Attention All Concert Goers

For the first time in my life, I attended a country music concert. Carrie Underwood was quite good and I actually enjoyed the musical portion of the concert more than I care to admit. The performers are not whom I am referencing today. I have a few things to say about the attendees. Admittedly, I was out of my element. I am a seasoned concert goer but most of the concerts I attend include either reunion tours of semi-famous 80’s bands, or some fairly hard core metal maniacs. At these concerts, the first 40 rows or so on the floor are generally reserved for mosh pits where “Bulls”, as we call them, take out their aggression on unsuspecting teenagers.

“Bull” – Bulky, Bald, Shirtless, 35+ years old, wasted, Tats galore, tri-toothed, spent 2 months of his mother’s salary on floor tickets, white-trash freak, looking to do damage to anyone in his wake.

The remainder of the arena is general fixed seating. The fixed seating protects you from death and most dismemberment, so while it is for those who are a little more reserved, the entire place is still moving. People are up, people are head-banging, people are excited, people are letting loose a little and enjoying themselves. Fists pound at the air and vocal chords become raw. I am familiar with this scene.

Now back to the concert I attended last night. With the exception of the floor seats, EVERYONE was sitting quietly with hands gently placed in their ample laps listening with quiet reflection as song after song was feverously sung. A few tried to rally the troops, stand and move, but they were quickly shut down and told to sit down. I watched them pop up here and there only to be reprimanded in disgust by the aged and the overweight. I was extremely uncomfortable, sitting there, trying not to tap my toe too loudly lest I be subject to a similar scolding.

Now my venom. Let me explain something to the fat, lazy, too old for their age, bottled-up, first time concert attendees. Get the @$%# Up! (Sorry, got a little excited there) Enjoy the concert. There is NOTHING more insulting to the band on stage than people just sitting like festering globules of lard. I’ve actually attended one concert where a huge band walked off the stage in frustration after completing one of the best dueling double drum set solos I’ve ever seen, only to have everyone stay quietly seated offering a proper, but not too forceful, golf clap. They walked off! If you are new to this scene, you are obliged to stand, so get up! To those sitting behind me yesterday whining about how ridiculous those who dared move were, I have a few words for you. Think about when you look in the mirror in the morning; you know, right before you jump in the shower. Your eyes glance over your rotund body, stopping as you stare yourself in the eyes. It is that moment that I wonder what you are thinking. Is it something like “Why am I such a loser? Why does my ass hang off of me like a wet pillow? Why am I friendless, hopeless, and helpless? Why won’t any woman/man let me near?” Well I have the answer. You are a loser and shouldn’t be in public and here are a few of the reasons why. If you can’t get your meaty ham hocks to lock in the upright position for 90 min. to watch a band/singer that you dropped $60 on tickets to see…you shouldn’t attend. If you are so old at the ripe age of 30, that you find the rambunctious 29 year olds too busy…stay home. If you are so lazy that the idea of even slightly swaying from left to right somewhat to the rhythm makes you cringe…just end it. Granted that while seated, my view of your back rolls and neck sausage is somewhat obscured so that is a plus, but really… you shouldn’t be out in your condition anyway.

For those with a more seasoned disposition who wish to enjoy their music seated and quiet, the 1st Chair Cellist in the London Philharmonic probably appreciates your adherence to a strict decorum. Sully from Godsmack, on the other hand, prefers you just stay home and say “Yo Dominos” like every other weekday. They do have unlimited mediums for $5 each you know.