White People Love STOMP
White. People. Love. STOMP.
I have not much else to add to this except that I truly have never seen such joy radiate from a group of white people than when they exit the stage doors at the Orpheum Theatre. I often ponder, what else could bring such pure bliss to a group of white people? Bird watching? A Blu-Ray copy of La La Land? False. Not even a double-crested cormorant nor Ryan Gosling could delight a 347-seat theatre full of white people the way body percussion does. It is unfailing, they enter with spirits somewhat high, often completely befuddled by the fact that they can't bring their Starbucks into the theatre(?!?!) and that it is not I who takes their tickets*. They leave, however, soaring on a high, intoxicated by trash can lids and clapping on the 1 and 3. White people also love clapping on the 1 and 3.
For those of you wondering, yes, I sell merchandise for STOMP. I know what else you're wondering: Jose, I feel like this is the third job you've blogged about. Do you really have that many jobs? You are correct and yes I do. I pride myself on having many many jobs and yet never any money. I have mastered this by cooking myself a really nice breakfast every morning, with things like kale and probiotic yogurt, and then only eating out for the rest of the day, stuffing my body with carcinogenic waste and alcohol. It is horrible both for my wallet and stomach lining.
Anyways, white people seriously love STOMP. If you're white, I bet you'd love it, and you should go see it. Schools come all the time and I bet if you wore cargo shorts and a graphic tee that says "I have no clue why I'm out of bed" or something along those lines from Kohl's, you'd blend right in and get in for free.
*editors note: this is infuriating. I stand behind a massive booth of merchandise. The lobby is small and the person who takes tickets, holding the scanner that makes the very exciting beep-boop sound, is always in plain sight, and yet somehow at least 40% of people try to give their tickets to me. I'm not even standing by the stage door, in fact I'm standing in front of a wall, and yet people think I will somehow scan their tickets with my imaginary scanner and then they can just Blue Skidoo their way through the wall into the theatre. Also, why did I write editors note? I am both the writer and the editor of this, this is just a note, really.
I have not much else to add to this except that I truly have never seen such joy radiate from a group of white people than when they exit the stage doors at the Orpheum Theatre. I often ponder, what else could bring such pure bliss to a group of white people? Bird watching? A Blu-Ray copy of La La Land? False. Not even a double-crested cormorant nor Ryan Gosling could delight a 347-seat theatre full of white people the way body percussion does. It is unfailing, they enter with spirits somewhat high, often completely befuddled by the fact that they can't bring their Starbucks into the theatre(?!?!) and that it is not I who takes their tickets*. They leave, however, soaring on a high, intoxicated by trash can lids and clapping on the 1 and 3. White people also love clapping on the 1 and 3.
For those of you wondering, yes, I sell merchandise for STOMP. I know what else you're wondering: Jose, I feel like this is the third job you've blogged about. Do you really have that many jobs? You are correct and yes I do. I pride myself on having many many jobs and yet never any money. I have mastered this by cooking myself a really nice breakfast every morning, with things like kale and probiotic yogurt, and then only eating out for the rest of the day, stuffing my body with carcinogenic waste and alcohol. It is horrible both for my wallet and stomach lining.
Anyways, white people seriously love STOMP. If you're white, I bet you'd love it, and you should go see it. Schools come all the time and I bet if you wore cargo shorts and a graphic tee that says "I have no clue why I'm out of bed" or something along those lines from Kohl's, you'd blend right in and get in for free.
*editors note: this is infuriating. I stand behind a massive booth of merchandise. The lobby is small and the person who takes tickets, holding the scanner that makes the very exciting beep-boop sound, is always in plain sight, and yet somehow at least 40% of people try to give their tickets to me. I'm not even standing by the stage door, in fact I'm standing in front of a wall, and yet people think I will somehow scan their tickets with my imaginary scanner and then they can just Blue Skidoo their way through the wall into the theatre. Also, why did I write editors note? I am both the writer and the editor of this, this is just a note, really.
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