I'm not really certain what attracts me to mad ramblings. I suppose it's like being on the highway when there is a nasty accident being cleaned up by authorities. The urge to look at the horror is difficult to resist. That's what reading this was.
To be honest, when I started reading it, I thought it was a tongue-in-cheek essay. With a name like Rev Mesick, I thought the author was admitting to being some sort of sick weirdo. But, no. The author seemed entirely earnest in his condemnation of dancing and how it leads to hell.
In any case, one would hope that such insane thoughts ought to have perished with the last two centuries. Unfortunately, it's still quite alive. So, ladies... please, when a boy asks you to dance, just dance with him. Otherwise you get sick lunatics like Mesick writing this kind of drivel.
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