In News of the Weird, Chuck Shepherd reports: "Among the recent idiosyncratic decrees by Turkmenistan's megalomaniacal president-for-life, Saparmurat Niyazov: No publicly chewing "nas" (the country's popular drug, partly tobacco, slacked lime and chicken droppings); television show hosts cannot wear makeup (because the president said he has difficulty distinguishing heavily made-up males from females); and an ice palace will be built in the heart of the country's extremely hot desert so that children can learn to ski. [Reuters, 8-12-04; BBC News, 8-11-04; Moscow News, 8-13-04]"

Now, Niyazov's the dictator of a country in which chicken droppings make good chew, so he's not exactly an object lesson on maniacal power for the ages. But, it does lead one to think: What if I were King of the Forest?

First of all, I want adult playground equipment, some of it installed in public buildings. You want to promote public health through increased physical activity? Give me a high, corkscrew slide out of the local federal building. Those who are disabled -- or chicken (and we'll know who they are) -- can use the ramp.

I'm also going to have to institute year-round school for kids and continuing education for adults. Mandatory. Intentionally ignorant people bug the bejeezus out of me. I don't care if the adult schooling covers traditional academics or crafts or car mechanics. Recharge a brain cell every now and then -- that's all I ask.

Next, cultural life everywhere. Let's use some of that commercial space for beautification and education. Billboard paintings. Ticker poems after stock quotes. Public service flash drama. Literature anthologies in waiting rooms, hotel rooms (sorry, Gideon Society), and bus racks. Okay, a rock n roll cow or guitar or whatever mass sculptural project is okay, too -- but remember, it's been done.

Convicts work for their victims. Prisons become manufacturing or service industry facilities where the prisoners work full-time. Some of their pay goes for their upkeep. The rest goes directly into the bank accounts of their court-designated victims or to the charities they so earmark. There's no free lunch -- or idle hands. If there were a devil, those'd be his workshop.

When not working for a living, everyone would be responsible for helping to heal the world's woes and contributing to its sum of good in their little patch of heaven, with a year end report of the good they'd done for others that season (now there's a tax worth levying). Sure, raising kids counts. So does working for charity, creating art, participating in public discussion, meeting in a club about mutual interests, serving on local community boards, whatever.

Oh, and I wouldn't mind free hot-roasted nuts and cocoa in cold weather on city street corners, maybe lemonade and dilly bars in city parks during warm. Who doesn't love a snack break?