I think I’d make a great dictator of a small, but resource-rich, country someplace where it isn’t, like, oppressively fucking hot

I really do.

But the country couldn’t be so big that when I was doing what I do, the world would get all nosey-britches on me.

I hate that.

News crews sniffing around. And Hillary Clinton’d come to visit and say, “You have a human chess set?” And I’d be all, “Yo, baby, be cool. Shit.”

I’d be awesome at one of those meetings deals where all the world leaders get together.

I’d start my speech with, “I’m no financial expert, but I DID stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night.”

Bitches would be rolling in the aisles.

I’d pass notes to Obama.

“Mitt Romney’s love-making sessions are like his sideburns…

Short.”

I’d wave to the French contingent’s table.

“Sarkozy!” I’d yell.

They’d try to act a little uppity.

I wouldn’t give in so easily.

“SAAARKOOOOOZEEEEEEEEE!”

Dude’d say, “I’m not him. I’m the new president.”

Haha. Sarkozy. That guy’s a fucking character, man.

At the after parties, I’d keep charming leaders and their spouses.

“Girl, you put the ass in Azerbaijan. DAMN.”

“Hey, Kim Jong-un, Diana Ross was the real Supreme leader.”

Dictators don’t have to be topical.

And that, dear friends, is why I think I’d make a great dictator of a small, but resource-rich, country someplace where it isn’t, like, oppressively fucking hot

Please join me next time when my topic will be:

“I’d never volunteer to be a decoy in a police line-up because maybe I have the face of someone who would rob a pet store wearing a tin foil hat, O-Town tour t-shirt and Spanx and just nobody has told me yet.”

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