The Royals

I was asked by a buddy the other night if our girls were all excited about the royal wedding. To be honest, this is not something about which I have been thinking. Tonight is the first round of the NFL Draft. Plus, to paraphrase Lt. Frank Drebin: “No matter how silly the idea of having a queen might be to us, as Americans, we must be gracious and considerate hosts.”

I remember the Charles and Diana wedding. Got up early and everything. Mostly because my Dad went out the night before and bought us all doughnuts. And guess what? Doughnuts were good, wedding was dumb. Didn’t get it then, don’t get it now. From where I’m standing, it seems a bit like…treason.

I don’t want to go off on a rant here, but…the fascination with the wedding is like giving the Jefferson Memorial the finger. These are royals. I realize nobody else really gives a crap about history and what it means anymore – especially the teacher’s unions – but dammit, my girls will.

We fought a war against royalty. And despite the media’s efforts to coronate the Kennedy’s, we don’t have royalty. So a whole bunch of Americans skipping work and getting up early to watch a royal wedding seems a lot like taking a crap on George Washington’s grave. To me anyway.

Seriously, do you boo when you hear Yankee Rose, David Lee Roth’s 1986 anthem to Lady Liberty on the radio? I bet these royal watchers do.

Am I the only one who took Schoolhouse Rock to heart?

I understand the Brits are our best friend in the world right now. I understand we’ve been allies for almost 100 years, but c’mon they like their beer warm, go to soccer games and they still have royals!

I’m not sure the girls really understood or really cared about my quick lesson on Valley Forge and it’s applications to the current debate over the federal budget, but I did it anyway. Hopefully it sticks…

And finally my top three songs from the spring of ’86:
1-Go For Soda
2-Be Good to Yourself
3-Your Love

And yes I realize Go For Soda came out in ’85 but I didn’t discover it until the spring of ’86. So it counts. Plus it freaking rocks.

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