THIS MORNING – AT 7:58 A.M. ET:  While all of you were warmly comfy in your beds, dreaming sweet dreams, I was up early as usual, researching Urgent Agenda, and heroically facing down the demons of the left, single-handedly holding them at bay on behalf of American purity.

However, I did take a few minutes out to peek at the royal wedding.  It happened to come at an hour when the left was having its tofu breakfast.

Boy, these Brits do those things well, don't they?  I mean, the empire is shot to hell, the Royal Navy may soon be down to three rowboats and a rubber ducky, but royal weddings...nobody does it better.  They get Westminster Abbey, free of charge I think, and they get these fellas from the Church of England, each one of whom has a voice from the well.  The Metropolitan Opera doesn't have better voices. 

And those uniforms.  I tell you, the Brits do the 19th century with real respect.  I haven't seen uniforms like that since striking doormen marched down Fifth Avenue in New York.  I looked out at that assemblage, and all I could think of was...that will be some dry-cleaning bill.

Some observations:  Kate – I believe that's the bride's name – didn't look particularly happy.  It looked as if she were thinking, "What am I doing in a flat like this?"  In fact, no one looked happy.  As great a show as it was, it could've used a little Italian or Greek spirit.  The royals aren't exactly knee slappers.

One person in the crowd stood out – Prince Charles, who looked 107, give or take a few months.  He looked almost as old as his mother, the queen.  I can't see Charles becoming king.  It just wouldn't be good for tourism.  The gent who got married today, William, is a better candidate.  Seems like a decent enough chap, and looked reasonably human.  Charles appeared as if he'd just been done by a discount taxidermist.

I hope the food is good.  I ordered the pizza.

April 29, 2011