Comic Relief

 Dear you,

Tomorrow is the coronation of England/UK's new king. This monarchial ritual has been going on for centuries, but now the common folk get to watch the show.  For the love of god, I wish my sense of humor or appetite for pointless drama was operating properly so I could just enjoy the event like most normal people.  But I am way too de-centered and de-humored (I know, not a word).  Flip a coin. My daily mood is "either-or". Tails, I roll with the crazy; heads, I freeze and pout.  I don't know how the coin will land tomorrow, but I intend to tune in to the coronation even though:

1. Our banking system appears to be in peril.

2. Another random cat has appeared in my zone and I can't get the highly lauded 'rescue' people here to help me help her.

3. Someone out there, according to a notice in my mailbox last week, is trying to steal my identity (again) for employment purposes.

4. My life-line NPR radio station vanished from the airwaves for a couple of days (it reappeared yesterday) and I feared they had been axed by my not coronated governor-king DeSantis.

5. The debt ceiling!  The debt ceiling!  The debt ceiling!

6. Every day, another shooting.

Let it go, right? Just tune in and enjoy the show. My dramas are my dramas and everybody is going through something.  But that's not the real issue here.  The issue is a question of relevance; why are we celebrating monarchy in 2023?  Those jewels in that crown alone could pay for a squadron of fighter jets for Ukraine.  Apparently a "cocky" Brit agrees with my discontent:

Thank you, New York Post, for sharing this photo.  A penis mowed into a castle's great lawn.  A perfectly childish and absolutely HILARIOUS editorial comment about our obsession with monarchy.  Seeing this, I laughed for the first time today.

I suggest you too seek comic relief whenever, wherever you can find it.  Even if it is featured in a Rupert Murdock tabloid.

Carry on!

Joyce