If you can’t blame the failures of your policy on some flunky (or opposition party, if you’re unlucky enough to be ruling in a “democracy”) then what kind of leader are you?
The best option is to say that your policy is a rousing success, in spite of all evidence. (That is, if you can’t suppress the evidence.)
Of course, as a intergalactic overlord, I’ve always felt that the best foreign policy comes from the “offer them a Stay-Fresh Snakin’ Cake … and carry a plasma weapon” school. Here on Earth you face the challenge of multiple opponents/allies who are impossible to defeat militarily, without destroying your biosphere, that is. (What is it with your human fascination with those quaint nuclear weapons? Don’t you realize they can wipe out everything?)
So no. Don’t ever take ownership of a mistake! I mean, if you admit to a mistake, then you might actually learn something, and do better the next time.
How the hell am I going to conquer you people if you start learning things?
Next time: Henri Bergson described time as something we experience as a duration, in a flow of consciousness, not as a series of events. So what gives with knock, knock jokes?
Alltop is the knock, knock joke of the Internet. Originally published in October, 2006. Does that depress you? It should.
Damnit Jim, I’m an Interstellar Warlord not a Doctor, so I don’t “treat” visiting dignitaries at all. Unless you mean treat in the sense of, “you’ll love these chilled hominid brains, it’s a real treat.”
Ew. No, I mean, what kind of protocol do you follow?
It depends quite a bit on my diplomatic goals. If I want something from them, then I don’t put them in the burrowing gastro-intestinal worm wing of our Foreign Secretary’s guest quarters (unless they like that kind of thing). And if I’m in some kind of negotiation, then it will depend a little on our relative power positions. For example:
They have an armada of interstellar warships, plasma guns charged and surrounding the planet, then I install them in a nice hotel: room service, free mini bar, and all the massages they can handle from Buk-buk, the Talented Orangutan.
If they don’t have an armada, then I usually just enslave the diplomatic party and send them to the Chalkboard Mines on Screechy XII (known on my home planet as the “alien’s tooth-gnashing graveyard.)
You did know I was an Interstellar Overlord, right? Generally speaking, we don’t go for the whole “negotiation” thing. Unless there is chilled hominid brains involved, then maybe…
Next time: I notice you’re wearing a uniform. Do the other apes on your planet wear clothes, and in particular, pants?
Alltop once had chilled brains at the START of the meal. Freaks! Originally published in September, 2007!