July 24, 2013
Last night Alice called to tell me that she’s happy the new royal baby finally has a name.
“Really?” I hadn’t heard anything about this, but then I hadn’t been listening to the news. Off and on all day, Alice watches CNN and sometimes (sad to say) Fox News. “What did they name him?” I asked.
My brain scurried back through the history of the English people for a Spanish connection. All I could come up with were these two:
Sponsors of this person:
And, besides that, parents of this one:
Who got tangled up with this guy:
And then got dumped because of her:
Who, unfortunately, couldn’t outsmart the wolf who roamed the royal palace, sniffing out trouble:
Though he could not outsmart this one:
“That’s nice,” I said to Alice as I sat on my deck in a cool breeze, watching the river go by, feeling summerly and generous toward royal babies, Spanish-speaking English queens, a certain insane Tudor personage, selfish, naughty girls who flirt with kings, and, as always, writers. “I’ll have to see what the story is.”
I turned on the television set only to discover that the Carlos of the day was, in fact, this sad excuse for a father and husband:
Who sexted under the name of Carlos Danger, the actual name of a real psychiatrist in Miami. (Photo unavailable.)
I called Alice back and told her all of this and explained that the real royal baby as yet has no name. She laughed and laughed. “I get things mixed up sometimes,” she said.
It was fun to hear her laugh.
For more Alice mix-ups, see:
And if you have a moment, read this funny piece by Tim Elfrink, editor of the Miami New Times, who wrote yesterday in his blog about Anthony Weiner and the real Carlos Danger.