Harry and Meghan looked like ambulance chasers in burning Los Angeles a couple of weeks ago, but acting like virtue-signaling disaster tourists is what they do best. It does not surprise me. For those of you who don’t read comic books or gossip columns, they’re also known as the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, he a Brit and she an American of mixed race. They’ve both become richer of late thanks to the lawsuit they brought against the Murdoch newspapers in London. Enough said.
Self-flattering PR stunts are nothing new in La-La Land. For publicity-addicted freaks like Paris Hilton the catastrophe had its positive side: She got on the news posing in front of her burned-out Malibu house. The ones my heart bleeds for are those folks in Altadena, working types, as far removed from the phonies of Hollywood as Meghan and Harry from the real world. I’ve never met either one. I was a friend of his mother, Princess Di, and I believe I was the last one to speak with her before the Paris car crash that killed her.
Never mind. I’ve written about this before. Diana and I became friends after she asked to meet me at a rather grand ball in London. I was in my cups, and when she pointed at a chair next to her and asked me to “Sit here and tell me why you write that I’m a madwoman,” I missed the chair and fell under the table. She burst out laughing, bent down, and heard me mutter, “All I know is I’m mad about you.”
“Harry takes after his mother. He’s not very smart and is being played like a Stradivarius by Meghan.”
Diana was a shrewd, extremely nice girl who was completely uneducated but kind and well-meaning. She asked me over to Kensington Place for lunch a couple of times and came over to my place for three dinners I gave so she could meet pro-Diana journalists. There was absolutely no hanky-panky. She didn’t appear to me at all insightful, was always on guard, très comme il faut, but empty in a way. I knew most of her lovers, and they too were empty somehow. Tina Brown, who got a bestselling book out of the one meeting with others present she had with Di, did her homework, but it was mostly guesswork. Diana’s last boyfriend, as vile a character and liar as there ever was, proved what an empty vessel or how confused she was at the time. I always believed and still do that Charles was a spoiled shit who treated her badly and turned her into a nutcase. A man can cheat all he wants in my book, but he’s obliged to treat the wife with love, honor, and gentleness. Dumbo ears did neither and got away with even blackening her name. She was a lost soul by the time Charlie Windsor got through with her. Harry takes after her. He’s not very smart and is being played like a Stradivarius by Meghan.
A glossy monthly is the latest to “expose” the life of Meghan and Harry, but take it from me, it’s all bull, gossip picked up from desperate so-called journalists from all over. Writers for these mags have no access and don’t know those who know the people they write about. Meghan is hardly the first woman from a modest background to pull rank on people she deems inferior. That is exactly what separates people like her from people like, er…her late mother-in-law to be. It’s very simple, really. The Brits genuflect and ring-kiss royals, the rest of us do not. Meghan got a taste of Brit ass-licking and took it seriously. It doesn’t work in America, nor does it work in Britain unless you’re the real McCoy. Americans genuflect to celebrities, the Brits kneel down for royals and rock stars, whereas Greeks like yours truly only bow their heads to military heroes like Erwin Rommel and George Patton.
And let’s face it. Those claiming long-term therapy needed after working for Meghan need long-term therapy for mendacity and defamation. Exaggeration is as normal as victimhood today, especially in English-speaking countries. (It must be the water.) Both Harry and Meghan see themselves as victims, as do those who worked for them. Victims Anonymous is what I recommend for everyone involved.
This originally appeared on Taki’s Magazine.
