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INCLINE VILLAGE, Nev. — The question burning on my mind today is simply this — why do we Americans continue to retain the word “king” as a superlative? We remember Michael Jackson as “King of Pop.” Lebron James is “King James.” Elvis is simply “The King.”
Did we forget why we left England in the first place? Must we read the Declaration of Independence on the Fourth of July to summon up our grievances against King George III?
As Mark Twain is fond of reminding us, “kind of royalty, no matter how modified, any kind of aristocracy, however pruned, is rightly an insult.”
When Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was published in 1885, the king and the duke were not capitalized. But in subsequent editions, American editors took it upon themselves to capitalize the titles of those two deadbeats.
Huck had the king and the duke pegged to a dot in the novel: “It didn't take me long to make up my mind that these liars warn't no kings nor dukes at all, but just low-down humbugs and frauds.”
Satire is an effective weapon, and Twain was most tactful in employing satire against kings in his epic novel.
“All I say is, kings is kings, and you got to make allowances. Take them all around, they're a mighty ornery lot. It's the way they're raised.”
“But dis one do smell so like de nation, Huck.”
“Well, they all do, Jim. We can't help the way a king smells; history don't tell no way.”
“Now de duke, he's a tolerble likely man in some ways.”
“Yes, a duke's different. But not very different. This one's a middling hard lot for a duke. When he's drunk there ain't no near-sighted man could tell him from a king.”
“Well, anyways, I doan' hanker for no mo' un um, Huck. Dese is all I kin stan'.”
“It's the way I feel, too, Jim. But we've got them on our hands, and we got to remember what they are, and make allowances. Sometimes I wish we could hear of a country that's out of kings.”
As a personal thing, I hope the word “king” passes out of fashion as a compliment, and falls upon the ash-heap of history as a slander.
Until that happens however, I suppose we will continue to plod along under our own shabby royalty — the unseemly rich, for as Twain observed over a century ago, we have made money king of our American aristocracy.
“We like to read about rich people in the papers; the papers know it, and they do their best to keep this appetite liberally fed. They even leave out a football score now and then to get room for all the particulars of how — according to the display heading, ‘Rich Woman Fell Down Cellar.' The falling down the cellar is of no interest to us when the woman is not rich, but no rich woman can fall down the cellar and we not yearn to know all about it and wish it was us.”
In the final analysis, perhaps witnessing the crimes of Bernie Madoff might throttle back our emotions when it comes to revering financial wizards. Recognizing the indignities of royalty in any form might just encourage us to turn our attentions and admirations to those more worthy of our esteem — teachers, mentors and honest plumbers…
McAvoy Layne is an Incline Village resident who visits area schools as the ghost of Mark Twain.
Did we forget why we left England in the first place? Must we read the Declaration of Independence on the Fourth of July to summon up our grievances against King George III?
As Mark Twain is fond of reminding us, “kind of royalty, no matter how modified, any kind of aristocracy, however pruned, is rightly an insult.”
When Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was published in 1885, the king and the duke were not capitalized. But in subsequent editions, American editors took it upon themselves to capitalize the titles of those two deadbeats.
Huck had the king and the duke pegged to a dot in the novel: “It didn't take me long to make up my mind that these liars warn't no kings nor dukes at all, but just low-down humbugs and frauds.”
Satire is an effective weapon, and Twain was most tactful in employing satire against kings in his epic novel.
“All I say is, kings is kings, and you got to make allowances. Take them all around, they're a mighty ornery lot. It's the way they're raised.”
“But dis one do smell so like de nation, Huck.”
“Well, they all do, Jim. We can't help the way a king smells; history don't tell no way.”
“Now de duke, he's a tolerble likely man in some ways.”
“Yes, a duke's different. But not very different. This one's a middling hard lot for a duke. When he's drunk there ain't no near-sighted man could tell him from a king.”
“Well, anyways, I doan' hanker for no mo' un um, Huck. Dese is all I kin stan'.”
“It's the way I feel, too, Jim. But we've got them on our hands, and we got to remember what they are, and make allowances. Sometimes I wish we could hear of a country that's out of kings.”
As a personal thing, I hope the word “king” passes out of fashion as a compliment, and falls upon the ash-heap of history as a slander.
Until that happens however, I suppose we will continue to plod along under our own shabby royalty — the unseemly rich, for as Twain observed over a century ago, we have made money king of our American aristocracy.
“We like to read about rich people in the papers; the papers know it, and they do their best to keep this appetite liberally fed. They even leave out a football score now and then to get room for all the particulars of how — according to the display heading, ‘Rich Woman Fell Down Cellar.' The falling down the cellar is of no interest to us when the woman is not rich, but no rich woman can fall down the cellar and we not yearn to know all about it and wish it was us.”
In the final analysis, perhaps witnessing the crimes of Bernie Madoff might throttle back our emotions when it comes to revering financial wizards. Recognizing the indignities of royalty in any form might just encourage us to turn our attentions and admirations to those more worthy of our esteem — teachers, mentors and honest plumbers…
McAvoy Layne is an Incline Village resident who visits area schools as the ghost of Mark Twain.
