On the eastern banks of the Colorado River, a rock rancher was clearing his field to make more room for his rocks to graze. He plowed and he dug – but he found something unexpected: A rotting cardboard sleeve, and within, the mysterious relic of an unlabeled VHS.
 
He played it, and for it he came to learn the good word, confusing as it was: bizarre family trees that resembled a figure eight that a three year old scribbled over, an unwed teenage mother that, surprisingly, everyone wanted to claim rights to her gestation – all of it making sense only when it’s greatest detractor went to great lengths to explain it. Utter smut and hopelessly trashy, due in no small part to the proclivities of the Presidential Archon of their age.
 
Here, everything got out of hand – becoming the muse of overcaffeinated, schizophrenic opinion makers that nobody listens to, and even science fiction writers that needed a *REDACTED NOTHING WENT WRONG IT WAS PERFECT AND INNOCENT PLUS THEY HAVE A YACHT*
 
And with this haphazard discovery, the lost gnostic sect of Springerism experienced a revival.