Revulsion. Anathema. Degradation. Ignominy. It’s like the man said about obscenity: “I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it”. The sleazy Walmart Adidas track suits, the cheap, colonial powdered costume wigs, the rap pretentiousness, the finger-jabbing, the entire frothy mix of white desperation for coolness, and its massive, massive, MASSIVE fail. How the hell did this act not totally empty the room? Is it some sort of late phase, SERE desensitization training? Are they blind/deaf mutes? Are these poor folks super-glued to their folding chairs? As a sign of the prospects for culture in general, this is a terrible, terrible portent. Hieronymus Bosch painted a room in Hell that looked exactly like this, but thankfully, there was no sound.
Take notice of the repressed teabagger lady rocking that front-butt (British Colonial style) fanny pack, and how the room relaxes after the lone black guy walks out (hopefully to go and get a cap to return and bust in all their asses).