I was standing in a long flowing gown that fit the mood and singing when one of my censors came up and said I looked like a French prostitute. I said, “Are you kidding? This is beautiful.” The censors had a way of interpreting everything as being about sex. Bob started arguing with them, and I went out into the hall to calm down because I was so upset, which is where I saw Norman Lear and grabbed him. I told him, “Norman you’ve got to come up and help me. They’re telling me I can’t do this song because I look like a prostitute.” He went in and ripped the two censors a new asshole, telling them
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