If we have to have beauty contests, and apparently we do….everything from the Kansas Corn Queen to the atrocious Miss America pageant…why have we never had a Ms. American Boomer contest? Wouldn’t that be fun? My friends, Mary, Connie, Sandy & Pam could all be contenders. They’re beautiful women…and they actually have brains.
Let’s do it. Who do we have to petition to get this done? Come on, get on the bandwagon. It’s time for a revolution people!
To even qualify for the pageant, women will have to prove that they haven’t had plastic surgery on any part of their bodies. No implants for God’s sake.
We’ll have several categories, because women all age differently, don’t we? For instance, under “Hair” applicants can choose Own, False, or None. Same with teeth. In the figure category we can check Boobs on Chest, Below Waist, or Nipples to Knees.
There will be an Incontinent category, for those of us who need to wear Depends under our swimsuits.
For the talent competition women will have to remember all the lyrics to the Everly Brothers “Bird Dog”, dance to Chubby Checker’s “Let’s Twist”, or recite the nearly extinct Pledge of Allegiance.
To show their intelligence, contestants would answer such questions as, “Who was Nikita Kruschev and what did he do with his shoe?”, or “Why was JFK so upset about a bay full of pigs?”.
Seriously, aren’t we going to have to re-think our idea of beauty? Or am I the only one who is sick to death of fake boobs, faces that don’t move, lips that resemble mini air mattresses? Have you seen the photo of Helen Mirren in her bikini? This stunner just turned sixty-three last week, hasn’t had a lick of ‘work’ done, and is one of the most gracious and talented women on the planet. There’s my role model….not Joan Rivers.
Well, enough of my prattling. What do you think? I’ll just do a little number while I wait for your comments:
Johnny is a joker. He’s a bird. A very funny joker. He’s a bird. But when he jokes my honey…he’s a dog. His jokin’ ain’t so funny…he’s a dog. Johnny is a joker that’s a-tryin’ to steal my honey. He’s a bird dog.
