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From the Ball-Room to Hell

Here's a gem: From the Ball-Room to Hell, T.A. Faulkner's 1892 hysteria-fueled screed against dancing:

She is now in the vile embrace of the Apollo of the evening. Her head rests upon his shoulder, her face is upturned to his, her bare arm is almost around his neck, her partly nude swelling breast heaves tumultuously against his, face to face they whirl on, his limbs interwoven with hers, his strong right arm around her yielding form, he presses her to him until every curve in the contour of her body thrills with the amorous contact.

Hubba hubba. Sounds pretty good so far, but then the author jumps to a conclusion which is so breathtakingly far from the ground of evidence that he might as well have been pole-vaulting:

She has no longer any claim to purity; her self-respect is lost; she sinks lower and lower; society shuns her, and she is to-day a brothel inmate, the toy and plaything of the libertine and drunkard.

That's right--dancing leads to prostitution. Actually, this would be a lot funnier if a significant portion of our population didn't still believe this to be true.

(Via Boing Boing.)

July 6, 2006 in Books | Permalink

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