Dance Politics

The political gamesmanship that I’ve been witnessing on television has me thinking – and this time something other than my usual, ‘who the heck do these morons think they’re talking to’. Ever since I started dancing I’ve started thinking in dance terms. First it was just noticing what sort of dance steps would go with some of my favorite tunes. Later I found myself recognizing what sorts of dances went with just about any music whether it be the tune behind a McDonald’s commercial or the bubblegum pop tune playing at the mall. I guess that was predictable – a big part of being able to dance is being able to recognize what dance you should be doing. But as time has worn on I started thinking stranger things…like what kind of dances would all these knuckle-head politicians do?

So, being the sort who goes in for baseless speculation, I thought I’d step up and…well…speculate baselessly. It’s a short list of big names but, hey, I’ve got a short attention span.

George W. Bush

Favorite Tune: Pop Goes the Weasle

Dance Partner: Barney the Purple Dinosaur

I’m thinking Hokey-Pokey. In spite of my political affiliations, it’s not because I see him sticking a left foot in and a left foot out when it comes to whether there are or aren’t timelines in Iraq or whether he will or wont negotiate with ‘axis of evil’ nations like North Korea. It’s simply because when I look into his eyes I see the expression of a kindergartener – one of the kindergarteners who’s having problems understanding how to color inside the lines and share toys with the other kids on the playground. I think he’d definitely need someone telling him what to do, when to do it, and when to stop doing it.

Dick Cheney

Favorite Tune: The Funerary March

Dance Partner: Satan

See Dick dance? No, of course not – what, are you crazy? Could you imagine Darth Vader dancing? How about Charles Manson? Well, then what about Richard Nixon? So, if you can't imagine any of them dancing why would you be able to imagine a fellow who's a combo of all three doing it? Well – okay, maybe there’s a dance that involves guns…that dance he would do but only if he got to shoot his partner in the face when the music stopped.

Condoleezza Rice

Favorite Tune: Cell Block Tango

Dance Parter: Her Own Shadow

Condie, I think, is a flamenco woman – because it’s a dance that’s done alone. Sorry, I just can’t picture her with a partner. I try – I close my eyes and try to think of her dancing the cha-cha or rumba but in the end her arms are always empty. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve got teeth like a rake. For the love of god, Condie get some dental surgery! I’m sure the White House dental plan will cover veneers and braces!

John McCain

Favorite Tune: Roll Out the Barrel

Partner: Inga or maybe Heidi

Deep down inside I know John wants to do the polka. Look at that face and what do you see? Bratwurst, mustard, and about twelve pounds of saurkraut washed down with a cold one. With a wife who owns one of the biggest Budweiser distributers in the US can you really blame him? And think about it, the polka is a dance that can be done to a traditional tune that’s actually named after a barrel of beer. Also I keep seeing John in one of those funny Moose Lodge-style fezzes and a nice robe with Grand Poobah embroidered on the back – but that’s probably just me.

Barack Obama

Favorite Tune: Funky Town

Dance Partner: The Press

So far it’s been a challenge to envision any of these jokers actually dancing – but when I came to Barack that changed. West Coast Swing, no question about it. It’s funky but not too animated and though Barack can deliver a speech that rouses the masses I can’t really see him jumping around enough to get into ECS. Plus WCS goes so damn well with Chicago Blues.

Hillary Clinton

Favorite Tune: I Am Woman

Dance Partner: Bill (if he'll get his hands out of the waitress' pants)
Ever been to a Dead concert? Ever encounter that gal, the one wearing the store-bought tie-dye who’s desperately trying to get into drums and space but has no freaking idea what the hell is going on? That’s Hillary. I can see her standing as far from the ‘scary hippies’ as possible while trying to fit in at the same time. That means the dance I can see Hillary doing is a really bad rendition of that kinda’ hippie non-dance you see in every documentary about the Summer of Love.

Bill Clinton

Favorite Tune: Austin Power's Theme

Dance Partner: What are you doing tonight?

Bill plays the sax but that doesn’t earn him an invite to the swing club. Instead I imagine him being into the close dances – foxtrot and rumba. If he wasn't so old I'd say lambada just because of the filth factor. In any case, when he’s in the middle of the dance, I imagine him grabbing his partner’s ass – or maybe the ass of somebody else’s partner. Just a casual reach over and honk-honk...and then when the commotion breaks out I see him swearing he never did anything to ‘that woman’.

That’s where my foray stops. Hey, I didn’t want to start getting down into the gubernatorial level because nobody knows those losers. Anyway, I’ve got other things to focus on – like what dances would Olympic athletes do…

The Good Old Days Weren't All Good

The Good Old Days Weren't All Good

The other day I'm sittin' with a guy who grew up in the 30's and the subject of dancing comes around. I tell him that I like the big bands and I can only imagine what it must have been like for a guy like him - coming up in the era of swing, Basie, an every town having a ballroom or dancehall. He shook his head and chuckled knowingly before giving me the skinny.

It seems like those of us who dance are just about like everyone else when it comes to assuming that things were better way back when. It's a kind of nostalgia trance we all go into from time to time…usually when our job or government gets us down. Maybe you catch an episode of Andy Griffith or I Love Lucy and you find yourself falling under the black-and-white spell - oh that simpler time, wasn't life just grand way back when?

Well, not really. You see Puritanism was alive and well in the 30's - that ought to be obvious from the existence of prohibition. Many small towns across the Midwest (and many large cities) had laws banning dancing because it was a doorway to vice and amoral behavior. In reality anti-dancing laws came from a deeper root in American history. In New England, colonial inns and taverns were banned from providing 'performances of Shakespeare and other dramatic presentations to puppet shows, sleight-of-hand, magic and ventriloquism, tight rope walking, juggling, trick riding, animal exhibitions, and acrobatics' and traveling entertainers were lumped in the same legal category as beggars, rogues, and wandering preachers.

Sure, some of the dance bans were a little more specific. Washington State enacted a ban against dance marathons in 1937 - it wasn't repealed until 1987. In Reno, Nevada it's still illegal to hold a dance marathon - and a walking marathon too. I'm not sure if dancing in marathon format is more salacious or if there's just a fear that twenty-six mile long dance floors will be showing up and impeding other development…or maybe the folks who write these laws are just morons.

You're probably thinking, 'Gee, DC - it's a good thing I live in the modern era (and in a state where marrying first cousins isn't legal) when I can dance wherever I want with whoever I like…'. Get a grip, bright-eyes - it ain't exactly so. In February 2007 New York City upheld a ban on dancing in establishments without a license that permits dancing. Can you imagine that? Your local tavern needs to have a dance license just in case someone feels like shagging to a band that catches their fancy? And, heaven forbid, in that behemoth city of New York that likes to consider itself far ahead of the social curve to which the rest of the nation bends.

Well, you can take heart in the fact that at least it's better than it used to be - in some places.

Get Some Manners!

I got to say it - people you got to learn some manners.

Since I'm an older guy you're probably thinking that I'm about to launch into some 'kids these days…' rant. Well, I've got a few of those but they'll have to wait for another Sunday. For Father's Day I'm delivering the gift of enlightenment to all you fellows in the late forty-something to late fifty-something bracket. Yeah, don't give me the 'who me?' look.

Truth be known, as a group you fellows are the least considerate dancers in the whole world. I can't tell you how many floors I've been traversing with my significant other only to have to dodge Freddy Fleet-Feet and his patented flying Geritol step. Yeah, it's impressive that a fellow with the proverbial snow on the roof still can stoke the old furnace when inspired by the right tune. It's great to be out there under the soft lights all dressed up and feeling it. I hear you brother, the same thing happens to me - but I don't underarm turn my date into the couple next door just to show I got the rhythm.

The other night I had this fellow cut right across in front of me and my girl on his way off the floor. I had to pull up or knock the Grecian Formula out of him - he's lucky I'm such a gentleman or I might of used some coarse language! Later that night the same guy (this time dancing with a girl that was about a third his age) nearly flung his partner right into us. I guess ignorance is the last thing you lose when senility sets in.

Here's the skinny in bullet point form so you don't lose track:

• Dancing at the local ballroom is a social affair - so at try to be sociable or stay home.
• Nobody cares if you can do an aerial, shelve it for your debut on Dancing with the Stars and just dance like you know how to play nice with others.
• If you left your glasses at home - those blurry things out on the dance floor are other couples so, no, you can't dance through them.
• If you're trying to get your speed walking in - move to the outside lane of the floor, I really don't need a tail gunner.
• Conversely, if you're doing your Tim Conway imitation move to the inside - I don't want to become a tail gunner just as much as I don't need one.
• Regardless of how good you feel you're not a mambo king, you're not a member of Whitey's Hoppers, and you'll never compete with Gene Kelly - so get over yourself and find your freakin' manners.

So just take it easy and try to enjoy your time on the floor - and please let everyone else do the same thing!

Curmudgeon-ing with the Stars

How many of you are into that Dancing with the Stars thing? Its okay, admitting you have a problem is the first step toward being ostracized, ridiculed, and eventually learning to keep things like this to yourself. It'll toughen you up to put your foibles out on the table where we all can get a good laugh at them. Personally, I've never watched the show - you see, old DC isn't much for national trends...if the nation could elect George Bush twice, I think their record speaks for itself. In spite of that, I actually do have an issue with Dancing with the Stars - what, you're suprised?

You ever watch those nature programs about animal intelligence? You know, the ones where they teach a chimp to to push a certain button when it sees a certain picture? Or maybe you’ve been to Sea World and where they have the sea lions that play Yankee Doodle Dandy on horns? My point is this, yes it’s impressive that Bubbles can tell the difference between a house and a cat (trust me, in the time he spent with Michael Jackson he learned less savory tricks than button pressing) but is it really that much more amazing than your Irish Setter rolling over or playing dead for a Beggin’ Strip? I'd never claim that Rex is ready for a black tie and an hour of prime time 'cause he does a mean 'shake hands'.

Then tell me, why is it amazing when a handful of Hollywood’s second (or third) tier celebs get daily doses of intensive dance tutoring to do one dance - and then they’re actually able to do it? What, they haven’t been tap-dancing for the cameras their whole career? And they're learning a routine - folks, it's just like learning lines, only with their feet! If they had to go out on the dance floors you and I vist - the ones with the walleyed guy who dances at one-third the tempo of the music and couple who think they've just finished a command performance at the Bolshoi - well, maybe I'd be mildly impressed...or at least less disgusted. Or maybe I'd cut them some slack if they got their prescious private tutoring and then had to dance to a random tune played by some weekend-job band who can't quite decide if Fly Me to the Moon is a foxtrot or a cha-cha.

What would be more amazing would be to teach some of the fauna from the local tavern to dance – now I'd watch that show. Nothing like seeing some of the same schmos I have to deal with every weekend get a chance to make asses of themselves in front of the TV audience. Or, better yet, take a bunch of the Dancing with the Stars, B-list celebs to the local day-labor site and set them up as dry wall installers, painters, or lawnmower jockeys. Hell yes, I’d watch Kristi Yamaguchi do the weed-whacker tango any night of the week…except Mondays during football season; some things are sacred even to old DC.

Introducing the Dancing Curmudgeon

For some time now an acquaintance of mine has been asking for airtime. I’ve been reluctant – I’m a nice guy (in spite of how bland that sounds) and I like things to stay…nice. I’m not Polly Anna, though – it’s obvious things go wrong, sometimes very wrong, but in general I like to be…nice about it. Finally, though, I agreed to (under strict moderation) allow a guest writer to voice his opinions about dance, dancers, and dancing venues. So, may I introduce to you – the Dance Curmudgeon.

The proprietors of this blog asked me to start off by introducing myself. I am that voice in the back of everyone’s head – dancer and non-dancer – that notices every fool, folly, and frustration everywhere and all the time. I am a grouch and I’m okay with that. Hey, it’s the grouches of the world who draw attention to the truly incomprehensible and stupid things that we all have to endure. While you might stifle this part of your inner self – I don’t. If I were more enlightened I might claim that this was because I believe stuffing your true feelings is detrimental to my mental health…but that’s not the reason I say what I think. I say what I think because I think it and I’m not ashamed to say so.

So, with the proper shelter provided for the duo that run this blog I can get down to business – and I’m opening that business with a simple question: Why can’t people say what they mean?

This particular beef comes from two dances that I attended this weekend…and before my hosts start to get jittery, I’m not going to name names. Still I feel the need to say something – somebody ought to and I’m not the sort to left something I feel ought to be done remain undone.

I went to an event this past Friday that was billed as including every sort of swing – at least which was what the title implied. Though I’m not given to fits of wild enthusiasm, I did have a modicum of hope for this dance. I like to swing – I don’t tango, waltz, fox trot, polka, or hula…I do East Coast swing and that’s it. I figured I’d get 50% or even 33% of the dances and I was good with that since I am considerate of the fact that everyone in the world doesn’t conform to my tastes.

The problem is, when the music started it was all – I kid you not – all West Coast swing. What happened to my ‘any swing’? I paid my ten bucks to spend a night with the wallflowers watching other people dance? Here’s the deal – I like getting what I pay for. If I buy a hotdog I want a hotdog, if I go to a Schwarzenegger flick I expect to see at least one explosion, and if I go to an ‘all swings’ dance I want to get an opportunity to dance more than one type of swing. I’m sure all of you educated folks are the same way. If you ran a restaurant called Bill’s Taco Shack, you’d serve tacos. If you put on a production of Faust, you’d provide a few shrieking sopranos and an appearance by Old Scratch. So, why would a dance be different? An event that’s billed as all sorts of swing darn well ought to have East Coast, West Coast, Western Swing, and Lindy Hop and if it’s not going to have that - change the name!

Maybe you’re saying, ‘DC, you’re getting all bent out of shape about a single dance…surely there are more dances where the organizers do the right thing than the wrong thing.’ I’d agree - if it wasn’t for the fact that something very similar happened the very next day.

This time it wasn’t the musical selection – that was fine. This time it involved a bit of impromptu patriotism. I’m fine with patriotism. I’m a patriot. I like my country. Hell, I even love it. So I had no problem when there was an announcement that there’d be an observation of Armed Forces Day – heck, the men and women who put their lives on the line whenever the dunderheads in Washington decide they ought. I even was okay with reciting the 'Pledge of Allegiance' - but I would like to point out that ‘God Bless America’ and ‘Proud to be an American’ by Lee Greenwood aren’t the same thing unlike what the DJ of this event indicated. Lee Greenwood might be a fine guy but whatever he is, he’s not Irving Berlin. In my mind ‘Proud to be an American’ is only linked to patriotism through the Bush administration’s social engineering attempts and, frankly, social engineering doesn’t sound patriotic or American to me.

In short I believe that everyone out there dancing ought to get the benefit of knowing what they’re paying for. Money’s tight these days and with the price of everything going up, nobody can afford to pay ten bucks to find out what they paid for isn’t as advertised. Also, I think that once you’re in an event – though you may be subject to the whims of its organizers – you ought to be treated like you didn’t just fall off the proverbial potato truck. Come on, give Irving some airtime and let Lee polish his boots for a few (dozen) years.