You remember how we met our naughty Wittgenstein

It was back in early April. A lady had requested a naked cowboy, which came back to me with a posting she entered at her blog this week, on this unspeakably ravishing dress. 

I'm not sure I care for a dress which so strips me of the treasure of suspense, but when it's all for a cause this good, I don't suppose I can object. We don't hold that against the naked cowboy; after all, it's his job, and many are called, et cetera. No one's obliged to disrobe a lady, but a dress which does, can rather make one's day, to summon a way to hang it.

One couldn't get so close in one's approach to Christmas without acknowledging the generous wit who unsuspect-ingly gave life to Naughty Wittgenstein. Our little agent provocateur has gone far toward redeeming an otherwise unlucullan page with spice from time to time. How soon we forget, he began life by proposing a dance, and it would be churlish of any now to pretend to decline it. Particularly as we veer so near to giving's famous fount of precious parcels, it's past time to give a nod to the least fatiguable page on line, of that becoming disposition. I'm crazy about the little nemesis in a corner of my mind, but I toast all 4 of hers ~

  Tanti auguri,

    PGT

Jean-Paul Gaultier, 2000

Richard Avedon

Crazy Horse Saloon, 1968

Václav Chochola