From the desk of: Stuart

I hate you, noodle dancer.

Dear Hippy,

I would hate to disturb your dancing, but please stop. You’re making me nauseous.

You’re in your element. I understand. I’m also in my element. See the head twitch, the foot tap? Thats my thing. No need to dance like a noodle. I’ve got it all under control.

There was a time when I might have been considered a hippy. I had a 6 year old tie-died Bob Dylan shirt that I bought from some dude in a parking lot. It was awesome. The concert was awesome too – BR549, Ani Difranco, Bob Dylan. Yeah, aside from BR549, it was pretty hippy. You know what I didn’t do at the concert? Hippy dance. Even at the Winnipeg Folk Fest – too drunk to stand, but not drunk enough to hippy dance.

Cut it out. Dig the groove, tap your fingers on a beer bottle, drum on the bar, learn a real dance. Get a dancing partner. And God help you if you ever shout out “PLAY STAIRWAY TO FREEBIRD.” I might strangle you right there.

Don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself. Please stop.

-Stu

Hillbilly Hellcats – Hippy Dance