For this upcoming article, would all my esteemed readers please imagine Damian Lewis reading this in his normal voice.
To my loyal subjects, thank you for electing me King of the World. Oh… kings aren’t elected? They’re just put into power because of family ties? You mean I had to do nothing to get to where I am? I am the Paris Hilton of royalty.
Moving on, since I am your new king, there will have to be changes. There are just too many things wrong in this world, and I, your dictator—excuse me, your king—will fix them.
First of all: no more blogs about your abroad travels. The only people who want to read your blog are your parents and no one else. If we wanted to go abroad, we would have. We would have taken pictures with those silent guards and the Eiffel Tower; we would have tried crazy food like foie gras and pizza; we don’t need to live through you. We get it: You’re having fun, and we don’t care.
My next new rule: No one can leave the house if they are wearing one of these following items: Uggs boots, Crocs, sweatpants, colored Converse sneakers, handlebar mustaches, shirts that I don’t understand, headphones that aren’t on your ears, wool socks, outfits you bought while you were abroad (seriously dude, a beret in a Wisconsin winter?) and anything else that makes me sad. All of my followers need to respect themselves when they leave the house, even if they’re just going grocery shopping.
Minions, you think my rules are here just to depress you all? Wrong. Here are some fun rules that everyone can get behind. Everyone must watch “Toy Story 3” once a month (we all must be reminded that we’ll soon grow old and that our toys come to life). Everyone has to learn the language Alex and Jane speak in “Happy Endings,” (higgityive figgityive). Everyone has to be circumcised (it’s mostly a health thing). Everyone needs to know their Bacon Number, (mine is 3: I once was in an Urban Outfitters with Amanda Bynes who was in “Hairspray” with Queen Latifah who starred in “Beauty Shop” with Kevin Bacon). Everyone gets their own personal assistant, but since everyone gets one that means everyone also has to be a personal assistant (it’s a complicated process that will make sure everything is done efficiently, maybe).
Wow, I am a good-—nay—a great king. I’m so amazing I make Colin Firth look like an actor pretending to be a king. I make President of the Earth Richard Nixon look like real-life Richard Nixon. I’m so amazing they’re casting me to play Will Smith in the “Independence Day” remake (that one was a bit of stretch, no?).
Side note: Why do I think no one finishes reading my articles ever? I’m so relatable!
Alright guys, here is my promise: I promise to be a good king, one that judges fairly and only makes threats to planets that seem to be making nuclear weapons (I’m watching you, Jupiter). I will make sure all of my attempted assassins get cast in Quentin Tarantino films as “extras.” I will restore order into the global economy by making fun-size Snickers the only type of currency (the most delicious of all currency).
I will also be a bad king; one that you will want to have on the guillotine, one that will try a really terrible British accent, and one that will laugh at the poor and say, “Let them eat cake!” Why would I be so cruel to my blind followers? Eh, I mean it’s a Tuesday and I’m bored and someone needs to be a stool so I can put up my feet. I also have no idea what the word “revolution” means, so whatever, go nuts.
I bet you all wish we still had a democracy, huh?
What do you think of Voloshin’s plans for world rule? If you’re abroad, blog about it—er, drop him an email at mvoloshin@wisc.edu.
