Dead puppies, dead puppies; hang with me, I’m trying to picture something pleasant to replace an image currently in my mind’s eye. I confess, I often skim stories and don’t really delve into them. Sometimes with unpleasant results. This is just such a time.
There was blurb Jennifer Lopez and her upcoming role as a titty dancer. I don’t really care what Jennifer has to say, but I like tits. Could be an opportunity for a cheap shot. So, I hit the link.
Then I find out she went to Ruth Bader Ginsberg for advice. This triggered a cascade of thoughts. Lopez titty dancing. Ginsburg law, at least after a fashion. Was Justice Ginsburg relying on her college experience? Was she offering legal advice or how to work the stripper pole? I suppose I could read the story, but I’m afraid there are pictures.
I’m sixty-six years old. I’ve seen myself naked. I don’t want to see anybody my age or older naked. Imagination can be a terrible thing. I’m trying to unsee the image of Justice Ginsburg, titty dancer.
