Hot-Hot-Hot-Hot-Hot-Hot-Hot...Not

Remember my little Ann Sothern problem? Things haven't gotten any better.

Now, like all sensible people, I find people who talk about their dreams almost invariably incredibly boring. But of course my dreams are different. Especially this one, which has now popped up at least three times.

In this dream, I am planning to meet friends at New York's old Ballroom, once the most interesting cabaret room in town, for a special surprise. It's a surprisingly realistic dream, taking in my flat in Chelsea (four sordid rooms indeed), a walk up Ninth Avenue in what seems like an autumn rain, and arrival at my old stomping grounds.

The surprise, it turns out, is the act already under way when the doors open: the cabaret debut of Miss Katharine Hepburn, circa 1967 and resplendent in a jersey pantsuit number like one of those from Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?. The song she is singing? Nothing else but that staple of 80s MOR radio, Ashford & Simpson's "Solid."

Words fail; fade to black.