It’s OK to Laugh

I’ve been trying not to feel so angry about the patriarchy today. So my media diet today is at least 60% funnies. Only 10% news about Ariel Castro, San Diego, Texas clinics etc. etc.

And lo, Richard Lawson surely salves my wounds.

For example, the Daily Show made hash out of the royal baby’s non-royal grandparents living in “Buckleberry,” which is named in nigh the Englishiest way possible.

Lawson upped their comic ante a zillionfold:

This week People magazine, which is about people, will tell us all about the new life of Prince George, the little squirming heir recently born to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, William and Catherine. Thus far, little Georgie is being raised unconventionally, not kept spirited away in a dark, candle-lit Kensington Palace chamber, attended to by wet nurses and lady maids, as all heirs have spent their formative years for a thousand years. Instead, Wills and Kate have taken the child to Bucklebury, where Kate’s parents, a pipe-smoking badger and a hedgehog wearing an apron, have a home and where little Georgie will be cared for by his parents, by his grandparents, and by one solitary housemaid. No army of nannies just yet, no attendants or onion-smelling tutors. It’s only family for now, plus one housekeeper, giving the little prince the most normal early life a royal can have, perhaps. Everything will be charming and pleasant there in Bucklebury, which is near Biggleby and one town over from Crumbly Crossing. A little wisp of smoke floating up from the thatched-roof cottage’s chimney, the smells of warm baking things, the countryside rolling and green. All will be so nice, in little Bucklebury, until a chill falls upon the little glen, and a dark steed approaches the house, whinnying and snorting. The door opens and a man strides through. “Harry!” Kate calls. “What a pleasant surprise.” “I want to see the child,” he says gruffly. “This… heir.” Kate smiles, suddenly a little unsure of the mood, and says “Of course. He’s your nephew. I’m sure he’d love to see his dashing Uncle Harry.” And so she takes him, warily all of a sudden, to the baby’s room, and Harry stands over the crib, glaring down at it. This thing, this new thing, standing between him and what he just realized, not but a week ago, he’s so desperately wanted all along. [People]

 

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