Despite the opinions of our editors, I have returned. I am back.

Listen, I needed a holiday. Even my computer was tired of me. Being patriotic, it being July 4, I went to re-live where our beloved country began. I schlepped to Maine.

Why Maine? Because my forever friends whose ancestors — its earliest settlers — are honored in the state’s museum and in whose original farmhouse I have stayed are there. What it was like when great great great grandma Ballard practiced midwifery there in the 1600s and 1700s, who knows. What it’s like now, I know.

Nobody in that state blows their Social Security on wardrobe. A potpourri of pensioners, the average age is deceased. Gents need a divining rod to locate their private parts since most stomachs reached to Iowa. And if ever I see another lobster I’ll crack it over the head of Elon Musk.

Maine has air. Sky. Birds. Marshes. Miles of white sand beaches. Bright blue sky. Puffy fluffy white clouds. Celebs from that state include our VP in 1861 Hannibal Hamlin. Also Althea Quimby who ran a temperance operation. Also Anna Kendrick and soccer player Colby Quiñones. Plus others who are less well known.

Plus for instance, it’s not Arizona. The northeasternest state’s bird is the black capped chickadee. There’s lighthouses in wherever’s West Quoddy Head, rocky coastline, maritime history, the end of the Appalachian Trail, and something called the white Pine Cone flower which absolutely nobody sends anybody for somebody’s birthday.

A popular city is Bangor, 31,000 population. One doctor’s waiting room in NYC has more. Outdoor ice cream stands where people gather at night for scoops. I looked for scoops, but mine were for print.

Songs exist extolling this state’s glories. Like one we all know and hum — “The Reach” written by Dan Fogelberg. Forget trying to hear this at the Met. BUT — it has patriotism. One famous tourist area is Old Orchard Beach. Go along its main drag. Every home, each one fronting the roadway with its back facing the ocean, flew the American flag. It’s a city ordinance.

The area began before big-time electricity. Thus, fronting each house is a telephone pole. Every one flew an American flag.

So: Let that big mouth jig elsewhere — not New York where he’s hustling to be mayor, not in the greatest country that God created — let this nothing friggin’ nobody dance in Russia, Syria, North Korea, Iran, Venezuela. Let him team up with that female bartender, allow Bernie Sanders to spit into the camera, have Donald stuff him into the 19th hole.

Let this zero whom nobody heard of before tell us how to clean the streets, free up the roadways, reinforce bridges and highways, collect garbage, clear snow, lower taxes, show how to save the city, remove bodies sleeping on sidewalks, reopen shops, clean the subways, fight hate, stop with casinos and cheap semi-legal shops, help cops, jail what DA Bragg frees.

And if looking for youth, no problem the Menendez brothers may soon be available. Or, fresh from kindergarten, grab Buttigieg whose last job was mayor of a town so small that more people are in my bathroom. He wants to be president. His husband — met via a dating app — told me: “In the White House we’ll play loud music every day.”

BUT — and here’s the big but — Maine has patriotism.

So would I leave NYC and move there? What’re you — nuts?