Mythologies are full of sexual liaisons between the divine and the human. Just like the ‘Sons of God’ mated with the ‘Daughters of Men’ and the Greco-Roman gods and goddesses mated with mortals (to cite two of numerous case histories), resulting offspring would have been descended from the gods and thus weren’t quite your ordinary Joe and Josephine Blow, with membership in that great unwashed club of the public citizen. So, what’s it about these special descendants of the gods – demigods and demi goddesses? Why are they a cut (or two or twenty) above the rest of us?
But first, let’s substitute supernatural gods for flesh-and-blood extraterrestrials, ‘ancient astronauts’ who actually had an up-close-and-personal hand in the origin and evolution of the human species (another common thread of all things mythological, albeit interpreted in a religious or supernatural context).
Well, if you really are a genetic product of an alien, of a technologically advanced extraterrestrial, I guess that does make you a cut or twenty above those who can’t claim an out-of-this-world parentage. Gods or aliens (same difference IMHO), well they fawn on their half-breed descendants as something special – the go-betweens twixt them and the great unwashed. Those go-betweens are those born to rule by divine right (divine being a property of said gods or aliens they bestowed on their go-betweens).
There’s no shortage of historical examples – from the kings and queens of Europe to the pharaohs of ancient Egypt to the emperors of ancient China and Japan. All had the direct authority of God or the gods behind them; many were also worshiped as deities in their own right and as such could claim ancestral lineage back to their gods.
That was then; now is now. Surely in today’s society, nobody actually believes those who were born to rule were actual offspring descendants of the gods or ET or anointed by same as being of extraordinary leadership stock that would be passed down from generation to generation forever and ever. In fact, there would be those few and far between who would justify in the fact that anyone anymore is born to actually rule because of ‘superior’ ancestors. So rather than those born to rule who actually rule, instead those now born to rule are just for all practical purposes figureheads. The British colonies, like Australia, are now democracies like England; ditto other European countries that retain some sort of royalty. Japan is a democracy too though there is those alive today who recall when the Japanese emperor was a literal god.
The question is, if those born to rule don’t in most cases actually rule, but are mere figureheads, why not get rid of these divine right parasites, be they kings or queens or emperors or empresses, even sultans; parasites who serve no useful function yet lead lavish lifestyles? Egypt got rid of the pharaoh. China booted out the Emperor. It’s not that hard. Still, that’s not yet the general way of the world, so let’s… fast-forward a bit to the general concept of heads or figureheads of nations that were born to rule. They are not elected officials who claim no ancestry from the divine; they are not those who took power and who rule by force – dictators, tyrants, etc. that can’t trace their lineage or ancestry back to the gods (even if some dictators claim otherwise and demand their subjects so treat them as gods too). So fast-forward to those who become leaders or rulers (leadership is sometimes in short supply) just because their parents were rulers and their grandparents before them and back and back it goes.
Authority based on divine right; authority vested because of an eventual connection (however remote) back to the gods and the gods’ anointment of them and their descendants to rule forever more, cuts no mustard with me.
I’ve always found it difficult to accept that just because the sperm of a king or emperor meets the egg of a queen or empress that the resulting product is somehow better and more deserving of being a ruler than the resulting offspring of any other male/female conception. Yet apparently millions of people have and some still do accept that as a given. You are born to rule by divine right because you were born to those who were born to rule by the divine right who in turn were, etc.
Yet as far as I can tell, such born to rule offspring (usually firstborn males) have to sit on the throne in the same manner as the rest of us and put their pants on one leg at a time. They require all of the sorts of stuff we mortals that belong to the lower class, the great unwashed do – stuff like oxygen, water, food, sleep, medical care, etc. In short, there’s no special distinguishing feature of any kind that separates them from us other than a total accident of having a divine or ‘royal’ sperm meet an egg (probably of similar lineage) for their conception. A naked baby that’s heir to the throne looks no different than a naked baby that’s the offspring of commoners. So in short, divine right, even if it ultimately derived from the ‘gods’ – or those ‘ancient astronauts’ – gets no respect from me since those claiming divine right, that born to rule status, don’t have to earn anything; an elected official at least earns his or her right to rule.
Here’s a modern case history (though their roots go back seemingly forever) of those who rule (now in pretty much in just a figurehead capacity) by divine right and thus haven’t earned any respect from yours truly. I refer to the English / British / Commonwealth royal family, in particular, their head, Queen Liz.
Now it’s topical in America to compare and contrast the masses, the ordinary Americans, the 99%, with those extremely wealthy elites, the 1%. In British terms, Queen Liz and her royal family parasites are akin to the top 1% of the top British 1%, and the 99% remaining of that 1% just eat what to the royal family would be table scraps, albeit tasty table scraps. The lowest 99% just eat symbolic three days old and relatively stale cake – and they love it.
Now I must admit that the English apparently do right royally love their royal parasites. That’s probably because they help contribute a sense of history (now long vanished) and a pride of place (equally gone) part and parcel of once being the stiff-upper-lipped British (‘Rule Britannia, Britannia Rules the Waves’; ‘The Sun Never Sets on the British Empire’, ‘Be British, lads’, etc.). However, in more practical terms, the Royals help bring in zillions of tourist dollars a year. Overseas tourists to England have as a must-see on their itinerary at least one royal palace and getting themselves snapped in front of same, with a place guard or two in the photo as well. Of course the fat lot of good that does, either the sense of history slant, or the tourist dollar reality, to the colonies like Canada, or New Zealand, or South Africa or Australia, among all those other British colonies.
The colonies aside for the moment, just what sort of lurks and perks do these right royal parasites command? Well, with a snap of the royal fingers they can command ocean going yachts, private jets, horse-drawn carriages, and transport in the finest fleet of Rolls-Royce automobiles money can buy. They live in multi-hundred room private estate castles in England, Scotland, and probably elsewhere, all sited on lush massive acreages where they can indulge in their favourite blood sport of fox hunting (tally-ho), and/or the not quite as bloody sport of polo.
Queen Liz and family don’t have to worry about where their next meal is coming from, which is certainly not going to be a Big Mac or fish-and-chips, and who’s going to cook, serve and wash up afterward. They have massive staffs to cater to their every whim – even staff to dress them. They most certainly don’t make their own beds, cook their own meals, shine their own shoes, or any other manner of menial housework or chores. You don’t see Queen Liz pruning the royal rose bushes. They wouldn’t know what a vacuum cleaner was for if their life depended on it – which it doesn’t. They lose no sleep over the next set of incoming bills. They have medical, even veterinary staff, on call 24/7/52. Whatever they want or need, that whatever goes to them, not vice versa.
The Royals most certainly do not stand in line for movie tickets or queue in place at the supermarket checkout or join a bank line. They certainly have no need to join the unemployment line or queue for social security benefits.
While I’m sure it must be just my imagination, the Royals forever seem to be on holiday.
When any of the royal family gets married, there’s got to be an official legal tender commemorative coin (or some such) struck in their honour. Was there a commemorative anything minted when you got married or similar? No? Why not? What makes the royals deserving and not you?
While not a ‘lurk and perk’, the portrait of Queen Liz appears on all Australian coins (or at least those minted since she became Queen Liz). Why? She’s not Australian. She contributes nothing to Australian society. In fact, she contributes nothing of any real note to society full stop. She’s not a health professional, nor a charity worker, a noted scientist, a military leader, a politician, author, poet, or artist of any kind. She’s a wife and mother of course but that hardly makes her stand out from the crowd. Besides, IMHO, only the dead should be honoured on stamps, coins, and related.
I gather she and kin pay some taxes now (that wasn’t always the case apparently), but again, that’s not a unique skill or legal obligation for which she and kin deserve a pat on the royal back for observing. Pats on the royal back, by the way, are an absolute no-no but bowing and curtsying is mandatory etiquette in the presence of their company.
Despite all of these unearned benefits due to just being born of the right parents and in the right place at the right time, you’d probably love to be a fly on the wall at their family gatherings. What little leaks out or gets captured by the paparazzi, show the Royals are a totally dysfunctional and motley bunch. Anyone who is anyone who has following the shenanigans of the lesser royals in particular over the past several decades plus would be hard pressed to use any other term but dysfunctional, though several other choice words and phrases better left unsaid come close. All up they are certainly a few pence short of a pound. Queen Liz herself is probably the only relatively sane one of the bunch.
I’ve frequently used the word parasite(s) in the connection of those born to rule. Why parasites? Well a parasite feeds off the system, be it an intestinal worm in the animal’s gut getting a free feed from the host’s food intake or the Royals free feeding of British society (and by extension all those who claim divine right to lurks and perks even if not absolute rule right throughout the world). A parasite may not overly harm the host, but it causes no real benefit either, unlike say a symbiotic relationship where all parties benefit. So what’s their version of the free lunch apart from those palaces, yachts, Rolls Royce’s, carriages, etc?
Presumably, they are civil servants of some sort and therefore draw off the public purse. All their lavish residences require 24/7/52 security, paid for by the public. Security forces that could be better and more gainfully employed acting as security for the many and not for the extreme few. Anytime they are out in public there’s a massive security operation, crowd and traffic control, etc. That takes for many police, etc. (unavailable for more important duties for the duration). If they are out and about, the great unwashed can be expected to be brushed aside and inconvenienced while the Royals get those royal preferences – no red lights, no rush hour traffic, no going through airline security measures like metal detectors and having bags checked and X-rayed at airports and then waiting patiently their turn to taxi and takeoff. I doubt very much if they are subject to customs checks and duties.
So what do they do to earn their legit place in society and thus refute my use of the term parasite?
Well, I gather the queen of the day (or king) opens up Parliament on the first day of a newly elected Parliament. The queen (or king) gets to read out a speech that’s prepared in advance for her. Hard work indeed since that happens only about once every three years! Once in a blue moon, she extends the favour to one of her colonies, should she be in the right place at the right time.
Then Queen Liz gets to deliver live on your TV screen her annual Christmas message. Well, to be sure, she delivers it, but she doesn’t write it – that’s way too much like real work, and anyway, that’s what royal speech writers are hired for. Ho, Ho, Ho.
The Royals host lots of morning and afternoon tea parties or social gatherings for the upper crusts of society – that elite 1%. Tough life that.
Apart from playing with their pet dogs (corgis), riding the royal horses for polo tournaments and for chasing and shooting foxes, the most exercise they get is to wave and smile to their adoring public on those various but relatively rare public occasions. It’s good PR to appear in public on occasion, though I’m sure they find that a boring and burdensome chore, just as movie stars and sporting ‘heroes’ eventually get tired of having to appear up close and personal for their adoring and ever pestering fans. Of course, nobody dares ask Queen Liz for her autograph!
But since there’s since some tatters of a British Empire yet to administer, they, especially the head (the current Queen Liz) need to (have others) pack their bags and join the jet set and visit those far away places with strange sounding names, where they will get to wave and smile a zillion times more (for the unwashed 99%) and wine and dine with the local versions of the elite 1%. It’s all just PR; no actual administration is usually performed. “Boring” I rather suspect they probably mutter behind closed doors, especially after it’s the twelfth time around. Let’s all shed an itty-bitty tear for the queen or her stand-in relatives who are expected to keep that stiff-upper-lip and enjoy being bored.
But part of that administration is the Queens Birthday Honours List and the Queen’s New Years Honours List, where lots of her subjects get all manner of rather archaic and outdated medals and initials to put after their names, all for various services rendered. Now the Royals don’t actually have to do any real work here since the lists are prepared by the various colonial governments of the day, as well as that of the government of England herself. The Royals just rubber stamp everything, since they don’t know (and probably really care less about) these people so honoured that set them slightly apart from any other of the millions of other odd bods and sods – their royal subjects. The Royals aren’t really expected to have details about these royally honoured subjects filed away in their royal wetware – that’s what they well-heeled staff are there to brief them on. A small fraction of the recipients will front and centre at some place or other to get their medals in person (usually the London locals) which probably taxes the mental and physical reserves of the royal they are presented to, right royally. Life’s a bitch and then you die, right?
At least Queen Liz supports the hat industry. Has anyone seen her in public without her wearing some sort of horrendous looking hat? At least I’m sure you’d only see it once. Queen Liz would never be caught out wearing the same hat in public twice!
Another right royal hardship is just having to endlessly stop and smell those roses that are forever presented to them – and look appreciative. In fact, it’s just about mandatory for lots of adoring school girls, in particular, to present bouquet after bouquet after bouquet to any right royal parasite within pre-announced range. I’ve sure the Royals have collected over the years more flowers than that which collectively go into the annual New Years Day Pasadena Tournament of Roses Parade that precedes the college football Rose Bowl game. What a waste of flowers.
But even the royals have to shed a bit of privacy now for the sake of PR by allowing in camera crews and filmmakers to film and make documentaries for TV and DVD about the royals and the royal palaces and the royal lifestyles. All this shows is how extremely far removed the Royals are from even the relatively well off elite 1%; the great unwashed 99% are light-years away.
Even when the young royal males join the military after their exclusive private schooling, nearly a mandatory obligation for keeping up appearances, you can be sure the royal recruits (in particular the next in line to the throne – the future king of England) are going to be treated with velvet gloves; get very rapid promotions, and are never really put into serious harms way, regardless of postings. How would it look if the heir to the throne got zapped in combat? Bad show old chap, to be avoided at all costs!
But are the Royals unique?
The President of the United States (POTUS) may have just about as many taxpayer funded lurks and perks, but a lot less job security and not nearly the wealth. In any event, POTUS is the only POTUS for a maximum of eight years; once king or queen, you’re king or queen for life with no competition; no election campaigns, no speeches, no fundraising and absolutely no kissing babies, no elections at all to have to face. How a POTUS wannabe must envy those born to rule.
The Pope may also come close in the uppity-uppity elite bracket, but like POTUS, he still had to move up the ranks and claw his way to the top (with or without outside assistance).
Surely there are many of the 1% elite who just happened to be born into wealth, even extreme wealth, who lead the total life of a playboy (or playgirl) and who via their inheritance might never have to do an honest day;s work – ever. Quite so, but there’s still a massive gap between those (less than) 1% who just inherit the good life, and that 1 % of the 1% who are born to the good life because God says so. No matter how rich and famous you are, you can never, ever, command the sorts of lurks and perks that befit those entitled to the title of ‘royal’. The Royals are in a total class of and by themselves.
So what lurks and perks flow on to the great 99% unwashed from the 1% of the 1%. Well, I guess the colonies get to ‘celebrate’, the queen’s birthday, which is as phony as a $7 bill since any similarity between the given holiday and the date of the actual birthday is problematical. The two don’t tend to coincide. Still, the masses aren’t one to begrudge a holiday day off. Otherwise, apart from the privilege of collecting those royal marriage commemorative coins (or any other royal souvenirs of which there exists an industry in its own right), the Royals are a right royal irrelevance to the rest of the world. Off with their heads – that’s my motto!