First off, my hearty congratulations for the commune’s many recent successes. Sharp new look with the purple redesign—the new “Meet the Staff” page is excellent! And huge fans like us couldn’t be happier with the return to a weekly schedule. Also, we’re glad editor Red Bagel finally decided to come out of his bunker—with him on the job, Bush is much less likely to destroy the world. We’re sure of it. As for Raoul Dunkin leaving… we’re not quite sure how to respond to that. If he comes back, we hope he enjoys the respite from long days of office work. If he doesn’t come back, fuck the dickwad.

All of you “reservists” who haven’t made their way to a Shanesly, Vermont meeting of the cEC yet, you’ll be happily surprised to hear we now have a membership of six, including myself and Sandy, who refuses to allow herself to be counted, but since she doesn’t read the commune, it’ll be our secret I am counting her. But you read right—six! We’ve tripled our old membership. Since our famous New York City anti-Bush protest/get-together, some of those who stumbled onto our little group decided to stay. Our cEC, Shanesly, Vermont chapter (the only chapter we know of to exist, actually) now included Raymond Highsmith, Vera Mortimer, Lucas Lemon Cain, and Homeless Gary, who doesn’t remember his last name. He sleeps in the clubhouse. But six members—I can imagine all of you out there in readerdom are as impressed as I am. Pretty soon we’ll have too many members to even list here! But not for a while yet, if that convinces any of you to join up with us.

Our next meeting is February 12, a couple days before Valentine’s Day, a day I know I won’t be doing anything for. My latest girlfriend, Emily, decided we should take some time apart when she moved to Seattle without telling me. Not that it’s necessarily commune Enthusiasts Club business, but as a leader I have nothing to hide from my flock, so I’ll come out with it all. She was a bit controlling, but we got along pretty well. She really liked me, despite the fact I haven’t had a job in a long time (she said as much), but she couldn’t deal with sharing me with the commune Enthusiasts Club. Or, as she called it, “you sitting in a tree house by yourself for hours with no hope of ever amounting to anything.” Which is quite unfair—I told her the treehouse was a temporary solution since we lack a more enduring meeting place. We’ll pull it together—not that she wanted to hear any of it. Another woman uprooting and leaving town rather than committing to a serious relationship with me.

Homeless Gary promises to “dress up” the meeting house a little before the next get-together, but so far has yet to do so. His living in the treehouse is causing a bit of conflict between my parents and I, in all honesty, but I feel it just wouldn’t be right to turn out a fellow cEC member into the cold during his time of need. Besides, as I told my dad, Homeless Gary never comes into the house except for those occasions I invite him to read the latest edition of the commune—which he also promises he’ll get around to doing soon enough. So I don’t understand why my dad’s so upset, Homeless Gary doesn’t even come into the house to use the bathroom—but my dad’s not happy about that either, so don’t mention it to him. Another sore point.

I’m quite thrilled to have a flock to lead, at last. Sandy and I, though she doesn’t know it yet, are going to begin planning the float for the local Easter parade, a float honoring the commune, even though it’s well in advance of the time we need. Better prepared than caught with our pants down. Which reminds me—I will have to talk to Homeless Gary about dress etiquette before the Feb. 12 meeting. See you there!