| filiate of the pro-pot Green Panther Party, whose mock
constitution makes high-minded appeals to turn Northern California into a state called Ganjastan and, in the next breath, defends each Ganjastani's inalieable right to "Party!" For many of these virtual Grand Viziers and Supreme Dictators-for-Life, becoming masters of their own domains has been a lifelong hobby. More than a few admit to having dubbed themselves kings of their own bedrooms as chil- dren. Eric Lis, Emperor of Aerica, explains: "All children make up imaginary lands and stories, imaginary friends and adventures. I just never grew out of mine, and a couple hundred people have gotten pulled in along the way." Aerica, which calls itself the "Monty Python of Microna- tions," displays a fairly typical national character: earnest calls for peace, equality, and freedom are leavened by a gently self-deprecating sense of humor. When Eric de- scribes his nation's values to me, he stresses the need for both "iconoclasm and diplomacy," for speaking one's mind and respecting the views of others. It's this balance that seems to be missing in the more un- compromisingly serious micronations like Freedonia. Lost amid the flourishes of para-libertarian rhetoric is the fact that ample freedom of speech already exits both in cy- berspace and in many of the countries that unknowingly host these would-be splinter states. After all, the First Amendment guarantees every American the right to pro- claim herslf Exalted Arch-Solipist of Dementia, should she so choose. In fact, the Freedonians and Ganjastanis probably owe less to the Founding Fathers than they do to the mem- bers of a different tradition in American politics: the local crank who proclaims himself king. The most famous of these, San Francisco's legendary Emperor Joshua Norton, printed his own bonds, issued executive orders, and gained such notoriety that his funeral in 1880 boasted 10,000 mourners in a two-mile parade. PERHAPS THE most well-developed micronation is
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