The world might have to wait until Wednesday to gaze upon the new royal crotch-dropping. Guessing they’re having trouble stapling those jug-ears to the sides of the skull
This is, of course, in reference to some kind what just got decanted over in Englandland, which, if the media yammerings are to be paid attention to, is almost as a big a deal as Lady Gaga posing naked. The very first post in the thread nails what is most important about this “news story:”
Let’s face it: who really cares? Sure, maybe, someday, the kid will be King of Englandistan. But when will that be? Do the math. His great-grandmother, the current Queen, is about 90. The family seems pretty long-lived. So he can probably expect his father to hang on till the age of 100 or thereabouts, perhaps longer. If dear old dad hangs on until the age of 118 (pretty old today, but who’s to say for decades down the line), junior won’t get to be king until THE TWENTY-SECOND CENTURY. Rattle that around in your noggin. Then try to find something to do with your day that doesn’t involve obsessing over some kid who is the offspring of someone who hasn’t done anything noteworthy, who is also the offspring of someone who’s done nothing of note.