Real Men/Women of Genius #89

[Good Afternoon, Seekers of Truth & General Glommer-Onners, and welcome once again to “Bad Joke Friday,” eh? Today’s RM/WoG subject matter was suggested by my terrific ol’ friend Tess Simoneau. If there is anyone alive today who could actually “tess-tify” as to how I was as a (very) young man, she could be it. We worked on the Illinois State University student newspaper together. She now owns her own newspaper! And–when was it, 1980?–around the time of that original “Wedding of The Century” between Hoozits Prince Charlie and the now-long-since-departed Princess Diana, Tess and I (and others, OK? 😉 were watching THAT particular show from inside a Wisconsin resort hotel room.
( O_O )
Oh stop. It was completely innocent–our watching TV, that is. The original “Wedding of The Century,” however, turned out to be “guilty as sin.”]

Ingelhook Wineries present…

REAL WOMEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al gals of geeeeeene-yuss!}

Today we propose our toast to you, Miss Not-Quite-a-running-but-feared-gonna-be-a Runaway British Princessy Bride.

{Miss “Ewwwwwwwwwwwww you-mean-I-have-to-honnnnnn-nor AND obey HIMMMMMMM?!”}

And there have been several–Americans mostly–within recent memory. And you did in fact have Their Royal Majesties plenty worried. We see now that there actually was a “contingency plan” in place, in case you did bolt.

{“Dooo-I-have-to ohhhh-bey his queen mum, tooooooooooooooooo?!”}

What were they worried about? It’s not like you’re a Nike shoe spokeswoman, or anything. We don’t actually know how fast you *can* run. No one–not even Bonny Prince Wills–has ever stopwatch-clocked your laps around the bedroom. But actually, we’re thinking it would’ve been YOU clocking HIS laps. He was probably the scaredest virginboy ever to crawl, mostly-clothed, underneath monogrammed pink satin sheets.

{“But *I* can leap talllllllllllll bed-steads in a sinnnnnnnnnnnngle bound!”}

Surely the Royal Family couldn’t possibly be worried about YOUR family, eh, luv? What with your full scraggly “commoner” ragtag complement of strippers, partiers, and crackheads? How ’bout the sister who loves to get naked and wrap herself up in T.P.?

{“Aye jus’ loooooooooooooooooves me some sisssssssssssssss-ter!”}

Wills–and (furshur!) Harry–sure know how to pick ’em, blimey, eh? Hey, they come from good stock. Their lovely mama knew, too.

{“Harrrrrrrrrrrr-ry’s gon-na be probbbbbbbbbbbb-lems, me jus’ knooooooooows this!”}

So pop His Majesty’s cork quickly out of your perfectly-chilled bottle of California White Zinfandel before it gets too soggy, O Miss Jennifer Carol Wilbanks-wannabe-NOT, because look at it this way: the entire United States armada postponed its justice-being-served on Osama bin Laden just so’s Planet Earth would not be distracted from “your special day.” Doesn’t *that* make you feel all “warm and fuzzy”? Because if you HAD bolted, we would’ve had to send the Navy SEALs after your ass, too.

{Misssssssss Not-Quite-a-runnn-ing-but-feared-gonnnn-a-be-a Run-a-way Bri-tish Prin-ces-syyyyyy Briiiiiiiiiiide!}

White Zinfandel yuppie wine: we don’t drink it ourselves; we’d rather guzzle (ice cold) beer.

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
As Tess herself just now privately emails and reports: “‘And the best part?
No seals were harmed during this exercise’–PETA.”