* * *
Pour la Toddle
Oh, these professional propagandists.
Can nothing deliver us from them?
Our ministerial prolocutors again promulgate the purity dance.
They barked and barked at the spaghetti shamble shimmie until Sari Dennishawn tripped in and demonstrated the aestheticism of shoulder shaking.
But now the “toddle” comes—that ecstatic little eccentricity that proselytes us all, and makes us do those ticklish little shivers that the deans call “vicious.”
“Vicious”—propend that!
Is there anything more inspiring than two young people, cheeks pressed close, galloping about in syncopated contortions to the weird moan of a saxophone and the sliding blare of a trombone?
Is there anything more uplifting than the sight of a beautiful young girl with her head resting on the shoulder of a greasy-headed lizard who “toddles” around with closed eyes?