by William Skink
All hail Lord Checota,
O benevolent Checota, Sultan of Sound, you have pleased Orpheus and Missoula music denizens with the foresight of your investments. Where shall we, you’re loyal devotees, bring you our offerings of milk and honey?
O Lord Checota, when shall we consecrate the sacred Fox grounds on which you have contractually entered? At your direction your loyal devotees shall murmur prayers and spells as you navigate the dark labyrinth of business complexity required to build a 100 million dollar civic events center.
O Lord Checota, does the Mayor’s engorged appendage stiffen at the thought of what your talents shall erect? Does he delight in the semantic PR shift away from the “convention center” concept to your much more seductive event center rebranding campaign?
You brought the high priest to bless your Blackfoot amphitheater. Wilma lies pensive at your feet, wearing a Top Hat and nothing else. The valley is yours, Lord Checota. Command us, Lord. We are yours.