Rules for Thee, Not for Me (A Poem in the Voice of The Exceptional Empire) Oh hello there, global stage, Bow down — it’s Uncle Sophist's turn to wage Some wisdom, war, and market grace, While rewriting truth at a dazzling pace. Remember those bombs in '45? We ended a war (and some lives). Civilians? Tragic. Collateral lore. But hey — our nukes brought peace and more! Now we hold the world to higher ground, Sanctions fly, moral lectures abound. "Respect human rights!" we cry and fume, While drones paint weddings a smoky plume. We fund a coup, call it “freedom’s spring,” Install some pals, pull a few strings. It’s chess, dear friend — not hypocrisy, Just democratic duplicity. You want justice? That’s adorable. Try it without being affordable. We bomb, we bless, we tweet our grief — Then sell the rubble at a mark-up, chief. And yes, the rules are quite the hit — We wrote them all (then edited it). So if you stray or talk too loud, Expect a visit from our “peacekeeping”...