How to do the wrong thing right Having devoted my last couple of columns entirely to Miss Rona, I began noticing a few days ago that a subtle corner has somehow been turned as of late, a shift in perception one might say.
A total sea change, actually, as if the general public were finally shrugging in unison to our infectiously life-altering voodoo spectral, “F/U already, girl, dayum!” Here in Gayville, the flag-waving new ’tude out on the streets all but radiates, “Miz Thang, I’m tired.