No, not the royal wedding. The royal wedding was an event I am more than capable or regarding with my customary benevolent equanimity. The carryings-on of the British aristocracy are frivolous, and the tabloid obsession with them ranges from vacuous to terrifying, but overall –eh, the British Royals, whatever they get up to, I worry about them precisely as much as I worry about what their namesakes from Kansas City are doing with their relief pitching.

Nah, the title refers to the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. Which is tonight.

I vaguely wish the British royal couple well, and I suppose I encourage the Kansas City bullpen to throw strikes: why the hell not, you know? I’m not British, and I’m a Mets fan (for my sins).

On the other hand, I fervently wish that everyone who goes to the White House Correspondents’ Dinner gets scabies.

For any reader who does not know what the White House Correspondents’ Dinner is… by the Holy Tits of Santa, I envy you. Basically it’s an event where rich and famous people from media and politics gather to remind themselves that even though they should be doing other things beside from acting like Britney-class celebrities, fuck that shit. And then celebrities show up….

In other words, it’s exactly like the royal wedding, except that it seems several billions of people seem either kindly or indifferently disposed to the royal couple…

… And pretty much all of America, and probably the world, and likely even lifeforms heretofore undiscovered, is united in fervently wishing that everyone who shows up to the White House Correspondents’ Dinner contracts scabies. Nasty-assed scabies, too. Targeting their underpants regions especially.

The royal family at least has the grace to be without power. The asshole DC media.. and asshole DC… not so much. These are the people piously holding elementary school teachers to account for almost destroying the nations’ economy by inventing shyster real estate credit scams.

Here are selections from the Politico live blog of the red carpet to the  White House Correspondents’ dinner.

This exists.

“Glee” star Matthew Morrison tells POLITICO he is wearing Calvin Klein underwear.

Rupert Murdoch and Rep. Kevin McCarthy (R-Calif.) seen chatting at the Wall Street Journal party.

It’s all about “Gossip Girl” star Chace Crawford at the pre-parties. Guests one after the next are asking him to pose for pictures.

Out of sight, out of mind? David Axelrod (back from Chi-town) and his wife Susan walked into the hotel hall with little fanfare.

Steve Buscemi is at the TIME/People pre-party, doing a little mingling.

Meghan McCain, blonde tresses up in a bun, is being stopped literally every five feet by passersby. She is happily chatting.

Jane Lynch of “Glee” is mingling the in TIME/People pre-party, as her co-star and onscreen nemesis, Matthew Morrison, leaves the party. “She’s not wearing her tracksuit.”

Massachusetts Sen. Scott Brown has two dates tonight: His wife, Gail, and his eldest daughter Ayla.

Bristol Palin, wearing a white sequined dress, is posing for pictures with gobs of people at the TIME/People party. (She’s attending the dinner as a guest of People.

Mila Kunis, walking in escorted by Wolf Blitzer.

“SNL” star Andy Samberg, co-star of WHCD emcee Seth Meyers, chatting up Mindy Kaling of “The Office.”

“Sorry, she’s not doing interviews,” a handler says when reporters approach Bristol Palin at the pre-party. “This is a social event.”

The Donald has arrived.

ABC to Donald Trump: “Why are you here?” The Donald responds, “I was invited. By a lot of people.” (He is a guest of the Washington Post.)

I thought ten thousand middle fingers must have leaped from their keyboards to avenge this awful bullshit. But the age of chivalry, or something, is gone. FUCK ME.

Or else, “let’s hear it for scabies.”