Halloween is the wrong day to dress eccentrically.

Good nighttime, my beloved friends and readers, and a happy All Hallow's Eve to you all. I attended a cultural event this evening. It was a piano recital performed by Robert Weirich, who played for us Beethoven's Op. 10 no. 3 piano sonata, Elliott Carter's piano sonata, and a host of etudes by Chopin and Debussy. It was greatly delightful, to be contrasted to the misery that will be the percussion ensemble I do not wish to see tomorrow. Interestingly enough, as the good Mr. Weirich explained, the theme of his recital was contrast: Beethoven vs. Carter, Chopin vs. Debussy, Beethoven vs. Beethoven, Carter vs. Carter, and so on. Thus it is very appropriate that I should contrast the high cultural value of Weirich's performance with the vulgarity of such a vile group as a percussion ensemble.

All the same, I shall treat the percussion ensemble's performance as a cultural event, and I shall dress accordingly. I shall wear black and a tie and all that sort of thing. Today I wore a tie and khaki and all that sort of thing, including my trenchcoat (not the black one, the other one). Generally, the other attendees had donned whatever dirty, ill-fitting rags they had put on in the morning. I did not do this! I removed my dirty, ill-fitting rags and replaced them with pure formality. This is my way with cultural events, because somewhere inside me, there is a part that still links high culture with formality. That is, it is something to be taken seriously, so we ought to dress accordingly, and accordingly I dressed.

Now, on to the important part of my tale. Upon the completion of the recital, I was walking back to my dwelling, when a vile person with vile eyebrows and greasy hair asked me what I am. My first thought, of course, was, "What vile eyebrows and greasy hair! I do not like him!" My second thought, however, was, "What?" so "What?" is what I said. Only then did I understand, with a bit of explanation, so then I explained right back at this individual with the vile eyebrows and the greasy hair that I am myself, and that I am merely dressed as I am. That showed him and all his greasy friends with their vulgar, ill-fitting rags.

Hear me now, O dominant culture of vulgarity and grease and ill-fitting rags! One day you will die a slow and agonizing death, and a new dominant culture will take your place, and you will be despised both by that dominant culture and those had the good sense to loathe you all along. I look forward to watching the crows peck out your eyes and liver, even if the new dominant culture is more vulgar and greasier and even more ill-fitting!