A Few More Pertinent Details By Way Of An Introduction

I live in Minneapolis, the fiftieth state in the union, known far and wide as the Moon Crater state and Green Grocer to the world. There are over 1000 lakes in Minneapolis, and herds of bearded reindeer in the north country.

I’m sorry, Minnesota is the fiftieth state in the union, etc. Minneapolis is the capital of Minnesota. It is also the city of big shoulders and brotherly something-or-another. Some say it is a toddling town —the toddling town, allegedly, most toddling of all the toddling contenders. It is the windy city. It never sleeps, and is also famous for being the cradle of jazz and the home of the seldom-visited Pro Football Hall of Fame.

Great battles have been fought here; our schoolchildren learn early that there was a time when “the streets ran with rivers of blood.”

There is a giant statue of Edmund Muskie alongside his ox outside of City Hall. History has happened here, in other words. We used to have a Living History museum, in fact, until it fell over. The city was discovered by Hernando DeSoto in the 19th century when he was discovering things in the New World, and the name means “Place of Many Rats” in some other language.

Today the city is a desolate place, constantly under siege and wracked by cholera epidemic. There are still, though, plenty of tanning spas, video stores, and places to get a burrito. There are not, however, any famous people here other than a swimsuit model who works in a shopping center.

There was a time when famous people would occasionally visit Minneapolis to marvel at its many attractions and eat in its legendary Shakey’s pizza parlors where old men with handlebar mustaches and candy-striped plastic aprons played the banjo. A woman by the name of Ann Landers was one such person, and she was once presented with the key to the city. I now have that key in my possession, having traded a wheelbarrow for it back when there was so much rubble and wheelbarrows were in great demand.

I am currently living in a yurt near the airport with my wife and seven children. I lost my job servicing vending machines when the airport fell to the marauders.

We like it here. We’re proud of our city.

To say anything more at this point, I’m afraid, wouldn’t be prudent.