75 WORDS
The Good Prince Little Dick
Oh, wait… I think his name was actually Andrew…

A Prince among royals, ninth in line for the throne he partied with socialites — but now he’s disowned. No white plumes and scarlet tunics no cocaine soirées, no more hot chicks.
With friends like Jeffrey Epstein, he exploited young girls, a monster, obscene. No longer protected by Queen Mum, bring on the lawsuits, you miserable scum.
How sad it is to be down on one’s luck. But don’t ask us to give one flying fuck.
Author’s note: This bit actually needs no explanation other than the fact this story took up more than half a page of the print edition of the Seattle Times this morning. I’m glad he’s feeling a bit of comeuppance, but he’s had 61 years of an utterly undeserved high life, lives in a 30-room estate with his ex, and has entertained his every whim and fancy for decades.
Maybe we news-readers are just so craving a little titillation in our pandemic lives, a bit of a vicarious romp? Glee at seeing a pompous rich prick get his due? Well, so be it. This is today’s version of journalism simply reporting on the dumb-fuckery the public can’t seem to get enough of.
