I saw a great tweet earlier today:
â€œi honestly donâ€™t care about a wedding where I wasnâ€™t invited and doesnâ€™t have an open bar.â€
My sentiments exactly.
In fact, I got a kick out of the website of the Guardian in the UK. Todayâ€™s homepage is of course dominated by news and photos of the royal wedding, but the Guardian offers a convenient button labeled â€œRepublicans click here,â€ Republicans in the British context meaning those who oppose the monarchy.
Click it, and poof! â€” you get a homepage with absolutely no mention of the Windsor-Mountbatten/Middleton ceremony. Like it never even happened.
Clearly, though, hundreds of millions if not billions donâ€™t share my attitude. The confluence of princess fantasies, wedding porn, the lingering grip of the British Empire on the public imagination and a celebrity culture ensures it became a much-watched media extravaganza.
Given all that, I sifted through my memory banks for an appropriate song to kick off the eveningâ€™s festivities, and only one came to mind.
(Oh, and by the way, Iâ€™ve never been able to remember which of the two British princes was which. But after seeing some of todayâ€™s photos, I now have a mnemonic device: â€œOne of themâ€™s Harry. The other one isnâ€™t.â€ Given his growing bald spot, then-King William might be asking President Trump for a few combover tips a few years from now.)