As everyone knows, I have had a decades-old fascination with drag queens and trannies. I love Saturday nights at Twist for that reason; it seems to bring them all out. They know I love them.
Even the tragic ones.
There are the girls who stick to the classics of managing space...
...and others who just invent something from outer space.
I love a girl who is glamorous and shapely from the front...
...and behind.
Some look like a mirage of Havana in the Fifties.
Some look like a girl I helped with homework in Rhode Island.
There is always a girl who has just come from a pageant.
Some remind me of The Wiemar Republic...
...and, some, of The Bronx . They are always on the tip of the fashion iceberg.
The girls play the latest music, and....
... know all the latest dance steps.
Reigned over by Henrietta, The Queen of South Beach. All bow.

I am starting to fire up again after that monstrous period of work. The gang-bang against Wall Street has not reached Miami Beach, although the mainland has had its hands full. Miami Beach is such a La-La Land that I would expect that most of the residents don't even know what it means. More power to them, but we don't want rabble spilling across the causeways and interrupting out special way of life. Therefore, before the barbarians are at the gate we are prepared for two things: either buy them off with drink tickets or blow up the bridges. In the meantime,while hell threatens our way of life, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish has agreed to join forces to fight the coming onslaught. We resurrected the

the clapping song

as a way of maintaining civility and fun. We have created a line dance to it that will make the barbarians shrink in horror and awe.

I have a harder time than Mamie in executing the more lively and demonstrative steps in my squashed-heeled shoes to Mamie's more sensible, flat, jeweled slippers, You always have do the best you can, though.