Last week the New York Times dance critic wrote an article with a legitimate title:
“Nakedness in Dance”.
He starts like any typical article by an art critic, discusses the history of dance, mentions the old classics “Hair” “Oh Calcutta”, etc. And then he says:
Yes, that’s right—stick a dildo up your butt, add a bit for the foot fetishists in the audience, and proudly call it a “dance moment”.
It happened in Manhattan, so it has to be art , right?
Fuck you, Mr. Avant Garde True Believer in High Culture. Get the fuck out of New York ,and leave behind your social clique of elite snobs. Go learn something about REAL American culture.
Go to a country music show in Nashville. Go to a Baptist church in Little Rock, Arkansas. Go to a Nascar race. Go to a high school basketball game in Indiana. Go watch the Super Bowl. Go to frickin’ Las Vegas, or Hollywood .
Or, since you are a True Guardian of High Culture, and can’t stoop to associating with the peasantry…Go to any city in the country and hear their philharmonic orchestra. Go to the theater in Indianapolis where this week there is a performance of Mexican ballet. Go the theater in Seattle where they’re performing the Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams .
Go fucking anywhere, do fucking anything…
But for Og’s sake, do it where they don’t shove dildos up their asses on stage and proudly call it art, and print it in the cultural section of the newspaper.
