So the grand event on

So the grand event on the telly this AM in Paris was the Dutch royal wedding. There really isn’t a better way to nurse a hangover than amongst Dukes and Earls. And those hats, those wonderful wonderful hats. To be completely unmoved by the gathering of the bluebloods in all their finest frocks is to be truly American I think. How do people really line the streets and wait for hours to watch this nonsense. I mean, Royalty? Come On! Worshipped people should at least sing bad pop songs while falling out of their top. Since I am always culturally sensitive, when I see something in Paris that strikes me as totally ridiculous I try to think of its American counterpart. Just to be equally snarky you know. Academy Awards. How a bunch of overdressed blubbering narcissists get so much airtime is a crime. And then to make matters worse, can you just imagine how many free drinks they are all swiggin in their fancy (free) clothes. Fucking criminal, if you ask me. The Royal Wedding wasn’t nearly as tacky as the Academy Awards, but so empty of irony and self-reflection, that it might even be refreshing in a sick sort of way. There were actually four handmaidens carrying the bride’s train. Handmaidens – I kid you not. (They’re the one’s in the prudish burgundy dresses.) There are people out there who are handmaidens. I can only imagine the raging alcoholism those four are secretly harboring. It’s gotta be worse than mine.

But those hats, those wonderful wonderful hats…

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