I was checking out Beyonce’s Super Bowl half-time bedroom dance and thought Jay Z must be one secure tough dude with eight hundred million men tanked on cheap beer and farting hot dogs pontificating about what they would do with his gorgeous wife if given an opportunity.
Beyonce is one cultured cell most likely birthed in a Petri dish. She is one of a kind – the most sexiest woman in the world. Men don’t approach women like this they collect mementos and paste in closets.
You could find Marilyn Monroe’s photos nailed to splintered wood in a backwoods country chicken coop - Lord knows what those good old boys were chanting.
Both Beyonce and Jay Z have an estimated combined wealth exceeding $750,000,000 so security can’t come cheap.
I remember a time when Madonna hung around Toronto to long and became toxic at a local spa and one woman described her exiting the steam room as looking like a rat. That would never happen to Beyonce- dammit she’s to nice. Everybody loves Beyonce and she truly comes across as genuine good folk. That’s a problem for Jay Z – she’s gorgeous and loveable and flawless.
Honestly, if Beyonce walked in a room I’d have to play by Diana Ross rules and avert my eyes. There is so much there to arouse the bones.
So to Jay Z I say, keep it up, keep her close and watch out for those eight hundred million drunken love bowl pins – they won’t forget that performance and they’ll be gunning with their newly honed seductive booze coos and slinky hillbilly belly flops.
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