EDICT TWENTY-EIGHT:
"White Sugar"

I'm no HEALTH FREAK, but when the entire globe KISSES MY RING, there'll be a whole lot less WHITE SUGAR and REFINED FLOUR floating around. This isn't some sort of crazed HIPPIE thing. That crap is POISON. Not that I don't eat it, mind, but I KNOW it's bad for me and most of humanity is SADLY UNAWARE. What will this mean for FAST FOOD JOINTS? DISASTER, baby. But SCREW 'EM. I figure if they can tax ADDICTIVE KILLERS like ALCOHOL and SMOKES, my BENEVOLENT REGIME can slap a 600% SURCHARGE on the SUGAR and WHITE FLOUR industry. Guess where half of that cash is going, baby? DIABETES RESEARCH. Try to roll back some of the DAMAGE we've caused by SCARFING this DANGEROUS and ADDICTIVE drug for a little more than a century.

My rule will be SWEET LIKE HONEY. 'Cause HONEY will be a popular SWEETENER.

Get it? Hah?

I SHALL RULE THIS PLANET.

EDICT TWENTY-SEVEN:
"Lights Out"

ELEVEN P.M. IS TIME FOR BED. That's all there is to it. When I DOMINATE THE GLOBE, 11 p.m. will be LIGHTS-OUT for EVERYBODY! That means no NOISE, no PARTIES, no WALKING AROUND YELLING "WOO-HOO" when you're DRUNK. EMERGENCY ROOMS will stay open, and FIRE STATIONS. Other than that, NIGHT TIME IS FOR SLEEPIES. There will be NO UNSLEEPIES after ELEVEN AT NIGHT.

Once we're all WELL-RESTED every morning from getting a DECENT NIGHT'S SLEEP, we can go about building a GIANT ROCKET for my MOON PALACE.

I SHALL RULE THIS PLANET.

EDICT TWENTY-SIX:
"Televised Sports"

Sorry, FAT-ASS, you're going to have to READ or actually TALK TO OTHER HUMANS from now on. That's right. I can think of no greater WASTE OF SPACE, TIME AND MONEY than televised sporting events, and as soon as you pus-minded sheep come to your senses, they're OUT. Imagine if all the potato-chip scarfing, beer-guzzling tools out there suddenly started PLAYING sports instead of just WATCHING them and YAMMERING ON about it! Imagine if people actually watched LOCAL SPORTS TEAMS in their travails against OTHER LOCAL SPORTS TEAMS and saw their FRIENDS AND NEIGHBOURS strive, sweat and succeed in PERSON! What might happen if all the MONEY tied up in OVERINFLATED COKE-SNIFFERS' SALARIES was suddenly FREED for LOCAL SPORTS COMPLEXES and FACILITIES?

Let's find out.

I SHALL RULE THIS PLANET.

EDICT TWENTY-FIVE:
"Uh. Yeah."

Under my STEELY and WATCHFUL gaze, ALL MUSIC that features the phrase "Uh. Yeah." shall be STRICKEN from the MUSICAL WORLD like a DINGLEBERRY on the POPE'S BUTTOCKS. Like, SERIOUSLY. R&B singers make MILLIONS and the BEST THEY CAN COME UP WITH is "Uh. Yeah." AND PEOPLE USED TO CRITICIZE ROCKERS FOR SAYING "BABY" TOO MUCH. I can't believe this.

Not only will all music containing "Uh. Yeah." be PUT ON A GIANT ROCKET AND LAUNCHED INTO THE SUN, all MUSICIANS will JOIN IT in their own LUXURY SHUTTLE to PLUTO. Goodbye, WILL SMITH. Goodbye, P. DIDDY/PUFF DADDY Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, you TALENTLESS TOOLS. You will NOT BE MISSED. Anybody possessing your albums will be REIMBURSED with recordings by GOOD SMART people like BRAND NUBIAN, PUBLIC ENEMY, or the ROOTS. Should you RESIST, you will be sent to EELS/THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS re-education camp until you are READY for REAL MUSIC by SMART FUNNY CLEVER PEOPLE.

"Awwww, yeah" WILL BE A JUDGEMENT CALL from my personally-appointed TASTE POLICE. But BAD R&B shall be SURGICALLY REMOVED as the MENTAL BLEMISH IT IS on our INTELLECTUAL LANDSCAPE.

UH. YEAH.

I SHALL RULE THIS PLANET.