I probably shouldnt be emperor of Rome.

Yesterday, according to my facebook, which is never wrong ever no matter what, is the birthday of the great Augustus.  This is too bad because The Russian Spy, who is enamored with him despite his current status of extra dead, is sick today and can‘t celebrate.  (She is one of my best friends.  We met in Latin class, where I spent the first semester seriously considering if she was a Russian Spy and I was afraid to talk to her, lest she kill me for my secrets.  She is actually Irish and awesome enough to a spy but has yet to actually obtain super secret status, I think.  To all the covert ops members who read my blog (17.5 people) you’re welcome).

Augustus is not my favorite Roman emperor.  I have no logical reason for this, he should be everyone‘s favorite emperor.  I think the sorority girl who lives inside me (Like, oh my gosh, she is sooooo super silly and loves the letter S) has these perverse whims that only allows me to like socially inept despot emperors.

Like Caligula, for example.

Now there was an emperor.  He looked at the system, shattered everything good and pure about it, and then rode away on a winged unicorn.  Augustus looked at the system and said to himself “Well, everything seems to be in need of repair.  Let me put in place several policies to return us to a state of terrifying glory and might while solidifying my power simultaneously.”

Logic is such a downer sometimes.  (I can say that because I have no real control over any circumstances beyond my own.)

Don’t get me wrong, I am all for a well ordered society.  If anarchy happened I would not be the awesome badass who saved helpless infants and created a social structure out of nothing before disappearing into the desert to continue my campaign against men is ass-less chaps.  I would be a more average caliber of badass who campaigns against assless chaps through a series of political posters, buttons, and well thought out speeches. 

I would want to be in that social structure and contribute to it.  But I have a sneaking suspicion that I would be more like the Tina Turner leader in Mad Max should I be put in charge of a system that had no checks or balances.  Not 100%, let me assure you, I don’t have nearly enough Machiavellian style crazy in me to get up to the level of those shenanigans (I’m more of an Uncle Buck at heart).

Here is why:
As an anthropology student occasionally I get this inclination to see what happens when I do X to someone.  Usually this experiment is limited to saying outlandish things (ex: If I was eaten by a cannibal do you think they would get a caffeine buzz from me?) to the boyfriend and noting the response.  But occasionally, I get the urge to figure out what happens when person X is with person Y.  But Y has a weird tick that drives X insane and we don’t even know how Z is going to affect this situation!  Then everything explodes in the equivalent of pseudo-anthropolgy glitter and my sorority girl immediately begins planning what to do next.

Thankfully, my parents raised me with morals and I feel best when following the social code set in place by our culture.  If you want to coexist comfortably, you have to at least pretend to follow the normal cultural ideals.  But if culture got eaten by an explosion of radio-active T-Rexs, I might go the route of Caligula, only more awkward and less uncomfortably sexual.  Why?  To see what happens, even though I understand that it may end in my completely legitimized assassination. 

He didn’t really ride away on a unicorn, I’m sorry I lied.