Confessions of a coronation snob

A shocking disclosure: the whoop-de-doo coming Saturday in London involving a king and his dysfunctional family bores me.

I’m aware of the event only because, like humidity in Louisiana, it can’t be avoided or outrun.

I didn’t even know the date, although I knew about the shindiggery because the rumble in social media and at normally sober news websites has grown deafening.

But 30-Second Read is committed to accuracy. So, I Bing’ed for the date – and, yes, the event is Saturday. The things we do for you here at the Read’s world headquarters!

I refer, of course, to Charles III’s coronation. A party for a king, in a family where everyone is known only by first name. People who, it appears, squabble and sleep around.

My apathy is shocking because nearly three years ago I wrote these silly words: “The British royals fascinate me.”

Mind you, the first sentence of that piece of dreck was: “Lack of inspiration prompted today’s column.”

Again, the things we do for you.

Come Saturday, I’ll skip the televised pageantry for something fun. Like mowing.