RBG, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, was a tough lady. No one can take that from her. Cancer is a terrible way for anyone to die. I will be glad when cancer is eradicated. Justice Ginsburg will be buried in the nation’s most hallowed resting place, Arlington National Cemetery. Deservedly so.
My name is Margarite Sheila Tolley. Occasionally, I receive an honorable mention from Lois Lion in her daily edition of The Sphinx. I am a loyal reader. Lois Lion refers to me as MST.
If I were a Supreme Court Justice, would I be known by the acronym MST? I know, I cannot quit laughing at the thought either. RBG and MST would be at opposite ends of every imaginable scale.
First of all, at 87 years old, I would have been retired so long people would have forgotten my acronym. I would have worn out a few rocking chairs while sipping my Pinot Noir and listening to Golden Oldies. My Jack Russell Terrier, Timey Ray, would be lying on the porch beside my rocking chair. People would wave as they ride by and say: “Look, that is old whats-her-name.” I would wave back and think to myself: “Who is that and why are they waving at me?”
People tend to remember the last words and quotes from people who are dying.
Allegedly, a few days before her death, RBG dictated a statement to her granddaughter Clara Spera, “My most fervent wish is that I will not be replaced until a new president is installed.”
As Joe Biden would stutter, “C’mon man….”
Who talks that way? Fervent wish? President is installed? We install washers and dryers. We elect presidents.
The MST quote would have been more like this in the obama years of intentional moral decline:
Just before she died, MST told her granddaughter, Mahaley Hagan, “I hope that son-of-a-bitch in the white house does not get to pick my replacement…now hand me my glass of wine and turn my music up, please.”
History will record that MST died with a smile on her face while listening to CCR.
MST always liked acronyms.