Originally published via Armageddon Prose Substack:
“Screws fall out all the time. The world is an imperfect place.”
-John Bender, The Breakfast Club
I consider it an act of Deep-Seated, Red-Blooded American Patriotism in the best traditions of armed insurrection against tyrants to have no concern whatsoever for the well-being of the decadent royal family of Great Britain.
We fought a war for the sacred American right to not care about European blue bloods — least of all British ones — and their stupid problems. Call me a traditionalist.
(The “British royals” aren’t even British, by the way. They are the inbred Transylvanian descendants of Vlad the Impaler who wormed their way across Eastern Europe into the Crown and have squatted there ever since. But that’s a story for another day.)
Via CBS News:
“Catherine, the Princess of Wales, announced in a video message released Friday that cancer was discovered during her January abdominal surgery and she is undergoing preventative chemotherapy on the advice of her medical team. The announcement came after months of widespread speculation about the 42-year-old princess’ health and controversy over doctored images released by Kensington Palace.
Kate said that the cancer was discovered during tests conducted after her surgery, which had gone well. She did not say what kind of cancer it was or share additional details about her diagnosis.
‘This of course came as a huge shock, and William and I have been doing everything we can to process and manage this privately for the sake of our young family, Kate said in the video message. ‘As you can imagine, this has taken time. It has taken me time to recover from major surgery in order to start my treatment. But, most importantly, it has taken us time to explain everything to George, Charlotte and Louis in a way that is appropriate for them, and to reassure them that I am going to be ok.’”
Getting cancer does not make one a hero; it makes one a statistically probable casualty in a world full of carcinogens. Over 600,000 Americans without the title Princess of Wales or Duchess of Fuckbridge or whatever died of cancer in 2023, yet corporate state media outlets don’t eulogize them.
My only regret is that it was this bitch and not her significantly more annoying diverse American princess turncoat whore colleague who defected into the British royal family and then cried about racism after marrying into a lifetime of pampering beyond the wildest imagination of normal people — or her redheaded cuck husband, or preferably both — who got the bad news.
Here’s hoping for more of the royal cancer wherever it came from — ideally, God, as a form of desperately needed cosmic justice in this broken Earthly domain.
If you’re British and you love your royals something fierce for God and Country, fine, whatever. If I were a subject of the crown, I might feel the same. But I’m not, and I don’t. And no one is going to make me.
I subscribe to the Sex Pistols philosophy on the matter.
Ben Bartee, author of Broken English Teacher: Notes From Exile, is an independent Bangkok-based American journalist with opposable thumbs.
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