Surrounded by Idiots—Appointed by Me

written by jaron summers (c) 2025

“I Told Him Not to Build That Empire, But Did He Listen?” –- A Talk by Yours Truly, Mark Twain.

Now folks, I ain’t no military general, no crowned head, and certainly no tyrant—though I’ve worn a crown made of newspaper and reigned briefly over a chicken coop in Hannibal.

But I do know this: if a man builds a house made of yes-men, don’t be surprised when the roof caves in and no one hollers “look out below.”

Let me tell you about a few big fellas who insisted on getting their egos stroked instead of their facts straight—and who ended up stepping on their own countries like they were banana peels at a county fair.

Napoleon: Froze Solid by His Own Brilliance

I once had a French barber who swore Napoleon was the greatest mind since God created sliced bread—never mind that bread came unsliced back then.

But Bonaparte, bless his short trousers, marched half a million men into Russia thinking he was gonna pick up souvenirs in Moscow and be home in time for supper.

Now, I wasn’t there, but I’ve seen enough frostbite to know what happens when you forget mittens.

His advisors all nodded and said, “Oui, mon empereur, you are genius.” Not one said, “Sir, Russia’s cold enough to freeze the Devil’s mustache.”

When most of your army ends up as snowmen with muskets, you don’t need an enemy—you’ve already lost to the weather.

Hitler: The Man Who Out-Screamed Sanity

Fast forward a century, and here comes Adolf Hitler, holed up in a concrete basement yelling at maps.

His generals stood around like choirboys who forgot their hymns, afraid to tell him the war was already lost and the Russians were parked outside the front gate.

If he’d spent less time barking and more time listening, Berlin might still be a city and not just a cautionary tale in rubble. Instead, he issued orders to ghost divisions and wondered why the ghosts didn’t obey.

Old Sun Tzu, the Chinese fellow who wrote The Art of War, would’ve slapped him with a bamboo scroll and said: “Stop digging if you’re already in a grave.”

Tsar Nicholas II: Crowned, Clueless, Cursed

Next up, we’ve got Tsar Nicholas II—the poor sap in a crown who thought “peasants with pitchforks” meant it was harvest season.

He had a wizard named Rasputin whispering sweet nonsense in his ear while factories burned, soldiers starved, and women marched for bread.

When your people are eating soup made of shoe leather, and your inner circle says, “You’re doing great, Nicky!”—you best open a window and smell the revolution.

The Romanovs were buried with their delusions, and the Bolsheviks made sure no one would be needing a new tsar anytime soon.

Saddam Hussein: King of Castles in the Sand

Now don’t get me started on Saddam. He strutted around in gold-plated palaces while his generals told him the Americans were bluffing.

“They wouldn’t dare invade,” they said. Three weeks later, he was pulled out of a hole with a beard like a possum’s tail.

He told the world he had weapons of mass destruction. He told his advisors the same. Trouble is, he didn’t. They just nodded anyway—because telling the truth to Saddam got you acquainted with graveyards.

Old Sun Tzu again: “Pretend to be weak, so the enemy may grow arrogant.” Saddam skipped the “pretend” part and just was.

Nero: The Original One-Man Band

And let us not forget Nero—Rome’s own torch singer. The story goes that while the city burned, he tuned up his fiddle. Might be myth, might be memoir, but the result’s the same: Rome smoked while he performed a sonnet about himself.

He had no advisors, just an entourage of flatterers with lyres and blindfolds. Rome burned because no one dared say, “Maybe we should put the fires out instead of writing poetry about them.”

If your critics all disappear mysteriously, the next thing to vanish might be your empire.

A Bonus Tale: King George

and the Colonies That Got Away

Now I would be remiss, as a proper American with at least three ancestors who dodged taxes and wore buckled shoes, if I didn’t mention King George III.

His ministers told him the colonies were “grateful and loyal” even as we tarred their taxmen and dumped their tea. George figured we’d get over it. Instead, we wrote a Declaration and called him a tyrant to boot.

He lost America not from force of arms, but from a deficit of truth in his court.

Final Thoughts from an Old River Rat

I’ve lived long enough to know that if everyone around you agrees, you’re either a genius—or a tyrant in training. Every one of these gents fell into the same trap: confusing silence for respect and applause for accuracy.

Give me a friend who tells me when I’ve got soup in my mustache over a dozen who say I look regal while I’m dripping chowder.

If Sun Tzu had grown up on the Mississippi, he might’ve said:

“Surround yourself with honest folks, lest you end up in the mud, wondering how the boat sank.”

So, if you ever find yourself in charge of anything—be it a nation, a company, or just a poker game—don’t let flattery be the only music you hear.

Or you might find yourself fiddling while your fortune burns.

Yours in common sense,
Mark Twain (resurrected briefly for this warning)