So over on Fortess: Ameritrash, noted ruffian “repoman” has apparently declared me The King of the Geeks. While I would normally question his judgement, this is kind of complimentary to me, and so I agree wholeheartedly. But unfortunately my application for kingship has been quietly ignored by both major political parties, and so until I hear from the New Whigs, I’ll simply have to make a to-do list with all of the edicts and decrees I’ve already decided on.
As King of the Geeks, I hereby decree:
- Campaigns to bring back old TV shows will only be allowed if the fans promise not the whine incessantly about the new episodes.
- Sports fans and fantasy sports fans are hereby required to become citizens of the Kingdom of Geeks. Who do they think they’re fooling anyway?
- All musicians must apply for a license to continue recording, touring, and releasing merchandise. The application process consists entirely of slaying a dragon. Drinking it under the table counts as slaying it.
- Science is hereby commanded to figure out how to make a dragon.
- The only musician now allowed to sing the national anthem is Weird Al.
- My regime must review all year-end best-of lists to ensure that I’ve heard of at least half the entries. Violators will be punished by being made to watch the complete works of Raja Gosnell and provide a detailed report on both Smurfs movies. Those not attaining a passing grade will be shot.
- Spoiling a movie, book, or TV show will get you a stiff fine. Going crazy at the mere mention of anything that might possibly be a spoiler will get you a life sentence.
- A hefty tax refund for those who dress their kids up as various regenerations of the Doctor.
And that’s just the important stuff, before I get to boring things like winning the Console Wars and accepting tribute in the form of black coffee and rhubarb pie.