Christmas eve, made the Roquefort dressing, the garlic butter for tomorrow’s orgy, and now as the sun sets in cold country, a lovely pink at horizon, then silver grey clouds playing background to jet black tree branches that look like symbols of a secret language left by the ancients to mystify us, the ground covered with snow, piles of it on the side of roads, and ice, lots of ice from yesterday’s rainstorm, I contemplate my posting.
A gift, of course, (sorry, but you’ll have to drag it up to the menu bar.) It’s Christmas!. This is an invitation to the dance. Get up off that chair babe, and shake your booty!
First cut, the Queen of Dance:
Get loose baby!
Look what you made me do!
Last cut goes to the King, of course!