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The name Dancing Sausage refers to my experience as one of the 600-some-odd people arrested on April 15, 2000 at a protest in Washington, DC. It was a catch-and-release arrest, where they just rounded up whoever was on the street at the time, including a clergyman who was just walking by on his way to a wedding.

As I was processed into jail I felt more like a piece of meat than a citizen. A sausage. I sat in jail for some eight hours, my hands restrained in plastic zip-ties, and all I wanted to do was dance.

It’s a more general observation on life, too, I guess. We are nothing but meat, doomed eventually to decay. We move thoughtlessly, but with passion.

The piglet, the stick, the barm– the swossidge. Juicy, oh so terbel juicy. Ah putcha putcha way.