His Majesty was in a happy mood this morning.
His Majesty was playing marbles with the cats this morning.
His Majesty didn’t come to breakfast the other day.
Christmas seems to bring out the child in all of us.
So perhaps it should not have surprised me to find His Majesty playing with Tinker toys this morning.
G. tells us his muse is a goober. Mine is a crusty old retired Sith Lord.
His Majesty was snorting at his newspaper when I brought him his pancake this morning.
Filed under: Deseret Review,We transcend your bourgeois categories | Tags: Breakfast at Palpatine's, Dear Palpatine, Palpatine for President, regulation
His Majesty has been somewhat sullen at breakfast lately. Part of it was the widespread perception in the media that Cthulu did better than His Majesty in the last debate. Part of it was the season of the year: I think His Majesty suffers from a touch of SAD (Sith Affective Disorder), which flares up around this time of year, but usually passes around early January. And I figured part of it was that the Imperial tummy has been unhappy. For several days, His Majesty could hardly choke down his meals, which left him feeling bloated and suffering with heartburn for hours afterwards. He convinced himself that it was gastroparesis, which he knows has been making life miserable for a young friend of mine.
As you probably know, Cthulu is posing a challenge to His Majesty’s hopes of breaking into the second tier of Republican presidential candidates. (Sweet Meteor of Death appears to be trailing badly and His Majesty no longer considers SMOD a serious threat to his candidacy and the biosphere.)
His Majesty has pledged to eat Cthulu for lunch.