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. 222-134-56/66Q: When the Emperor speaks, he speaks indisputable truth; therefore, if he bans an artistic work, it is the right thing to do — we’re not talking about “censorship” by mere mortals, here; we’re talking about benevolent and infallible reasoning for the benefit of all. That said, the Emperor now bans movies about women, with perfectly kind and dedicated husbands, who go off on their own into some bohemian part of the city and meet a random, younger French guy in possession of an interestingly decorated apartment and a cool scarf and a shock of black hair that hangs down over one eye that causes him to flop his head sideways to get a decent look at his coffee and who, subsequently, reads the heroine some Rimbaud and then introduces her to a new world filled with the violent and breathless pleasure that is her birthright as a woman but that has been denied her by a life lived within the constraints of her oppressive role as wife and mother, especially if these movies show the cheating, self-centered strumpet in a sympathetic light. (And before ye — unwisely — try to cast the Emperor in the image of a perpetuator of the male-centered mindset, bear in mind that he highly recommends the work of Kate Chopin, if you want to see how these issues can be treated with insight, depth and artistic merit. It’s not “women’s issues” that the Emperor dislikes; it is morons creating puerile treatments of it that he loathes.)
The Punishment: Producers and directors and writers of these tedious and pretentious attempts at art will be forced to watch Romeo and Juliet, as rewritten by Paula Abdul (to “bring it up to date”) and starring Sylvester Stallone and Rosanne Barr as the star-crossed lovers — all without popcorn.
The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.