Clue Won

Preface: 

If you’ve ever looked around and wondered, “Did common sense take a permanent vacation?”—welcome, friend. You’re in good company. My name is Felicia, and I am on a one-woman crusade to rescue the world from the jaws of idiocracy. No, really. I am quite literally begging people—on my knees, with jazz hands—to stop the madness and start using their brains for something other than hat racks.

This book is my love letter (and sometimes a strongly worded memo) to humanity. I want to talk about every flavor of backwards logic, every “wait, what?” moment, and every time you’ve had to resist the urge to bang your head against the wall because someone thought the plural of anecdote was data.

But don’t worry—I’m not alone in this. I’ve brought backup. Enter Colonel Mustard: not the board game suspect, but my personal clue-giver, logic whisperer, and the only man who can make a monocle look both dashing and judgmental. Together, we’re going to hand out clues like Oprah gives out cars. Because before I have to arm myself with a candlestick in the study, I’d rather you take a hint from the Colonel and maybe—just maybe—help me solve the mystery of why the world insists on running backwards in clown shoes.

So buckle up, grab a clue, and let’s see if we can turn the tide of idiocracy—one laugh (and one facepalm) at a time.

Introduction to the Character: Colonel Mustard

Colonel Mustard is not your average sidekick. He’s the kind of guy who brings a magnifying glass to a chess match—not because he’s looking for clues, but because he wants to make sure everyone is playing by the rules. Picture a cross between Sherlock Holmes, your most sarcastic uncle, and a game show host who’s just a little too enthusiastic about logic puzzles.

He’s never seen without his mustard-yellow suit, a monocle that he polishes when he’s about to drop a truth bomb, and a pocket full of clues—literal, handwritten notes that he hands out whenever someone says something so backwards it makes his mustache twitch.

Colonel Mustard’s job? To help me (and you, dear reader) spot the moments when the world’s logic has gone so far off the rails, it’s circling the parking lot looking for a tow truck. He’s quick with a pun, deadly with a comeback, and always ready to ask, “Are you sure that’s your final answer?”

Together, we’re not just solving the mystery of idiocracy—we’re handing out clues, one absurdity at a time.