Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.
You are Joshua Abraham Norton, first and only Emperor of the United States of America!
Born in England sometime in the second decade of the nineteenth century, you carved a notable business career, in South Africa and later San Francisco, until an entry into the rice market wiped out your fortune in 1854. After this, you became quite different. The first sign of this came on September 17, 1859, when you expressed your dissatisfaction with the political situation in America by declaring yourself Norton I, Emperor of the USA. You remained as such, unchallenged, for twenty-one years.
Within a month you had decreed the dissolution of Congress. When this was largely ignored, you summoned all interested parties to discuss the matter in a music hall, and then summoned the army to quell the rebellious leaders in Washington. This did not work. Magnanimously, you decreed (eventually) that Congress could remain for the time being. However, you disbanded both major political parties in 1869, as well as instituting a fine of $25 for using the abominable nickname "Frisco" for your home city.
Your days consisted of parading around your domain - the San Francisco streets - in a uniform of royal blue with gold epaulettes. This was set off by a beaver hat and umbrella. You dispensed philosophy and inspected the state of sidewalks and the police with equal aplomb. You were a great ally of the maligned Chinese of the city, and once dispersed a riot by standing between the Chinese and their would-be assailants and reciting the Lord's Prayer quietly, head bowed.
Once arrested, you were swiftly pardoned by the Police Chief with all apologies, after which all policemen were ordered to salute you on the street. Your renown grew. Proprietors of respectable establishments fixed brass plaques to their walls proclaiming your patronage; musical and theatrical performances invariably reserved seats for you and your two dogs. (As an aside, you were a good friend of Mark Twain, who wrote an epitaph for one of your faithful hounds, Bummer.) The Census of 1870 listed your occupation as "Emperor".
The Board of Supervisors of San Francisco, upon noticing the slightly delapidated state of your attire, replaced it at their own expense. You responded graciously by granting a patent of nobility to each member. Your death, collapsing on the street on January 8, 1880, made front page news under the headline "Le Roi est Mort". Aside from what you had on your person, your possessions amounted to a single sovereign, a collection of walking sticks, an old sabre, your correspondence with Queen Victoria and 1,098,235 shares of stock in a worthless gold mine. Your funeral cortege was of 30,000 people and over two miles long.
The burial was marked by a total eclipse of the sun.
In other news, I had weird dreams again last night. In my first dream, I was Superman. And Lois Lane at some point. There was this big ball and Superman couldn't come and I was Lois Lane and all sad. They had superhero proofed the room or something. Even Batman couldn't come in. And then I was Superman because I was flying and writing Lois' name in the sky. It was weird.
Then I had an SG-1 dream. Okay, I have nooo idea really what happened. It was supposed to take place in S10. I wasn't any of the characters this time and just a godlike observer. It started off someplace in some house. Daniel was there recuperating from something and hanging out doing a historical project with some other people. Jack came to visit. They hung out. Exciting huh? But Jack had come to check in on Daniel to make sure he was okay. Then there was a flashback.
It was the SGC and Jack was visiting base. He was with Daniel in Daniel's office, but there was a Goa'uld there and his name was either Querus or Quercus. (I didn't even know what that was until I looked it up online this morning.) This Goa'uld was playing mind games and such, so neither really knew if what they were experiencing was real.
And Harry was there. (WTF??)
Well, Daniel and Jack were grilling Quercus and he got mad and flung them back. Harry landed on something that impaled him. Daniel and Jack were trying to save him because he was still alive, while making sure Quercus didn't try something else. Quercus offered to heal Harry. I guess he was bipolar or something. Finally, Jack and Daniel relented and Quercus healed Harry.
End of flashback. We go back to Jack and Daniel at that house and Daniel's putting on sneakers. They are both wearing sweats. Jack claps him on the back all supportive and such and they go for a run. I wake up.
Kay, so I don't get it. Where was everyone else? What the heck was going on? Only my stubborn brain seems to know. But that's fine. I had warm fuzzies when I woke up, at least.