Change—smell it?—is in the air. There’s an election in like, just over a month. This morning, I put on my fall indoor shoes instead of my summer ones. The endless dark is on its way, and on Instagram, Diplo, a man whose music I reluctantly enjoy, has revealed another part of himself that I also enjoy, full-heartedly, with reckless abandon.
I do not follow Diplo on Instagram because life is short and I’d rather not, but god bless my guiding light, Page Six, for pointing out that he has revealed the one part of his anatomy that I am actually interested in. (It’s not his penis, I have no interest in Diplo’s Lil’ Dipper, I’ll say that on the record here and now, thanks.)
It’s his butt. Diplo’s got a nice ass. I’m sorry. Here it is.
Well there it is: High, round, more than a handful, but not so much that I’d need a catcher’s mitt to grab either cheek. There’s something sweet about a man’s little butt in middle age that I find endearing. Diplo’s 41-year-old-ass, which is white as the day is long, is endearing to me, a woman whose brain is irreparably damaged from looking at the internet every day in search of something exciting. This is the exciting thing today! Diplo’s butt, asking you to vote. What wonders will tomorrow bring?