Things you think are precious I cant understand

The grandson of Tiberius has long been an idol of mine. How many afternoons I have spent wallowing in the desire for a time machine. Would I set the machine to the year 1965 and watch Dr. King receive the Nobel Peace Prize for his iconic "I have a dream" speech? Would I travel back one year farther than that thus facilitating the ability to enjoy, first hand, the marvelous musical era known as the 'British Invasion'? Or how about the old winning lottery numbers ploy?
NOPE!
I would plant myself firmly on the Isle of Capri, circa 34 AD, and swim amongst the "little guppies" of Tiberius's famed human-stocked ponds and pools. I would watch as Gaius Caligula was transformed from a slightly damaged young man into the deranged leader we have since been taught to fear and shun. I would sit idly by and watch all of this with the grin of a mythical forest sprite.
I would revel in the madness which would surely surround my new friend 'C-Dog' and I. Together, we would enjoy each and every last little decadent moment. And when old man Tiberius died from some--as of yet--unknown venereal disease, me and 'C' would sail to Rome upon waves of Azure blue sea. Amidst thick, lager-urine brown tufts of opium smoke we would traverse the Mediterranean whilst twin sisters, mothers and daughters, and complete strangers, one and all reared in bondage, went down on each other for our amusement.
When, finally, we would arrive at the gates of the great, vast empire, all of the world would lie before us, and become quickly trampled under foot.