Here I am again, the always contradicting, usually unoriginal, and slightly condescending host of that educational – yet extremely boring – column devoted to enlightening your puny minds with mine.

Today's real subject is how to roll through Brahms, Schumann, Schubert, Mozart and Beethoven without gathering any moss. Sitting through classical music is like playing chess, and you're a pawn.

Perhaps most challenging about this subject is that you don't even care. But imagine you and your date going to endless raves, clubs and parties. Sure you can get drunk and get lucky, but will you look sophisticated, or proudly tell your grandchildren about your exploits? Let classical music be your salvation.

In your good taste – by good I mean bad – you decide to go to the Hollywood Bowl, that bastion of tradition and virtue where you can enjoy the classics under the stars. That is, if you sit in the elite boxed section. Everywhere else you're surrounded by pot smokers, irascible children, incessant kissers and people who eat as if they're in a restaurant. I'm also sure everyone there resents the colorfully vibrant fireworks that mar one's listening. As a rule, to be truly hardcore, one must try an indoor concert.

Attending a concert of classical music is not that daunting, however, once you learn its codes and rituals. For example, only 5 percent of the audience is allowed to be under the age of 60. In addition, it is also accepted tradition for the elderly patrons to sneer and give cold shoulders to those 5 percent. You can easily prepare for this by slapping yourself in the face with a brick.

After the orchestra is seated, the lights will dim and the master of the concert – or concertmaster – will come out and stand masterfully while everyone else sits in submission to his power. They will proceed to play some notes, making a wonderful noise. This is not a piece, but merely a way to summon Apollo, the God of Music, to please not damn the concert with bad composers.

One of the most important rituals is (I'm not making this up): Don't clap between movements. I know that what you just heard was a really cool song – instead of 'song' you should say 'piece' or 'movement' – but in respect for the composer, you are to clap when his entire 'piece' is complete. In other words, clap when everyone else does.

One should also turn off cell phone noises – even the ones with cute classical music ditties. While on campus your cell phone may make you feel important, in a classical concert it makes you an insensitive jerk and feel important.

There are mainly three ways of listening to classical music at a concert. One is the "Citizen Kane" approach, based on the great film you haven't even watched, I'm sure. In the film, a certain concertgoer starts to make flaps out of his program, which helps him pass the time. Though this may not be the best strategy, perhaps origami or legos could help stem that 'unclassical' urge to get up and dance.

The second method is voyeurism, or merely watching performers. When going to listen to a pianist, make sure you sit where you can see his/her hands. Even if the music is not your taste, the voyeur can still get a kick out of virtuoso extravagance. This is especially good when a conductor is on stage, allowing you to watch his arms flail about, which you can give commentary about after the concert. "So what was your favorite part of the concert?" someone asks. You intelligently answer, "The 'movement' where the conductor picked his nose."

Finally, there is the third method: actually listening to the music. It's not that hard (wink, wink). Really, in a symphony, all you have is a simple four-movement structure dividing into two framing sonata allegro movements, an adagio, and a dance-like movement.

Now, the exposition features two contrasting themes followed by the development ... I've lost you, haven't I? Well, at least I tried to expand your pitifully ant-like noodle's musical experience.

A few more tips: Feel free to bop your head to the music, unless you're sitting in front of me, even if you don't know where the beat is. Reserve your uncontrollable exclamations of "Bring it!" for the end of the concert, substituting it with the classy "Bravo!" Just as you would be quiet and respectful at the Getty Center, show the same respect in the "musical museum" – sadly, I did not make up that phrase.

Since alcohol is usually sold at classical concerts, you can still get drunk, and with your newfound aptitude for Brahms, Bach and Beethoven, perhaps you can score points with your date and get lucky as well.