Wednesday, April 27, 2011

God Save the Queen

If you're anything like me, at this moment you're trying to figure out how to time your medication properly so you'll be wide awake for the royal wedding.

What century is it again? Does anyone still care about royalty? Besides a few sweet old ladies, the press, and the people selling souvenirs, that is? Gosh, what will Will's title be? (The first Duke of Tired-Cultural-Anachronism-on-Thames?) Who will design Kate's dress? (I'd let Lady Gaga have a shot at it. Mutton with lace, anyone?) Where will all of their various exes sit? (Apparently there are a lot of them.) Quick, let's rush a Commemorative imaginary seating chart for the reception into print! Sell it to the punters for a quid and make a killing!

Don't get me wrong, I'm a card carrying Anglophile when it comes to many things. But in this particular case I just don't get it. Maybe it's because the House of Windsor is basically a bunch of Germans. Or maybe it's because it seems a little late in the game to still be playing at Kings and Queens.

I'm sure that somewhere, way back in the mists of time, rule by royal primogeniture served a purpose. As I understand it, the King used to be the bravest, strongest, perhaps even the smartest of his tribe. And it probably made a great deal of sense to stick with that particular gene pool until a better one came along. But that was a long time ago and it's been more or less straight downhill since then...

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