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.
