The King’s Smack: When A Kiss Is More Than Just A Kiss

            In the classic 1942 motion picture, Casablanca, Sam (as in “Play it again, Sam.”) constantly reminded Humphrey Bogart that “a kiss is just a kiss.”

            But as time goes by, most of us have come to realize that a kiss is not just a kiss.  There are in fact all sorts of kisses.  There is the friendly peck on the cheek, the sweet good-night kiss on the forehead of a child, or a good old-fashioned slobber-knocker given in the heat of passion.

              There are French kisses, butterfly kisses, Eskimo kisses and hickeys.  And when you see folks kiss, you can tell what kind of relationship they have simply on the basis of how they pucker and where they smack.

              For example, I have a lot of female friends whom I kiss whenever I see them.  I will greet them at parties with a polite little kiss on the cheek, sometimes accompanied by a brief hug.  But there is no hanky-panky involved.  You see, I never, absolutely never, kiss them on the lips.  The only woman I kiss on the lips is the woman I have been sleeping with now for the past 30 years, specifically, my wife.

              Don’t get me wrong.  While I’m no Bill Clinton, I have something in common with Jimmy Carter.  I lust in my heart from time to time with the thought of planting a big juicy kiss on the lips of a woman other than my wife.

              But I never do it.  It’s not that I’m a saint.  I’m just scared that if my wife ever caught me sucking face with another woman, there wouldn’t be a divorce; there would be a homicide.  And then she’d go off and hire her friend, Leslie Ballin, to defend her, and he would get her off, just like he did that preacher’s wife.

              So believe me, I know from personal experience that there are all types of kisses, some friendly, some romantic, and some downright dangerous.

              The great philosopher Yogi Berra once said, “You can observe a lot just by watching.”  And when you watch people kiss, you can tell whether they are just friends or something a lot more serious.

              For example, this coming Friday morning, a couple in London will exchange a kiss.  They will not do it in private.  They will do it very publicly while an estimated one billion people around the world watch.

              The couple, of course, are Prince William and soon-to-be Princess Kate.  And when they give each other the royal smackdown on the balcony at Buckingham Palace, the whole world will know just how serious they are and whether they will live happily ever after.

              Thirty years ago, I, along with half the world, watched another young couple exchange a kiss after a royal wedding.  That couple was Prince Charles and Lady Diana.  And when I saw them kiss, I knew immediately that it would not be long before Charles and Diana split the royal sheets and headed to the Inns of Court for the biggest royal divorce since Henry VIII dumped Catherine of Aragon and created the Episcopal Church.

              Those of you who were alive and well in July of 1981 remember Charles’ pathetic kiss of Diana.  Young Prince Chuck and “Shy Di” walked out onto the Buckingham Palace balcony and waved to the cheering crowd.  And at first, that’s all they did . . . wave.  The crowd began to chant, “Kiss!  Kiss!!  Kiss!!”  Charles was momentarily confused because he thought the crowd had spotted Gene Simmons and was hoping for an impromptu concert.

              When the future King of England realized that the crowd was actually calling for a little royal smooching, he looked like a frightened boy standing atop a high dive who is being urged by his friends to jump.  Finally, Charles leaned over to Diana and gave her a very brief little peck on the lips.  Clearly there was absolutely no royal tongue action.

              Poor Prince Charles was never the same after that peck.  It was the kiss that turned a prince into a frog.

              And at that moment, millions of people around the world realized that Charles and Diana’s nuptials was just another arranged marriage of convenience, sort of like Bill and Hillary Clinton or Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley.

              And so late Thursday night, I am going to set my radio alarm clock for 4:00 a.m.  In the wee hours of Friday morning, I will awaken and turn on my TV so I can watch Prince Wills seal the wedding of the 21st Century with a kiss.

              I’m rooting for Wills.  I hope he gives Kate a slobber-knocker of royal proportions.  I hope it is so long, passionate and borderline erotic that Queen Elizabeth will immediately proclaim that she is stepping down from the throne, and Prince Charles and Royal Step-Mamma Camilla announce that, like Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson, they will immediately abdicate any claim to the monarchy.  And thus, right after they return from a very long, heated and steamy honeymoon, Wills and Kate can be crowned King and Queen of England.

              So pucker up, Prince Wills!  The future of the House of Windsor is in your hands.  Well, actually, it’s in your  mouth.