Congratulations on Attending the Best Fucking Opera You've Ever Seen!

You spend a lot of time at the opera.  It’s a byproduct of being a wealthy aristocrat with ample time and resources and little intellect or motivation.  That doesn’t mean you actually like the opera any more.  It’s just as interminably boring for you as it is for the next guy (with the exception of The Who’s Tommy).  In fact, it’s sort of worse.  The fact that you’ve had the time and money to see so many operas means you see renditions of the same tired pieces again and again from musicians who traded ambition for steady pay years ago and have long since fallen into an uneasy pattern of musicality as means, rather than means of expression.

So when you show up at the operahouse tonight you’re going to snort and laugh at the prospect that this new opera is going to “totally blow your fucking mind,” as your friend told you it would.  When the house lights dim you’ll prepare yourself to be bombarded by a culturedump to forget.

But as the opening bars of unfamiliar music float through the hall something incredible will happen.  Masked women will descend from the stage into the crowd.  They’ll begin in the front row, bowing down for a few minutes and then rising up as the men and women they engage with cackle with glee.  When they reach your row you’ll be pregnant with curiosity.  The masks, the delicately concealed curves, all the more sensuous for lack of light, the gloved hands.  It will all be so titillating that you’ll be aroused before the young woman who approaches you unzips your pants and asks you to please remain quiet while she jacks you off.

You’ll abide her, stuffing your tie into your mouth as you thrash about wildly in your seat.  You’ll moan and shriek into your cloth before ejaculating on her hand, at which point she’ll gently thank you before removing her gloves and placing them in an ornate fanny-pack suspended at her side.  She’ll withdraw another pair of clean gloves from her cleavage before moving on.

You’ll fall asleep a few minutes after that, but the next day you’ll be all over your blog ranting about how you just saw the best opera ever, and you plan to see it every night this week, $500 ticket prices be damned.

Congratulations on Attending the Best Fucking Opera You’ve Ever Seen!

Congratulations on Expanding Your Cultural Horizons!

Everyone loves culture. Music, plays, books, movies. Whatever. Who doesn’t like being entertained? Well, you apparently.

All you ever really do is react aggressively against the new things you encounter. The only cultural input you actually accept is from the various tent-poles of American culture that have long populated our landscape, things like country music and action movies.

You only really like to engage cultural institutions if you know for a fact that they’ve been vetted for, that they’re certifiably American, which is itself a bit of a misnomer since American culture is heavily reliant on a mish-mash of cultural influences. The point is that every time your wife asks you to come out and have some new experience with you you always tell her to go fuck herself.

So far you’ve instructed your wife to masturbate when she asked you to attend the following events: an Anamanaguchi show, a Rick Ross concert, a Sufjan Stevens musical extravaganza and a Steve Martin routine. The point, here, is that you’re kind of anti-American and really just an old fogie at heart. And today your wife is going to prove it.

“Let’s go see an opera,” she’ll say.

“FUCK YOU WOMAN!” you’ll scream. But immediately afterwards you’ll feel kind of curious. “What’s the opera?”

She’ll smile at you. “Ave Maria. It’s about the Pilgrims landing on Plymouth Rock.”

You’ll leap up from your seat, knocking over your bowl of cereal and upending your chair in the process.

“Let’s do it!” you’ll declare, pumping your fist into the sky. She’ll smile slyly and order the tickets off the internet.

When the two of you settle into your seats you’ll occasionally stand up and shout things like “Yeah, fucking America” and chant “USA” a few times while waiting for the show to start, but once it actually starts you’ll sit in your seat in silent, rapt attention.

The entire presentation will demand your attention. Even though they’ll be speaking Dago or some shit for the entire show you’ll be completely unable to look away. The experience will be singularly captivating. Towards the end you’ll stand up and shout “AVE FUCKING MARIA YEAH!” and people will actually applaud your enthusiasm, since most operas are pretty boring and it’ll actual liven up the show that you just found so interesting.

Your wife will be pleased with herself. At least, at first. Within a week she’ll be sick shitless of you constantly insisting that the two of you go to see opera at every possible opportunity, having gone to three shows inside six days. Finally she’ll just tell you she’s gay so that you’ll freak out until she makes you watch her fuck a chick, which it turns out you’ll actually like a lot because that shit is hot, and it always has been.

Congratulations on Expanding Your Cultural Horizons!