re just obsessive and addicted to our well-entrenched consumer behaviors. Of course, he’s partly true – our fondness for Zenite snuff has proven a little difficult to shake. (I blame 
know. But the bill still has some value, and the fact that we have not one but two Great Emancipators in our entourage means that both can be put into service attracting $5 bills. Actually, John had the best idea – set up booths on opposite sides of town offering patrons the opportunity to have their portrait taken with Honest (or Dishonest, depending on which one you get) Abe for… well, for $5. So in a way, it’s like trading one portrait of Lincoln for another, but hey… it’s the best idea we’ve got, okay? And aside from the occasional meltdown by Anti-Lincoln (who rails against the very notion of being put to work like a beast of burden), it might actually help us make back all that credit default swap cash Loathsome Prick Records lost on our behalf.