When Harry Met Meghan

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The date’s been set, the hall’s been booked, the dress has been selected and the invitations are being printed — even as we speak.  All I have to do now is watch the mail to make sure mine gets here in time.  Then it’s rent a tux and off to Jolly Olde England for The Wedding Of The Year! (Sorry, Celeste!)

Even if you’re a hopeless anti-monarchist, you know that Prince Harry is going to marry Meghan Markle on May 19th — and by all accounts, this is going to be quite the shindig.  First of all, the Brits do pomp and circumstance better than anyone, but, more importantly, this is Prince Harry.  This is the guy who punched a paparazzi in the face and split his lip.  The guy who wore a Nazi uniform to a costume party.  And the guy who was photographed playing strip billiards in Vegas (and obviously losing.)  Brother William might be the future king of England, Scotland, Wales, etc., etc., etc., but Harry’s the royal you want to drink tequila with.  Here’s a lad who knows how to party, and what better party than his own wedding reception?

Plus, when your grandma is Queen Elizabeth II — the richest, most prestigious woman on the planet — the sky’s the limit.  After all, rumour has it, that she’s the one who picked up the phone and got the Spice Girls back together just ’cause her grandson thought it would be cool.  Personally, if I was Harry, that would be the tip of the iceberg.  On my wedding day, I’d roll up to the church in a gold coach, pulled by panda bears — while the Vienna Boys Choir sang “Another One Bites The Dust.”  (But that’s just me!)

The thing is Harry is never going to be king, and everybody knows it.  (By the time the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge get finished in April, he’s going to be relegated to 7th in line to the British throne which, in royal terms, means he might as well be a pub owner from Putney!)  Essentially, he’s a royal nobody.  So, what do you do when your brother’s the heir and you’re the spare?  You don’t really have a job, but you can’t just wander off to the Cotswolds and grow vegetables, either.  I think it’s remarkable that Harry has carved himself out a place in the world — two military tours in Afghanistan, trekking to the North and South Poles and organizing the Invictus Games — and, he’s had a hell of a lot of fun doing it.

I approve of Harry.  He may go off the royal rails every now and again, but he does understand what it takes to make an irrelevant prince relevant in the 21st century.  Besides, I like it that — even though he’s obligated to wear the very straight strait-jacket of the House of Windsor — he still tends to go his own way.

The truth is I’m probably not going to get invited to the wedding of His Royal Highness, Prince Henry of Wales to Ms. Meghan Markle, but, that’s okay, because the invitation I’m actually waiting for is to Harry’s Stag Party.

Facebook Sucks … Kinda/Maybe

OMG, the sky is falling!  Citizens, run for your lives!  SAVE YOURSELVES!

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This moment of panic was brought to you by Mark Zuckerberg and the good folks down at Facebook.  Apparently, those fun-loving scamps in Menlo Park, CA have been slackin’ off in the I’ve-Got-Your-Back department and allowed another company, Cambridge Analytica, to harvest personal data from a bunch of unsuspecting Facebook users.  Actually, “a bunch” is a bit of an understatement; the real numbers are north of 50 million.  Wow!  This is a serious no-no, and I have the feeling “my bad!” isn’t going to cover it.  (Although it looks like Zuckerberg is giving it the good ol’ Harvard try.)

I’ll grant you that this sordid bit of business looks remarkably like some faceless corporate somebody is peeking in the bedroom window, but let’s not get all lynch mob crazy just yet.  There are a few things we have to consider.

One — Unless you’ve been living on one of the moons of Uranus for the last 30 years, you know that the Internet is kinda like Santa Claus:
It sees you when you’re sleeping
It knows when you’re awake
It knows if you’ve been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake!
Cyberspace is not a vacuum, and every computer click that happens there is going somewhere.  Only children and the hopelessly uniformed believe the Internet is a private party.

Two — The people who are suddenly swimming in a sea of indignation over their invaded private parts are the same ones who’ve been posting their lives away on social media.  Honestly, if you’re telling the entire world everything about yourself — from your college Beer Pong championship to what you had for lunch at Olive Garden — you don’t have a lot of room to complain.  There’s such a thing as due diligence.

Three — Right now, Facebook might be the Big Bogeyman (Bogeyperson?) but they’re not the only ones collecting your private information.  Literally everything, in the 21st century, is selling you out to Cyberspace — from your Smart phone and its GPS tracker to that Rewards Card in your wallet that offers up your buying habits every time you swipe it.  At any given moment, some Internet minion somewhere can probably pull up a profile and tell you what size underwear you’re wearing and where and when you bought it.

But finally — So what?  Like it or not, we all know privacy has always been a movable feast.  Anybody who grew up in a small town will tell you that.  Personally, I’m not too pleased my preference in intimate apparel is getting harvested by 1,001 data management companies across the world, but my alternatives are limited.  I can a) sit around and bitch about it or b) pull the plug on my digital world and walk away.

So far, I’m not prepared to do either one.

Stuff We Need To Remember

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I know dis-remember is not a word (hyphenated or otherwise) but it should be.  We all know the stuff we learned growing up is true.  It has to be.  It got us this far.  However, as comfortable adults, we tend to forget those little life lessons and just go with the flow.  These days that means trying to navigate between the 1,001 feel-good flavours of Facebook and that horde of snarling Twitter trolls who are always out for blood.  It’s a dangerous journey — go too far one way and you’ll die of sugar shock; go too far the other and they’ll tear you to ribbons.  So, here are a few things most of us have dis-remembered over the years but that we all need — just to keep an even keel in this world.

Saying You’re Sorry Doesn’t Actually Do Anything — There are tons of people who believe “sorry” is a universal talisman that cures all evil.  It isn’t.  In fact, most times it’s just a quick and dirty way for people to apologize themselves out from underneath any responsibility — after the fact.  Try this simple experiment.  Step on a bug.  Now, say you’re “sorry.”  Who feels better?  You or the bug?

It’s Not Illegal To Say Yes — Here in the 21st century, it’s hard to believe — but pessimism is not the natural order of things.  Sometimes good stuff does happen in our world, and there’s nothin’ we can do about it!  People who are constantly trying to find the dark cloud surrounding the silver lining are not profound; they’re just intellectually lazy.

Everybody Is Judgemental And Anyone Who Says They Aren’t Is Lying — We all judge; that is the natural order of things.  We assess our surroundings — from the woman who looks like Home Depot did her makeup to the guy who walks as if he’s got a stick stuck somewhere uncomfortable — and we catalogue the results.  The bottom line is the only creature on this planet who’s never going to judge you is your dog, so if you can’t function without unconditional support, buy a good bra and orthopedic shoes.

There’s Always A Dick Out There Somewhere — On the day you discover you can walk on water, there’s definitely going to be somebody who wants to talk about why you can’t swim!

But I’ve saved the best for last:

The Human Body Has A Best Before Date — Despite what cosmetic companies, fitness companies and a few of our vainer friends tell us, at some point we’re all going to lose our battle with gravity.  Eventually, the good bits of even the hottest body all start their journey back to Mother Earth — with various saggy, baggy results.  Just because our culture is psychotically obsessed with youth, there’s nothing wrong with that.  We all need to remember: the best any of us is ever going to do is surrender slowly.