Brown Sugar, baby

I’m watching Fox’s Don’t Forget the Lyrics. There is a black minister from Topeka, Kansas singing karaoke-ing The Rolling Stones’ “Brown Sugar.”

Something is very wrong with this. It’s difficult to be sure. But I am reminded of sitting in my tiny study in my old Flatbush apartment. Looking out the window, I see a squirrel perched on a fence post, chowing down on a chicken wing.

A chill goes through me. Oh Wayne.