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... as Our beloved Commune is embodied by and in Ourselves, your Queen, We would be amused, perhaps, to imagine this America not as a noble she holding torch and tabula, but rather as a clench-jawed, muscular, recalcitrant he, with dirt on his hands, mud on his boots, and a mean glint in his eye, missing perhaps a couple of teeth from biting on coins, and probably most of his hair as well.

Or so it seems to Us.

Happy birthday, you magnificent, ugly, mean-spirited bastard!

Many happy returns of the day,
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