My fellow Americans. As you almost definitely know if you read this site, Kate Middleton‘s celebrity pregnancy has been getting more media coverage than the presidential election, the global recession, and Miley Cyrus‘ sideboob combined. I’ve even written a few posts about it myself, because people click on them, and my survival is currently predicated on people clicking on the things I write. But I have a confession to make: I do not care about this particular celebrity pregnancy, or celebrity pregnancies in general. Shocking, I know. But if you love freedom, neither will you.

It’s not that I don’t like babies. I will admit to some anti-baby bias here, as I don’t think I want to have kids myself, and I also don’t get super excited over other people’s children, famous or not. I would much rather look at photos of baby animals than baby humans, and on the odd occasion someone hands me a baby, I look at them like I’m Dr. Faye Miller and I’ve just realized Don Draper and I are very, very wrong for each other. But I do get excited about the babies of people I like, because I’m happy when my friends are happy, and I’m also happy the people I enjoy are making new enjoyable people, because I’ve seen Idiocracy and I don’t want us to go there.

It’s not like I don’t love celebrity gossip, either. It’s one of my favorite past times to talk shit about celebrities like I know them. But it’s only fun when it’s juicy or scandalous, so unless that baby was conceived via an affair with Charlie Sheen, I don’t want to hear about it. Getting married and having a baby is probably the least juicy activity I can think of. Unless that kid is insanely good looking and well dressed, in which case I can ascribe grown-up intentions to it a la Suri’s BurnBook.

But I reserve a special kind of not caring for the fetus currently wreaking havoc on Kate Middleton’s innards. And that reason is not related to my distaste for reproduction or boring celebrity gossip. It’s related to what so many good men fought and died for in the American Revolution: FREEDOM.

I ask of you, what is the purpose of British royalty marrying comely young women and impregnating them with heirs? To perpetuate the aristocracy, of course. Didn’t we discard that idea many years ago when our founding fathers signed the Declaration of Independence? Why, then, are “we” so obsessed with the ways in which the defeated redcoats persist in acting out their medieval modes of succession?

Maybe it’s because the American experiment has failed. This was supposed to be a land of opportunity, but time and again, we’ve seen that liberal capitalism does nothing but consolidate money and power in the hands of those few elites who, by hook or by crook, manage to gain control of the means of production and enslave the country’s citizenry on threat of starvation. At least the Hobbesian monarchy was open about its facism and came with beautiful churches and jaunty hats.

Hence, I posit that our obsession with the British aristocracy is nothing but a cynical nostalgia for the equally wrongheaded but much less hypocritical system from whence this great idea for a nation was birthed. I don’t care about Kate Middleton’s pregnancy because I’m still looking forward. Forward to someday taking those nuggets of beauty contained in the US Constitution and the Bill of Rights and incorporating them into something even better. Forward to a new world order in which all men are truly created equal. Forward to a classless society. A las barricadas!

Photo: WENN