Dear Citizens of the Galactic Empire (Alpha Quadrant):
It has come to my attention that recently a certain animated television show has begun airing on Terra-3 (sometimes referred to as "Terra" or "Earth"). This crude entertainment confection depicts the stories of a group of young rebels, four young Terran males and one female, who gallivant around the Terran System -- and systems beyond using wormholes -- using giant robot lions that come together to form one large robot to fight "evil" monsters sent by an "evil" galactic dictator hellbent on controlling the Quadrant with a cruel iron fist. I have reviewed a few episodes of this crudely-produced and hastily-marketed tripe and I have concluded that it must be stopped! There is no doubt in my mind that the show is referring to the real group of young terrorists, indeed using large robot lions, that have been causing me nothing but trouble for sixteen Nubulian years. But in real life there are not five, but dozens of them.
The "evil" leader depicted in that errant confection looks sort of like me, although I do not have glowing red eyes and long fangs. My eyes are a nice violet color, in fact. But the reference to me is obvious. I am the ruler of this quadrant, of course, so who else could it be? Inasmuch, this show -- which is being broadcast subspace to many other planetary systems -- is convincing people everywhere that I am evil. The purpose of this letter is to convince you that I am not evil at all (and let's not forget that "evil" is a highly subjective term anyway). I wish to point out to you all the inaccuracies in the tales originated with this show that are quickly becoming legend.
First of all, I would like to point out that running an entire quadrant of the galaxy is not an easy job, folks! In this show I am depicted as sitting around on a throne, barking orders to foul-looking, mutated subordinates, and living quite decadently off of my vast riches "stolen" in the form of ridiculously high taxes from the many sentiently-inhabited worlds under my rule. Let me deconstruct this bit-by-bit: I do not have a throne, people! I have an office. Granted, it's quite a nice one, I have a lovely view of the Xandian Nebula, but I sit behind a desk. Sure I eat nicely, but I don't overdue it. I have a very nice figure, abs I think many a female out there would appreciate. My subordinates do very good jobs and they are nice-looking, usually, compared to the standards held by each of their species. Billions every year apply for their various positions but only dozens are chosen. I am very selective, obviously, and only the most qualified, intelligent, and educated with the best experience even get a whiff of my palace.
Even with this aforementioned, excellent help I get from my cabinet, ruling nearly two thousand planetary systems and thousands of inhabited planets and sentient species is an enormous undertaking. 99% of you have no idea what kind of crap I have to put up with, how many things I have to do, legislations I have to consider, things I have to sign, decisions I have to make. You cannot possibly even begin to fathom them unless you have ever held any kind of public office. For example, in the last lunar cycle, I had to negotiate a very complex treaty with the demanding nations on Gruxbar-Six, without which an extremely important trade route would have most certainly broken down and left many systems beyond Gruxbar in Section 293 without a reliable means of obtaining many necessities that they have come to depend on for centuries. Remember last year when an asteroid hit Zelnar-three? Millions of Zelnarians died, which was an awful tragedy, but the disaster also destroyed a major wormhole port. Interstellar travel in Section 659 screeched to a halt. In five Nubulian days, while millions of Alpha Quandrant citizens were cut off, stranded, what have you, I had to get a new port built near Rigel-4. I had to review bids from dozens of port construction firms from several planets, choose the best one, get contracts signed, finagle the waiving of hundreds of zone and safety regulations in the Rigelian System, and finally oversee the beginning of construction. Building a new port is no small task! You've seen them being built probably on your planet but never had any idea what all went into making it happen. Creating a stable wormhole gate is very dangerous (if done incorrectly they can create destructive rips in spacetime or black holes) which is why there are very strict rules and laws in most systems to either prevent them from being built there or make it very difficult to do so.
This brings me to the subject of taxes. I get numerous complaints, a vast amount in fact, about the taxes I impose on this great Quadrant of ours and this Terran cartoon uses this merciless taxing I do as a frequent plot device. Nine out of every ten stories churned out in that abomination centers around some poor, poor planet with sweet and loving people being taxed to death by the Evil Galactic Emperor and when they cannot pay his maniacal, murderous cyborg beasts come to wreak havoc on said planet. Then they must be destroyed by the valiant kids and their robots and when they win, all rejoice. And most of the time they have to form that big robot to win the fight. Please indulge me as I get briefly tangential here, but in real life when they form that big clunky retarded hunk of metal, it doesn't work very well and most of the time disconnects into the lions again. Apparently those terrorists could do well with better resources. This "Defendatron" as they call it, while effective enough for them most of the time, is at the same time terribly unreliable. But anyway, back to the subject of taxes. Yes, my tax collectors are very large and powerful cyborgs, but this is out of necessity, not because I am some kind of cruel sadist, galactic asshole; let's face it, who among you wants to pay your taxes?! Why, nobody of course! On one nation on one planet it is relatively easy to collect taxes, the citizens pay them and most of them do and when they don't they're arrested and put on trial. But I'm trying to run an INTERGALACTIC EMPIRE here, people! I need to instill fear to a certain extent to ensure that the proper revenue comes in every year. Most of you take for granted all the things your taxes pay for, like before when I was talking about the interstellar gateways. Managing and maintaining a huge network of stable wormholes costs quadrillions! There's workers to pay, materials to mine, well I could just go on and on! And even though I don't absolutely have to, just because I'm a nice guy I suppose, I employ the Quadrant's most brilliant quantum physicists to work on improving their efficiency and stability on an annual basis. And let me tell you, they don't come cheap!
Sure, unfortunate things happen. Occasionally my cyborgs go a little overboard and destroy a village here or a city there, but, really, considering that, according to the last galactic census, there are currently 2,345,987,123,245, 291 Empire citizens, a few thousand lives here and there is rather insignificant, don't you think? The writers of that damned cartoon take great liberty in exaggerating those gaffes. And what the show doesn't depict is how many people die because of the actions of the robots! They smash people when they crash, when they blow up (again I go back to their poor construction), or when one of their pilots turns out to be psychotic and goes on a rampage. Oh, no, that show doesn't cover those incidents at all! And let us not forget that my cyborgs cost a lot of your tax money to build and when they destroy them to save you from a tax burden they really just make it worse!
You know what else pisses me off? When one of the worlds wants to rebel (and those insufferable terrorists are usually involved somehow) and secede from the Empire, when they still want to use the gateways and the resources of the Empire just not actually be a member and have to pay for them! I mean, come on, it's absurd! They want to be free of my "tyranny" yet they still want to warp over to any planet they want to willy-nilly, still have their sex vacations to that "paradise" (I say "depraved") Olithia-5. Ridiculous! Any thinking person would agree!
I would like to, however, apologize for one thing, that would be my son, Prince Voldarr. In the cartoon he is depicted as an evil twit and in reality he is just simply a twit. But the part about him being a twit is really only one place I really agree with the program. He's been pining after one of the female Terrans, the one who pilots that stupid pink lion. And, you know, she's not even that attractive. I find her a bit too fat for my taste. In the cartoon Voldarr is always trying to capture her and sometimes does but in reality my son isn't nearly so cunning or dastardly. Mostly he just hacks into the terrorists' computer system to find her communicator number and begs for her love and then she turns him down, cusses him out, and he comes crying to me. It is truly pathetic.
So, in summary, I am not evil, running a galactic empire is extremely difficult and sometimes requires unseemly actions, and my son is a fucking twit. So please stop flooding my offices with complaints or trying to rebel. Your complaints will be ignored and your insurgency will be crushed. And don't listen to those damn Terran terrorists or that cartoon! They are full of lies and they will get you killed or bring you even more suffering.
Good day, Citizens. Remember next cycle to get out and celebrate Founding Day. That is all.
Grand Emperor Zadnariak