Suppose we all got together and decided that we would pick someone as Emperor or Empress of Earth (work with me here…). It would be a largely ceremonial role (like the UK royals). They would live in a great home and ride around in chariots and say stuff once in a while. Someone we could all look up to and admire or envy or kvetch about.
Anyone is fair game, if you think it should be Trump, ok, or Kayne, that’s ok too, or Beyonce, yes indeed.
He’s got the voice, he’s got the cool, he is fashion, and he’s quite possibly really undead.
Every night at 9:00 David croons us to sleep in a thundering baritone accompanied by pipe organ music.
Hell yeah!