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Dear Bruce Fan With The Fox Puppet:
When I saw you on Wednesday, I thought ‘Oh, okay, a puppet. That’s - different,” and then didn’t think anything else about it besides a small note in my notebook because you were standing behind me. You were standing behind me on 7/5, too, until the show started and then you were in front of me. With your puppet. In the air. Constantly.
I have been going to concerts since I was about 10 years old. In 38 years, I have seen people try to get the attention of bands in the following fashions: wear a distinctive hat, don the same soccer jersey night after night until they were so rank they were about to fall off the person’s body, create tshirts with photos of themselves and the artist, customize tshirts with various messages, wear blinky lights in their hair, bring glowsticks, wear a cow suit (any Great Woods vets know about that guy), bring large bouquets of flowers, take their clothes off entirely (anyone who ever saw a show in Vancouver BC knows what I’m talking about), and of course the grand tradition of the sign or banner, whether ripped from a discarded box or an elaborate bedsheet you worked on for weeks.
In all of those cases, it didn’t matter because those things were not in my view of the concert (except for the occasional sign). In all of those cases, none of those items impinged upon the concert-viewing experience of the people around them.
Your puppet did exactly that for me and everyone behind you.
You didn’t just stick it up in the air when everyone was cheering, which might have been okay, but you had your hands in the air CONSTANTLY, at every possible opportunity. I am trying to watch a show, and I have a fucking PUPPET in my line of sight. Are you fucking kidding me? I was 8 rows back, which means you were about 5-6 rows back. Do you really think the band are going to see you? What do you think is going to happen if they do? They are going to say, “HEY, GIRL WITH THE FOX PUPPET, YOU ARE RAD, COME UP HERE AND SING BACKING VOCALS ON WE TAKE CARE OF OUR OWN?”
At some point in the first few songs, you disappeared. Either you realized how stupid it was to stand there with a fur puppet on your hand in the inferno that was the pit in Paris, moved out of my line of sight, or came to your senses. For the sake of everyone else who has to stand behind you for the rest of the tour, I hope it was the latter.
Sincerely,
I Actually Love Puppets But Not At A Fucking Concert
