OK, so I’m old and behind, but I just saw the Miley Cyrus twerking thing and I can’t help myself. If I were in a crowded club and someone started twerking close to me, I’d call a priest and vacate the premises, with a quickness. Then I’d go back inside, because I’d remember I’m a nurse and should help people when they’re having a medical emergency, even if it is induced by being possessed with an evil spirit. Bless her heart, she’s either touched or a marketing genius, because if I’m talking about her twerk, it must really have made every news outlet in the history of mankind. According to our children, I’m the most uninformed person on this earth. Little do they know, it’s a self-imposed condition, because if I saw twerking on a daily basis, I’d take off for the woods and never come back. I personally cannot handle living on a planet full of twerks. I’m pretty certain twerking will be solely responsible for Armageddon, and the subsequent zombie apocalypse to follow shortly thereafter. (And now I sound just like my mother — except for the zombie part — she’s not really big on zombies and gets all mad when I mention Jesus theoretically fits into the zombie category, if you’re including the “rising from the dead” part. Never mind.)
I twerked once, but it was purely accidental and the direct result of stumbling into a hot electric fence. I have since repented and quit drinking while around hot electric fences. I saw more than one person twerk during my nursing career, but again, large amounts of electricity and chest paddles were usually involved. We did have a schizophrenic on the ward who twerked from time to time, but she also thought she gave birth to her pocketbook, so we just alerted the doctor of seizure activity, monitored her closely, and carried on with life.
When my kids get older and their kids are working in nursing homes, there will be patients recovering from hip surgery due to excessive twerking. There will be commercials on TV with an extremely concerned-looking lawyer saying, “If you or someone you love has twerked, call our law firm so we can sue the estate of the long-dead-and-still-incredibly-wealthy-because-of-twerking Miley Cyrus.” They’ll be on the same recovery ward with all the idiots who wore their pants sagging around their knees and fell down too much because they didn’t know how to wear their pants right. The nurses will refer to them as the Twerkers and Saggers in the break room.
I may be taking this too far. Suffice it to say you won’t catch me twerking any time soon. And if you do, alert my doctor of seizure activity, monitor me closely, and carry on.