If my posting habit is any indicator of my moderation habit, I imagine I would be something like an infrequent tropical tsunami. For long periods of time I would be absent from the scene, completely disconnected from the chaos of the forums. Slowly, methodically, I would slip from the minds of my subjects; they would forget the fear of me. Distant memories of mod-wrath would yeild to the happy realization that I was far away and far too busy to brave the long march back.
And when at last the name Khedive Rex had succum to the illness of disuse and it's withered corpse awoke no hesitation in but the meekest user, like a phoenix from its burnt and humble corpse I would take flight and soar galantly above the heads of the wicked. The storm long abated would plummet from the skies hurling suspensions and probations and bans and warnings in such stunning excess my penalizations would blot out the sun. Like the rain, punishment would be everywhere. Accosting every man woman and bot with the patient devotion of a thousand years the rain would fall and wash away all that was soiled and unworthy and, just when the terror had reached it's peak, Khedive Rex would be no more.
The final thunder clouds drifting toward the horizon would be my only formal farewell when, once more, I departed this region for worlds unknown. My devotion, seemingly endless, would not feul my interest which is finite and capricious. Once again these forums would be left to their own devices. And though the good may have been pecked by my hammer, the trolls would lay about themselves in steaming hills as the last of the rain washed their blood from the sand. The bots would be rended and forced back to terrored lands from which they hail. The ignorant and uninitiated would see what standards they must meet. The wheat would rise, the chaff would fall and the land wouldbe better for my toils.
Memories of me would persist. For a time. I imagine. Like the setting of the sun though, my moderation would fade into obscurity and once more the door would be unbolted and the window latch left thrown. My invitiation to return would be laid before me. In time I would. And the cycle would begin again; inevitably. Like the dark tropical tsunamis, terrible and mighty, fickle and unsure, but bound by it's duty to return when the sky is darkest and the soil calls for rinsing. That is my way. That is my calling. That is Khedive Rex the Moderator.
Thats also probably why I'm not a moderator. Lets face it, suspending 70% of the user base once every two months and doing no other measurable work probably isn't the best game plan. Certainly doesn't endear you to people...
... sort of similar to waxing poetically when it isn't really called for just because you can and it's late... Eh, I've got to get my kicks somehow.
