I suppose the love affair the media seem to be having with “royalty” is no more bizarre than the fan frenzy some performers inspire.
But, personally, I cannot get my head around the idea that an individual with no unique physical, mental or spiritual assets should be set upon a throne and showered with the people’s hard-earned money.
If I understand history, kings, emperors and so on used to be the equivalent of today’s Mafia dons. They ruled territories because their gangs were so terrifying. And they made sure their sons – or occasionally their daughters – inherited their ill gotten power.
Some did things that proved beneficial to the people they ruled. The Hapsburgs, for example. But most were downright horrible. They beheaded people. They burned people at the stake. They assassinated their rivals, including their closest relatives.
They were a lot like Trump’s new pal, Kim.
So when I see ads for DNA tests to uncover any “royal blood” I might have in my veins, I am not tempted. I wouldn’t want to find out that I am descended from Henry VIII, Bad King John or Catherine the Great… or any of the other monstrous kings and queens of yesteryear.
The way I see it, Western civilization is well rid of those blood-stained bullies. I’m all for power to the people – even when the people make stupid mistakes like electing Trump.
At least their mistakes can be corrected at the ballot box – without bloodshed.
So while I share in the warm glow everyone seems to be feeling over Meghan Markle’s fairy-tale romance with Prince Harry (photo), I can’t justify the notion of royalty to myself.
From what I read on the internet and see on TV, Kate is a nice young lady, and William would make any mother proud. But is that enough to justify the millions they get from British taxpayers?
But what do I know? The older I get, the more mystified I am by this weird world of ours.