Monday, June 22, 2026
The dictator gets to hand-select his wife, his pleasure squad, his royal palaces, and all of his amenities. His “adoring subjects” put on a show of affection.
The paths are straightened. The traffic clears. The obstacles vanish. At his beck and call awaits his pleasure. What more could a dictator want? A dictator simply longs for true love. But he doesn’t understand that to be loved, for real, means possible rejection, being denied, stumbling, being humiliated, and maybe even dethroned.
To be loved is to be challenged, limited, and possibly jilted. To be loved is to be put in your place, humbled, and wondering how to do the mating dance—the awkward stumbling into what you truly want: a free economy, fair trade, ups and downs, and an openness to whatever. A dictator longs for “no control.” He longs to be told “no.”
If all your problems were solvable, the road made instantly plain, and the obstacles destroyed, the first thing you’d desire is a crooked path, a critic, puzzles to solve, adventure, and wondering about how things might turn out. If you want to see sterilization, watch a video of North Koreans—what an “honest display of love” for their supreme leader!
The dictator’s life is stripped of authenticity, surprise, variance, suspense, letdown, and unpredictability. Such sterility and control over variance is hell.
We might address you as “your highness” (Vladimir, Donald, Kim Jong, or Adolf), but secretly, we know you wipe your hiney. You might have toilet paper on your shoe, Your Hiney. You want to be loved, but you want to steal it and steer it.
Love won’t be taken advantage of that easily, Your Hiney. Love is about possible humiliation, jilting, condemnation, and rejection; the anathema of a dictator’s design. They don’t love Love. They love its empty shell of a companion. Hell.
Having it your way, all the time, is the absolute hell of a dictator. They long to have someone reject them; but their subjects are too afraid to be that “brutally” honest.