EXCUSE ME WHILE I KISS THE SKY

Prince died, and I turned into a middle-aged woman acting like a fool. Remember those stories of mass hysteria after the death of  Rudy Valentino? I get it. See, for my generation, Prince was our Valentino, our Elvis, our Beatles. We loved him, madly.

"Act your age, not your shoe size."

THE BEA MONOLOGUES

I don't know about the rest of you, but there are times when I can barely sit through a session of TV viewing without at least five or six moments of acute embarrassment. I'm not talking about the shows, as my shame level runs fairly high for those, particularly if a Real Housewife or two is involved. The source of my discomfort?  The commercials! People, what has become of our dignity? When I see an advertisement that deals in bodily functions or fluids, all I can do is shake my head and ask myself one simple question, "WWABS?  (What Would Aunt Bea Say?")

Bea Taylor: Our Patron Saint of Common Decency