I'm having a terrible problem.
It seems that for some reasons my posts aren't making it out to Usenet.
I won't go into the details about how I have come to this conclusion. I really want to explain the intense paranoia and feelings of seclusion that have come from my realization. I feel like a MIME trapped in an invisible box OF HIS OWN CREATION. Watching the world go by, making a fool of himself trying to get out of an imaginary box. They can spit on me, and I CAN'T SPIT BACK.
It's miserable. No one understands mimes. Everyone "hates" mimes. But they don't really hate mimes, they just say they do because some funny person somewhere sometime said that they hate mimes -- and it caught on like ALL STUPID JOKES do. Now it's cool to hate mimes. Ha ha, hee hee, I'm making fun of a poor helpless mime. See that? Now can I join your little mime hating club?
I like mimes. Mimes make me laugh. That "walking down the stairs" thing they do is gut-bustingly funny. Mimes especially make me laugh, because they are all failed theater students. If you want to hate something, hate theater students. At least you'll have a reason why.
If you ever hear anyone say they "hate" mimes, ask them why. Then you'll see, and so will they. They won't be able to ARTICULATE A SOLID REASON for their mime hatred. They'll hem and haw. They'll say "I hate mimes because they're so cheery and happy." BOLOGNA. Mimes are neither CHEERY nor HAPPY. They are very miserable sad things. Their faces are all white, they are trapped in invisible boxes AND THEY CAN'T TALK. We shouldn't hate mimes, WE SHOULD PITY THEM.
But theater students, or drama students as they are known in certain parts of the country, are truly deserving of any hatred you need to vent. And for reasons.
They are so lost, so incapable of coming to terms with reality and of accepting and loving themselves, that they WANT TO MAKE A CAREER OUT OF IT.
And not only do they want to be professional fakers, they think they NEED TO BE TAUGHT HOW.
Good god. There are Zen monks high atop Japanese mountains who spend years trying to get to the very core of their true being, and here these shmucks are paying TOP DOLLAR to learn how to ACT LIKE SOMEONE ELSE.
And then on top of THAT they think there's even the slimmest piece of a nanomicron's chance that there is any chance of a chance that they will ever get any acting job other than maybe playing the stupid husband or the worrisome wife in a cereal commercial, or worse yet, having to work with Sammy the barber down the street as he does a rendition of Hamlet that makes Burt Reynolds look like a speed freak.
(Psst. Hey. Rozencranz, that's your line. Hey Rozencranz, hey wake up. -- snerk Heh? Huh? Oh, how long was I asleep?)
But there is one consolation in the life of a theater-student hater, and that's the satisfaction of knowing that they all have to watch KEANU REEVES make MILLIONS OF DOLLARS and get acres of fame.
Not that I particularly hate theater students myself. In fact, I love all god's creatures. It's just that I got on this mime hatred thing and couldn't get off it except to try to work the "Rozencranz" into all of this.
I've totally lost my train of thought. If you care to catch back up with it, with me, see my next post.
Rips on. Rev. Matthew A. Carey Rips off.
Vision Temple -- Tarzana, Calif.
-- Quayle/North '96 --
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