I am incredibly proud (of the self-satisfied variety, personally my favorite vintage) that I have no idea what twerking is. I had an urge to google it a few weeks ago but then thought, why? Why sacrifice another chunk of my attention at the altar of some ephemeral cultural totem for the scant payoff of momentary distraction from my own at-times painful but ultimately still miraculous existence? I’ve since assiduously protected this tiny untrodden corner of my innocence, which has mostly entailed not reading anything about Miley Cyrus (I know – or strongly suspect – that she either originated or popularized whatever this thing is). I feel like if I can make it another two weeks I’ll be home free.

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