Olybrius: The Puppet Emperor's Fall - A Byzantine Blunder?

Rome, 2nd November 472 AD. The echoes of the Senate's cheers still reverberate in the Rome’s marble walls — their puppet king, Emperor Olybrius, has fallen. Now, let’s not beat around the bush here. Olybrius wasn't exactly the Julius Caesar of his time. In fact, he was more of a marionette whose strings were being yanked by the Byzantine puppet masters. And as we all know, those Byzantines couldn’t write a tragedy even if Euripides himself came down from Olympus to guide their quills.

But let's get back to Olybrius. He was crowned in April, blinked twice, and suddenly it's July and he's out. Three months. That's less time than it takes to train a new gladiator. Heck, I’ve seen Roman weddings that lasted longer.

Yet, here we are. The streets are abuzz with the sound of "Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine," and the people weep for the demise of an emperor they hardly had the time to know. But let's be honest, dear Romans. Are those tears of sorrow or barely concealed relief?

It's not like Olybrius was running the show, anyway. This was a man who got his throne as a wedding gift, for Jupiter's sake! He was a Capricorn — we all know they love a good promotion, but typically they prefer to earn it. Our dear Olybrius' reign was more of a honeymoon period than a dictatorship.

And that, dear readers, is the heart of this Byzantine blunder. The imperial throne is not a trinket to be passed around like a cheap bottle of Falernian wine at a bacchanalia. It requires a leader of substance, of vision, who can steer the Empire through the stormy seas of barbarian invasions, economic instability, and religious discord. Yet, the Byzantine puppeteers chose to ignore the pleas of the masses for a just and effective leader, instead opting for a yes-man with a pretty face.

In the end, it's us, the citizens of this once-great empire, who pay the price. We're left holding onto the tattered remnants of a glorious past while the marionettes in power bumble their way through administration.

So, while we mourn the fall of Olybrius, let's also raise a glass to hope. Hope for a leader who isn't a puppet in the hands of a distant empire. Hope for a ruler who values the common citizen over political alliances. For now, let's remember Olybrius as the emperor who shone briefly, like a shooting star, then blinked out