Sanding our assholes with 150 grit.

unclear words in urgelt essay... need your help...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ghtvYTdtJA

2:09/2:38
If I went to an ??? dance

2:50/2:38
If rain leaves a mud puddle in my path and I ??? ???? right through the middle of it,

If you hear the missing words, pls post them.
Permalink JCC 
July 10th, 2007 5:44pm
Dude, you were posting excerpts from that speech several months ago. Are you obsessed with it or what?
Permalink Practical Economist 
July 10th, 2007 6:02pm
Dude, either you pull me a cup of water from that crazy tap or move and let some one else do it...
Permalink JCC 
July 10th, 2007 6:10pm
2:09 ... Alvin Ailey dance
Permalink Cheers 
July 10th, 2007 6:15pm
Thanks...
Permalink JCC 
July 10th, 2007 6:15pm
2:50/2:38 .. and I stomp gleefully right through the middle of it,
Permalink Cheers 
July 10th, 2007 6:16pm
Thanks again...
Permalink JCC 
July 10th, 2007 6:18pm
What is dance to me? Nothing much!

As a boy I was far to shy to dance.

To place my gocky adolescent body on display for all to see.

To reveal it's gracelessness would have been an unbearable humiliation.

In college, my girl friend compelled me to join her on the dance floor.

But in 1973 such dances amounted to little more than shuffling foot to foot with a drink in one hand.

In later years I didn't dance.

I walked, I played at sports, and threw parties but no body danced.

If I loaded a canoe and headed into back country,

against a stiff head wind on a wilderness lake - I wasn't dancing.

I dove head first down a steep hill to keep a volleyball from rolling half a mile down to the river - it wasn't dancing.

If I went to a show I would see comedians, stocking back and forth on the stage,

punctuating their jokes with crude gestions - but they weren't dancing.

I saw elegant Shakespearean plays filled with fencing and passionate sword a quaise - but they weren't dancing.

I attended concerts under the stars on a blanket laid on a wet grass but I wasn't dancing.

If I went to an Alvin Ailey dance performance, it was to stare slack jod at the live bodies of dancers,

speaking the language I could not understand.

And now I don't dance. To even walk I must lean on a cane.

And if I sway form side to side or tap my foot and music fills my ears it's not dancing.

If rain leaves a mud puddle in my path and I stomp gleefully right through the middle of it, it's not dancing.

And if I twirl my cane and toss it in to the air for the pure joy of it, it's not dancing.

What is dance to me? Nothing much!

All rights reserved to Urgelt. (C)
Permalink JCC 
July 10th, 2007 6:24pm
And the point is...?
Permalink Send private email Ward 
July 10th, 2007 6:34pm
It is a well written essay... Just my 2 cents...

So just enjoy...
Permalink JCC 
July 10th, 2007 6:36pm
slack jod -> slack jawed

gocky -> gawky
Permalink Cheers 
July 10th, 2007 6:44pm
What is dance to me? Nothing much!

As a boy I was far to shy to dance.

To place my gawky adolescent body on display for all to see.

To reveal it's gracelessness would have been an unbearable humiliation.

In college, my girl friend compelled me to join her on the dance floor.

But in 1973 such dances amounted to little more than shuffling foot to foot with a drink in one hand.

In later years I didn't dance.

I walked, I played at sports, and threw parties, but no body danced.

If I loaded a canoe and headed into back country,

against a stiff head wind on a wilderness lake - I wasn't dancing.

If dove head first down a steep hill to keep a volleyball from rolling half a mile down to the river - it wasn't dancing.

If I went to a show I would see comedians, stocking back and forth on the stage,

punctuating their jokes with crude gestions - but they weren't dancing.

I saw elegant Shakespearean plays filled with fencing and passionate sword a quaise - but they weren't dancing.

I attended concerts under the stars on a blanket laid on a wet grass but I wasn't dancing.

If I went to an Alvin Ailey dance performance, it was to stare slack jawed at the live bodies of dancers,

speaking the language I could not, understand.

And now I don't dance. To even walk I must lean on a cane.

And if I sway form side to side or tap my foot and music fills my ears it's not dancing.

If rain leaves a mud puddle in my path and I stomp gleefully right through the middle of it, it's not dancing.

And if I twirl my cane and toss it in to the air for the pure joy of it, it's not dancing.

What is dance to me? Nothing much!
Permalink JCC 
July 10th, 2007 6:46pm
"Dance like it hurts. Love like you need money. Work when people are watching."  -- Dogbert
Permalink Send private email Ward 
July 10th, 2007 7:06pm

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