I knew bringing up Missouri would put everybody in a testy mood, so instead, today, for Blessed Friday, let’s go in a different direction, and mourn Carol Doda, the now-departed former centerpiece of the Condor club in San Francisco. Tom Wolfe wrote an essay about her; she’s said to have invented the topless-entertainment dynamic. And now she has gone the way of all flesh, even flesh that’s had silicone directly injected into its breasts. (Shudder.)
It so happens Alan and I were just discussing her the other day; a local burlesque dancer I follow on Instagram was dancing at the Condor. The local dancer is Roxi D’lite, and she posts excellent cheesecake pictures every day or three, although she’s been a little scant this week. She was at the top of my feed when I opened it once, during a break in a staff meeting a few months ago. I think it was to this one:
One of my bosses was sitting next to me. Awk-ward.
So, with cheesecake, let’s go to some quick bloggage:
Neil Steinberg covers a speech by Caitlyn Jenner.
The poop swastika. It does exist.
And I’m outta gas. Don’t spend too much time with Roxi! See you after the weekend.