Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Why I Couldn't Care Less about the Royal Wedding.

In 1981, I was ten years old. I had to be THE target market for a princess wedding. But the pomp, the fluff, the incredible white regal jacked-uppedness of Charles and Diana's wedding hit me all wrong. (I was going through a phase of personal austerity.)

And then there were his ears and buckled nose. And she was so incredibly shy and doe-eyed and even at ten, she seemed young to me. The years played out, as we all know, darkly. It took decades for Diana to finally emerge from all of that pomp, fluff, and incredibly regal jacked-uppedness. And then she was dead.

Am I saying that this wedding feels eerily familiar? Am I saying that it's tinged with darkness and loss? Am I making any claims about a woman who seems nice enough -- a woman who isn't all jacked up about regal jacked-uppedness and might have gone through phase of personal austerity herself at ten?

No. None of that is my point.

My point is: Thank God my tax dollars aren't dishing out for this.

My husband says, "Yeah, but your tax dollars have gone to inauguration pomp."

And I say, "Yeah, but for people who were actually going to run my country."

My husband says, "Yeah, but she's going to do charity."

And I say, "Indentured charity. That's what my ancestor chose after he got caught stealing sheep in England and was auctioned off in a penal colony, now called The United States of America."

(Backstory: Maybe I'm jaded. If so, I come by it naturally. My earliest ancestor on my father's side DID steal sheep (twice) and was given the option to die proudly as an Englishman (by hanging) or be auctioned off in America for indentured servitude. He was like, "Let me think. I'll take option B.")

My problem is that it doesn't matter. The royal family is a vestige. They're not actually ordained by God. They're just some people who got caught up in this big fake house of pomp.

When Dave and I were running a boarding house for foreigners (for about 5 years), people from certain cultures wanted to visit the homes of descendants of famous people. They wanted to know where George Washington's heirs now lived. They couldn't understand why I didn't know, nor why I seemed proud of the fact that I didn't know.

In fact, GEORGE WASHINGTON didn't want us to know.

So, do I care about Charles and Camilla? They seem like asses, but nope.

Do I care about William and Kate? They seem sweet, but no.

Do I care to eat off of their faces on the commemorative plate? Weirdly, a little. Okay, yes.

Do I care that Beyonce and Jay-Z are playing at the wedding? Honestly, I kind of do. I probably wouldn't tune into a live broadcast, but I'd watch a youtube video of Kate and William dancing to some of that. Can they "dip it, pop it, twork it, stop it, check on me tonight"?

One more thing, coverage begins at 4 am. Seriously, bugger off.