Cakewalks; or Walking on Eggshells

If ever you thought the dance routines of today were odd, take a gander at this:

I don’t explain them. I just find them on YouTube. But this is, they tell me, a cake walk. In musical form. Not the nasty cake walk that has a history in the suppression of African-American peoples. Yeah, that same carnival game you play with your kids? Probably racist. May as well sit down, turn around, pick a bale of cotton as you’re walking. Right? Or is it racist? Maybe not. But you PC folks out there, better be careful, just in case. Next time yhou’re invited to a cakewalk, don’t go. Stay home. Close your curtains. Do not let anyone in the house, or they’ll bring un-PC thoughtcrime in.

Or you could just get over your hang-ups and enjoy the rest of this post. Believe me, when we get to the Minstrel Show in a couple of weeks, those hang-ups of yours will get considerable airing.

I knew this, but then again, I never knew: Scott Joplin wrote a Cake Walk. Swipesy, to be precise:

Even Debussy got into the act:

And it denigrated into this:

Boring as hell. The only problem with taking my kids to cake walks is that they win them and then we have sugared-up kids bouncing off the walls, even when they're outside.

Just think, kids: Something you think is cool and hip and groovy today will, someday, be as boring as a kiddie cakewalk. It’ll happen to you! Just be sure you’re wearing an onion on your belt at the time . . .