Who You Calling Majestic?

I’ve been reading quite a bit of historical fiction and non-fiction lately. Although much of the content takes place within the aristocracy of the 1700s and 1800s, I was recently struck by a bit of royal tradition that has seeped into the Twenty-first Century virtually unscathed. There on our digital high definition television screen, streaming at bit and byte speeds unimagined just a few years ago stood an elderly lady dressed to the nines from her pink heels to her pink bonnet. A brief video captured her knighting of Captain Tom Moore, a one hundred year old World War II veteran who recently made the news for his fundraising efforts. My initial reaction was, “You mean they still do that?”

In case you missed the Captain Tom story, as his 100^th birthday approached he decided to walk one hundred times around his garden with a goal of raising 1000 British pounds. The effort went viral, with videos of him and his walker doing ten 27-yard laps per day and eventually raising over 32 million pounds for his chosen charity. It was cute and sad and worthy of celebrating.

Thus, he became Captain Sir Tom Moore on July 17^th during an investiture outside Windsor Castle when Her Royal Majesty, 94 year old Queen Elizabeth II tapped him gently on the shoulder with a sword that belonged to her father, His Royal Highness King George VI.

Let’s stop right there. “Her Royal Majesty?” “His Royal Highness?” This recent knighting was in the quadrangle outside of Windsor Castle. The Queen’s last name is Windsor, but this is not her house, valued at a mere $236 million, nor is the $5 billion Buckingham Palace. Those two properties are held in trust for use by the current Sovereign (monarch or supreme ruler.) Think of them as where she goes to the office. Her actual residences are Sandringham House ($65 million) and Balmoral Castle ($140 million.) This is the home she owns.

We can put all that aside, because there are a lot of wealthy people in the world who like to flaunt their riches, collect things, have huge staffs of people – servants – paid slaves. And they are used to this. They expect it. They have lived their lives with it. They hang out together and always have. I understand the imbalance at play within humanity. It’s unfortunate but evolutionarily capitalistic and often the result of imbalances of taxation, purchased power and fealty that have existed for centuries.

But really, it is the year 2020. Dare we disrespect Mrs. Windsor by calling her other than “Your Royal Majesty?” Is she so profoundly imbued with her own self worth that she looks in the mirror each day and takes herself that seriously? “Good morning, me, you’re looking majestic today. I think I’ll go tap a worthy subject on the shoulder with Daddy’s sword and add him to my collection.” Are they beyond self deprecating humor and the occasional riposte during supper, “Lord Henry, was that you or the dog? Oh har, har, flar, flumpf.” Or, "God save the ME!"

I need to re-read Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. I’m sure he had a good satirical time with this. Titles like “Highness” and “Majesty” are just so pumped full of loftiness as to be absolutely absurd at any place or in any time. How does this continue? A lot of the people (subjects) seem to adore the tradition and can’t imagine it any other way.

It got me thinking. If each of us got to choose a title that we felt best represented us, what would it be? What would it reveal about us to those whom we expect to faithfully utter that moniker? But rather than speculate about that, what would we call our leaders? I think most of them have opened their political kimonos sufficiently during the past few years to give us some direction.

Some examples:

Your Insipid Ineffectiveness. 
His Unbrilliant Illuminance. 
Her Most Bituminous and Faltering Insufficience.

There might be a card game here, or at least material for a quick meme on Facebook. You know the ones: what would your royal title be – match your birth month on the left to a column on the right.

I’m just glad that we just call our leader Mr. President. Imagine trying to adapt to a new name every four years. And what if the people got to choose the title after about a year in office? Oh heavens, what if Congress, the Senate, the Supreme Court or even the Electoral College got involved? President Bush might have simply been called Sir Hanging Chad.

 

Jestingly submitted for your consideration,

VC Larson, esquire

First Viscount of Larsony
Court Auburn, Royal Port of Charlotte

😎

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