There I was, surveying my kingdom. Everything my eyes fell upon was mine and owed me deference. And yet, some of my subjects refused to honor their fealty. My eyes grew sore and anger stirred in my chest. How dare they not live by my prescription.
Are they engaged in more important endeavors? Are they struggling with other issues, making weeds and trashcans unimportant? Do they suffer malady to which weeds and trashcans are unassailable tasks?
Doesn’t matter. My eyes are sore and I am entitled to their conformity. And since! they will not acquiesce—regardless their circumstance—I have no choice but heap upon their heads an enormity of shame.
None shall offend my royal senses without recompense. I will have satisfaction, for I am so entitled.