Shake Your Money Maker

So, there's a band of crazy Russians at that club and a crazy Russian girl with red hair and a crazy Russian body and a face that's a legend straight out of Yereshov. The band plays Romanian Gypsy music, Bulgarian folk dances and Irish reels. I've long ago discovered that all music is more dancable if you just chant James Brown's odd little line as it plays:

Shake your money maker
Shake your money maker-

It fits every rhythm, but for Christ's sake, the Bulgarian bits don't need this. A combo that features a recorder, an electric bass and a violin, needs no help. Crazy Russian redhead needs no help. The friend who brought me over (equally redheaded and no less enchating, but happily married) hastens to vanish for my benefit, moving to the bar and chatting with a film expert. I once checked him out in a free for all rooftop evening, screening school projects of great directors.

Shake your money maker
Shake your money maker-

What is cool? It's you, crazy redhead, you are cool. It's Bulgaria's folk tradition. It's that bearded Russian man, blowing into the recorder super speedy. what is cool? Brothers and sisters of the pale forest, we are reestablishing cool. It's Tel-Aviv 2008. A night can end wherever. Tomorrows are irrelevant. Dreams are to be whispered. Shake it baby, shake it desert kingdom, shake it Cheburashka, minutes from the Med. Never mind making sense, it isn't morning yet.