DANCING NAKED WITH TAMBOURINES

The apartment mate is quoting from a book that she's reading, and my head is still groggy with sleep. So what should be rigorously processed is only half digested. I seek to reassure her that her ethnic group can't dance, and in any case they aren't very musical. Besides, they're often dressed in imagined ancient garb, sort of a Protestantish disapproving version of T'ang dynasty robes, when they dance, and no tambourines but those stupid long fluttery ribbons.


"Dancing naked with tambourines is an Irish thing. You aren't Irish."


See, it would be the epitome of cultural appropriation. And without blood sacrifices, or weird druid sh*t, it's just not sincere or authentic. They didn't have those along the Silk Road.
Her response, at this juncture, was to exclaim "oh bugger the silken robe!"

Oh well, if she wants to dance naked with tambourines, who am I to stop her? This is what a multicultural free-for-all such as we have in modern American society leads to.
And far be it from me to voice disapproval.

In fact, ALL of you can dance naked with tambourines, see if I care.
As well as stupid long fluttery ribbons.


I'll just be off in my corner, by myself, gaily twirling with my parasol.

No, I don't know what that book she's quoting from is. Do you honestly think I want to read about terpsichorean ecdysis?


It's six o'clock in the buggery morning and I don't want to contemplate mediaeval Celtic nudists, ergot poisoning, and Saint Vitus' Dance. That's why I'm indoors in my pajamas, so I don't have to see those naked folks out there. I'm sure there are bare-ass people all over San Francisco at this hour, and bully for them, damned freaks, but I'm just trying to drink a cup of coffee and read the news on the BBC website, which given their proximity to heathen Hibernia has surprisingly little (nothing) about Irish dancers thank heavens. Possibly even the English are appalled.

It's very cold early in the morning. We need to rub ourselves with bear fat.
That book sounds interesting. I should find out who wrote it.

Can't make an egg without breaking omelettes.

Bottoms painted blue with woad.

Good grief.



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