| ..... |
| Why R’n’B Nightclubs are Boring, Stupid and Need Haircuts. |
| Recently, I had an unpleasant experience at an R’n’B nightclub. And so I’ve decided that that is the last time I’m being roped into those hearing-loss-inducing places filled with people who prefer to breathe cigarette smoke over oxygen and who wear clothes so baggy that it looks like they’ve been on one of those crazy no-carb weight-loss diets. I used to wonder why those places were such sleazy dumps. Then I considered the deafening thump of the repetitive bass line and clangour of the instrumental mix in R’n’B music and the IQ of people who would enjoy listening to that stuff. Anyway, so some random guy suddenly lost his temper, ran at me with fierce rage, pitched his glass (and drink) at my right shoulder and proceeded to beat me. Big whoop, right? You’re thinking I probably did something to deserve it; hit on his girlfriend, accuse him of being naïve, stupid, dimwitted, primitive, slow, uncoordinated, homosexual, tell him he needed a haircut or all of the above. Well, I’ve certainly been guilty of those deeds in the past – both intentionally and unintentionally – but not in this case. The scariest thing about my latest nightclub fiasco is that it was absolutely unprovoked. And he wasn’t one of those inarticulate, misunderstood Ajax-like people – evident from the fact that I clearly heard him shout the English words in a grammatically correct sentence: “What’s your problem?” right before his right fist graced my cheek. Not only was it totally unprovoked, the random guy was so enraged that he lunged at me several times and the security guards had to keep him off me. That is one hell of a bad temper. (People like that should be sent back to Gosford, maybe Newcastle or at the very least be locked up in a psychiatric ward). At a Good Charlotte concert, a disgruntled drunk goth – high on weed – may cast some black magic spell on you. At your local, some bum would punch you a few times and infect you with whatever cocktail of diseases he’s carrying. But at an R’n’B nightclub, the irate drunk will king hit you, repeatedly throw punches at your head while you’re passed out lying on the ground and then use the broken glass to slit your throat. While he’s doing that, his friends will pull out knives and stab your friends and other bystanders who try to help you, and then take all your female friends down to a dark back alley and abuse them. Oh wait, I forgot they have those metal detector things at these nightclubs nowadays so scrap that thing about knives. All-in-all, it was a mysterious incidence. Then again, maybe it’s just the result of karma from the last time we broke that guy’s face at town hall. |
 |