The inaugural FoldCon was a smashing success.

The inaugural FoldCon was a smashing success. Fellow folders met, mingled, chatted, and had a grand old time. But when Santa Claus showed up with Mickey Mouse ears and scotchbreath

claiming he'd seen a cowboy outside with his brain smashed in by a TV. He was bewildered by the cheers and general

hospital reruns that were on the TV that had smashed the cowboy's head in. It was the cheers reruns before Kirsty Alley came on but after "coach." It was not

anything worth watching of course, and I still lamented the fact Soap had been cancelled before its time. Huddling up by the fire, I was the first one to painfully singe my

flowing beard. We made a tv out of a cardboard box and used shadow puppets to play all of our favorites. I could recite "Rhoda" from memory. On Saturday mornings, "Superfriends."

But then that greedy asshole Derek, who owned the cardboard box, refused to pay us billions of dollars. We stopped doing shadow puppet shows on his box as a result. DerekTV never

really caught on. But DirigibleTV really took off. We chartered an airship & flew over the western Sahara projecting the program directly onto the Blimps surface. A caravan of

eastern European Lucy impersonators followed us wherever we went, believing the great light in the sky to be the second coming of Lucille Ball, as predicted in their holy book, the

back of the nutritional-facts label on a bottle of Vitameatavegimin. The Lucy impersonators then set out on a great pilgrimage, chanting in a zealous fervor: "Lucy, I'm home!"

The event planner made a huge error, however, when she booked the National Organization for Women convention at the same time the Lucy pilgrimage arrived. Damn, it ended ugly.