Royal Clones

How many of us get to see pictures of our ancestors?  I've seen pictures and have even known a few from three generations back.  But what about centuries back?  Wouldn't that be interesting?  Finding pictures of your ancestors from centuries ago is pretty much impossible, unless of course you're royalty and you can just go to the nearest museum and check the portrait painted of your great great great great great grandmother.  Or maybe that portrait is hanging in the grand stairway of the castle in which you live.  The point is, we have no idea how well these genes are passed down and practically cloned throughout the ages.  Until now. 

Check this out:

This is Queen Victoria (1819-1901) and Princess Beatrice, her great, great, great, great, granddaughter.

What about this:

Uncanny is the resemblance between King Edward I (1239-1307) and Prince William, Edward's great grandson twenty-one times over.

I wonder what the women and men in my family looked like in the 13th century.  I kind of shutter to think.

For more fascinating pictures of royal clones, check out Damn Cool Pics.  They really are damn cool.

Addendum:  OK, the point was brought up in the comments section of Damn Cool Pics that these people have such a resemblance because there's so much inbreeding going on in royal families.  But really, if the inbreeding were so intense wouldn't these people be like dwarfy retards by now? 

Made For TV

A friend of mine just started a blog. Last time I checked she had three posts, which is pretty good for someone who’s never even read a blog before three weeks ago. We had lunch the other day and she was teasing that I hadn’t posted as much as she thought I should. I explained to her how I’m writing for four blogs as opposed to her one, and she should just shut up. I told her if she’s so into the blogging scene now she should be posting every day. And then the truth came out.

She’s afraid.

She’s afraid if she sits down to write that’s all she’ll do and will get nothing else done. I asked her, what else are you going to do? You see, she has this thing where if the TV is on her head automatically turns toward it and her eyes get all spinney like on cartoons and she can’t turn away no matter what kind of crap is on. She has another thing where if she sits down to the computer she starts out with a game of solitaire, which turns into twenty-seven games of solitaire. It’s not like spending some time writing on a blog will take her away from feeding the poor or giving blood. If she was really doing things like that I’d cut her some slack.

But seriously, this woman says she wants to write, become the most sought-after screen writer for Lifetime Television For Women made-for-TV movies and/or become a novelist. The problem is society has etched into our minds that keeping our clothes clean and feeding our children are more important than writing the Great American Novel. Writers like my friend are victims I tell you.

I mean, who’s to say what is productive and what is a waste of time? Granted, we do have to keep our clothes clean and feed our children, but aside from that, how we spend our leisure time is really no one’s business but our own. I have a small crafting business, and I go out and sell my wares at various art and craft shows throughout the year. People frequently ask, “do you make all of this?” When I reply yes, many times they say, “you sure have a lot of time on your hands.” Well, see, no I don’t, because I’m busy making all this stuff. Because I choose to spend my time creatively doesn’t make me less productive than the person who chooses to spend time taking community ed classes or going to church.

So I tell my friend, don’t be afraid to spend too much time doing what you want to do. And don’t tell me that watching Dancing With The Stars is really what you want to do. I know better. I’ll have to delve more deeply into her psyche and determine what she's really afraid of. My guess is she fears success most of all. Anyone who knows her would say she couldn’t stand being rich and famous. That’s just too dreadful.

There's No Easy Way

Taking a "field trip" during my lunch break the other day I heard a discussion on the radio.  The topic: What's this new trend with women wanting to be a princess?  The gist of the conversation was about how women today want to be treated as a princess, not having to work, letting a man take care of them. 

I've always been an independent person, earning my keep and being responsible for things like car maintenance.  I've paid my own bills and have been able to  keep a job.  I grew up with Women's Lib and was proud to be able to live a full and happy life without needing a man to provide for me.  Interestingly enough, most of the men I've dated were deadbeats less financially sound than I.  My apartment was the place we could go for privacy as they usually lived with their parents.  If I wanted to go on a date, I was the one who picked up the tab.  I felt superior and in control.  I could totally see why men didn't want their wives to work.  Being employed and having financial resources is power. 

The people calling in to the radio show, mostly women, were aghast at the fact that there are women out there who don't want to work.  They felt it is a woman's responsibility to honor those who paved the way, making it possible for us to have jobs in fields other than nursing or teaching.  (Not that those aren't valuable careers, but if you didn't want to see guts, or deal with other people's brats you pretty much didn't work.)  We are now allowed to get an education and obtain employment and it is our duty to do so as women, because damn it, we're just as good as men.

And then were spoken words from one of the hosts of the radio show, a man.  Words that rang kind of true for me.  "We all want to be princesses (including men) because we're lazy!"  Hallaluja! 

Now before you get all up  in my face about how bad it is to encourage laziness, I have to qualify my position.  You see, I've been holding my own for almost thirty years.  I carryied the load of responsibilities without a man for thirty-five years and have shared the load with Boyfriend for the last thirteen.  (By the way, Boyfriend isn't one of those deadbeats less financially sound men I referred to earlier.  When I met him he was actually doing better than I was, owning a house and a car, which was a step and a half above me.)  I've sucked up to the government big shots I work for in order to keep a job.  I've cut coupons to save money at the grocery store.  I've tried to adhere to my mother's rule Never Pay Retail.  Okay?  I've paid my dues.  I want out.  I want to be lazy. 

Shows like The Bachelor set a bad example to young women.  It encourages women to look for a rich man and expect everything to be handed to them simply because they ask.  It also encourages women to snag that man by means of sex.  Listen girls, it's easier to get up in the morning and go to work and provide for yourself than it is to play the sex kitten twenty-four hours a day just to get some guy to buy you nice things.  I mean, you have to shave your legs every day, look alluring - it's just too much trouble.  So basically, I'm being the lazy one having had a job all these years as I'm just not willing to put in the effort to keep my weight down or submit to unspeakable sex acts, which of course is mandatory when you are a kept woman.

So maybe "lazy" is the wrong word.  Perhaps it's just that I'm old and tired and want to have a life sans a boss and a schedule.  It's not that I'm trying to get out of doing the work, as was implied by the term "princess" so much as I just want to be done now.  I would totally get into someone taking over and steering the ship while I sit back and enjoy all the perks.  I have one problem.  Boyfriend feels the same way. 

Together we trudge on.  It makes no difference what our gender is.  We're both tired of it, but the world has tied us both to the wheel and we have to share the steering duties until we're dead.  All right, hopefully not until we're dead, but for a while, at least. 

As for being a princess I can only say this:  Even Cinderella paid her dues with the evil stepmother and all that back-breaking work she did cleaning the hearth.  In short, you can become a princess once you've put in your time.  Otherwise your prince charming will know you're just a whore.