Perhaps this was done for a club of redhead enthusiasts. Or guys who needed to see dames twirl pearls. I don’t know - and it doesn’t matter. Maybe Art just did this one for himself: no tricks, no falling underwear, no animals, no laughing spectators. Maybe this was the one he liked the best.
This one struck him just right. There was a time and a place for Celery. But not here. Not now.