Adventures of a Dancing Kumquat

Following the saga of the little citrus with terpsichorean tendencies

Saturday, September 04, 2004

Princess Kumquat

Those of you who have know the kumquat for several years might remember that she used to be known as "Princess Kumquat." In more recent years, she has decided to give up her crown. To be perfectly honest, she's not really sure what her royal origins were. She thinks that maybe she just adopted the title for it's cache. Sort of like all the people in the 1920s and 30s and so on who claimed to be descended from Russian royalty. Because, really, they would have had scads of servants and palaces and country homes, if it weren't for that nasty little revolution. And they could prove who their ancestors were if their birth certificates hadn't been lost in that terrible accident when Czarina O'Leary's cow kicked a lantern and started the great Chicagograd fire. Oh, wait...

In renouncing her claims to the throne, the kumquat seems to be going against much of society. The kumquat has noticed a rather nauseating proliferation of royalty lately. The claim to noble birth seems to lay solely in the possession of overpriced accessories that loudly proclaim one's lineage. In suburb of KumquatVille, there is a vestment in a store window which laments "It's Not Easy Being Queen." The kumquat doubts whether any monarch worth her cotton/lycra blend would denounce the responsibilities of governance so lightly, especially phrased in a way to make a less-than-witty reference to King Kermit.

In case, dear, sporadic readers, you had not guessed, the kumquat has some problems with this phenomenon if accessory monarchies.

For instance, the kumquat wishes to know where these countries are that choose their rulers so frivolously and what convinces them that the purchase of an article of clothing makes one fit to rule. She concedes that if these countries manufacture the garments in question that the purchase of them could have an impact on the local economy. The kumquat supposes that the granting of royal status could be a reward for boosting the struggling Trendy Industry of these tiny nations. This option would necessitate that each country produce only one shirt, since if a prospective royal has shelled out $49.95 plus tax, she certainly doesn't want to share her reign with an upstart who probably bought her shirt second-hand on eBay. With one shirt per country, that's an awful lot of countries. What happens if the monarch throws her shirt away? Or a friend borrows it? Will chaos and massive civil unrest ensue? The kumquat is afraid to contemplate the horrible consequences.

Another possibility would be that each shirt enables the purchaser to secede from her home country and form a sovereign nation. If this is the case, the title of monarch doesn't really amount to much, unless she is able to confer citizenship upon others. The kumquat supposes that there may be tax benefits to being a sovereign nation, but she thinks that the paperwork and lawyer fees that would be necessary to establish sovereignty would make that option rather unattractive.

The kumquat is rather at a loss to figure out what kind of people live in a nation that would choose it's ruler based on the purchase of a shirt or purse? Those poor fifth and eleventh graders! They'd have to learn one more form of government: the Accessorizational Monarchy. Although, considering most of the people who hold public office, the kumquat realizes that this method could probably be no worse than some that are already in effect.

Considering all this makes the kumquat want to create a line of rebuttal accessories. Things that are emblazoned with phrases like: "Mayor of a Little Hick Town" or "Sheriff Terrorized by the Ornery Townspeople" or "Ineffectual Puppet of a Corrupt Regime."

Of course there is one that the kumquat really wants:
"It's Just Dandy Being an Enlightened Despot"