I’ve always thought it would cool to live in a country where the leader was deposed.
A country where the leader didn’t exit his official residence in a hail of fame and glory but instead, departed sorrowfully with his tail between his legs. Shamed and ridiculed, he left in the middle of the night like a delinquent renter, never to be seen or heard from again.
His memory would be a dull blight in the country’s collective memory.
Thing is, I didn’t want to live in a third world shithole, so I never thought I’d live to see the day.