Time for a new dynasty

It's always been my dream to be to the Chinese food industry what Big Bird is to Sesame Street, what Dr. J is to dunking and what Urkel is to television. In other words, revolutionary.

Now, I've been visiting Chinese restaurants since I was young, and I have always been a big fan of the food. Last week, I visited China House, Four Corners' best (and only) Chinese restaurant.

My trip made me realize it's time for major strides to be made, and I'm just the man to implement them. My biggest concern isn't that Chinese restaurants are slightly out of date, it's that most establishments are still stuck in the Ming Dynasty.

One aspect of the industry needing improvement is the zodiac, which is displayed on virtually every placemat. Many people (namely my grandma) wonder what, exactly, the zodiac is. It's a 12-year cycle in which each individual is assigned to a certain animal with distinct characteristics. The zodiac chart told me that I am a rat: ambitious and prone to spend money freely, though I seldom make lasting friendships.

Pretty boring, eh? When I'm in charge, the new and improved zodiac will look like this:

RABBIT
1939, 1951, 1963, 1975, 1987, 1999
You are at best mildly attractive. Most think you're a bad basketball player, but you just need to work on your jumper. Saved By The Bell was the best TV show of the ‘90s. Don't eat the egg rolls or you'll get polio. Just kidding.

As you can see, I have some innovative and exciting ideas. My next reform will change the name of every Chinese restaurant, because they all contain the words "house," "golden" or "palace."

Instead of grabbing a bite from Golden Palace, China House or the House of the Golden Palace, I'd like to spend my evening in an establishment whose name the owner took more than 30 seconds to determine.

But there's something more important than the restaurant's name—the fortune cookie. Perhaps the most puzzling thing about the fortune cookie is that despite its name, no cookie has ever actually contained a fortune.

Instead, the cookie just throws out lame, confusing statements, like "When you gather all your resources together, goals are accomplished."

What I plan to do is write really deep, meaningful fortunes that will change the way my customers think about life. Here are a few examples:

"Laughter is the best medicine. Unless you have a collapsed lung. Then it just hurts."
"A full house is a happy house. But Full House would have been a happier house for all of us if Bob Sagat wasn't on the show."
"Dreams can come true, except those dreams where you're Snoop Dogg piloting an airplane."

See what I mean?

The last step in creating my ideal Chinese restaurant will involve making it more authentic by converting meal prices from dollars to yuan, the Chinese currency.

Let's say, for instance, that a customer ordered two egg rolls and a bowl of wonton soup. Here in America, it would come out to approximately $5. But after a few simple conversions, I would charge about 875 yuan (which equals $109.35).

Hey, so what if I grossly overcharge my customers? I'm allowed. After all, I was born in the Year of the Rat.