It has recently come to my attention that my brother, Tim, has started a new blog, “Prague Blog”, a venture in which I specifically requested to be made an equal partner but apparently was not, but I digress.  In his inaugural post, he explains our mutual affection for the Infant of Prague, based largely on a statue that I (solely) own, and have cared for, lovingly, since I was 13 years old.

Prague’s wardrobe chest

Here, I give you all of the actual information you need to correct his little fallacies.  Enjoy, and please check out both of his blogs, because, despite his apparently lack of respect for truth in the strictest sense of the word, he is damn funny.

First, it was and IS still my Prague. You should have kept your damn hands to yourself.  If you had wanted it, you should have begged for it as your main Christmas present at the age of 13 as well, and then you would have had one long before you got married and could have, again, kept your damn hands off of mine.

Second, Prague does not wear a crown.  He wears a Prague Hat.  You know this.

 

Third, He did come with one red and a much smaller crown.  It was, in fact, while I was convalescing after one of my many and frequent common childhood illnesses (such as Scarlet Fever) when our dear mother so graciously exchanged the puny thing He came with for the more ornate one which would adorn Him to this day, had a certain nephew who shall remain nameless (I’m talking to you, J. J.) not broken Him, sending Him down the long, crippling path He has since traveled which has left Him in 3 separate pieces today. It was at this time that mater also purchased His additional and glorious vestments.

Prague’s extensive wardrobe, hence the need for the chest above

(Notice the miniature hangers I lovingly crafted, out of larger hangers and electrical tape?)

Fourth, keep your damn hands off my Prague.

Fifth, my cat’s name was Phantom, not PHOTO, jack ass.

Sixth, you deserved the finger slam just as Danielle deserved the table-flip.

And seventh, my Prague can kick your Prague’s ass, even in three pieces.

(Hi Bat Boy!)

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