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HAZMAT UNIT CALLED TO SHOW LOW HOME

Responding to calls from several concerned neighbors, Show Low's elite Hazmat unit, donning vapor-tight suits and self-contained breathing apparati, rushed to the city's famous landmark known as the Monasterio de Santo Holiday this afternoon. After closing fashionable 8th Avenue at both ends and cordoning off the property, the highly-trained agents broke down the door of the residence to gain entry, expecting the worst. However, to their surprise, instead of a rotting body in a pool of noxious putrefaction, they found Show Low's notorious and reclusive extrovert, St. Holiday himself, sitting alone at the kitchen table and weeping into his bowl of pungent beans. He appeared to observers to be physically unfazed by the nauseous fumes emanating from his home, though he was emotionally distraught over the loss of his beloved wife, who abandoned him recently to seek respite and refuge in California. Out of respect for the couple's privacy, details of this latest separation will not appear in this publication until tomorrow's edition. As a precaution, officers shut off all pilot lights at the residence and opened the windows to ventilate the rooms. When the air has cleared, and neighbors can return to their homes, a crisis intervention team will attempt to counsel with the sorrowing holy man. As an added measure, Meals-on-Wheels has been asked to provide him with some less-combustible food.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOSHIYAHU!

My Bicentennial son, Josiah Nathan Van Sciver the magnificent, born on this day in 1976, is best approached with reverential awe. I capitulate to the inevitability of his reign. He has the advantage of certain genetic enhancements, which have made him a true Person of Quality, giving rise to a cult of almost religious hero-worship among intellectuals, workers and students. If he were a video-game, he'd be the most downloaded in history. He is not. However, he is a triple-nominee for the You Go Award. He owes most of his personal growth to his angel mother and to the principle of motion. He is a child survivor of ghastly, inhumane conditions, and has been rescued from the very brink of the abyss by his wonderful wife, Sarah, the princess. Now he is thirty-three, which is, appropriately, the product of two prime numbers. His rare mind bubbles with truth. He is a wizard with computers. When asked why he has devoted his life to this technology, he responds, "It beats poaching elephants." His insightful sense of humor is seldom restrained. I am his father; there is no one else to blame. Finally, it should be recorded that Josiah would look a lot like the Mona Lisa , if he were a woman, a little younger, if he had a face like hers, and if he had a smile like hers. Happy birthday, son! Carry on the revolutionary struggle, and be sure to enforce the code of tribal honor at home. I love you.