Queen Elizabeth Murdered by Time
It was a good run, Lil
Queen Elizabeth, the long-reigning British Monarch and the Supreme Governor of the Church of England, died on September 8 at her home at Balmoral Castle in Aberdeenshire, Scotland. She was 96. Her death marks the end of the 70-year-long Elizabethan era (Vol. 2).
Lilibet made a peaceful, hands-free passage across the River Sticks (oh, how she loved her sticks!) surrounded by her ever-loving feuding family. Her papa and the Queen Mother await her in heaven, as does her cousin-husband Prince Philip, and funnily enough, Anne Boleyn, too. The Queen is survived by her four children, including Charles, former Prince of Wales and now King of England, and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren, some of whom she humors.
The Queen accomplished much in her lifetime: lived like an off-brand Disney Princess locked away in a castle as a child during World War I, married her cousin, became sovereign at age 25, served as an auto mechanic for six weeks during World War II, nodded at Princess Di’s coffin, donated $13 million of her own money to Jeffrey Epstein’s victims, and invited fifteen Prime Ministers to form a government in her name, including Liz Truss who was sworn in the day before the Queen’s death.
Though she ailed from mobility issues in the last year of her life, it was one of her most dynamic ever. She survived covid, cheated death, and learned computer only to blow out her back (👀 ) havin’ fun. Forever the comeback kid, she recovered in time to release a dog perfume, cheat death if only to get an intern fired, relocated, and celebrated her Platinum Jubbly, the culmination of a 69-plus-one-year-long rule. At the Jubbly, the Queen of Lean toted arm candy all over town, spent much time with her beloved horses and less time with her namesake great-granddaughter. The Queen got her dying wish, which was to visit a tunnel just one last time. The Queen loved tunnels. She went to teapot heaven on earth, and now she can rest.
The Queen was noted for her iron-stiff upper lip, but occasionally surprised her subjects with warmth. Just after 9/11, Queen Elizabeth offered a written statement of anguish to New Yorkers. Many believed her condolences to a politically allied nation in shock to be a blindingly personal statement from the woman with the iron-stiff upper lip: Earlier that same day, Lilibet Senior’s close friend/bookie Lord “Porchey” Porchester died of an awful fright while watching the events unfold on television.
Sir Christopher Meyer, the British Ambassador, read the following line at a prayer service at St. Thomas Church:
“But nothing that can be said can begin to take away the anguish and the pain of these moments. Grief is the price we pay for love.”
Inviting love – or curiosity, or passion, or bemusement – into one’s life always means inviting death, too. In concept, monarchy is a crooked, no good operation. And in practice, it’s even worse: the British Firm in particular has plundered, beheaded, mooched, culled bloodlines, and protected pedophiles for 1200 years too long. But she and her family always entertained, and now she’s gone.
In lieu of flowers, please consider a charitable donation to Prince Andrew, who is in peril of losing his ski chalet.