I’ve just come back from watching a local dance company’s annual performance. As usual, the only people in attendance are relatives and friends of the dancers along with a small handful of pedophiles who, apparently, are the ones who keep requesting the dance numbers featuring seven-year-olds shaking their pre-pre-pubescent booties and looking all sexxxay. I could really do without those numbers, but even more annoying were a Sasquatch-size handful of audience members who have no idea how to behave when sitting in a dark theater and watching a performance. Here, then, are some helpful dos and don’ts.
…Shut the fuck up and watch the show.
It’s called ‘whispering’ because it doesn’t involve vibrating your vocal chords. If you vibrate your vocal chords, it’s called ‘talking.’ Talking is the thing you do, incessantly, while watching TV shows in your trailer. Whispering is the thing people do when they’re trying not to let other people hear what they have to say. You’ve seen this before; remember every single episode of Scooby Doo when Velma hatches a plan? That thing she does when she tells the gang her plan is called whispering.
…Use your cell phone for anything
Yes, rah rah you; you didn’t talk on your phone during a quiet dance piece. How thoughtful. But that doesn’t mean you get to text to your delight. That phone of yours might as well be a light beacon on a stormy night. We can see it for miles, which is why, if a light-house generator explodes, the coast guard teaches its recruits to use their cell phones in order to keep ships from crashing into the shore.
…Use the program as a fan
Except in the case of women going thru that time of life — The Change — there is no excuse for using your program as a fan. If the program were green and just a bit larger, it would have been a banana leaf, but you’re not in the fucking rain forest. It was a lovely 75° out with no humidity. You’re a 35-year-old guy. I don’t think you were going thru The Change. And you weren’t either, sister. Folks, just dress accordingly, and learn to deal with the fact that we’re not in your goddamn ranch house with goddamned central air.
…Yell kids’ names
This sort of goes along with the sharing thing that your teacher worked so hard to get thru your thick skull back in first grade. If you can’t shout out the names of all the kids, then don’t shout out Tommy’s. Better yet, don’t shout out all of the kids’ names even if you know them all. We don’t give a shit that you’re so familiar with all the kids. Are you a pederast or something?
The time on your ticket is not a suggestion. It’s not like the dance company thinks it would be cool to start around noonish. It’s 12-the-fuck-o’clock. That means you arrive at 11:55 the latest and get a seat, not 12:15 and hope you’re not too late. And if you just have to get there after the show has started, please wait until one of the two-minute dance pieces is over so that you can squeeze past between bits. That way you’re only really annoying the people in row E and not everyone in rows F thru Q.
You already spent $50 on tickets. Would it kill you to hire a baby sitter for a couple hours? No? Let me put it this way: You’ve just annoyed several scores of people who, combined, spent many hundred dollars on tickets. Is your kid that special? Still not convinced? Then I’ve got two words for you: cough syrup.
…Clap rhythmically during the tap-dance numbers
If you need an explanation for this one, please send a check for $10 made out to:
I’m Dumb as a Post
86 IQ Lane
No Hope, Arizona 01234
Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.