After the 60 Minutes interview last Sunday and the early release of his book, Prince Harold, so dubbed by his elder brother the Prince of Wales, seems like the kind of guy who would get his lunch money stolen every single day of middle school.
His whining, his effeminate self-martyrdom, his hilarious sissy posturing, his whole whipped act has led to things like this parody of his book:
“Will once said to me ‘Gaylords say what.’ He purposely said it really fast and unclearly. I didn’t understand what he had said, so I innocently replied ‘what?’ This instantly made me a gaylord and he gleefully told all our friends and family.”
Piers Morgan chimed in, “This year started like last year finished, with Harry whining and moaning and slamming his family and being deeply unpleasant about almost all of them while pretending that what he really wants is privacy and freedom from his family and from this institution they represent.”
A witty Facebook associate of mine from Israel commented, “Harold identifies as a big girl’s blouse.” Most have opined in the same fashion. And they are correct. The American adventuress has his pecker in her pocket, as it were.
However, another, perhaps more important factor, is the Californication of the airhead royal from Montecito.
Meghan had already deeply imbibed in the woke culture of the repulsive province. She, in the spirit of Wallace Simpson, led a thriving combat vet known for irreverence into a quivering mound of goo who prays to his mommy and who trashes his big brother because Will had finally had enough and gave his younger sibling a right good pranging.
This led Harold to run away to California, where men never fight but merely swish each other to death. The celebrity adoring atmosphere there is a perfect fit for a runaway Prince and his media trollop wife.
Perhaps not so much a fit is the medieval public sanitation, the crime epidemic, and the soaring home prices. But as international poodle people the Sussexes won’t have to face those challenges. Those are only for the little people, the peasants.
Harold and Meghan will prance and frolic amongst their own and take advantage of the horrid state of American public education that allows people like them to be famous for being famous.
If he was semi-famous because his grandmother was anointed by God to reign over the United Kingdom, that would be fine, even highly acceptable. But that’s not the case.
His entire recent shtick is predicated upon the false notion of toxic masculinity. That what his family has more or less successfully exemplified for over a thousand years, the masculine virtues of courage, honor, and self-control, has somehow been found wanting in the face of new agey nostrums of male emotionalism and PC politics. It is a silly act. However, many Americans are silly. So it plays.
All this could have been avoided if Charles had been sensible and married Camilla from the gitgo. A generation earlier the same could have been said of Margaret and Group Captain Peter Townsend.
At any rate, the show will go on and weak males and harpies will follow it with careless abandon. The rest of us? We’ll laugh at Harold and move on. Because actually, he’s not very important or interesting anymore.