My proposed smackdown between Liza Minnelli and Aretha Franklin (Miss God rest her soul) would on the surface hardly seem a fair fight if we were only to compare upbringings: the daughter of Judy Garland, fraught as that lineage may have been, would undoubtedly suffer mortal injury in an actual slapping match with the daughter of a Baptist preacher, open-hands down.
It would not even have come up but for the Snickers commercial in which they both appeared, and which suggested the “hangry diva” personas my husband and I have adopted: invoking Liza (me) or Aretha (him) is an immediate and urgent imperative to find food in any and all situations.
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