“We used to be a proper country,” I explained to two beautiful young blonde women who were only half paying attention.
It was a dinner for so-and-so conservative celebrity, both celebrating and denouncing all the usual things. Through mutual friends, I found myself seated at the “OnlyFans table,” a political junkie between hard-nosed attorneys and their buxom clients who possessed only a burgeoning, if sympathetic, notion of political consciousness. Yet they perked up considerably when, mid-conversation about the ills plaguing America, I remarked, “I just want to live in a country that caters to hot blondes again.”
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