Penetrating thought of the day

I do not understand the hoopla surrounding the birth of the royal family’s baby boy. Like any child born on the planet, I wish William and Kate well, but these folks are mega-wealthy individuals whose ancestors ruthlessly secured vast expanses of land, hired mercenaries to protect them while acquiring more property, donned bejeweled crowns and silk robes, drank wine, ate venison and sweet potatoes, while their “SUBJECTS” went around in rags, starved and scrounged about for a crust of bread and a vessel of brown water to wash it down. Whenever I view “commoners” (as the monarchy refers to the middleclass) bowing and scraping to the royals, I’m certain those individuals cannot be hooked-up right. I thought it was amusing when I learned that the Queen Mother postponed her vacation until Prince what’s-his-name was born. The old girl lives in a palace with 480 rooms on a parcel of land the size of Seattle. She has gold toilets, swimming pools, tennis courts, movie theaters, thoroughbred horses and servants up the wazoo; going off on a holiday seems redundant. And unless you consider smashing a bottle of champagne against the side of a luxury liner labor intensive, the royal family never worked a day in their lives. Bitter? Maybe just a tad. Peace out brothers and sisters. .

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