Don We Meow Our Gay Apparel
Dear Dallas Symphony Orchestra,
Greetings and good day. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther; best selling author, yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, recreational life coach and DSO season ticket holder.
I am quite literally soiling myself in anticipation of your forthcoming annual holiday concert series. Much like garnishing belt buckles with mistletoe to encourage spontaneous fellatio, spiking figgy pudding with model airplane glue and rohypinol, and setting fire to unsuspecting quiescent vagrants, attending this concert is a Christmas tradition I spend most of my year looking forward to. That is not to say it leaves me wholly satisfied.
Each Christmas I attend the concert and each Christmas I come away from the performance with an efficient sense of seasonal wonder tinged with the slightest inkling of nagging disappointment. Something is painfully absent. While the program includes several Christmas classics reproduced with stunning symphonic splendor and luxurious choral brilliance, it always seems to be somewhat undersupplied, lacking a certain je ne sais quoi. However, I now believe I have figured out what has been missing lo these many years: vocal accompaniment performed by three or four dozen house cats.
Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther
Greetings and good day. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther; best selling author, yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, recreational life coach and DSO season ticket holder.
I am quite literally soiling myself in anticipation of your forthcoming annual holiday concert series. Much like garnishing belt buckles with mistletoe to encourage spontaneous fellatio, spiking figgy pudding with model airplane glue and rohypinol, and setting fire to unsuspecting quiescent vagrants, attending this concert is a Christmas tradition I spend most of my year looking forward to. That is not to say it leaves me wholly satisfied.
Each Christmas I attend the concert and each Christmas I come away from the performance with an efficient sense of seasonal wonder tinged with the slightest inkling of nagging disappointment. Something is painfully absent. While the program includes several Christmas classics reproduced with stunning symphonic splendor and luxurious choral brilliance, it always seems to be somewhat undersupplied, lacking a certain je ne sais quoi. However, I now believe I have figured out what has been missing lo these many years: vocal accompaniment performed by three or four dozen house cats.
Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther