Our story begins many years back. As college students we found ourselves united in both cause and in the deepest bonds of friendship. The cares of life, the universe, and everything pressed upon us. Each of us felt the burden, yet each could not share his thoughts. We then elected an arbitrator from among us. A battered red milk crate served as both mediator and podium. As long as this floor was held, a speaker’s right to rant was immutable.

Many nights were filled with oratory, argument, schemes, sermons, and stories. In those days, all was talk. All was theory. Nothing was forged save for conviction and camaraderie. Time begs us part ways. The world is a lonely place without friends.

This blog is a keeping of tradition. The Soapbox Guild shall be our fire as we wander through the frosty nights of adulthood. So come a little closer, listen to the old General tell of his exploits long ago. Let the Dignitary teach you the ways of kings and Kamino. Gaze into the sky as the Astronomer pulls back the darkness. Plunder the ivory tower of the Philosopher King.

May you be enriched in the only coin that cannot be debased.

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