Entries Tagged as 'The Emperor decrees'

getting olderThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that age is not “just a number”

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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. 70: Age simply is not “just a number.” Age is, after, say, twenty-one, the irreversible decline of the mind and body, the ultimate result of which is, in the best of all possible situations, an uncomplicated and peaceful death. But age is, most often, a slow ride on a dirty bus, with sticky floors, among a bunch of stinking strangers to soap, at the end of which we find ourselves befuddled, boxed off from the things and people we love through the loss of vision and hearing and terrified (if we are blessed with the mental capacity to be terrified) by the question of whether our beliefs in an afterlife will prove to have been even remotely true. Age is the arduous road to either oblivion or paradise, but it is not just a number. Age is a walking journey, each step pf which leaves us weaker, more filled with existential anxiety, and looking — if I am being honest — less and less attractive at the waypoint of each birthday. Age is a journey from which there is no return. Age is the turning of the padlock on a cage that will be dropped into an ocean. Age is doom, in the most Anglo-Saxon sense of the word.

Oh, please.  I’m doing you a favor. You can’t rage against “a number. “

The Punishment: Users of the phrase are doomed to learn the truth. This is punishment enough.

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning(ish).

books & writingThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that tripping and falling can no longer be used to enhance a story’s plot

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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 4815162342: We’ll have no more of it. Figure something else out. Life’s suspense and life’s problems come from myriad places. Tripping and twisting one’s ankle is not the only way find oneself in danger. It is not the only way for the pursuing ax-murderer to gain ground. Mine the depths, writers.  Oh, and while we are at it, no more using “cuts like knife” and “what is this place?” How about “cuts like a father’s disappointment” or a simple but much more effective: “where the hell are we?” We can’t take it anymore. It will cease, or there will be no more writing. You hear us? Don’t ruin it for the rest of the minions.

The Punishment: Anyone guilty of these writing infractions will be placed on a treadmill and forced to run at 7 miles per hour. The Imperial Exercise Minister will sit with a remote control and he will press the DEAD STOP button, again and again, while the offender is running at speed.  When the runner can no longer calculate simple addition  problems, he or she will be released.

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning, unless he decides not to, because, after all, he is the Emperor and can do whatever he wants.

language & grammarThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that “Ban Bossy” is banned

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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. 449505: I don’t know who these people are who think they can go around banning things behind the Emperor’s back, but it must stop; therefore, the Emperor decrees that Ban Bossy shall be banned. Don’t get us wrong. This particular “ban” is voluntary. And it is for a good cause…this teaching girls to be leaders through a campaign that attempts to control language. Good idea — controlling language is a great source of power. (Someone ought to write a dystopian novel about that.) I trust these people, thoroughly. They have our young women’s best interests in mind; these ban-ers of words are like big sisters, in fact. This is so much different than “thought control” because it is good. The Emperor well knows that the intention justifies the means. But — it is, in fact, our Empire. No one shall ban thoughts or words but the Emperor.

The Punishment: Those who ban words without the Emperor’s leave shall be detained in the hot desert sun. They shall be instructed to ban the words “water,” “thirsty,” “drink” and and anyother words relating to the wetting of the proverbial whistle. Otherwise, they are completely free to ask for the crystal-cold liquid which will sit before them on a table, freshly stirred, with ice cubes swirling around, beads of cool moisture dripping languidly down its sides… They need only ask — provided they can ask within the language constraints given them.

Now, go forth and obey. 

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning (or so).

televisionThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees and end to the growling announcer

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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. 444440: What’s with the trend of the growling announcer? — these TV narrators who chew their words and turn the letter S into “Sh”*, as they speak, and then end their sentences with growls? Have ye heard this, O observant minions? (It’s like James Hetfield changed careers, for Pete’s sake.) Look for these angry elocutors on ABC Family Channel and on car commercials and on Discovery channel. Is this just one guy, or another example of meatballs-for-heads nature of the average person? Oh! That is successful! I will imitate it exactly, instead of carving my own niche! And after that, I will write a book about a kid who goes to a wizard school and I will call him Larry Trotter! Oh, the Emperor will find out and then…

The Punishment: These grumbling goofballs will be given growling lessons by a real expert.  In small cage. That is locked.

*A special thank-you to faithful minion “azchurch” for reminding us about the annoying speech-trend of turning the letter S into “sh.” We blame the original 90210. (One is much better advised to spend time with 90125.)

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

language & grammarThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that no one will use the word “team” outside of a one-mile radius from a field or court

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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. 5-5: First off, there is an “I” on every team in every sport. And the “I” stands for people who carry their teams. We could give you a list, but why take up space? Second, the Emperor never could have risen to this status of world dominance and power if he had thought as part of a “team.” (Truly, the only team of which you need to be part is the one that does what it is told to do by the Emperor.) Teams? Let them concentrate on stuffing their balls into nets. The rest will go on trying to forge a path for themselves and learning to think on their own so that we don’t turn  into a world full of bees in a hive. “Team effort.” Blech.

The Punishment: Those who use the word “team” outside of a mile radius form a sports field will be force to sit for a year in what the Imperial Dungeonmaster likes to call “The Penalty Box.” (You don’t want to know.)

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

Now, go forth and obey.

fashion & clothingThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that coffee cups may no longer be used as a fashion accessory

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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. 9AM: Contrary to apparent popular belief, a cup of coffee is not a fashion accessory. The Emperor can’t exactly prove what he is about to say (and, of course, he doesn’t need to, because he is, after all, the Emperor) but he gets the distinct impression that people are considering their to-go cup of coffee as part of their overall “look.” They seem to consider making an entrance with cup-in-hand to be some kind of subtle statement of…what? Their on-the-go lifestyle? The fact that they are suburban rock stars who need to medicate themselves with caffeine in order to keep going in the demanding face of parental taxi work? Or might it be that the brown hue of their delicious convenience store cup matches so well with their coats and kicks?  In whatever case, please don’t force the Emperor to take away coffee.

The Punishment: Those perceived by the Imperial Watchers to be thinking and acting in the way delineated above will be ground and brewed and served to the Imperial Pigs for a special winter treat.

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

televisionThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that the phrase “but, wait!” shall no longer be used in television commercials

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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. LP-700-4: The Emperor rarely does things just for poops and wah-has, but he has decided, this week, to ban the phrase “but, wait!” from all commercials. By doing so, we will effectively put a stop to: “What would you pay for a tool that slices, dices, juliennes and raises your children while doing the grocery shopping, in space, during a meteor shower? But wait – don’t answer yet, because, if you call within the next six seconds, we’ll throw in this beautiful, red Lamborghini Veneno, free of charge! But that’s not all! We’ll double your order and throw in free, lifetime maintenance on the cars…but only if you order in the next six seconds!” Why ban this? Why not? Let the commercial writers expand their creative horizons in order to whip up marketing excitement. Pull out the crutch and watch the bastards topple, I say.

The Punishment: Violators will be run over by a Lamborghini Veneno driven by a guy who is reading a thesaurus.

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

televisionThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that tooth-brushers must actually use toothpaste in toothpaste commercials

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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. 4093-1.4: Everything is an illusion in media, these days — “movie magic” and all that rot. CGI. Green screens. We make every effort to create technological alchemy on screens both large and small. Yet, for some inconceivable reason, in every toothpaste commercial ever made, we are forced to endure, from the mirror’s perspective, the farce of  impossibly handsome people brushing their teeth…dry.  The Emperor doesn’t care if it is gross – enough of this deception. Henceforth, people are no longer allowed to brush their teeth without toothpaste in toothpaste commercials. Let’s see some slobber. Let’s see some good, chin-drippy, projectile spitting that ends in disgusting, dangling, transluscent strings of pearly, wobbling glory. If the ole choppers ain’t bubbly with white, spittle-frothed paste, they simply ain’t clean! Truth in advertising! Huzzah!

The Punishment: Directors of commercials for toothpaste — who don’t use toothpaste in their commercials — will be forced to brush with the Emperor’s own, personally- invented “Imperial Tooth Scouring Cream.” (A special blend of various astringent and acidic compounds, stirred lovingly into an entirely unsanitary and unwholseome creamy base that is simply called: “Mystery White Gloop.”

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

language & grammarThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that you will stop using the word “ginger” to describe people

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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. 3/334-z: Ginger. Ginger is a root. It is used for giving food that naughty tinge or earthy deliciousness. In some dictionaries, maybe around the third definition, if you’re lucky, it can be a color. But it is not a noun when referring to anything other than the spice. One is not “a ginger.” One might go so far as to say one has “ginger” hair. (It’s pretentious, but allowable.) Under no circumstances, whatever, however, will it be permissible, in the Empire, to refer to one’s self (or anyone else) as “a ginger.” It’s trendy and it is annoying and the Emperor will have no more of it. Thou art a red-head.  Own it or suffer the consequences.

The Punishment: Anyone heard using the word “ginger” as a noun to describe him or herself (or his or her brethren), will be ground into power, sprinkled onto human-shaped cookies, and fed (by Fofo, the Angry Red-Headed Clown [of "Finkle and Finkle's Jolly Nightmare Circus"]) to the Imperial Tiger, Lars.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

language & grammarThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that you will stop trying to make your long stories short

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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. 922105: You cannot make a story that is already long, short. So stop saying, “…to make a long story short…” It’s already long. You have already prattled and chuntered everyone into a coma. Shut up now. Make a long story stop.

The Punishment: Offenders will be beaten by the Imperial Torture Master for seven hours. Then, he will stop and walk away, saying, “…to make a long beating short…”

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

musicThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that band members must smile in their promo pictures

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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. 3-G/222:  The “band face.” What does it actually say? – this forward-chinned, full view of the nasal passages? – this…sour look…that bands have had in their promo shots since some time in the late sixties? What does it say? Maybe it is some anemic statement: “We are arteests! We will take this picture because “the suits” say we have to, but we will not smile! – so there!” Is it a threat? “If you buy our record, we will  beat you up.” Maybe it is just another sophomoric attempt, on the part of musicians, to put on the “troubled soul” cloak of the phony bohemian. (If that were the case, though, their purpose would be better served by simply sulking in a chair for every shot.) Whatever it is, it is getting silly. Because it is silly, it is now an impotent gesture. It will stop.

The Punishment: Any band member who does not smile in a promo picture will be facially decorated by the Imperial Artist. Offenders will have a big smile drawn onto their face with multi-colored Sharpies. They will wear this smile during the entire promotion and touring process for whatever album they next release.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

technologyThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that sound engineers will stop squishy-mouth, immediately

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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 PE-15: Spit, sloshing around and clicking in the mouths of professional radio personalities is the most disgusting sound in the world. (No! It is even more disgusting than that. Sh. Yes it is.) Sound engineers for these radio programs need to fix this, now.  Right now. Turn down the “highs.” Move the microphone away from your proximity-effect-addicted bosses. Do whatever you need to do to end this. Carl Castle, for instance, sounds like his face is ground meat that someone is squishing his hands through. We can’t take it anymore. Sound engineers, heed this warning.

The Punishment: Engineers who do not rectify this squishy issue – today! – will be hung upside-down and lowered into a vat of ground beef and water. They will remain suspended this way until they cease to be.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

language & grammarThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees an end to the phrase “a hot mess”

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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. 543-0000000.1: You must understand: If a phrase annoys the Emperor, it is not the same as if it annoys one of the “regular people.” If it annoys the Emperor, it is simply (and indisputably) a bad phrase – one that shouldn’t exist. When it comes to His Everlasting Wonderfulness, opinion is fact. I truly hope you are all getting a grip of this idea by now. If you are not currently bound in chains in a dark dungeon, you may be getting the message…but not necessarily. For instance, the phrase: “A hot mess” in reference to a person or a situation… It makes the Emperor’s skin crawl with little beasties of pinchy tickliness. It’s a stupid phrase and it is one that is parroted constantly by the group-thinking, TV-imitating masses.

The Punishment: Parroters of this pretentious and painfully poor poetic patter will be taken to the Imperial Dungeon so that they may be boiled in (environmentally friendly) vegetable oil and, thereby, learn the literal meaning of “a hot mess” before they begin their new life as…well…soup.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

fashion & clothingThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees a ban on bike shorts

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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. 12/X: Shhh. We do not care about the padded crotch and buttocks. There is no argument you can make that will convince us to allow bicycling shorts to be worn, anymore. The cursed garments are just wrong. You know it and we know it. We have all averted our eyes to avoid gazing upon the compressed goods of this or that errant cyclist. It’s simply gross. Icky, in fact. The Emperor envisions a world of aesthetic joy for all happy minions. Nothing causes joyous interruptus on the morning commute (which is typically joyless anyway) than a casual glance over at the anatomically intimate accentuation of some middle-aged fop’s schwazzeels as he stands in order to gain peddle-force on an incline in the road. No one should have to see this. Think of the children!

The Punishment: You want compression shorts? We’ll GIVE you compression shorts! (Just throw on a pair of sweat pants, for heaven’s sake. The Emperor begs you from the depths of his sad, image-burned eyes.)

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

sportsThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees an end to long hair in the NFL

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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. NFL2013: The Emperor has long been disenchanted with the NFL. (He can no longer stand the whoosh-whoosh of the robot football player graphics and the folly of players who are so eager to celebrate that they spike the ball before crossing into the endzone. And stuff like that.) Still, as a show of love to his minions who enjoy such things, he has graciously allowed the plastic and peacockish hullabaloo to go on. He must, however, now step in. The puffs of Predator hair (yes, the Emperor was a child of the eighties) billowing out from under the helmets might have been pretty cool up until the four-hundredth guy did it. What was once a visual with impact; what was once a defiance against convention is now the equivalent of the fifth Dracula costume at the Halloween bash.

The Punishment: The Imperial Headsman will be offering free “haircuts” to all NFL players who haven’t corrected this follical violation by Sunday, next.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

The Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that all those with “dear” friends must report to the Imperial dungeons

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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. 54321: The world is a cold place, full of ticking machines and plastic surfaces. And it is teeming with acquaintances that people are calling “friendships.” This must change, for it makes the Emperor (a real teddy bear of an all-powerful monarch) sad. The Emperor will keep this simple: He has been informed by the Imperial Psychologist that if those among us who refer to their myriad acquaintances as “dear friends” are eliminated, it will exponentially increse the level of human warmth and sincere interaction among the general populace. Therefore, all those who have “dear” friends (numbering above, say, two) will report to the Imperial dungeons by Friday.

The Punishment: Those caught using the term beyond the prescribed parameters will be put — barefoot and naked — into a chilly dungeon cell with a stone statue of a smiling person for their only company. Violators may hug their marble companion as often and as intimately as they wish.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

language & grammarThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees that guys named Al may not be called “big”

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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. 4576: The Emperor is back from his European tour of historic torture chambers. Lots of new ideas from the old masters… Keep that in mind, if you think to complain about his having missed a few weeks…

Hear ye, O Tripe of The Earthly Cow!

Henceforth, guys named “Al” are forbidden to adopt (or to have given to them) the nickname “Big”. Yes, that’s it. Yes, this is my big comeback post. Think about it. It is bad enough when one is stuck with a name that one may or may not like. Isn’t it worse, still, to then adorn said name with a dead-on-arrival cliché – a worthless adjective that has been schlepped about by a hundred-million other corpulent (and/or towering) fops over the years? How about “Corpulent Al” or “Tall Al” or “Macho Al” or even “Large Al”? Enough with the big.

The Punishment: Anyone caught going around with this ubiquitous nickname will be renamed by the Imperial Dungeon Keeper as: “Locked In The Imperial Dungeons Al.” Sure, it’s less bouncy, but it will at least be almost narratively descriptive – sort of a succinct biography of the rest of Al’s life…

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

language & grammarThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor’s decree against affected speech: “sure”

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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-sde/23x: With the proliferation of video and audio media, the Emperor is noticing an ever-growing increase in affected speech patterns and in the parroting of words and phrases. He has already pointed out the use of the word “ameezing” (really, “amazing”) as an adjective for everything from tasty french fries to good sex to religious epiphanies. He won’t even get into the idea of “vocal fry“ – that intensely annoying tendency of (mostly) young women to insert creaky vibrations into their voices for…effect. (For what effect, other than making people want to throw punches, we don’t know. Maybe they think it makes them sound like Leonard Nimoy or something.) The reason he will not get into “vocal fry” yet is that the linguistic jury is still out. Some researchers claim it is not a new phenomenon, though the Emperor’s Imperial Department of Linguistic Domination believes it is more widespread than ever. Nevertheless, it will no doubt be outlawed, soon. Anyhoo, let’s take one thing at a time: the word “sure.” Open. Your. Mouth. It is “shooor.” It’s not “sherrr.” Say it right.

The Punishment: Violators of this decree will be placed into a closet with a weed-whacker and they will be forced to listen to its incessant, grating whine for three days, straight, in order for them learn how overwhelmingly annoying they are to everyone within earshot.

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

language & grammarThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees an end to the misuse of the first-person pronoun

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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. -345.34Q: The Emperor has said it before, and he will say it again: A smattering of education is a dangerous thing. Take your average college graduate. He fancies himself educated because he holds a four-year degree. This fancy is very debatable, since the Emperor recently heard a university student say to a police officer: “We haven’t drank nothing. Is that chill?” But that is neither here nor there. These “educated” folk, somewhere along the line, wind up learning how to say, “Dave and I went to the dance,” instead of “Dave and me went to the dance.” And they like this. “Dave and I” sounds educated; proper; downright suave. This is, they think, the way educated people speak. Because they are so enamored of this linguistic savoir faire, they decide to apply it in other situations, albeit the wrong ones: “Lucius went with Dave and I to the dance.” This is wrong. Because this is wrong and because it vexes the Emperor, it is now a crime. To save one’s self from prosecution at the hands of the Imperial Powers, one need only perform an experiment before speaking: simply take out the “Dave.” In the aformentioned sentence, it becomes: “Lucius went with I to the dance.” Not so suave anymore, eh Professor?  The Emperor’s not going to graph the sentence for you; figure it out or suffer.

The Punishment: Speakers of the pretentious and misplaced “I” will be forced to eat a bucket of sheep’s eyes until they vomit, thereby getting a visual lesson as to what they are doing on a daily basis with the verbal homophone, as they vomit forth “eyes.” Get it? Huh? (The Emperor is pleased with his Dante-esque brilliance on this one, if he does say so himself. )

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning. 

televisionThe Emperor decrees

The Emperor decrees an end to commercials depicting ridiculously fun parties

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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. 3-4-33-56: People don’t dance while they eat. They simply don’t. They don’t bop from side to side and smile conspiritorially at each other as they wipe the corners of their mouths and carefully display the advertised product with fingers carefully arranged to give the camera full view. And they don’t gather in impromptu, multicolored mobs on hot city streets and jet joyously through makeshift slip-and-slides in shirts and ties. Parties never are, never have been and never will be that outlandishly fun. (Or that racially and socially harmonious. [That will be the day when a surgeon is on a slip-and slide with the hot dog cart guy.])  In fact, when real parties approach the outlandishly fun level, they usually degenerate in to something much more messy and debauched; they don’t erupt in to Target commercials with beer. Truth in advertising, people. Truth in advertising.

(Side note: And, that African American chap with the crazy hair who is in every commercial made within the past five years…will someone please give him a role in movies or something so the Emperor doesn’t have to see him eating another scrap of snack food or grilling on a grill anymore?)

The Punishment: Guilty directors will be chained in the Imperial dungeon among seductive dancers clad in various tasty foods. The dancers will move just close enough to entice the directors to reach out for a treat and then move away, for the span of a week. The violators will then be released with instructions to amend their ridiculous visions.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

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