I declare micronation status

January 18, 2007 at 5:14 pm | In random | 4 Comments

In the Globe and Mail today, there was an article about the “micronation” of Sealand. I hadn’t heard anything about it, but apparently The Pirate Bay, a BitTorrent tracker, is attempting to buy it in order to escape international copyright laws, so it’s been in the news lately. I have no desire to discuss the legality and/or ethics of piracy, but I would like to say that I think that micronations are probably the most awesome thing I’ve heard about all week.

Wikipedia attributes the following characteristics to micronations:

1. They wish to be recognized as sovereign states but are not.

2. They are very small. Some may exist entirely online.

3. Some issue government “instruments” (passports, currency, etc.).

I hereby declare my bedroom the Duchy of Tasha. I will campaign my roommate, my landlady, and the Canadian government for sovereignty, but I do not expect to receive it. However, that will not stop me from adopting the following:

  • The Tasha national anthem. At the moment it’s a toss-up between “Lovefool” by the Cardigans and “I am a Rock” by Simon & Garfunkel (depending on my mood).
  • A flag
  • flag.jpg
  • Definitely passports. Anyone who wishes to enter the Duchy will have to furnish a valid passport for inspection. It must be stamped upon entry. Beware: the customs agent can be a real bitch. And she is most certainly on a power trip.

I thought about issuing my own currency, but figured it might get a bit messy when I showed up at stores with a bunch of construction paper notes with $500,000,000,000 written on them.

4 Comments »

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  1. This takes the cake as the funniest thing I have read ever in my whole life.

    Also, can the passports be green?

  2. Wow, I think you are well on your way to living out your customs agent fantasy. And just think, as ruler of your own micronation, you would be your own boss so would have to answer to no one for arbitrarily forcing inspections on guys you deemed worthy.

  3. boring

  4. Paul, babe, who are you?


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