I Want To Be Queen

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With
all the fuss about who will end up claiming those 25 juicy electoral
votes in Florida, the whole country has been in a state of suspended
animation for the past few days. George W. Bush is remaining firm
and making plans for the fumigators (and quite possibly an exorcist)
to clean out the White House, and Al Gore continues to buzz around
like a vicious little wasp. It is crazy-making, and I think we're
all ready for a new suggestion. As it happens, I have one.

I think we should ditch the idea of a republic/democracy altogether.
After all, brand-spankin' new Senator Hillary Clinton is out there
today telling all her New York constituents that we need to dump
the electoral college, so we may as well make a clean sweep and
ditch the rest of the Constitution as well. And the Declaration
of Independence – all that kind of worthless stuff that infuriated
Democrats want to go ahead and ignore when things don't turn out
their way. Oh, and we'd better get rid of those butterfly ballots,
too. Not because they're confusing, you understand, but just because
we won't need them anymore, once I make my suggestion on how to
end this anguish.

I would like to be Queen.

Yes, I think we should go to a monarchy, and let me assure you that
I'd excel. To slightly change Dorothy Parker's statement about millionaires,
I don't have any experience with being a queen, but I bet I'd be
darling at it. I'm not burdened with angst and I am generally of
a cheerful disposition, as well as being fine with people practicing
their own religion with freedom, so you won't have to worry about
things like beheadings and hangings and the Smithfield Fires. "Bloody
Shelley" just doesn't have a fearsome sound about it.

I wouldn't be one to break the Treasury by demanding lots of jewels
and such, although I would like a tastefully designed coronet studded
with diamonds. Well, okay…I'd like a scepter, too. Since one of
my first acts as queen would be to abolish PETA according to my
good pleasure, I'd also like an ermine wrap: I've always fancied
the way I look in white, particularly when I have a tan. Which I'll
have, since I plan to hold court from somewhere warm and sunny – the
only locale I have completely ruled out is Palm Beach County, Florida.
I have a feeling that those people would wear on my royal nerves,
and I'd hate to have to immediately rescind my promise not to get
too freaky with the guillotine.

After dealing with PETA, my next step as queen would be to purge
my lovely land of pests like Cher and Barbra Streisand. Before she
is set adrift with Babs in a leaky inner tube bound for Cuba, I
would like to command Cher to appear before my throne so that I
could tell her that it is positively disgraceful for a woman in
her fifties to be using the word "f-ck" twice in the same
sentence.

I will appoint George W. Bush and Richard Cheney to be my top advisors.

I would like Bill and Hillary Clinton to serve as my court troubadour
and jester. I can just see Bill (or Will o' Clinton, as he would
come to be known) strumming a lute and singing a melancholy little
tribute to my unattainable beauty, while the idea of Hillary all
dressed up in bells and motley and turning cartwheels and somersaults
and telling knock-knock jokes for my amusement just makes me weak
with giddy glee.

Al Gore, Jesse Jackson and Bill Daley are going to be appointed
as my stablehands. They can all dish out crap with finesse; I'd
like to see how accomplished they are at shoveling it.

Have I mentioned that I really, really like horses? I'd like to
have LOTS of horses, great big horses.

Joe Lieberman will be sent to the kitchens to wash dishes. He can
have Saturdays off. On the Jewish Sabbath, another Democrat former
muckety-muck can come in and take his place. I was thinking about
Mel Carnahan.

Oh, wait. I might have to rethink that one. Missouri certainly should.

I'm going to give this idea until around November 20 to gel, which
is the time when all of those absentee ballots from my soon-to-be
Royal Armed Forces should be accounted for. If there's still no
resolution and Al Gore is still making a nuisance of himself, then
I'm going to step forward and make my suggestion. Supposing that
I can get a groundswell of support, I might make it more of a mandate
than a suggestion. I'd like to invite all of you who will be my
loyal serfs to get your torches and pitchforks ready. This could
get messy.

So until the 20th, hang on and occupy the time that you
have been devoting to worrying about the Bush/Gore/Sunshine State
dilemma with planning what you might give to me as a coronation
gift. If you need a little hint, remember that I really do like
horses so much. Big horses.

Queen Shelley of the United States certainly has a nice ring to
it. I'm really looking forward to being served by you.

November
13, 2000

Shelley
McKinney is a political writer whose work regularly appears in several
Internet journals. She takes great pleasure in exposing the politically
correct for their lack of logical thought.

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