Entry #1 from this book for bloggers with writer's block: reign supreme.
If I ruled the world, people would care more about politics than Hollywood gossip. Anna Nicole Smith's death would've been back page news in the local paper, overshadowed tenfold by what Ron Dellums is up to in Oakland. Britney's head shaving incident would've been the last skit on SNL, after the sarcastically derogatory plays on the latest debacles of our fine government. No one would know about a celebrity's immediate entry into rehab after doing something [stupid/offensive/annoying] because they'd be too focused on the atrocities going on overseas. (Yeah, I follow Hollywood gossip. My point exactly.)
When I am queen, adults who litter will be immediately sentenced to 16 hours community service, which will entail scraping the scum from the surface of the local public watering hole (wading pants not provided). Parents whose children litter will be forced to put $50 per item of trash toward their children's college education, and the children shall be denied [candy/Dora videos/Wii] for 1 year per item of trash they carelessly toss on the ground.
In my kingdom, the following will be banned: Sub woofers. SUVs. Tom Cruise. Pointy-haired bosses. Linkin Park. Commercials, mainly just those featuring Tom Shane, but if I can ban the whole lot of them, super. Reality TV shows. Golf. $600 shoes. "Don't ask, don't tell." Bill O'Reilly. People who would rather film [whales attacking fishing boats/tsunamis/police beating citizens with billy clubs] than call or run for help. Twinkies. Office romances. Ticketbastard. That nasty "butter" at movie theaters. Las Vegas. Bridge tolls that don't go toward filling potholes. And last, but certainly not least - people who don't spellcheck their public lists of things that should be banned.
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