Wednesday, July 24, 2013

I'm the King of the World (Apologies, Leo)

The last thing anybody should want in this world is for me to run it.

Fortunately for Planet Earth, I have no aspirations to be declared the King of the World.

I’m much too lazy and apathetic to care that much. I’d rather be like the rest of humanity and stand back and rail at all of the chuckleheads who pass through my daily life.

But if I did somehow manage to ascend to the throne , it wouldn’t be a terrible idea for all women and children to sprint off the field with alacrity.

My reign would be about righting the hundreds of thousands of wrongs I’ve seen in my first go-round on this spinning rock. In other words, I’d serve a plate of revenge with my royal meal, thank you very much.

I wouldn’t play favorites. I wouldn’t simply call for a plague to be brought down on all republicans or all greedmeisters or all enemies of the environment. I’d choose those scum, regardless of race, creed or political affiliation, that have taken all that’s good about the world and completely flushed it in the name of money, or perverted amusement or just because they could, and they’d get a little of my considerable wrath.  Damn the judicial system.

And, if I can do it with a sense of humor, so much the better.

Hey, I’m the king, after all.

I’d start with those assholes that take advantage of the innocent.

Target Number One: Michael Vick and those like him who find nothing wrong with committing  genocide of an entire species just to make a little money and get a few laughs -  and then hide behind the alibi that something like dog fighting is a common sight for a young man growing up in the south, so that justifies the actions. Hey, I grew up in the northeast where the rites of winter included firing iceballs at passing motor vehicles. I guess that should allow me to go all Mr. Freeze on somebody’s ass and dump the equivalent of a small glacier on a truck or two every January.

I would like to think a certain amount of wisdom comes along with growing up, and I can’t think of anything dumber or more unfeeling than forcing living creatures to fight each other to the death.

I’m also not a believer in the old, “He served his time for the crime he committed, and now everything is hunky dory.” Nyet, there are some debts that are impossible to repay.

For Mr. Vick, there would have been no jail time served. As soon as he was convicted of his dog fighting atrocities he would have been stripped naked, smeared with raw meat and tossed, unceremoniously, into a pit of rabid dogs.

Sayonara, Mike, now you can get a front-row seat to watch some vicious canines do what you feel they do best.

As you might have guessed, I’m a proponent of making the punishment fit the crime. I’d kinda like the douche bags in question to get a taste of the heinous acts they’ve just committed before their lights go out permanently.

Next on the hit parade would be those greedy dirtballs responsible for obliterating the rainforest. Now, I’m not going to punish the poor sluggos that do the actual cutting. They are, after all, just doing their jobs.  And while they could, conceivably, grow a pair and refuse to begin the whacking process on principle, I’m not about to set a guy’s balls on fire for attempting to feed his family.

I would, however, have no qualms whatsoever about finding the suits responsible for scything down thousands of square miles of forestry and forever damaging the environment by taking a chainsaw to their genitals.

I guess we would both be accused of chopping wood.

And last but not least, my first round of revenge would be completed at the expense of those companies responsible for oil spills. Yep, I mean you, the cesspools who run British Petroleum.  Not only were you malodorous slime responsible for the biggest release of oil into marine waters in the history of the industry via the 2010 Deepwater Horizon spill, a disaster that resulted in the company being found guilty of double-figure counts of felony manslaughter and a count or two of lying to Congress, but you doubled your pleasure by giving the act a positive PR twist by producing TV ads espousing how wonderful you were for aiding in the cleanup.

I, for one, really think it was a stand-up act on your part for helping to clean up what you ruined. I’m sure the dead, oil-riddled marine life now sucking rust off of Davy Jones Locker appreciates what a great, responsible company you have.

Imagine, cleaning up what you spilled, what a unique concept. That’s almost as noble as digging graves for the bodies you just sliced up. Way to go, guys.

I know this peachy and sunshiny act should earn you callous greedheads at least a spot in the waiting line at the Environmentally Responsible Hall of Fame. But for now, as king of the world I sentence all those responsible to a long walk off a short pier, and into a vat of oil-drenched water, set on fire for this special occasion.

When taking into consideration their impact on the world around us, I think they’re getting off easy.

And if I were the King of the World, I’d just be getting started.










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