Tis the Season
Picture, if you will, a lanky fellow with an iPod. There he goes before you, swaying to the beat with all the grace of Godzilla, rumbling from one foot to the other, striving for what you can only imagine is his idea of rhythm. Of course he’s listening to holiday music; he’s singing, too. He’s singing and, quite frankly, it hurts to listen. Plus he doesn’t know all the words, so he hums for long stretches before suddenly breaking into song.
The man has five dance moves. These are best described as maneuvers, as they seem to require a great deal more concentration than a mere “move.” In addition to the lumbering monster maneuver, he accompanies his singing with the shrug, the full stop, the chicken-head bob, and the wiggle-butt. On shuffle and repeat. None of these maneuvers has any sense of aesthetic and they require minimal, if any, coordination, but they do seem to get along and would clap and hold hands if they could. If they had hands, in fact, they would.
Imagine now, for a moment, that this man is washing dishes. He’s got his iPod stuck in his back pocket and earbuds jammed in his ears, and he’s singing the hell out of these songs while doing the dishes. He’s definitely off key, and he can’t hit the high notes. He’s got just enough musical ability to know this, but he doesn’t care. He’s busy singing the hell out of these songs.
Now picture, if you will-picture that that guy, that guy singing and dancing, is this guy. Me.
The man has five dance moves. These are best described as maneuvers, as they seem to require a great deal more concentration than a mere “move.” In addition to the lumbering monster maneuver, he accompanies his singing with the shrug, the full stop, the chicken-head bob, and the wiggle-butt. On shuffle and repeat. None of these maneuvers has any sense of aesthetic and they require minimal, if any, coordination, but they do seem to get along and would clap and hold hands if they could. If they had hands, in fact, they would.
Imagine now, for a moment, that this man is washing dishes. He’s got his iPod stuck in his back pocket and earbuds jammed in his ears, and he’s singing the hell out of these songs while doing the dishes. He’s definitely off key, and he can’t hit the high notes. He’s got just enough musical ability to know this, but he doesn’t care. He’s busy singing the hell out of these songs.
Now picture, if you will-picture that that guy, that guy singing and dancing, is this guy. Me.