“Look, Mommy.  There’s an airplane up in the sky!”

“No, darling.  That’s a sugar glider jumping to get some fruit.”

“Oh.  You mean that’s not Daddy flying in an ace squadron to shoot down the Enemy?”

“No, son.”

“So where’s Daddy?”

“He…well, he’s not coming back.  You see, he’s on tour with the Hoppin’ Daddios.”

Thus, Little Joe learned that life wasn’t always about memorising silhouettes of enemy aircraft or going to bed early to save energy and be home before the mandatory curfew and blackout hours.

Poor Little Joe.

For several years, Little Joe tracked the progress of the Hoppin’ Daddios as they traveled around the world, garnering both positive and negative press, changing the name of the swing band/dance group as members came and went.

Hoppin’ Daddios to the Ain’t Keepin’ Promises to the Head Bopperooskis to the Timekeepin’ Changemasters to the…

One day, the news stopped.

Little Joe called the last venue where his father and the Timekeepin’ Changemasters had performed two weeks before.

“Sal Wong Kim.  May I help you?”

“Sal, my name’s Little Joe…”

“Little Joe?  As in…”

“No!  Not that Little Joe.  I’m Big Joe’s son.”

“Big Joe.  Sorry to hear that, son.”

“Sorry?”

“Yeah.  Big Joe, he was one of the best.  He could hustle and dance and swing and sing…in fact, I don’t think there wasn’t a performer like him in the last twenty years.”

“Do you mean to say he’s…”

“Dead?”

“Yes.”

“Naw, Little Joe.  Just his career.  His hips.  They just gave out after all these years.  It’s the young kids now who’ve taken over the group and turned into something Big Joe always wanted if he only had a son.  But, hey, you ARE his son, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Kim.  I am.”

“You know, your father’s laid up in the local hospital.  Why you not go visit him?”

“Well, I don’t know.  I’ve got this sugar glider farm, and…”

“Sugar glider?”

“Yeah.  They’re these little animals that I learned to love when I was a little kid.”

“Sugar gliders?  Did you know your father is looking to add sugar gliders to his act?”

“No way.”

“Well, they might eat whey.  I don’t know.  But if you could get over here…”

“All the way to Singapore?”

“Look, Little Joe.  You’ve only got one father.  If your father isn’t worth all the whey in Singapore, then you aren’t Big Joe’s son.”

“Hmm…that gives me an idea.  Whey, you say?”

“Yes.  Way.”

“Awesome.  Tell Big Joe his son’s on his way, with whey, and a boatload of sugar gliders!”

In next week’s episode, we’ll watch as Little Joe encounters the convoluted paperwork required to manage a successful international import/export business while attempting to help his father start a new song-and-dance routine called Ranch Dressing the Big Bonanza, starring a circus of flying sugar gliders and a fresh perspective on international regulations.

= = =

A list of thanks: Alan at Beauregard’s; Sara at Zaxby’s; Target employees; Ashley at Rave; Rainy, Gift and Chris at Thai Garden; Campbell’s soup; Jason and Danielle (South Side swing dance instructors at Alabama Youth Ballet), and Emily (a fellow student).

A reader asked if the great showdown ahead is Sarah Palin vs. Hillary Clinton  (who has the biggest financial support?) or Sarah and Hillary vs. the world (combining their financial resources to control global business).  From a U.S. perspective, it’s an interesting question.  From a worldwide perspective, the matter is not so much more complicated as it is less celebrity-centered puppets-and-strings showcasing.

But give the audience what it wants, n’est pas?  We don’t want riotous laughter on our scarlet lettered fingers, do we?

I promised not to pull back the final curtain to reveal the emperour’s new clothes of this season.  Yet, as bored as I am, it might be more entertaining for me, if not for the players cowering in the green room…

Take the ice off the continents, float a few tectonic plates, shake and rattle the pieces, let loose a few solar flares, and then…???

Captain, get my spaceship ready.  It’s time to set up our new base of operation.  This planet of funny money is about to implode and I’ve got a new bank to run that doesn’t depend on IP addresses or other insecure methods of communicating with depositors.

Such silly humans.  When will they learn what’s really going on?