Are you a professional radical activist? Has your rigorous schedule of anti-war and anti-capitalism rallies left you exhausted? Perhaps you're beginning to feel more like a programmed automaton than a free-thinking human being? Are slogans like "No Blood for Oil" starting to seem a bit inane and trite? If so, you could be suffering from Protest Fatigue Syndrome (PFS), a common malady among full-time malcontents.

Well comrades, there's no need to worry, for I've got the prescription for restoring your zeal. It's called Utopia Bay Beach Resort (UBBR) - a place where outspoken opponents of Bush's illegal nuclear war can come to decompress and recharge their revolutionary batteries before the next protest cycle. With a breathtaking backdrop of lush, green mountains arrayed in colorful tropical flora, this hillside enclave of serenity, located on the Caribbean island of St. John, commands a spectacular view of Utopia Bay, a stunning expanse of brilliant turquoise water fringed by a secluded white sand beach.

Social Entrepreneur Professor Palimpsest at his renowned winery, Château Babeuf.

Bonjour, mes amis! I'm sending in this installment from my artisan winery, which is magnificently situated in the picturesque Côtes du Rhône region of southern France.

I purchased the establishment back in the early '90s and renamed it "Château Babeuf," in honor of François Noël Babeuf, the father of the proto-socialist "Conspiracy of Equals" movement that flowered during the French Revolution.

When looking for a suitable winery to acquire, I naturally eschewed the viticultural regions of the United States, and, instead, chose the progressive country of France, where I'd be assured generous government subsidies to get my "enterprise" up and running. I must admit that it's so nice to be back here among the enlightened French people and to get a respite from the unsavory commercialism and myopic mindset of America.

Red caps and gowns: would you have expected anything less from us, comrades?"

Another semester has ended here in the progressive, sub-alpine village of Boulder, Colorado. The always hilarious Bill Maher (my buddy Ward's favorite comedian) has delivered the commencement address, wryly peppered with side-splitters about our half-witted President. Once again, our halls of higher learning have disgorged a fresh class of graduates out into the dog-eat-dog world of capitalist wage slavery. Hopefully, the seeds of collectivism that my colleagues and I so insidiously sowed in their minds will sprout into thorns in the side of the bourgeoisie!

The other night, I must confess, I was presented with a great moral dilemma. To wit: I realized not only that I had forgotten to "requisition" my weekly supply of toilet paper from the History Department's custodial closet (that's one of the perks of tenure), but also that my local cooperative had already closed for the evening. To make matters worse, my third wife (who is twenty-seven years my junior and a former student) recently left me for an anti-globalization activist. I don't really blame her, though - the guy's quite erudite and he's a dead ringer for Che no less. But I digress. I really haven't been myself lately; no wonder I forgot to pay my usual visit to the custodial closet.