From: dcovell@pcocd2.intel.com (David Covell)
Subject: Concert peeve!
Organization: Development Tools Operation, Intel Corp., Hillsboro, OR
Date: Thu, 3 Sep 92 19:28:31 GMT



The scenario:  aging ex-hippy attends his first real rock concert in 12 years
(ELP at the Concord Pavilion), expecting to enjoy a once-beloved band and
remember earlier, carefree days as the aroma of quality dope wafts on the
breeze (amazing how I can identify the variety even after all these years of
abstinence). Good seats, great view of both Palmer and Emerson. I try to
ignore the opening band (Bonham, a peeve-worthy band if ever I heard one)
while anxiously awaiting the main attraction. After Bonham  desists I get as
close to the stage as possible to check out Emerson's equipment, techno-nerd
that I am. Ah, yes! 'Neath the black shroud lurks the original modular synth
he used in the Bad Old Days. Behind the riser is a battered Hammond which I
know will soon be abused, as will our eager ears. "This is going to be great!"
I say as I work my way back to my seat with its' superb view of the soon-to-
come spectacle, my excitement rising without the dubious aid of the sort of
smokeables I used to ingest at concerts. 
Alas, sad reality reared its' ugly head (actually, its' entire body) shortly
after the opening number began... "Welcome back, my friends, to the show that
never ends..." sings Lake as the thunderous tones wash across the crowd, and
before the phrase ends some mesomorph and his mate a few rows ahead of me
decide that those of us behind them would prefer to view their posteriors
then the goings-on onstage. We are soon treated to their impressionistic
dancing and energetic fist-in-the-air ritual, which of course is of consider-
ably more visual interest to us than is Keith's playing (the boolean not
function is to be inserted here). The inevitable occurs like a reverse
cascade: parties in the row behind the neandertals are forced to stand to see,
producing a ripple effect of standing, shouting people clamoring to see, until
I'm forced to either join the lemmings or remain seated, blind, and irate.
What is it about such people, if I may use that term for such as they? They
appear to have at least the basic motor skills and sensory functions required
to find their assigned seats, but not the reasoning abilities which would
clue them in to the intended function of said seating. If for no other
reason than this I would still reject the evolutionary theory. Their continued
existence refutes natural selection. 

Bonuspeeve: the posterior of said mesomorph's mate was not only totally
devoid of any redeeming aesthetic qualities, but was of sufficient mass to
obstruct the view of persons seated in the next section. Several of her more
vigorous movements doubtless were detected at various Bay Area seismology 
labs.

!peeve:  Surreptitiously bouncing a dime off the back of said mesomorph's
thick skull and enjoying the sight of him raving, threatening, and posturing
to the crowd with no target for his rage. Sure, he may have killed me had he
known, but he was just as lacking in clues as in social skills.
Best dime I ever spent!!!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DAVID COVELL (dcovell@pcocd2.intel.com)|Wrangler of acoustic, electric, and
INTEL FOLSOM (California)              |Midi guitars, basses, synths, CAD tools
DESIGN ENGINEERING, EPG GROUP          |and assorted other techno-beasties