My Portuguese-American mom loved the British monarchy due to what she called its “glamour.”
The day before the special, she told me it was the four hundred and forty-second anniversary of Anne Boleyn’s execution by beheading.
“How fucking glamorous,” I said.
Mom just sighed, having given up long ago on disciplining me, unlike Aunt Inez, who really wasn’t too violent by our family’s standards.
Anyway, I almost watched the special, since it featured the cranky old guy from M*A*S*H, one of the few TV actors I could tolerate. But Lynde sucked. I just knew it. Why start watching him now?
Copyright © 2020 by David V. Matthews
