I have been declared Emperor of the World. Let us not waste time explaining why or how; let’s all simply accept the fact that we are better off, as a result; hence, my next decree:
Emperor’s Decree No. 24FPS: The Emperor has not, as yet, sentenced anyone summarily to death, but now is the time. Or, rather, the past is the time. Who, you might often have asked, was the sadistic monster who decided that popcorn should be served in movie theaters? What sick son-of-a-mother decided that the loudest-chewing snack in the history of mankind, served in the loudest-crinkling bag possible, should be the staple treat at an entertainment medium that depends upon audible dialogue; that operates on sometimes delicate, sometimes sublime emotional levels that can be crushed by the slightest peripheral disturbance? We’ll tell you: one Thaddeus T. Wimplenoodle, in the year 1927. (The Imperial Historians were up all night tracking down this information — don’t bother trying to verify it.) Was this beast trying to drive theater-goers into homicidal rages as a result of their being surrounded by entire families full of grunting, bag-crinkling, slack-jawed, open-mouthed chompers? The very idea is a sign of severely sociopathic intentions. Someone like that should never have been allowed to live and the tradition of popcorn in movie theaters must be stopped.
The Punishment: The Imperial Quantum Physicists have sent an Imperial Assassin back in time. Assuming the Imperial Assassin doesn’t accidentally kill his own grandfather, you should count on an unexplained offering of, say, padded cardboard boxes full of marshmallows instead of popcorn at your next theater visit. In short, Thaddeus T. Wimplenoodle must die (or, must have died) before he can (could have) unleash (unleashed) such malignant madness into the world.
Now, go forth and obey.
The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning