I Think I Want to Be the King of Some Shit

I'm having kind of a delusions-of-grandeur moment.

Maybe it's because a big-boy-sized commentary of mine just got published in the B.F.D. newspaper here (still no money, but who needs money?) or maybe it's because I'm enjoying my first three-day-weekend since birds looked like dinosaurs and had big fucking teeth and whatnots, or maybe it's because my Mommy and my Daddy told me that I was cool and coud do whatever the hell I wanted in my room and in my life.

Bear with me here, but I think I want to be the king of some shit.

What do you think? Think I would be a good king? I would totally knight you the fuck up, Bull-- if you kissed my ass a lot and moaned softly while you did it.

I think I would rock out as a king. I'm a pretty snappy dresser, so it's not like my royal wardrobe would be all like breaking the bank and shit. Plus, I dig obstructing the rights of peasants. I would wipe the floor with those oily fuckers, and make the hot female ones hook up and touch each other while I consume muttonous amounts of mutton.

I would run a Muttocrocy. Mutton for everybody! Except for the peasant chicks who refuse to make out with each other.

NO MUTTON FOR YOU, PRUDISH LITTLE PEASANT TROLLOPS! GO TO YOUR ROOMS AND UNDULATE AGAINST THE RADIATORS!

Another reason I think I would make a pretty smashing king is that, as you know, I'm Jewish. There haven't been a hell of a lot of Jewish kings in the centuries that have gone before this one, and I think it's about time we added a kingly notch on our belts. Although we don't exactly bring monarch-like posture to the table, I think we as a people can handle the responsibility of ruling others with an iron schnozz. Count me in, bitches: count me in.

Another reason that I'd knock the world on its tit as a king of some shit is that I'm a twofer: I'm a King and a Minstrel, all rolled up into one sexy-assed package. No need to spend doubloons or schekels or whatever the fuck on some gayboy minstrel toddling around in green gym-socks and a funny fucking hat-- I'll take care of it. As the King's Kingly Minstrel, I'll fucking entertain myself. Or, not. And, if not, I'll cut my own goddamn head off as punishment. I can do it, you'll see. I practice a lot when I'm alone. Got me through high school.

As you can probably glean, I'm pretty stoked about being the king of some shit. I don't even really care what it is. The Netherlands. Montana. This box of staples right here on my dsesk-- I'm not particular. In fact, I may be the least particular monarch since Elizabeth I, and you know how that hoebag skeezapleeza rolled, n'yah mean?

See, here's my reasoning, loyal soon-to-be subjects: for every job that I'm applying for, I seem to be overqualified. All of the jobs, though, that I want to do, require more practical experience than I have. I don't know how, exactly, one gets this supposed experience-- I guess by interning for no money while you're living in your parents' basement-- but I didn't exactly go that route. So, I figure, it's time to aim a little higher, for a job that requires no real experience, for which you can never be overqualified, and for which nobody who's ever held the position has ever been anywhere near qualified:

King.

King of some shit.

Oh, I just can't wait to be King.