Who stole the royal teensy weensy panties??!!
The new "paparazzi" pics trickling out like a leaky hydrogen bomb from Prince William and Kate’s not-too-secret vacation in the south of France now show the front of her royal undercarriage, including a brunette boscage that will very likely have Kate bottomless’s young lady fans running off to their wigmakers for tiny hairpieces to restore what years of waxing have stripped away.
And although with her clothes either off or billowing around her waist she looks and acts a lot like the same old Waity Katie we grew up watching flash her teensy panties while sliding her mini-skirted torso in and out of limos as she caught up with her lover at all the best London watering holes, Princess William (that is Kate’s real "princess name") looked pretty darn royal in that borrowed tiara and expensive white wedding gown with sleeves at the wedding of the century.
In fact, the royal wedding did transform Waity-Katie from an unemployed courtesan into a more regal personage. That is why dumbfounding slip-ups like strutting around topless and bottomless on an open-air terrace in the South of France upsets courtiers. It makes everything slide back to the bad old teensy-panties limo days of being unroyal.
Actually, the only time a British royal should get publicly naked like Kate and her brother-in-law, Prince Harry did is at his or her coronation. In the olden days, monarchs stripped off their royal robes and stood modestly and soberly in their teensy panties before the highest church official in the land who then rubbed consecrated oil not exactly all over their breasts and bottom (like Prince William did with Kate), but certainly over their royal person–head, hands, and heart. The essence of the coronation is not really the wearing of the crown by the new monarch (although that certainly happens), but this anointment with oil on the monarch’s bare skin, now delicately and deferentially performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury. This still necessitates a stripping off of the royal robes, although nowadays, rather than being stark naked before church leaders, the monarch wears an "anointing gown"–a plain white linen shift that unfastens from behind.
But when this happens, there won’t be one single grainy photograph or film.
At least, there shouldn’t be, if all goes well.
The moment of anointing is the most sacred part of the coronation, and is traditionally hidden from public view by four Knights of the Garter, who hold a cloth over the monarch’s head. Smartphones will be confiscated and not returned.
Assuming that the atheists are wrong and God really does imbue His Spirit into the chosen royal wearing the teensy panties, well, who knows what those telephone pics might reveal?
Unlike the greasy suntan lotion Prince William was snapped rubbing onto Princess William’s (or perhaps now-nicknamed, Princess Kate Bottomless's) backside, the coronation’s consecrated oil is thought to be the medium through which the divine nature is transferred to the one being crowned. Indeed, the very word "messiah" comes from the Hebrew "mashiach" which mean, "anointed one." When Ptolemy II, third-century King of Egypt, directed that the Hebrew Bible be translated into Greek because of the many Jews living in Alexandria who had been "Hellenized" and spoke and read Greek, "mashiach" became translated as "Khristos," which then evolved into St. Paul’s interpretation of "Christ." The prophet Samuel was said to have anointed David with oil as the King of Israel, and the custom of pouring oil over the heads of kings is set forth in the Hebrew canons of Tanakh that date from 450 B.C.. In England, as many places elsewhere, power to the monarch on earth–God’s own chosen one–was thought to be transferred to the monarch from a higher place, and at a specific place and time–the coronation.
The oil represents the presence of the Holy Ghost, which is said to then descend to the chosen monarch (much as the Holy Ghost was said to descend and come to rest upon the body of Jesus at the time that John the Baptist baptized him with water). It is the Holy Ghost--the very presence of God, that is to guide the monarch on earth and inform all their decisions.
In English coronations, the consecrated oil is applied by a bishop with what is probably the oldest spoon in the realm--the Anointing Spoon. The spoon is small but incredibly beautiful, with four small pearls in the stem, and a bowl that is lavished with an arabesque scrollwork in the shape of a leopard's head. Its bowl has an inside ridge bowl so that the bishop can easily dip two fingers into the oil with each rub.
Although unabashedly a Christian process, the English coronation refers specifically to the coronation of the Jewish King David's son, Solomon, who was anointed by "Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet...and all the people rejoiced and cried, 'God save the King! Long live the King! May the King live forever!'" There is no doubt that the British monarch is not only God's representative on earth, but that God, through the Holy Ghost or the Jewish Shekinah, is said to literally possess the monarch.
At least, that is how it is supposed to work, assuming that all goes well.
The tricky part is to keep this sacredness ever present in the mind of the subjects, who are supposed to elevate their king or queen beyond all other earthly beings.
And that is hard to do if one's mind and newspapers and favorite blog pages are full of bouncy, sexy images of the monarch's consort, who also participates in the solemnity of the coronation and is meant to be not only a team player but almost an annex of earthly majesty.
This elevation is why the blue-blooded are generally called "Their Royal Highnesses." But the bluest of the blue-blooded–the sovereign his or herself, like God--is a sun-like, and Son-of-God-like, majestic personage, and so is called, "Your Majesty."
If, like me, you pilgrimaged to Harahan and saw the Da Vinci Code, you know that Jesus supposedly married the Mary Madeleine and impregnated her. Then, after the crucifixion, Mary fled in a little rowboat across the Mediterranean Sea to the South of France where the royal bloodline of David (of which Jesus was said to be of) allegedly continued and is said to have entered into all the royal bloodlines of Europe, and where one of Jesus and Mary’s great-great-great-great-grandsons and his bouncy wife were photographed on a terrace like Adam and Eve, clueless as to the hidden presence of the evil serpent snapping pics of them while they frolicked, naked, pure, and unknowing.
So much happens in the South of France!
Sarah Ferguson, the disgraced Duchess of York, who was married to Prince William’s uncle, Prince Andrew, and can never seem to go away, related that she and her "financial advisor" lover, John Bryan, had similarly "booked our pink villa" in the South of France "under an assumed name. We flew in on a chartered plane. We were more than two miles off the road. We were more than two miles off the road. There was no public access to the villa; we were sheltered by woods and hills, halfway up a private gravel track that led to an isolated vineyard." And similarly, cameras caught the Duchess sunbathing topless and her lover kissing her toes, or her foot, or her ankle, or, well, you get it.
Not only is there no privacy left in the world, but there has never been any privacy in the royal house of Windsor.
Royals who expect to be crowned and taken seriously need to keep their teensy panties on, until Garter Knights gather and the Bishop readies the spoon.
Princess Kate Middleton Bottomless probably understands this now even if she learned by being privately spoonfed.
Prince Phillip’s kilt, Kate Middleton’s nakedly, Harry’s Vegas: High royalty?
Is Kate Middleton’s recent naked balcony display in the South of France a big deal?
Or is it a tempest in a B-cup? I mean, a teacup?
Now that the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge have ended their royal tour, the photos snapped by one or more enterprising photographers are starting a tour of their own–France, Italy, Denmark, Sweden, and Cyberspace, where they will freely circulate forever. Nevertheless, Prince William and Kate have sued in France, and have also filed a criminal complaint against persons yet unknown.
If I were royal, I wouldn’t sue or try to throw photographers into the Tower. No.
I’d just blame it on the Ambien.
Yes, the Ambien, also known as zolpidem. Ambien is a popular sleep-inducing drug lately used as a convincing alibi by the rich and famous for, well, odd behavior. I’ve never sampled it myself, preferring to thrash restlessly away, watch really bad cable, eat ice cream, or pull out my Kindle when I can’t sleep. But Ambien has a big celebrity following.
In the past, the pill of the celeb scene was qualudes or otherwise called "soapers". But, that was then and now is now.
Westchester, New York police suspected that mistakenly taking a dose of Zolpidem instead of thyroid medication may have caused Kerry Kennedy, the late Senator Robert Kennedy’s daughter, to swerve across a highway, smash her Lexus sedan into a massive tractor-trailer, and then drive off with a flat tire. Found on an exit ramp with her engine still running and Kerry believing that her car was still moving, police observed her tawkin lie dish and swaying.
An infamous California chef claims he took Ambien the night he may have "accidentally" killed his wife and then weighted her body down like a poached salmon and slow-boiled her remains away. But it’s kind of hazy.
Ambien was also blamed for famed newscaster Tom Brokaw’s recent slurred speech and droopy-eyed, slack-jawed appearance that made viewers think he was either stroking out or punch-drunk on MSNBC’s Morning Joe election primary commentary show, and caused aides to send for an ambulance. U.S. Navy SEALS reportedly popped Ambien on their way to Pakistan to assassinate Bin Laden, and claims are also made that SEALS regularly take Ambien to switch their sleep cycles around when they are assigned night guard duties. A furious Hollywood homeowner claims that when he accused actress Lindsey Lohan of stealing valuables from his house during a party, she said the Ambien made her do it.
Rachel Uchitel, Tiger Woods’ homewrecking lover, allegedly said Woods used the drug often and they enjoyed "crazy Ambien sex." Experts, called in by the tabloids to evaluate this claim, conjectured whether Woods’ wrecking of his Cadillac Escalade on Thanksgiving night was due to him taking Ambien to, basically, amnesia-ize himself against adultery charges, given Ambien’s memory-erasing qualities. "A classic case of Ambien driving," one declared. Uchitel herself reportedly wonders whether she and Tiger had the best sex ever, but she just can’t remember any of it because of the Ambien.
And all these celebrities, famous and infamous, may be right.
Ambien not only makes you sleep, but it can make you do unusual things while you are asleep.
The National Institute for Health in Bethesda, Maryland, warns that zolpidem may not be for everyone: "You should know that some people who took zolpidem got out of bed and drove their cars, prepared and ate food, had sex, made phone calls, were sleep-walking, or were involved in other activities while not fully awake. After they woke up, these people were usually unable to remember what they had done. Call your doctor right away if you find out that you have been driving or doing anything else unusual while you were sleeping."
Wow! Driving cars, preparing and eating food, having sex–all the while asleep and having no consciousness? All that in one little pill?
Having sex? Who would risk taking that? Think carefully before you answer.
It therefore stands to reason that Ambien could have, conceivably, caused Kate Middleton to strip off her bikini on an open-air terrace in broad daylight while vacationing in a French chateau that sleeps 17, has a staff of servants, yoga instructors and reiki masters, and is actually a working lavender farm where the fertile land is tilled by handsome French plowmen, the fragrant harvest gathered by modest French women, and hand-made lavender soaps and oils and things can be purchased in the chateau’s shop by ever-erstwhile, camera-toting tourists looking for interesting things to see, do, and experience in Provence. It’s all so impressionistic-like that, for all we know, the next Vincent Van Gough could have been painting the beauteous, sexy Middleton reclining, disheveled, on her balcony by viewing her from afar, with the benefit of modern technology. Minus the tourist minivan, of course. But it’s clear that Chateau D’Autet, where the Royals most recently romped, is a busy, bustling place. That is why, if you genuinely don’t want to be photographed naked, you’d best keep your clothes on, or stay indoors, just in case some wandering tourist with a camera phone wanders onto your terrace while looking for the loo.
But let’s get back to the blaming the Ambien.
If Ambien can make you have SEX with someone, why can’t it make you take your clothes off? Firstly, this is usually (but not always) what one does prior to sex anyway. Secondly, Ambien may also explain why Prince Harry, Kate’s single brother-in-law, recently stripped down to his birthday suit, grabbed at least one other naked woman, and then jumped into bed with yet another naked woman who is 40 but (in the right kind of light) looks 20ish. Soldiers use it, right? So, ambien could also explain why Prince Harry then plopped down in Afghanistan, looking dazed and confused, but giving the "thumbs-up" sign and acting as though he was readying to fly a helicopter and shoot-to-kill the Taliban, even though he seemed to have trouble standing.
And then there is the Royals’ patriarch, Prince Philip, who this past week at Scotland’s Highland Games crossed his ankles, spread apart his knees, and let the world officially know that he allows nothing come between him and his kilt. Tabloid websites called Prince Philip’s "weiner" a "one-eyed Loch Ness Monster" while noting that the Queen, sitting next to him, "kept her private parts discreetly covered."
I mean, is it FAIR for France to arrest the photographers and raid the publishers when the Royals just let it all hang out?
Maybe if Kate Middleton had taken an Ambien for her trip home when she stopped off in Brisbane to change planes and the wind lifted up her gauzy minidress, revealing the backside we’ve all come to recently know so well, there would be less explaining to do. And aide could just say, "Oh, dear, that’s the Ambien walking," and we’d all quickly understand. Although the Duchess seemed to try to grab at her billowing back end a couple of times, eventually, an exasperated aide had to come stand behind her and block the show with a sheaf of papers. As one young woman who took Ambien warned: "Before I took Ambien, a friend warned me that I should unplug my phone because it’s really strong and that people do crazy things on it," she said. "The next morning I woke, and I wasn’t wearing any clothes."
That’s an Ambien alibi that the Royals might want to try next time.
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