Why For Art Thou?

I recently took an afternoon off at my Sears Customer Service post to enjoy what I thought would be an afternoon of culture and class.

I was sorely mistaken.

My ill begot endeavor began innocuously enough. I jumped in my 1999 Toyota Tercel and started my supposed day of culture with a trip to a local coffee shoppe. I ordered the usual (coffee – black, bagel – dry) and sat down with my copy of European Politics Today.

Suddenly, there comes a miserable racket from across the café. I peer over to an underwhelming group of idiots to get a glimpse of their buffoonery when I notice something in the air.

But it was too late.

The doltish collective were firing spitballs my way. After regaining my composure and wiping my glasses clean – I scowl at the perpetrators. Those peons thought it to be absolutely HILARIOUS.

I needed to get out of that sophomoric hellmouth.

So, after that shockingly idiotic display of humanity, I went down to the park to see the local theater company’s weekly Shakespeare production. Now THIS, I thought, would bring me the kind of sophistication that I desire…nay…NEED.

What passes for culture these days makes me want to turn in my fashionable tweed jacket and push the proverbial daisies. Apparently, all you need to become a member of high society is a foldable lawn chair, a box of wine and the lovely ability to drink said box of wine before the end of the first act.

I swear to you, my faithful readers, this scene resembled some sort of brutish rock concert rather than the cultural outing it should’ve been.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I get all the culture I need at the Sears Customer Service Desk. I mean…where else can you, in the span of fifteen minutes, talk to a 16-year-old mother of three, a man with one leg and a variable smörgåsbord of depression?

Woe is me…