EGYPTIANS “MIFFED” – Hosni, I don’t think they’re kidding anymore.
Hosni Mubarak does the “Dick-Tater Shuffle” in the Presidential Pyramid as the protesters call for his head outside. His solution? “Step down (someday)”…for the second time. It’s a sort of “let them eat cake”, or more correctly, “let them eat my ass” moment.
Everyone, except perhaps Hos, knows he’s a dead man walking. Before poking the crowd in the eye, they were still feeling magnanimous enough to let him stay in the country. As a back up, the Saudi’s told him he could bunk with them in case the proles got too hot. Now all bets are off. He’ll be lucky to reach the outskirts of Cairo with his head still on his shoulders.
Hos, everyone knows to take door Number 1 when you get the chance. You might lose that beautiful Yugo behind Door 3, but your $49 Southwest plane ticket to Invisibleville is a damn sight more valuable when people want your skin to upholster the Barcalounger in the man cave.
Why Would You Want the Job?
All of this brings to mind a question I’ve always asked myself when the inevitable happens to the strongman du jour…Why the hell would anyone want the job anyway?
SAY CHEEZE!- After the frat mixer, George and Hos became BFFs.
Sure, Mubarak seems to have amassed enough money to give Bill Gates a hard-on, $2-70 billion by some guestimates. Yeah, Idi Amin got to eat people-en-croute. Heck, Saddam Hussien got to gas his own people. I get the whole “fun” part of being a dictatorial psychopath.
But what happens when the fun dies? The people – who dictators always take in the sense of ownership – get a little tired of mud and gruel stew and lash out.
The end-game is always the same. Mr. Tyrant makes some speeches telling the good folk of Fuckedupistan to calm down or he’ll cut their Johnsons off and stuff them down their pie holes.
The people, understandably, get a little touchier and he sends in the army to put them down with extreme prejudice.
Next, the army either turns on the tyrant when they smell blood or the crowd gets a collective backbone and rushes the palace. Either way is very bad juju.
Lastly, the dictator finds himself doing the shuffle at the end of a rope, or escaping by the skin of his teeth only to be turned away from every country on Earth where having billions would be fun. Only grayscale hell holes like North Korea will have them. Crikies, even the Number One Son had to leave that guano bucket to get laid.
Grab a Dictator High Life
This all seems like a bad bet for any erstwhile Leader for Life. Even if you beat the odds and stay in power for 30-plus years like Mubarak, your days are still numbered. The only question is by how many.
If all you’re really interested in is living the high life and abusing those lower on the totem pole, grab some lawyers and do a hostile takeover of CitiBank. You’ll get all the perks with none of the downside – other than pesky Congressmen who scold you before meeting you for drinks on your tab. Not a bad day’s work and no one tries to assasinate you.
On the other hand, even CEOs occasionally come out on the short end of the stick.