Golden glimpses can be fun

Having now seen the past two British coronations on TV, I can assure you: The one today (Charles III) was way better than the previous one (his mom). That might be because:
— I was way too young to appreciate the previous one. Once I realized that none of those swords were going to be put to productive use, my interest waned.
— The telecast was better this time. In particular, it was in color.
At various points, Charles was on a golden carpet (shown here) … was wearing a golden robe … and was being taken away in a golden carriage. Watching all of that gold, one thought persisted: Donald Trump must be quivering with jealousy.
(Trump loves gold. He also would love the “God save” and “lifelong job” parts.)
Charles seemed happy, although that’s not an emotion that spends much time on royal countenances.
Like many people (Joe Biden, Trump, etc.), he was getting this moment way too late in life. We could never quite tell if he was being slow and solemn or just slow and old.
But there he was, being handed various things. There was a jeweled sword, sort of like the one his predecessors could have used to dismember unruly commoners. There was even a giant glove, as if someone expected him to perform a royal colonoscopy.
(I might be mis-stating this. It could have just been a giant barbecue mitt; after a big morning, many families like to cook up some hot dogs in the back yard.)
The songs continued, often quite splendid, and some of them familiar. One was referred to on the TV screen as an “offertory” … which in my church means passing the collection plate.
(I didn’t see any plates, but it would have been cool if there were some. Since royals don’t carry actual money, despite their images on it, they would have to fill the plates with jewels and watches and stuff; it would have been enough to pay reparations.)
The entire ceremony lasted only about two hours, which made it an hour shorter than the previous one. It was also shorter than most Marvel movies, with just as much spectacle and, I believe, fewer deaths.
Then Charles walked out, as the people sang “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee” (only with different words, which is the British way).
His grandson had to carry the back of the royal robe, which was apparently too long. Next time, they might have a taller king, a shorter robe or extra grandsons.
It was raining, of course, because this is England. And it was, in many ways, splendid.
There are things the British do better than anyone. That includes mid-’60s pop music … David Attenborough nature shows (via PBS and BBC America) … mysteries (especially the “Dalgliesh” ones now at www.acorn.tv and the ones coming to PBS this summer) … and pageantry.
Every 70 years or so, they celebrate anew. A newly crowned king rides the same carriage that once held King George III, who had important duties subjugating the colonies.
It was a splendid occasion and I hope to catch the next one, possibly in 3-D on a holodeck. As the British say while trying to sing “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee”: God save the king.