Dear Simone,
What the fuck are you talking about?

Now Homeless in Brentwood

Dear Homeless,
Don't you get it? Me and Gav are going to the statehouse.

"I found the neatly folded map of Lemuria. ... As I relaxed deeper into the yellowed blueprint, an odd thing occurred. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but soon I realized that hieroglyphic symbols were emerging through the paper. They seemed to reveal themselves like lost artifacts that formed a secret language appearing instantaneously, only for me. 'Come closer,' they whispered. 'Closer still.'"

Dear Simone,
Does Gavin Newsom buy this crap? Do flaky rich people really believe everything will be better if we all just fantasize about New Age fairy tales?


Dear Ex-Principal,
The state capitol. The governor's mansion.

It'll all be ours.

"I began to sense the presence of the invisible civilization, the lost dimension beneath the ocean where I might begin a very different kind of adventure: my apprenticeship with the goddess. I closed my eyes and felt the black lava rocks ... reaching out to me."

Dear Simone,
A New Age twit can't possibly become governor of California. Can he?

Appalled Legislative Aide

Dear Appalled,

Oh, yeah. Me and Gavin. In the governor's temple. In Sacramento.

"The sultry wind caresses my face. A misty, open gardenia is poised behind my ear. I am draped only in a piece of lavender silk. In the distance, a mother whale breaches, her baby at her side. Luscious. Ripe. The sun, the water, the volcanic red earth breath out of me from every pore. ... I am at the door to the ancient temple ... the sacred space where I will learn to celebrate the timeless art of compassion and joy, of ultimate softness. My trembling hands push the heavy door open. I sense destiny all around me."

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