Feb 02 2010
Cirque du Soleil!
Fuck EVERYTHING and fuck EVERYONE!
OK, I needed to get that out of my system.
Under the best of circumstances I rarely feel whimsical. I hate precious whimsy and I hate effervescent French clowns who run around spewing their made-up jolly language all over wide-eyed suburbanites who happily pay $100 to sit on their fat asses in a tent and watch miniature Chinese slave girls throw each other around with their tiny doll-sized feet.
Did I say I rarely feel whimsical? I meant to say I NEVER feel whimsical. It’s this lack of whimsy that prevents me from pissing my Dockers with excitement when the gay Cirque du Soleil clowns pull some “dad” from the audience and suddenly Mr. Pretend Audience Guy can fly across the tent, powered only by the warmth of his heart. Is it possible to groan so hard that you pass out? And don’t give me any of this, “Why can’t you leave your troubles at the door and see the world through the eyes of a child?” First of all, this stupid tent has no doors, and secondly, prepare your balls for the kicking of a lifetime.
The second worst thing about Cirque du Soleil is the way they keep repackaging the exact same show over and over by simply throwing some new bullshit meaningless name like “Zeedoo” across the marquee. “Oh, Zeedoo is totally different than Pü. In Zeedoo the contortionists are tortured Chinese girls and in Pü they are tortured Romanian girls.”
So what’s the worst thing about Cirque du Soleil? They gave this fuck face a job. If that doesn’t suck the whimsy out of you, nothing will.
