The queen has officially been deleted from the earthly plane. I’m not gonna front, though. My feeling before, during, and after the announcement that her health was deteriorating has been pretty consistent:

You might read that as callous or lacking decorum. And I want you to know that I see you, I feel you, you’re right. But I also want you to know that I’m not here for one single African ounce of decorum when it comes to this lady dying, okay? I do not care. For 96 years, that colonizer has been sucking up the Earth’s resources; she’s represented an empire that’s committed mass violence and brought multiple flavors of atrocity to the world. Like you’re just not gonna see me shedding tears for her. Not even the single thug-tear thing, you know?

You can’t be a literal oppressor and not expect the people you’ve oppressed not to rejoice on news of your death. That’s just how these things work. It’s not like she’s gonna hear us anyway, right? She was surrounded by her family and loved ones — sans Meghan Markle, because it’s loved ones  — at Balmoral Castle, probably a safe distance from any kind of social-media platform. Like she’s fine, she died more peacefully than probably any of us. She didn’t even feel our soles pattering on the dirt.

Nevertheless, people have already started the whole hand-wringing around not being rude to or petty about the dead or whatever. Reminding Americans of this at all is really fucking funny to me, because wasn’t England, like, Big Evil at one point? No taxation without representation and all that? Now I’m supposed to be quiet or, better yet, actually mourn what was a barely breathing Glad ForceFlex trash bag? Please, no. Not to mention the very real damage Lizzie and her family have done to the land and people of Africa? Their colleagues in Caucasian, the Irish? The West Indies? Yeah, please miss me. Britain has colonized places and people that Lizzie defenders (who I just learned are considered royalist, because it’s the 17th century) can’t even point out on a map. Find Nevis, the Solomon Islands, or Tuvalu for me. Quickly.

Nah, friend, we about to plan the coldest cross-cultural cookout of all time. We’re plottin’ on estate auctions. We’re sipping wine slowly imagining the deliciously schlocky, basic Brit-ass reign of one King Charles III that’ll do immeasurable amounts of reputational damage to the kingdom. I’m snorting up these calls for civility, silence, and grief like a fresh line of whole grain. We smoking on that Lizzie pack on the stoop tonight! I just threw a banger of a birthday function last weekend, and if I had the stamina, the immune system, or bank account, me and my people would pull up to Ace of Spades with a stack of euros ready to blow it all on some of America’s most dexterous athletes doin’ the one-cheek-two-cheek to God Save the Queen.

Now listen, if your heart hurts, damn I’m so sorry. I hope you find a way to mend it. I just want to remind you that in the rest of the world, and I mean the actual world, most will be celebrating today. And if you love her, you should be celebrating her too. She got to live 96 long-ass years doing what she loved most, ya know? Isn’t that the dream? So it’s either you get in line for your wine and shrimp cocktail or stay your ass at home and wallow in silence while the rest of us turn up the oontz oontz. We all have our methods of mourning friends; doing the electric slide on a colonizer’s grave just happens to be mine.

Just couldn’t wait till the old bag croaked, could you?

Ethan’s kinda dragging it a bit, because chile, everybody’s known she was about to go. They’ve been very open about the planning, so, like, cool it?

He’s right that it happens way too often, but I can’t hold you up this time … it’s just funnier. What do you want me to do?! God.

Nothing to see here; just a quick quote from Eric Adams critiquing a jailhouse-building plan supported by former borough president Eric Adams, thanks to Nick Pinto at Hell Gate.

Now granted, no one here is saying we need to build bigger prisons. But it is revealing that, quite like the rest of us, Eric Adams can’t recall a single policy decision he’s made.