I feel like there’s always a grizzled backwoodsman in my life.  He’s off-screen, but constantly saying to me, “Ok, Varmint, I wanna see you DANCE!” as he shoots his olde tyme revolver at my feet.  Pew! Pew!  Tappity, tap, tap.  [That’s me dancing a frantic jig to avoid his bullets.] Why do I feel this way?  … Continue reading I wanna see you DANCE, Varmint!