Once again American men are in trouble. Most men could care less about the royal baby or Baby Royale, born to Kate Middleton and her husband, Prince William. Mention it and most reasonably intelligent men will yawn, stretch, and scratch their privates. The birth of the prince baby boy is no big deal.
For some odd reason this apathy infuriates American women. American men will be apologizing, sleeping on couches, and paying for shopping sprees for their criminal apathy. American women go ape poop over the birth of Royal Breast Biters and other celebrity DNA droppings. No one knows why, not even psychologists or psychiatrists.
Worse, the more education and social status woman have, the more ape poop they get over the birth of the Royal Fartling . They resemble screaming teary eyed hormone raged teenagers fawning over Justin Bieber.
This extreme fascination will get worse is if the royal couple have a second child. The idea of the heir and the spare makes American women swoon with giddy glee.
What is so special about the Royal Rug Rat? Why do American women get so giddy over Royal Carpet Crawlers? Why is the birth of the Golden Sprog so emotionally important?
It is just another baby. This child is no more special than all the other babies born every day. All this woot woot sticky treacle is sickening.
News outlets spent hours covering the labor and birth. Why? Who cares about the British Royal family to begin with? Didn't we fight a war a while back to liberate our selves from them? Seriously, why are Royal Poop Shooters so special?
The people who run news outlets are smart. They know that American women were waiting with baited breath for the birth of Prince Pooper. They also know there was great interest in the pregnancies of Beyonce and Kim Kardasian- whatever that is. They know women are seriously interested. Serious interest sells ads. News outlets are businesses and must earn money.
The fascination over the celebrity crumb crunchers and Royal Flesh Loaves is creepy. Why do normally intelligent people get so dopey over the birth of a celebrity linoleum lizard or Royal Shriekling. Why do they get so mad when many of us just do not care. It is not like the munchkin won the Stanley Cup.
All this frou frou over Baby Boy Bratzilla is nauseating. So a prince was born. Big deal. He is not a member of your own family. The chances of any of you ever seeing or holding the Royal Pee Producer are slim and none. Oh, and slim just left town.
This fascination over the births of British royalty and celebrity diaper dumpers is like some odd disease that strikes and turns normally intelligent women and some men into gelatinous masses of glistening wriggling pudding.
Look, the princess dropped the kid. It is done. Over. Who cares what they name it? Name the boy Sue or Bratleigh for all anyone cares.
There are way more important issues to spend our time and emotional excitement on, like sports.
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