Motorcades! Now that’s where it’s at!
I love a good Presidential Motorcade. Nothing (apart from vote rigging) says “I’m in charge, MOFOS! Don’t you be forgettin’ that!” like a good long fast motorcade.
I love the line of big black cars (preferably Range Rovers like the Queen’s) with tinted windows, snaking their way past plebs in their old cars and buses.
So long, suckers! Ha ha ha! Move! Move ! Move! Fools!!
Oh dear…I love the thrill of speed as I am driven from one engagement to the next, with blue lights flashing and knowing: I own the road! Heck, I paid for it, as it were. I love the power it brings, the power to force ordinary people off public roads and pretend that I did not even notice as their vehicle left the tarmac in a cloud of dust. I may glance up from my important documents, but only to ask my driver if we are there yet.
Ah, yes…I love not having to stop at stop signs and red lights. I just blaze on through as if the next destination is where I am to meet my maker and I have no wish to keep him waiting. (One shouldn’t, you know, keep Him waiting, as it’s best to have an ally on the otherside).
Yes, Presidential Motorcades are the best way to remind us that I am important and that I need to be somewhere soon. Even if it is to get bread and milk, as per the wife’s demand.