Properly considered could Dynastic Family Governance be a branch of Home Economics? In asking a few distinquished friends, both male and female, they are agreed on only one point: that I for asking should be beaten half to death. So what else is new. I should butt out. Family Dumpster Governance. Here I rule in solitary splendor, with a rotting orange as my globe, a bag of garbage as my throne, and a ruined umbrella as my sceptre. A Lord of Misrule, long after Carnival is over. Next Mardi Gras, I will dress in a hula skirt and offer wise counsel to those masquerading as kings and queens. Maybe that will go over better, depending on how much we all drink. Which reminds me, can you spare a dime?