"William and _______, Sitting In a Tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Don't you just wish?

The perfect marriage. The perfect couple. The cutest kids (obviously from his side of the family).

I look at photos and see one thing. I listen to the girls and I hear another. Lord, you'd think he was twins!

Cut you a deal, girls. One to be King and one to drool over. You don't want that ugly-looking Queen Consort's crown anyway, now do you? Half of you would have that fat diamond remoounted Diana-style in a heartbeat anyhow. Get over it.

The archetype. That's what does it. The archetype. King Arthur. The Handsome Prince. But it takes work to administrate an empire. Which is what he realistically has got. Want to be a professional wife? And this one can handle the media well enough to keep you from getting out of line. Mommy's bullhorn was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Would anybody believe it about William? Hah.....

Let me point out some uncanny coincidences about this boy. Born on summer solstice. To the ancient Celts, the day when the old king renewed his bond with the land. The day the new king took over. Date: 1982. (Note: He does not act like any Gemini I've ever seen and matches much more closely with a Cancer. And isn't that 9:0whatsit birthdate PM a little late to be calling cusp? Okay. 13th birthday is the old age of manhood in how many cultures? 1995. Like clockwork comes the first of the "William-effect" photographs. I checked and double-checked....be-lieve you me...I still remember the day. Summer of 1995. The day the whole thing went boom on me. I was at Books-A-Million, reading through the "Diana section" as usual, trying to get caught up. Picking which books were worth it. Penny Thornton, as I recall. Astrologer to Diana for a while, apparently. Flipping through the book. Birthdate for William. Hmmmm. June 21. Isn't that summer solstice? 1982. When does he turn eighteen? That would be in the middle of some interesting years, wouldn't it? Quick mental addition....

Reality slammed me in the gut.

Summer. Solstice. Of. The. Year. 2000.

Eighteen. Old enough to take over the throne without a regent, as I believe. (Correct me, somebody...) Oh shit....

The Royal Machine went into overdrive....oh shit....oh fucking shit....

Summer. Solstice. Of. The. Fucking. Year. Two. Thousand.

Ooooohh shit....ooohhhh shit.....

Ack. Ack.....Ack. Has nobody else noticed this? Not even a lot of my mystical-type friends reacted when I told them....was I crazy? But I was driven and I couldn't stop. Keep gong. Get the info. Keep reading....more pictures....what's happening?

What got me through that period:

Monty Python and the Quest For the Holy Grail.
Norma Lorre Goodrich's series: Arthur. Merlin. Guinevere.
Steve Blamires' The Irish Celtic Magical Tradition.
Bruce Cathie. Anything by Bruce Cathie.
Preston Nichols and Peter Moon's Montauk series.
T.H. White's Once and Future King.

Anybody else hands you something and tells you it's hot Arthurian, chances are you can ignore them. I tore through the stacks pretty thoroughly. Plus, of course, your old historical/literary sources (how many times do I have to yell?)

What does it mean? I'm still not sure. But look at the hold he has on these girls....mythology walking already.

I have pondered the comparison between him and Leonardo Di Caprio for some time. Especially in the wake of the Titanic thing. The Titanic hit an iceberg....Mommy hit an iceberg....

Hell, Mommy was an iceberg. IMNSHO (In My Not So Humble Opinion).

William looks like he handles himself better. More awareness of who he is. What his fans want.

The majesty of royalty. The real thing.

With some cheekbones thrown in for style.