Who among us hasn’t felt the urge to rub one out during a viewing of Beetlejuice? It’s got Winona Ryder in it—arguably the GOAT white woman (and hence the GOAT woman, but let’s not get sidetracked).

It’s happened to me on many an occasion. In the comfort of my own home, natch. With all due respect to the late Paul Reubens, star of Pee Wee’s Big Adventure, which, like Beetlejuice, was directed by Tim Burton. What a coincidence.

If only a young lady had been there to finish me off, so to speak, and maybe also let me play with her cans. Or even a not so young lady, if that’s all that was available at the time.

Would Nancy Pelosi allow me to play with her ginormous cans during a Waiting for Guffman-style community theater production of the Beetlejuice musical? I’d be willing to cop a feel, if only to satisfy a certain curiosity.

Namely, I wonder if, after 80 some-odd years, her skin has retained any semblance of elasticity. Are her cans at all firm? They’re certainly supple.