Lady Mitchell Visits the Castle

It had been three years. The storyline had changed. The princess was no longer fair-haired. The dryers in the restroom were like sticking your hands in a vacuum with no time travel perks. There was still the guy in your section who took booing the green knight to an entirely different level, but this time he had far more blinking chotchkies to highlight his asshatery. And the knights, well, let's just say for the three hundred women in the round the fantasy brought to mind only flashbacks of our brother's pock-marked friend hanging out in the garage playing D&D. Yay, though you sport the longest locks in the land, the guy at the ticket booth was more fair than thee. Less ego, too.

Though the theatrics make it seem like horsy WWE, I have the utmost respect for the hours of training required to put on this type of show. I salute you creepy-falconeer-Dio-look-alike, who dodges talons to put food on the table. I salute you, King, for holding off on the JD long enough to remember your lines and smile through the tourists wanting to share your throne. I salute you, Mr.-Cod-Piece-in-the-Name-of-Sales-Souvenir-Guy. No one has ever looked better hawking wares in tights. And I salute my yellow knight, not because he looked like this

because he, sadly, didn't, but because he threaded the ring with his sword each pass, had his horse prancing River Dance style, brought it in the joust and didn't look like a gomer dying.

And because today is Monday and a spoonful of Jim Carrey as a Medieval Times knight makes the day's medicine go down in the most delightful way, I give you this scene from The Cable Guy.