Ides of March
Dear Diary:
I don’t feel like going to the Senate today. I think I am going to get a haircut instead. Besides… it’s always the same guys… Cassius, Brutus and that new guy Russell Crowe. Big deal. A bunch of losers. Hey! I’m the Emperor… I can do what I want! Fuck the Republic and the Senate, too. I don’t need them! Hah! I’ll send their sorry asses to the Russian Front! That’s what I can do. No wine and no women for them… they can go freeze their kishkes off outside the gates of Moskva. Yeah! That will put an end to their whispers! They think I don’t know what’s going on! I’m Emperor… I know what’s going on! Telling lies about me… making up stories. Twenty below zero (and we’re talking farenheit baby) and no underwear will put a stop to that. Oh, I can’t wait… the hell with a haircut, I am going to march right up to the Senate and put on my best shit-eating grin, “Brutus! Pack your bags! You have just won an expense paid trip to Siberia! See you in 25 years, pal!” Being Emperor ain’t so bad…
Yeah, the Senate… what a bunch of shit heads!