The Queen of Crafts herself, Martha Stewart, and I have the same birthday. I prefer to think it’s the glue-gun wielding, perfect-tart-producing Martha and not the copper pan-throwing, jail-going Martha. But I suppose if I am going to share a calendar square with some of Martha, I have to share it with all of Martha.

Crosley uses Martha Stewart as a comic emblem of the split between public persona and private fallibility. By contrasting the “glue-gun wielding” domestic icon with the “jail-going” tabloid figure, she highlights how celebrity narratives flatten people into either aspirational perfection or scandal. The punchline—sharing a “calendar square” means sharing “all of Martha”—turns a trivial biographical coincidence (a birthday) into a wry meditation on identity by association: we want to claim the flattering parts of our parallels and disown the inconvenient ones, but real people (and, by extension, our own selves) come as an inseparable bundle of virtues, flaws, and contradictions.