King Gene

I, in my great unmatched wisdom, declare that the Village of Godfrey has hereby become the Kingdom of Gene. I am King Gene, not to be confused with Mr. Green Jeans or Gwen Stiffy Annie, or Greta What’shername. Make Adoration of Gene Great Again (MAGGA). Villagers are hereby referred to as Maggots.

Tributes to King Gene may include: Girls (I’m not picky).

The Kingdom of Gene announces tolls on every road the peasants—I mean pissants—I mean people drive on. All schools closed—keep them Maggots dumb. The Mississippi River is hereby the Gene River, and only I can sail upon it.

Only churches which glorify King Gene and White Jesus may remain open. Every fourth child in line at Dairy Queen (my true Queen, love those blizzards) is mine, to be used as workers in the Jeffrey Epstein Institute (formerly Godfrey City Hall).

I, in my unmatched wisdom, declare black to be white (but not black people to be white people—I mean, get real).

Unmatched wisdom is not to be confused with unmatched socks. The former is me; the latter comes from China. In my wisdom, I hereby: withdraw the troops from Sirius Radio, lower the taxes of my lords and their ladies of the evening, and impose tariffs on goods from St. Louis, or as the KOG calls it, “Dark Town.”

The Kingdom of Gene, where all the men are strong, all the children are good-looking, and all the women are mine, is an equal opportunity backstabber. Banned as of January 1: Mexican rapists’ restaurants; ice cream because it sounds like ISIS; farmers because they’re farmers; every person named Charlie; only Casey’s General Store pizza will be allowed because there isn’t a hint of Italian in any bite.

The Kingdom of Gene has perfect parks, the best parks, huuuuge parks. Too bad you Maggots can no longer visit them. The Kingdom of Gene has the best water, like lemonade, really. Too bad you Maggots can no longer drink it. Your King, Gene, doesn’t like trees. The Kingdom of Gene’s forestry crews will be harvesting the trees around your Maggot house and selling them to Afghanistan for wooden swords to fight the Taliban.

Rules for Women in the Kingdom of Gene: Old ladies bye-bye!
Rules for Men in the Kingdom of Gene: Sext away—Grab it! Cop a feel of it! There is no sexual harassment here!

Thanks to all the Maggots who voted for me. You expected a mayor; you got a king. And now, let’s all sing the King Gene Song © 2019:

“King Gene loves me, this I know/The King Gene Bible tells me so/We are Maggots/We don’t count/He’ll love us if we put out.” Chorus: “Yes, King Gene loves me/Yes, King Gene Loves me/Yes, King Gene loves me/The King Gene Bible tells me so.”

And I tell you so. I love you, my Maggots, my hayseed stupidos! Make Adoration of Gene Great Again! God bless me! And God bless the Me!

About Eugene Jones Baldwin

I am a writer: non-fiction, fiction, journalism (Alton Telegraph), essays (The Genehouse Chronicles) and have a website: I've published a couple dozen short stories and had eleven plays produced. Current projects: "Brother of the Stones" (available on Kindle), a book of short stories; "The Faithful Husband of the Rain, short stories"; "A Black Soldier's Letters Home, WWII,;" "There is No Color in Justice," a commentary on racism; "Ratkillers," a new play. I am an avocational archaeologist and I take parts of my collection of several thousand Indian artifacts (personal finds) to schools, nature centers, libraries etc. and talk about the 20,000 year history of The First people in Illinois. (See link to website) I'm also a playwright (eleven plays produced), musician, historian (authority on the Underground Railroad in Illinois, the Tuskegee Airmen) and teacher.
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