Unless you've been living under that proverbial rock somewhere, you know there is a royal wedding scheduled for this Friday.
We know it must be a big deal because all the TV programs that normally fixate on Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan will be there live in jolly, old England, televising the nuptials of Prince William and Kate Middleton. Coverage begins about 3 a.m., or whenever the last Stanley Cup hockey game of the night ends (check local listings).
The night before the wedding, every husband in America will remind his wife not to wake him for this momentous event. Every wife will rationalize that we're all fools and that the royal wedding is infinitely more important than any Super Bowl (countdown to the Indianapolis event, by the way, has now reached 284 days).
And by the time Prince William and Kate tie the knot, American TV viewers will have been subjected to more British royalty and bad teeth than Monty Python could spoof in a trilogy of trilogies.
Honestly, I wouldn't know King George from Curious George. Couldn't tell Henry VIII from O. Henry or Oh Henry! And wouldn't know Prince Harry from Harry Potter.
Seriously, I must have been out sick the day they covered British royalty in my school. And I have always feared that the day I finally get on "Jeopardy!" the categories would include British Monarchs, Kings and their Queens and Something to Do About Nothing but Shakespeare.
I mean, I just don't understand all the royal fuss.
Didn't our ancestors set out across the deep, dark Atlantic in Mayflower vans (no, wait, that was the Colts) to get away from these people?
Didn't we wage an heroic war of independence to put King George et al behind us?
Didn't we make it a point that George Washington and all his successors never be kings but American presidents instead?
Don't we celebrate the Fourth of July each year as Independence Day in order to remember what we fought for and won?
Then why do we care so much about the royal wedding?
Heck, you can't even say you're watching it for the commercials. It's more like going to the Kentucky Derby just to check out the big hats.
Personally, I hold out hope William gets cold feet and runs off to meet Charlie Sheen in the nearest pub.
At least then we could all ponder something important -- like whether they're drinking Guinness or Newcastle.