January 3rd, 2008

me and my vulture

Cranky McNaughtybits (I got called the C-word last night) (takes one to know one)

Wow.   I have never had so many people refuse to see my point, and try to refute what they think I'm saying.  I'm not going to try to explain what I mean any more.  If you want to believe that there is no unifying factor in US society that cuts across and is the foundation upon which all social mores and local customs are built, so be it.  

(I am in a super-bitch bad mood today; don't take a thing I say seriously.  I love you all and value your opinions, I really do.)

Moving on.

Bob and I went to see Spamalot last night, and it was really great.  Not so great was the silly little cow behind me who talked through most of the first act, and called me a c*nt after I asked her to be quiet for the third time in act 2.  She was one of those dreadfully dreary twenty-somethings who talks loudly in an effort to impress anyone who is listening, so I got to hear that she thinks "humour" is her hobby (she needs to get a new one; she has no talent for it), and that the Double T Diner is the height of gourmet food.  

This is one of the reasons I'm not more gung-ho about seeing live performances; there's a serious lack of manners going on.  So I didn't try to avoid blocking her view of the stage for the rest of the performance, and sat up and forward so I could see everything on stage.

It's funny; it used to be an absolute that you didn't speak ever during a performance.  If you had to communicate something, you'd whisper very quietly directly into someone's ear.  Now, it seems that it's perfectly acceptable to carry on a conversation louder than the performers on stage, because clearly, everyone has paid $50 to come and listen to your deep thoughts on how cool you are for liking pre-frozen stale pastries.

(Back in Shakespeare's time, people went to the theatre to socialize; the actors were often attempting to perform against a backdrop of constant talking.  However, the actors were allowed to make rude gestures at the audience.)

It's a shame; the performance was a really good time otherwise.  If you order a drink at the bar, though, be prepared to pay New York prices for a plastic cup of liquor (at least they free pour).  In general, I like the National Theater; it has a nice look (not quite as frou-frou as the Warner), the seats are reasonably comfortable, and the acoustics do not suck.  The performance was funny, the actors were good, and the Spamalot Playbill is hysterical (intentionally and unintentionally - I've never seen so many actor's bios thanking God).

But I'm apparently a c*nt for wanting to enjoy all that uninterrupted by someone who thinks they're clever for saying the lines a fraction of a second before they're said on stage.

Look sweetie, we all know "Holy Grail".  It's been out since 1975.  Like many cult movies, its afficionados have seen it enough times to memorize all the dialogue.  No-one cares if you know the whole thing, it's just tiresome.  While the people on stage are funny when they say their lines (as they have been specially trained to be), you, my little child, are not.  You are like the guy who says the last word of every joke after the comedian has said it.  You are like the person who laughs loudly and knowingly when the big in-joke (that is more of an out-joke, since everyone knows it) comes, so that everyone knows you, and you alone, truly appreciate the humour inherent in the moment.

Basically, we all came to see the people on the stage, not you.  Shut the fuck up.