Tuesday, April 30, 2013


Whatever happened to class?

As exposed in that delightful ditty from the musical CHICAGO, if you're using the word, or its very own adjective, "classy," you ain't got none.


You don't have any.

And I was raised that way. And it may also be a little leftover from my days at Yale when townie me had to deal with the private school privileged, Lords and freakin' fortune inheritors.  I didn't want to be outed as being middle "class" me.

So, in general, I use the word "classic."

But today?  Today I'm watching someone be so damn-ass classy I can't see straight.  Poise and generosity personified.  

I'm honored.  And I bow to you. I'll probably split my pants in the process. Maybe fart.  But I bow to you, nonetheless.


  1. Hey, if there's anyone who can do a pants-split "with class," it's you! Break a ... seam? Well, you know what I mean.

  2. Now *that* would be klassy.

  3. You would know. Classy as they come, in all the ways that count.



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