Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo was up at oh-dark-thirty this morning to see the younger gels off on a trip to New York City [Pace Picante-eating cowboys: “New York CITY? Get a rope!”], there to participate in the annual Montessori Model U.N. along with their upper-el classmates from St. Marie of the Blessed Educational Method.

Through some sinister agency or other, this year the gels’ class got absolutely terrible draft picks, being assigned the choice of representing the Cape Verde Islands, Guinea or the Kingdom of Lesotho.  Both the gels chose the last of these.   For her position papers, the middle gel is focusing on the land rights of indigenous  peoples and emergency aid in the Gaza Strip.  The youngest, in turn, chose to pursue disaster relief for the Japanese tsunami.

As regular friends of the decanter might surmise, I find the whole biznay to be somewhat preposterous on numerous levels.  However, I have managed to hold my tongue around the gels so as not to spoil their fun.  For example, I refrained from telling the middle gel the joke about the Texan and the Mexican who were sitting in a border bar.  The Texan asked the Mexican why his people were so bitter.  The Mexican said, “You stole half our land, senor.  Not only that, you stole the half with all the roads.”  I also did not ask if Gazan relief involved gun-running.   Finally, I did not ask the youngest what Lesotho could possibly come up with by way of tsunami relief, other than proposing that somebody else write a check.

But I was thinking it.

If they grow up to be lib one-worlder types, I will kick myself over my forbearance.