You know, this burlesque influenza, strafing the USA at the moment, is starting to make me want to file back my horns with a crucifix, gargle a vatful of holy water, and consider making peace with the Vatican.
I mean, that old art of Salome’s striptease was originally conceived by my forefathers as a satanic fun-ride of lust. A never-ending instalment of delicious…
