Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #140 - Choirography
There are few things I hate in life. I hate sore throats, too-thick ICEEs, ScreenVision, and sports involving balls. Nothing, though, compares to my hate of Choirography. Choirography is a word I just made up for choreography done by a choir. Like all things, there is a specific time and place for choirography, and that time and place is in a show choir.
For all of you non-music types out there, a show choir is when a college grad can't get a job with their music education degree and then takes out their anger later in life by making a bunch of poor high school boys wear sparkly vests and tap dance while singing selections from Oklahoma.
Sound awful? Yea, it does. It isn't a musical, the dance moves aren't the least bit justifiable, and so the only defense you'll hear from said bitter director is "Just shut up and do the damn step-step-turn, Harold." No amount of complaining will break the cycle, and so it continues on for eternity. I am not in a show choir, so imagine my surprise when I discovered I was nonetheless doomed to choirography.
Our choir director is a lovely, kind man. Which leaves me with no explanation why he insists we pantomime the words to "Please, Mr. Columbus" for our next concert. The song is decent, a slightly corny barbershop about some Italian guy sailing to America. The dance moves though, are inexcusable. Anything that requires the instruction "They aren't jazz hands, just do the motion, no fingers" is doomed from the start. Basically, this is infuriating and absurd, and I have to stand up front and I don't wanna look stupid. And that's why I hate choirography.
The End.
