The Jester’s Decree (With Footnotes for the Crowned)
The court jester, clad in bells that toll like a funeral dirge, kneels before the throne, proffering a mirror polished with the tears of serfs. His voice drips honeyed arsenic:
“O Majesty, radiant as Nebuchadnezzar in his beastly epiphany! A riddle for your royal leisure: What is a king but a lawsuit waiting to be filed? Aye, sovereign immunity swathes you like a shroud—yet even Lazarus emerged taxable! Remember the ancient plea of fools: ‘Give us a king to judge us, like all the nations!’ How wise they were! Now every harvest is Caesar’s, every firstborn son conscripted, every vineyard seized for chariot parking. Marvel at progress! We’ve traded prophets for parliaments, and divine wrath for… tax audits. Rejoice! For when the Gavel of Heaven falls, it cracks the scales of justice—not the crown. But fret not! The peasants are drafting a strongly worded psalm as we speak.”
(The jester pauses, plucks a thread from the king’s robe, and ties it to a stray goat wandering the hall.)
“Is this a joke? Nay, sire—it’s a liturgy. The punchline is due in the third act, when the goats outnumber the sheep… and the lawyers outnumber the goats.”
Footnote (Whispered to the Peasantry):
¹ 1 Samuel 8: A cautionary tale wherein demanding a human king “like the nations” becomes the ultimate subscription service—terms and conditions include your soul, your sons, and your best olives. Renewal is automatic. Cancellation requires exile.
Is this a joke? Only as much as a crown is a hat. The truth wears motley now.
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