Chris Erskine: The guy who would be king?

If I were king, every day would start with a group run and end with a bonfire.

If I were king, I’d have a big chair. It would have wheels and an engine. It would smell like baseball gloves and German shepherd puppies. The chair would recline, the first recliner-throne in world history.

If I were king, Gordon Lightfoot would be our poet laureate (even though he’s Canadian), and he’d give guitar lessons for free on Saturday afternoons. Anyone could come.

If I were king, Mila Kunis would be secretary of the Navy.

If I were king, we’d return us to a more agrarian society. If we can’t produce textiles or electronics, let’s produce wheat and corn. We should be the OPEC of food.

If I were king, I’d condense the Dakotas and combine North and South Carolina into one. Better one great state than two also-rans.

If I were king, I’d nationalize the next sports league that goes out on strike or declares a lockout.

If I were king, I’d ask Rick Caruso to make over LAX.

If I were king, Phil Jackson would be the next NBA commish.

If I were king, I’d insist that every high school graduate take a “gap year” like the British do. I’d send the kids off with backpacks to find something they love. As it is, we’re in too much of a rush to make a buck, yet we don’t know all the ways to make a buck. “Find a major!” colleges tell an 18-year-old who’s lucky just to find his toothbrush.

If I were king, I’d declare a national Betty White Day, in honor of folks who grow old with grace, humor and beauty, inside and out.

If I were king, there’d be no tenure.

If I were king, nobody could make more than $1 million a year. Except me, of course.

If I were king, everyone would write their own obit, the way you’d like to be remembered. When you passed away, the obit would be read aloud at a party. Everybody would wear a beer helmet.

If I were king, the Auto Club would run the DMV.

If I were king, all fans would wear capes on football Sundays. The capes would carry the logos of their favorite teams.

If I were king, cars would come with bazookas. When some palooka cut you off, the bazooka would be programmed to vaporize him. It would become known as the palooka-bazooka.

If I were king, I’d have 100 kids.

If I were king, “Midnight in Paris” would win five Oscars. Hemingway would accept the best screenplay award and challenge Steven Spielberg to a fight.

If I were king, July would last six weeks and February would last two. The last week of July would be a mandatory national holiday.

If I were king, I’d declare a day when children who play sports get to go out to watch their mother and father play golf or tennis. On their parents’ backswings, the kids would be allowed to yell out advice — “keep your head down!” or “follow through!” Sort of like AYSO or Little League in reverse.

If I were king, there’d be more street musicians and fewer mimes.

If I were king, there’d be no drive-through windows. If you wanted fast food, you’d have to waddle out of your damn cars to get it.

Don’t laugh, but if I were king, Steve Martin, Martin Short and Bill Murray would run a comedy camp.

Don’t get your hopes up, but if I were king, I’d do away with kings. I’d do away with princes and princesses, Cinderella stories and king beds. I’d turn all the castles into Comfort Inns.

Especially the ones in Malibu.

chris.erskine@latimes.com

twitter.com/erskinetimes