Almost up to date
16 April—El Liberalissimo was in high spirits yesterday. Or was that high dudgeon?
“Well, I’m glad to see you are back to tending your pretty little weeds instead of defending attacks on your home and patrolling the crime-filled streets of Litchfield with your automatic at the ready,” he wrote. “Murder count [in my town] is down for this year.”
What a kidder El is. First off, his little weeds are my precious little captive wildflowers. And Litchfield evidently hasn’t been too successful in suppressing news of the recent crime wave that has made the town Bridgeport North. As for the murder count in his own idyllic town being down for this year, there are still eight months to go.
But how many times must I remind El that I prefer to pack a good old-fashioned revolver, as revolvers are more reliable than pistols—which he knows full well are only semi-automatic anyway?
The Monitor’s religion-horticulture reporter, who is also our fair-weather photographer, reports there’s nothing to report or photograph in the primal Garden of Pansies. And there probably won’t be until the weather improves.
But the big Sunday news is that King Charles III (a.k.a. Chuck the Turd, although he prefers to defer to Senate Majority Leader Charles Schumer for that descriptive sobriquet) will be riding to his Westminster Abbey coronation next month in a snazzy black and gold alumin(i)um air-conditioned pseudo-antique coach with power bullet-proof windows and hydraulic shock absorbers.
The new coach, in the bottom picture, was built in Australia for Chuck’s mommy over a decade ago. President Donald Trump was not allowed to ride in it for the stated reason that it wasn’t secure enough. But Trump’s Chinese counterpart was. Were they hoping? Or was it simply that the new coach is pulled by only six horses and the hippoPOTUSmus would have put an undue strain on them?
Chuck’s queen consort, Whatsername, is expected to be in the coach with (probably beside) HM, holding the leash attached to his choke collar. Discreetly, of course.
But poor Chuck and (probably) Whatsername will be forced to endure the clunky, notoriously uncomfortable 261-year-old Gold State Coach, in the top picture, on the ride back to Buckingham Palace. That one is pulled by eight horses because it weighs over a ton more than the more energy-efficient new model. You’ve got to feel sorry for them. The horses, that is.
And guess who foots the bill for all that pomp and poppycock? In fairness, except for the rococo trappings, it’s not much better this side of the pond. Except there’s usually less horse manure—if not horse shit . . .
