Ceremony of Demotion


NGH Robin "Dusty" Means

January 6, 6014ecv (2009pbc)


I wish to call this august assemblage of redshirted brethren to order, for we are here for a fine and ancient ritual, the granting of the X to our own Dusty Means. This is perhaps the greatest of offerings by any chapter to their Humbug, for this letter allows the exalted one a chance to reflect on his year of glory, while recounting with less than truthful accuracy, the grand and glorious time he had.

Tonight, I was going to wax eloquent about the honors due our soon to be X noble grand humbug, to take time recounting the many achievements of his illustrious reign, to provide an anecdotal account of the many great times we had during this year of his leadership, to provide the assembled masses a chance to again thrill to the many great and good times we have had, but I could not, for, as all will acknowledge, there were few, and most of what did happen have been blown away in the intense winds of change Robin brought to his time of leadership.

So instead, I will look back at the career of that red shirt known as Robin "Dusty" Means. Robin came to us with perhaps more truth in his title of Poor Blind Candidate than most, for his sponsor had not provided him with information previous to his attending his first Hall of Comparative Ovations which is necessary for a fuller understanding of his role in the festivities. Robin was granted his first coveted X as an XPBC at the end of my doins as Humbug at the Pioneer Saloon in Goodsprings, which should have provided him with the finest of trainings for what was expected of a Humbug, but sorrowfully it did not. Dusty, then known as Kodak, was able to learn the role of a saloon in western history, as well as the role of a PBC in Clamper history.

He moved on to other less successful roles until, in a fit of distemper on the part of the entire Greybeards committee, he was elevated to the role of Hangman. His entire being was poised for some form of greatness, but he forestalled any possibility of this by his actions at Gold Point. During this doins, as Hangman, Robin managed to loose not only his proverbial cookies, but also his hat in an outhouse in the town. Herb Robbins, a fellow redshirt and owner of half of that fine community, was kind enough to return it to Robin at a general meeting, after which it was placed in a place of honour in the libations dispensary in Gold Point, where his activities can be remembered to this very day. Now it is true that Robin, in his half-anonomolous state, claims the hat fell out of the back of his pants, but this seems somewhat suspect, for as far as most redshirts are aware, even Robin has had the ability to that clampers keep their hats above their cheeks, rather than below them, though I will aver that at least one of my fellow greybeards did find that underwear could also be worn above the cheeks rather than below them. None-the-less, as a charter member of the Boulder City Hair Club for Men, Robin's pate has required more coverage than most at doins, for blinding the assembled mass is considered a poor idea, even by the Humbug.

Robin's career continued to slide, and in a burst of absolute commonality, he moved up to Grand Noble Recorder, where he distinguished himself by his masterful use of crayons while taking minutes. It is true he had to use the big crayons, but none-the-less, the capitol letters were well made and would have done justice to any six-year-old.

After this he shot right up the chairs, though I am told he remembers little of his time in each, with the exception of those surrounded by metal walls and a door, chairs he often used after finishing yet another bottle of his favoured Crown Royal. He was poised on the brink of mediocrity, as his year as Humbug began, but again he was able to reach deep down inside himself, and find less.

For during his Humbugliness, he was found to have contracted a dread disease, one which caused the winds to blow whenever he was around. He brought us to Rachel, because "the Humbug Said So," and presented us with a site for a Clampout which had been previously used as a dust collection area. With help from a rather disgruntled Hangman, Vince "Luddite" Zaremski, who gently discouraged an early morning water truck attempt to beat back the dust of the site, Robin was able to bring us winds not seen since the biblical plagues of the old testament. In fact, for the first time since the creation of the Queho Posse chapter, we were literally blown from a clampsite. Now, it must be noted that our own Larry "Hop Sing" Hogan was able to still recover the dinner and make sure that no clamper went away hungry, but this was without the windswept help of "Dusty" Means.

Now you might sway, well, this could happen to anyone. Winds cannot be controlled; they are a force of nature. And you would be correct, if this was Dusty's only foray into gale force doins. But winds were also a part of the sailing of the Queho'st Gaurd, though truthfully somewhat lessened than those known at Rachel. However, Dusty's efforts were also on display when he attended his first Transsierra Roisterous Alliance of Senior Humbugs trek, better known as a TRASH trek. There his propensity for breaking wind brought about a general rolling of tents and movement to shelter on the second evening of the trek, when his well known gale-force presence brought about a near repeat of Rachel.

And finally, we followed our Humbug to Jack Longstreet's Casino in the Amargosa Valley. We were rewarded with winds, though I will admit that, being Robin's last gasp, they were without the force that his earlier efforts had been.

It is therefore, in the spirit of the calm after the multiple storms, my great privilege to present to the brethren assembled here, our now X Noble Grand Humbug, Robin "Dusty" Means. Please raise your glasses, flasks, bottles, cans, or whatever form your libation may take, and drink a toast to "Dusty." And "Dusty," may you have more calm in your X-hood than you have had in your Humbug year. And it is my hope, that an application of gas-ex, or a similar substance, may keep your windiness to a minimum.

Now, on behalf of the Greybeards and Board of the Queho Posse, Chapter 1919 of the Ancient and Honorable Order of E Clampus Vitus, may I present the new officers for the year 6014 -


 Noble Grand Humbug

Dennis "Butcher" Robinson

(don't get between a deer and his truck)

 Vice Noble Grand Humbug "Mystic" Dick Turgeon
 Gold Dust Receiver Mike "9 1/3" Cole
  Noble Grand Recorder Vince "Luddite" Zaremski
Grand Imperturbable Hangman        Vernon "Big Elvis" Brooks



And the Keepers of the PBCs for 6014 - Roger Means and John Dunmeier, with Larry "Hop Sing" Hogan continuing as Clampchef Extraordinaire and "Dusty" Means as Hawker for this year. I would like to encourage any members who are interested in becoming involved in the chapter as occifers, to look to work in these areas, and show your abilities.

As always, I am your quiet, reticent, self-effacing and shy servant, Dead Salmon #3.

presented by

XNGH Mark Hall-Patton

(Dead Salmon # 3)


Return to Past Doins Page

Return to Queho Posse Home Page