OH MAN! RIVERDANCE

“Don’t get me started about dancing,” Pud said. (Oh oh.)

“When I see Irish dancers with their arms held stiffly at their sides, it’s like they’re each saying, 'No, Sister Mary Marie, I wasn’t touching myself!'

“Pretty much sums up Irish culture,” Pud said.

“Except for the lit part,” I said. “Since Dante you guys have shit for lit.”

“We’re too busy cooking,” Pud said.

No matter what you say about the two cultures, there aren’t many Irish restaurants in the U.S., compared to the number of Italian restaurants.

There may be more Italian restaurants in Dublin.

“But really,” Pud says, “Irish dancing is a pretty poor approximation of fun.

“The ideal is to restrict movement to the legs, especially the knee and below.

“It’s like, how much fun can you have without involving your torso? Maybe Irish Catholics view the torso as yucky.

“An angel, to them is like a human with no torso, just a head and limbs. But what’s the use of having hands if there’s nothing fun to touch?

“So answer me this—who the heck pays good money to attend a performance of Riverdance? If watching one person doing it is boring, does it really help to have multitudes on stage doing it? I guess there’s an appeal of synchronicity regardless of domain, but the tickets couldn’t be too cheap!”

“Think of it this way,” I pulled out one of my five calming utterances, “on certain occasions certain people gather in certain venues to watch Riverdance, or Riverdance knockoffs.

“During that time, the rest of us are free to go about our business.”

“You’re right,” Pud said, “if everybody liked the same thing, waits would be endless.”

Pud and I agree on which group, Irish or Italian, is more good-looking—“it’s a toss up, a tie for #1.”

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