There was fine wine, a buffet supper, and a musician at the piano with a repertoire of show tunes and a great singing voice. The party was a hit. Then the doorbell rang and a plump woman wearing a trench coat and carrying a boom box bounced in. Next thing we knew, right there in front of God and all the aunties, the intruder flipped on her music and began gyrating out of her clothes. My first reaction was that maybe this was some unfortunate neighbor who wasn't quite right and liked to crash parties and get nekkid.
Bad taste is frequently just bad timing.
Years ago, I heard a Chicago radio commentator remark that the only culture most kids were coming into contact with in those days was bacteria. It's beginning to look like he was right. Elizabeth Schuett writes for Cox News Service. This material shall not be published or redistributed directly or indirectly in any medium.