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If I Were Queen: My First 3 Acts Upon Becoming Your Beloved Empress For Life

There's a saying in recovery: "Don't let the junky drive the bus." Here's what happens if you throw me the keys.

by
Kathy Shaidle

Bio

August 7, 2012 - 7:00 am

A hundred years ago, lunatic asylums were packed with inmates convinced they were world historical figures.

What happened when these men encountered each other in the hallways, I wonder?

Were there death matches between (literally) dueling Napoleons?

Did rival Jesuses (Jesuii?) challenge each other to miracle-working showdowns in the sunroom?

The closest one can get to experiencing such a circumstance first hand today is to go to an AA meeting, or five.

At some point (if you’re doing it right) a troubling thought enters your still-twisted brain:

“Hey, hang on a minute. Did these idiots get the memo? I’m the greatest person on earth! Don’t they know who I am?! Who let all these other Anastasias in here?”

Eventually, someone quips, “A alcoholic thinks they’re the piece of crap around which the entire world revolves” and everyone laughs knowingly.

Except you, at least the first time you hear that – you’re too busy trying to control your embarrassed flush.

Dammit, have these people been bugging my apartment?

Fantasizing about being all-powerful emperor of the solar system can’t be restricted to drunks, though.

Isn’t it a bit like musing about what you’d do with your Power Ball winnings?

As the only child of two only children, perhaps I’ve given such fantasies more thought than the sober and the sane amongst us.

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And these fantasies reveal the embarrassing truth that I’m a libertarian for myself — and a conservative for everyone else.

OK: maybe “fascist” is more accurate.

My split personality really comes out when I watch Parking Wars.

Half of me sides with the park-ers, who are, in their own pathetic way, giving the finger to The Man.

“Who owns these roads anyhow? Aren’t there some rapists the law could be chasing? We’re forced to pay your salary, Mr. Uniformed Drone” — and so forth.

Then the parking enforcement guy shows up, and I switch sides.

“I hate people who are always trying to get away with stuff. What if we all broke the rules? Throw the book – or at least, the ticket – at ‘em!”

So you can see why putting me in charge of anything, let alone the world, would be a mistake.

I’m afraid that, armed with that much power, my inner dictator would win the day.

I know this because my first duty upon taking the throne would be to…

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3. Nuke Afghanistan

No later than 2pm ET on September 11, 2001, President Bush should have deployed tactical nuclear weapons to Tora Bora.

Imagine it: Thousands of American (and Canadian) lives spared and many more disabilities avoided. Trillions of dollars saved. An unequivocal message sent.

Yes, it’s almost eleven years too late to “send this message.” Don’t argue with me: I’m in charge, remember?

America nuked Japan, twice, and frankly they don’t seem that busted up about it.

In fact, Japan (and Germany, which we firebombed into submission) have since been awfully quiet, if not downright productive, making their cute little cars and gadgets.

Of course, that was because we crushed both countries first, did the whole “de-Nazification” deal, then instituted the Marshall Plan and its equivalents.

In Afghanistan, we bypassed the whole “unconditional surrender and humiliation” part and went straight to the free presents. Dumb.

True, Japan and Germany both had high cultures they could recreate following the war.

(I’ll leave it to others to ponder why the two most “civilized” nations of their era turned into the two most barbarous.)

Alas, Afghanistan has no such culture. The sexual abuse of boys and girls is downright celebrated. Other than those neat “war rugs,” one of which I own, they produce nothing of particular artistic merit.

They not only don’t have their own Sistine Chapel, they don’t even have a Stonehenge.

So I doubt they’d have the ability to put out even the cheesiest equivalent of a Godzilla picture, post-nuke.

However, they don’t waste much time worrying about us, so I’m not inclined to worry about them.

There are other places on my gotta-go list, but I acknowledge that we can destroy UN headquarters more responsibly using conventional weapons.

In fact, we could hold a lottery. The winner gets the honor of pushing the implosion button at Turtle Bay.

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2. Gut Entitlements

Don’t believe the myth that Social Security was invented to care for the elderly.

The retirement age was set at 65 because in those days the average man lived to be… 58.

It was designed never to pay out.

To use a gambling metaphor: The house was always supposed to win.

Therefore, we can restore Social Security to the Democrats’ original intentions by raising the retirement age to 80.

This will be enacted overnight, because I hate Baby Boomers.

And frankly, the “Greatest Generation” who raised them have a lot to answer for, too.

Foreign aid will be abolished (including aid to Israel).

So will affirmative action.

I’m getting rid of the Olympics. Sorry.

Muslim immigration to the West ceases immediately.

Universities will return to teaching whatever subjects they were teaching one hundred years ago. Not the same course content, obviously, but the same disciplines. In other words, no more women’s studies.

Welfare will also be abolished, effective immediately. (I grew up with these people, so believe me: if you give them six months’ notice, they will wait five months and three weeks to even start thinking about other arrangements. Poor people are poor for a reason.)

And two words: Flat tax.

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1. Extreme Makeover

Every female over age 12 will be required to report for an annual bra fitting, since 80% of you are wearing the wrong size and this annoys me no end. You’ll get a free new bra in your correct size, so shut up.

Full-length mirrors will be mandatory on or next to the front door of every residence.

Beauty pageants for children will be outlawed. In fact, I’m taking my cues on everything else that needs to be outlawed from the TLC broadcast schedule. (I’m looking at you, Sister Wives…)

Prohibition is back, but for tattoos, not booze. If you insist on getting one illegally and contract a horrible disease, you will be denied medical treatment.

Use of the following expressions in a public place will be punishable by a $500 fine, which will be adjustable for inflation:

At every venue at which the musical Jesus Christ, Superstar is being performed, a billboard will be erected directly across the street that reads: MARY MAGDALENE WAS NOT A PROSTITUTE.

I’m also instituting a variation on Godwin’s Law, to wit: comparisons of anyone to Martin Luther King, Gandhi and Rosa Parks are also subject to a fine (amount to be determined).

As you can see, I’m not promising to be a benevolent dictator. I’m all “tough” without the “fair.”

Oh, and I hope you like “Hair of the Dog,” cuz its the official international anthem.

Get used to it:

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More From Kathy Shaidle at PJ Lifestyle:

Nurse Ratched, My Hero: 4 Female Movie Villains I Love

3 (Conservative) Reasons to Admire Helen Gurley Brown

No One Is Ever ‘Just Kidding’

How Women Ruin Romance by Talking Too Much

(KATHY SHAIDLE is a blogging pioneer who runs FiveFeetOfFury, now in its 14th year. She's been called "one of the great virtuoso polemicists of our time," by MARK STEYN. Her NEW book is Confessions of A Failed Slut (Thought Catalog, 2014).
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