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A few years ago, in the dead of the night, while Joetown lay slumbering and its one-man police force lay under a three-legged barstool drunk as a stoat, Comrade Joe the First's ambitious, Citadel-educated nephew, Sgt. Joseph Chan Fourneux Jones, led eight other soldiers in a coup that peacefully toppled his uncle's government (these nine comprised the entire military force of the island).

 
"When that guano dust gets up into the wind, whoo-ee!"
Great guano dust-storm of 1871

Perhaps "topple" isn't exactly the correct word.

No, Comrade Joe the First's nephew and his comrades merely applied a boot or three to a door that had long been suffering from dry-rot and moral turpitude.

At least that's what people said to his face.

 
What they said behind his back didn't matter and they didn't much care about the change in leadership -- at least the town's name wouldn't change again.
 

In any case, while "Dutch" Reagan was keeping Miami and Mobile safe from marauding Grenadans, Poco Cabesa woke up one morning and found itself with a new President-for-Life.

Actually, some people didn't learn about it until late in the afternoon because they were sleeping off the previous day's celebration of Dean Martin's birthday.

Confused but determined.
"Go ahead, Al. But I still don't see why we have to invade Spain."
 
The winds of change.
Political storm clouds over Joetown.

The previous President-for-Life, Comrade Joe the First, prudently disappeared into the highlands of Medillo Grande along with his French wife (the reputed and much feared provider of said turpitude, known by one and all as Comrade Joe the First's Wife), there to become the island's second most celebrated recluse.

 
Subsisting on fish, jungle plants, and a feral cat whenever Fate sent one their way, like Napoleon on Elba or Nixon in San Clemente, Joe the First found plenty of things to occupy his time -- collecting beach flotsam under cover of darkness, hunting palm crabs, avoiding his seething spouse -- Joe never thought retirement could be this good.
 
In over his head.
"Hostages? I thought he was trading arms for sausages."

Joe the First also took the liberty of vacating the premises with what there was of Poco Cabesa's tiny treasury, causing numerous problems for his nephew, including eight disgruntled "revolutionaries" who were hoping they'd finally get paid.

Ollie under "oath."
"I swear to tell the truth. This time. Really, I do."
 

Undeterred, Joe the Only set about doing what his uncle could not: Reinventing Poco Cabesa (with apologies to Al Gore).

Among each generation of island residents there are always reckless optimists who ignore the heat, the dust, and the smell and struggle to improve their island home.

Leaving in droves on anything that floats.
Tampa, here we come!
   
Those with any sense usually leave by whatever means available.
 
Joe's billboard.
(Above) Misspelled official graffiti on bar-room wall.
 

But, this time, the citizens had high hopes. Their new leader was an educated man who'd seen the world (well, at least Charleston, South Carolina) and he even had an undergraduate degree in accounting. Maybe this time things would be different.

Did Joey the Only embellish his resume?
Comrade Joe the Only's alma mater
 

The latest Comrade Joe intended to make his homeland a thriving banking haven modeled on the Cayman Islands and a peaceful nation of industrious, respectful and docile citizens modeled on Singapore. What Comrade Joe likes to call "compassionate Caribbean capitalism." At least, that was the plan.

Unfortunately, Joe the Only has had little success in bringing any progress to Poco Cabesa. But that doesn't mean he's stopped trying.

 

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Whenever you find that you are on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.
-- Mr. Twain
 
 
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