Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Betty Cantor did not complain about mansplaining, nor did she ever attach “-shaming” to the end of a noun. She declared nothing problematic; she was uninterested in intersectionality. When a wayward hand found its way to her ass, she removed it and went about her work.
Betty was One of the Guys.
Until she wasn’t, and they threw her away.
In the Torah, it is written, “Thou shalt celebrate the New Year with somewhat-dim photos of Garcia and Bobby playing acoustic guitar with the New Riders in St. John of Jerusalem Cathedral in Kent England.”
Admittedly, it’s a weird thing to find in a holy book, but let’s face it: it’s ain’t the goofiest statement in that book by a long shot.
I don’t know who the audience for this nonsense is: in my previous post, there was a joke that literally only makes sense if you have seen one specific picture taken at Mickey’s ranch. I am betting, somehow, on the fact that someone else in the world has, filed in the same mind they keep the location of their keys and childrens’ birthdays, a memory of a photo featuring John “Marmaduke” Dawson.
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