How To Be A Good King/Queen When You Are The Ruler of Crazyland

Back in the Olden Days, children were left tangible legacies from their parents.  Sons often received things like titles and gold and a cool castle (literally...what with no heat and all) and daughters were given dowries that could be traded for a husband...things like goats and a spinning wheel and a book on the Karma Sutra (which, unfortunately, most of them couldn't read since they were girls and may explain a lot about why gay sex really took an upswing about this time since all the boys could read, but, you know, printing was really expensive, so they probably had to share like one book between a whole group of them.  The Olden Days were confusing times.)

But, today, children are left with dubious legacies. Therapists often call these legacies 'emotional baggage' and they want you to throw it away quick and get rid of it.  But it's not that easy.  Cause a) it kinda sticks to you and b) it's hard to throw away stuff your folks gave you, even if you don't really want it.  I still have my dad's dentures somewhere around here.  God knows why.

So...now you're grown.  And you've gotten your legacy.  And now you're The King.  Or Queen of Crazyland.  What cha gonna do?  It's not like you can drop a bomb on the whole country and try to get political asylum in France.  Well, you could, but honestly...France?  Even Crazyland is better than a bunch of whiny French...

You can't give the crown to anyone else. Well, again, you could, but I'm not so sure that's a good idea either.  Letting someone else run your country never works out very well.  You usually end up out in the field with the rest of the peasants, digging up potatoes in holey socks, while someone else sits around in your (albeit cold as fuck) castle throwing orders around. 

Now The King is your thinking brain, ok?  And the peasants that make up Crazyland, they are your emotions.  I like metaphors.  They are visual and fun, just in case I ever want to turn all of this into a book for emotionally damaged children.

The King's job is to take care of and protect all of the inhabitants of the land, despite the fact that many of them are bat-shit crazy and wouldn't know the truth of a situation if it ran over them with a bright yellow Hummer and planted a big Crazyland flag on a spike through their emotional little hearts. The King is wise and kind.  He loves the villagers, even when they do dumb things, like cover themselves in lamb's blood and run, naked through the woods looking for hibernating bears and one-night-stands to curl up next to.  He knows that they don't know any better and he so he puts things in place to keep as many disasters from happening, as possible.  Like implants that give them an electric shock if they wander more than 20 feet into the forest.  Stuff like that.  Or maybe some bells on a string...I don't know...it's your fucking kingdom...