Once upon a time in the fetid kingdom of Turd Island (also known as Blenvale Tower), a curious thing happened: two unelected rulers – Blazer the Selfworth and Mildred I-Have-the-Floor Simmons – rose to power without a single vote being cast.
That’s right. Not elected. Acclaimed.
Or, more accurately: uncontested because no one else wanted the damn job.
But don’t let that technicality fool you. These two now strut about the building like they’re managing Versailles, not a concrete shoebox with a moldy sauna and bylaws from the Bronze Age.
👸 Mildred: The Grand Archivist of Inconvenient Nothingness
Mildred, armed with her ceremonial magnifying glass and a lifetime subscription to Passive Aggressive Monthly, rules the hallways like a monarch sniffing out rebellion. You parked 3 millimeters over the line? Treason. You opened your blinds at dusk? Blasphemy. You have two dogs? Witchcraft.
She speaks often of her sacrifice and service to the community, which apparently involves forwarding emails, hiding evidence, and filing affidavits that would make even the Enquirer blush.
To this day, she insists she was called to serve.
(No Mildred, you were defaulted into place because no one else showed up. Calm down.)
🗃️ Blazer: Lord High Chancellor of Overreach
And then there’s Blazer. The man, the myth, the mid-thigh menace. He’s never met a rule he couldn’t apply unevenly or a complaint he couldn’t escalate into a Cold War.
He refers to the building as his jurisdiction, the boardroom as his command post, and the condo fees as tribute. Ask him a simple question, and you’ll receive a monologue that makes the Magna Carta look like a sticky note.
His qualifications?
- Loud voice: ✔️
- Inflated ego: ✔️️
- Complete immunity to shame: ✔️
He claims he’s been “repeatedly supported by the community.” Which is quite a feat for someone who’s never run against a single living soul. Democracy by default is still dictatorship with extra steps.
🗳️ Acclamation ≠ Coronation
Let’s be clear: acclamation is not a mandate.
It’s the electoral equivalent of everyone silently backing away and saying “Not for me.”
Yet somehow these two have convinced themselves they are the chosen ones.
Chosen by whom, you ask? Possibly a haunted tea kettle. Or the whispering ghosts of previous boards who also refused to resign.
💩 Long May They Reign (Unfortunately)
So here we are. Stuck on Turd Island, under the eternal rule of two self-anointed guardians of the bylaws – defenders of dog bans, patrons of petty grievances, and guardians of the sacred hallway paint chart.
All hail the unelected tyrants.
Ruling not by merit, but by lack of alternatives.
God save the residents!
Disclaimer: This post is satire and opinion. Read full disclaimer.
