I only took the job because it was one of those situations in which no one else wanted it. Actually, that isn't quite true. A lot of people present at the event wanted the job of El Presidente, but none of them wanted to appear to be making the selfish grab for power... or in some cases they wanted to see me fuck up the position, something which was virtually ensured from the start the way things were set up and the general tenor of the meeting of the Casa Ricardo ["Hello Lucy, I'm ho-ommmme, it'z Reeeeky"] Homeowner's Association, which was often punctuated by the ritual hurling of beer bottles at the outgoing Board Members.

Apparently, since I made the loudest noise about the proposed "special assessment of two grand (not having it I squawked very indignantly). I even pointed out all the work they claimed to need it for had been proposed for Calendar 1999, without any increase in fees or special assessments. The survivors of the Board circa '99 explained the President had resigned in response to the question: "Why is this work NOW going to cost $60,000 we don't have?"

Now this made no sense, but as I seized the reins of power I noted the past President (the one who had resigned but supposedly had not absconded with the money (What, was he going to do the repairs himself for free?)) was a socialist leaning leftward toward communism. Casa Ricardo, which is not your ideal setting for a utopian dream was, in my opinion, in need of firm, but fair, libertarian guidance.

Therefore, I hand picked a board of mindless zombies (with the exception of one woman who had previously served on with me when we were all Pod Board Members under the direction of one of LA's biggest slum lords who is now chained to the toilet in a crack house with a scheduled early release date in 2004), and was anointing Board Members with titles and silently planning to issue an edict canceling the special assessment (which I had negotiated down to $1200) when [imagine the "Someone's Getting Whacked" theme music from Godfather II] this frail voice spoke up: "Well I think I should stay on the Board."

I turned in horror. I wanted to scream, "NO! Back to the grave with you!" but was not sure she was dead. What I did know is we were in trouble, because as a former student of Political Science at one of America's leading institutions, not to mention as the claimant to the throne of the House of Nyguen, I knew that as soon as any pseudo democratic body becomes infected with one fascist, the whole thing turns into a Franco Revival Meeting. I knew we were doomed because not only was this woman a fascist, she was an old school, brown shirt fascist.

I know, I know... what possible harm could one old lady do? Let me tell you... there's a reason political murders are sometimes considered "good."

First, being old, she is obsessed with at least one thing, and her thing is that the elevator will break. It's one of those totally irrational fears that defies all logic, because, yeah, the elevator COULD break (with luck by a snapped cable with her in it). And yes, if it broke now, replacing it (and the car, an unnecessary cosmetic detail) and doing all these repairs scheduled by the communist regime many of which involve illegally spending common funds for improvements to privately owned property, would pretty much deplete the reserves so that if someone's illegal meth lab blew up, we couldn't do the repairs (short version on the illegality of the funding of repairs: I bring this up at first meeting and Mrs. Mussolini shoots me down with "That's already been decided!" I then realized the stupidity of appointing all lackeys to the Board... they're lackeys of whoever sounds the nastiest, and her being an old lady, obviously she can sound pretty darn nasty toward me and I can't politely return fire).

Second, being an old fascist, she has access to unlimited supplies of Nazi Gold. Therefore, I doubt she has to PAY a mortgage, but rather just the Association Dues and this assessment, and since she's a fascist, she's constantly on methamphetamine and eats nothing, talks constantly and obsesses late at night about the elevator and my plans to cut the cable, so she has SPARE cash on top of that.

This fact coupled with her methedrine delusions causes her to have no concept of either time or money. Thus the Board Meetings run on forever as she pulls out tiny newspaper clippings and makes long, Hitleresque speeches about how everyone... particularly the black couple in 110, or "that Jewish Girl" in 302, or the Lesbians in 308 -- as well as everyone else -- should all be forced, at Lugar point, to buy the exact same window shades, plants, and patio furniture, rambling off quotes for knick knacks she wants the Association to buy everyone to "promote uniformity."

Things will turn ugly in the next couple weeks as we have illegally contracted to have all patios and balconies covered with this shit she likes and some people, with the permission of the communists, laid down tiles on their balconies while others, pursuant to the Constitution of the Casa, actually maintained their balconies so they would not collapse in the slightest breeze (others, feigning no knowledge of English, kept asking for the Board to fix their balconies and the Board kept making fun of them behind their backs while refusing to their faces,

I am already getting crap, from the fascist's personal lackey, about my offer to allow people who did not want this shit spread on their balcony to opt out of the illegally pain for refurbishment. "We can't have that." At the same time some of the more independent owners are pointing out: "Hey, I can't come have a freaking party on your balcony, so I guess it's NOT a common area, so you ain't tearing up my $3000 tile job to spread your shit."

So I am loading the shot gun and pumping it once. My speech?

"There are owners here who value liberty and justice and who are big fans of Fred Mertz who have said we can only spread our shit when we pry the doors of their units from Al Gore's cold gray hands or something like that, so here -- five shots and a box of shells. Fire the first at short range at the door, if necessary reach in and open, pump and fire at anything moving and repeat. Meanwhile I'll order the choppers to lay down a little rocket cover for the jack hammer squadron as it moves in to tear up tiles and the shit spreaders will drop in from the roof catching these malcontents off guard.

Ve vill begin Project Unity at 0800 hours on 20 June... Viva Generalissimo Francisco Franco! Viva la revolucion! Viva la revolucion! Viva la revolucion!