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The Slowly Bumping Saga of Harry Markle Grinds to a Halt
The most thoroughly-colonized royal ever is having a bad year this week. He has an autobiography due out soon, and my goodness, whatever will he have to say? I predict that it will be a pastiche of accusations and excuses, and the whole thing will be a dreary embarrassment. I’m not going to read it, of course, and now that the death of his dear gran The Queen has caught the not-royal couple off-guard while in-country (oopsy-daisy!), he has some decisions to make about what more to add, or leave out. What a mess.
Speaking of mess, Meghan Markle Full of Nothing was interviewed in some online thing I’d never heard of, because I am not sophisticated. You may have heard of her recent “I can say anything,” quote, which is reported as a clumsily-veiled threat — well, this is the interview being referenced, and it is a hoot. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I do recommend that you run right over there right now (link in quote below) and read the whole thing from top to bottom. Why? Well, Dear Reader, let me tell you! I was watching some Aussie Sky News 4 coverage of that specifically English low-key hyperventilating about royalty in the news this week, and while the enunciating heads spoke of the “threat” made by the rich white woman not to keep her trap shut in her palatial home, something on screen referred to the article as a “sarcastic 6,400-word piece” or similar, and I just had to look. You had me at “sarc”.
Finding a house to start their new life wasn’t easy, Meghan tells me. “We were looking in this area” — she’s referring to Montecito, the tony beachside hamlet north of Los Angeles — “and this house kept popping up online in searches.” At first, they’d resisted going to visit. “We didn’t have jobs, so we just were not going to come and see this house. It wasn’t possible. It’s like when I was younger and you’re window shopping — it’s like, I don’t want to go and look at all the things that I can’t afford. That doesn’t feel good.” How utterly humbled we all are when confronted with a depressingly aspirational Zillow hunt.
— Allison P. Davis in her article Meghan of Montecito in The CUT Magazine
So this online magazine The CUT is a frou-frou, New York, rich-people-and-their-nice-stuff photo and text thing. Perhaps less than a magazine, it seems to be a column or an imprint of New York Magazine, which I certainly have heard of. Still, I don’t read it. I’ve just seen one article and a bunch of teaser headlines and glamour shots along the sidebar. The writer, Allison P. Davis, seems to have been sacked following the supposedly negative reception to the article. I’m guessing that said negative reaction came mostly from one thoroughly displeased rich white woman with a rich white woman complex, who is also the variable-hued savior of whoever needs saving at the time. If you need to know the price of crossing Meghan, just look at her idiot husband — that guy has lost everything to appease her, and now lives in a rich white doghouse. What’s fascinating here is that this (presumably) s’posed-ta-be fawning article calls them out on it.
The day before, while Meghan was on the photo shoot for this issue, Harry had been left to his own devices, he tells me. “You were gone for, like, ten hours yesterday,” he marvels to his wife. “Tell her the first thing you said when you got back last night,” he says, turning to me. “She said, ‘I’m not a model.’ “I was like, ‘No, you are, of course you can be a model.’ And she’s like, ‘I’m a mom!’ And it’s like, ‘You can be both,’ ” Harry says, earning himself so many points.
— Allison P. Davis not putting up with it
As an absolutely lit (as the kids say now) Reddit comment thread has it:
A: This ain’t snark. This is high-quality snark. This is snarqé.
B: From the Mont de Snarqé region in France.
The article is footnoted (if you will) with all the usual advertorial comments about the Manolo Blahnik shoes and Bottega Veneta dress. The only time I have seen these terms before was in reference to some movie. I am way out of my element even reading this column on a site I’ve never visited before and will likely never see again, especially if it’s true that Miss Allison P. Davis was let go or placed in the witness protection program. It seems that the sarcasm flew under the radar for a good week or so, until the people who read this stuff on the regular (presumably) got a tap on the shoulder from people who actually know how to read, and were informed that it was not complimentary after all. Not flattering. Not fawning.
Apparently, the Harkles argued so long that Harry missed seeing the Queen before she passed. Although she may have been “on ice” as it were until things were official anyway, but at any rate, Harry was late. And then apparently (you can tell when I’m just gossiping) the nasty little thing from America (and his wife) were going to do their own “walk-about”, sniffing the flowers, waving at the poor people, until The Firm caught wind of it and shut that down real quick. Apparently, they were in town originally with Netflix cameras and crew to bulk out some upcoming production, and the royal family was having none of it. So William graciously extended an invitation to Harry for the former “fab four” to reunite for one last tour of the grounds. So graciously that even Markle The Destroyer couldn’t wriggle out of it. There’s an excellent clip running around of Kate giving Markle the nicest version of “the look” ever, and Markle fumbling, shaken, rebuffed. Haw-haw.
I’ve disliked Markle for as long as her Harry adventure has been a thing, and loudly so. I don’t know why she bothers me. I think it’s because I see (and many other see) something there, a primordial scheming, grasping, abusive, evil woman with a presumably good man in her coils. In the unflinchingly narrowed eyes of BabbaZee, I see you. The destruction is nearly complete, the predicted damage of Megxit having closed out the modern truth that idiot princes who marry shrewish, entitled, trashy women do not live happily ever after. That fool had it made but for a snake in his bed, a worm in his ear, and he let it all happen. He has forsaken his family, his country, his people. He is now a man who hates men, a Briton who hates Britain, and a white who hates whites — on account-a his rich white wife, see? Honest-to-God, I had to be told that Meghan was “black,” haw haw, that’s a good one. Rachel Dolezal has a more convincing blackface, and probably has a better claim on sweat equity being down wit the shchtruggggle.
She loves herself above all others, and he loathes himself. They’re perfect for each other until he pulls his head out. The first book I intend to read by him will be ten years after his inevitable divorce. Harry and Meghan are race-hustling merchants of ninth-wave feminist grievance; she through design, he through weakness. Seems like everybody is tired of their garbage now, and I’m glad to see it. This roast of an article is deftly positioned in the mainstream of hoity-toity, and it is having an impact. Bravo, Miss Davis! Meghan of Montecito was not “silenced” — she just had nothing to say, and at the top of her lungs.
King Charles gave a speech creating William Prince of Wales, and Kate Princess, and so forth, and then expressed his great love for Harry and Meghan, wishing them luck “as they build their lives overseas.”
That’s exile.
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“And the hoar you rode in on!” Cause it’s frosty, see…
We could try something like people were suggesting for the WNBA player. We’ll give you Lebron James if you keep Griner too. The UK keeps Meghan in exchange for taking Oliver back too.
The latest Federalist Radio Hour episode has a fun bit from Christopher Bedford. He recently returned from England and happened to be there when the Queen died. Some of the guys joked that Harry would be welcomed back with open arms if he divorced Meghan. He could go on a nation tour of pubs and old and young men alike would come out to tell him, we all make mistakes. You did it because you loved her. We understand.
I’d say there’s a decade of penance, but it’s not my country. It *is* my Anglosphere, and Western Civ, and masculinity etc. So I get a vote — just not specific to England’s & the UK’s specific issues.
Having tea in the middle of a crisis is a brilliant idea of the British. We need more tea in the middle of crises.
Tea must steep for several minutes. Then it must be poured carefully from the pot into a cup using a strainer, lest you end up with tea leaves in the cup (assuming you are using traditional loose tea, which until relatively recently was the only way tea was available). The drinker must then wait after the tea has been poured into the drinker’s cup for the tea to cool to a drinkable temperature, because tea should be brewed with water at or near boiling temperature. All of This steeping, pouring, and cooling takes time. And time to think is what people in crisis usually need.
The world needs more calling for tea when a crisis erupts.
Indeed. Per the Orthodox Elder Sophrony of Essex (born in Russia):
God willing, I and a few of my Ricochet friends will be doing just this, over the coming weekend. We’ll toast the late Queen and ruminate–despairingly–on the shortcomings of her heirs. If you’re within shouting distance of southwestern PA, please do consider it, and just let me know.