The Butcher Dance

[Box]

There was once a famous liberal activist that frequently boasted about seeing every single cultural ritual of every single special interest group in the entire world; the death rituals of the Zulu, the birth rituals of the Watusi, break dancing, snake charming, and every ritual in between. With the strategic use of camera drones, this liberal activist was even able to record a private coming-of-age ritual of the infamous North Sentinelese island people.

One day, at a small bar and grill deep in the heart of the Democratic Free People’s Republic of Central Kowlefornya, the activist was boasting about the sprawling list of adventures over a drink of low fat organic free trade mineral water and noticed a teenage child staring intently.

“What can I do for you child?”

"I'll bet you've never seen the Butcher Dance," said the young child.

The activist was curiously amused thinking, “I have seen every cultural trend ever created by humans, but I have never heard of the Butcher Dance.”

"Ok, what is the Butcher Dance?" queried the activist.

"I'll show you tomorrow, but it's gonna cost you big."

"Well, I've got five thousand U.S. dollars in my taxpayer funded travel fund. Will that cover it?"

The child grinned. "You got a deal!"

The next morning, the two set out on their journey. Over the river and through the woods. Deep into the urban jungle they went, through a secret shopping mall hallway, down the winding alleyway, and finally to a place the activist had never seen before.

Beautiful plants and flowers blossomed that existed nowhere else on earth. Indeed the activist was more excited than ever before. As a small group of local citizens began to advance, the child said, "You wait here, I'll go talk to the community organizer."

The child talked to the yuge and foreboding community organizer that was wearing an elaborate purple vagina shaped headdress. The language was too convoluted to follow but it was all for naught - the child returned to the activist, looking despondent...
"I’m so sorry for bringing you all the way here but the community organizer said that citizens just did the Butcher Dance last night and won't do it again for five years because of traditions and more importantly, because of local union labor laws.”

"But I've come all this way," begged the activist, "Can't they do it again?"
"Shhhh! You don't let them hear you say such a thing.," said the child. "You can't do Butcher Dance twice in five years. It will make the neighbors very angry and Union Boss will surely fuck you up!"

So that was it - despondent and miserable, the activist returned home - promising to return in five years' time to see the Butcher Dance.

For the next five years, the activist continued to travel the world on donation money gleaned from charitable donations and non-taxable grant money while living in wonderful, plush hotels, and collecting huge speaking fees from being on the lecture circuit - all the while, telling eager young activists how to start protests, resist arrest, pushing false narratives, and telling lies about all of your competitors. The lifestyle was wonderful but one thing stuck in the activists mind like a misspelled word on an aging politicians battery operated and poorly adjusted teleprompter…
…the Butcher Dance.

Of all the cultural wonders and peacefully conducted fiery protests were just distractions - all the activist could think about was the Butcher Dance. The small child's tale of the Butcher Dance was a mystery – countless hours on social media countless click-bait trips through Wikipedia, and nowhere could any information about the Butcher Dance be found. None of the other activists had even heard of the Butcher Dance.

Finally, after a long five years of waiting, the time arrived. The activist gathered notebooks, extra GoPro cameras, gluten free low fat vegan energy bars, and an extra cell phone to record the Butcher Dance in what was sure to be a Pulitzer Prize winning story. The activist dutifully made his way to the same little bar and grill and popped inside. Sure enough, the young child, now a teenager was waiting patiently.

"You ready to see the Butcher Dance?"

"I feel like I've been waiting my whole life," said the activist.

And so they set off again. Into the dense urban jungle, through the secret shopping mall hallway, down the winding alleyway and finally, as they entered the clearing behind the community center, the community organizer spoke to the young child again.
Grinning from ear to ear, the young guide exclaimed, "We made it! They do the Butcher Dance tonight!"

Feeling like a child again, the activist excitedly got all the equipment set up. Live feeds on every social media platform were set up and microphones to transmit a podcast were all powered up and ready to go. The activist sat quietly in the clearing behind the community center to wait for the main event. One of the locals even brought a healthy vegan protein bar and a recyclable glass bottle of free trade coconut water as refreshments during the Butcher Dance.

Finally, sunset came and the activist slid to the very edge of the seat practically bursting from the excitement. As the moon rose, all of the local citizens gathered around the fire pit, each holding one piece of firewood, freshly smashed from an old wooden pallet. They stacked their wooden slats carefully into a small tower, and the community organizer poured a strange non-petroleum based liquid on the growing pile of wooden slats. Rubbing two sticks together, the community organizer created a spark, and then – POOF - the whole stack of pallet slats was engulfed in flames. The local citizens gathered around. The activist performed one final check of the cameras and podcast equipment to make sure that all of the other activists in the world could witness this greatest discovery in real time. One of the local citizens started playing a snare drum and a high-hat cymbal to start the Butcher Dance, and in unison, all the local citizens extended their left arms toward the fire as the community organizer began to sing...







"You Butcher left arm in, you Butcher left arm out, you Butcher left arm in and you shake it all about..."

[Remington Raidr]

well, that's 60 seconds I will never get back.

[Ret10Echo]

Bill is unimpressed.



Well played Box... Well played

That's luring people in on reputation and dropping "Son of Mask" on them.

[JJ_BPK]

[rsdengler]

Bahaha.....Box, you funny guy you.....

[Box]

Maybe my story was a metaphoric examination of Giraldo Rivera's "The Mystery of Al Capone's Vault" television special - maybe it was just a typical Shaggy Dog story.

I cant remember.

[Badger52]

Y'all are focusing on the punch-line and missing the fine scene-setting that accompanies the tale throughout.

[Swoop]

You want coppee to drink with your butcher dance??

[Box]

Originally Posted by Badger52

Y'all are focusing on the punch-line and missing the fine scene-setting that accompanies the tale throughout.

Does every story really even "need" a punchline?
I'll have to give this some thought.

[rsdengler]

Well, punchlines or not I think we just need funny stories. I think I need funny stories on a daily basis to help conceal the depressing stories. So fire away, just fire away.....

[Ret10Echo]

Originally Posted by Box

Does every story really even "need" a punchline?
I'll have to give this some thought.

I don't believe they do

Many times the story itself IS the punchline

I still remember my 7th Grade history teacher telling a "joke" that went on and on for almost 15 minutes...with a ridiculous and rather unamazing ending.

The ability to hold the classe's attention for that long on a early-release snow day WAS the joke....

[Box]

Originally Posted by Ret10Echo

...a "joke" that went on and on for almost 15 minutes...with a ridiculous and rather unamazing ending.

When I was a kid, my dad would tell the absolute WORST shaggy dog stories.
The crap my dad would feed me as "jokes" was so bad that it would make you want to buy tickets to the front row of a Jimmy Kimmel Election Special.

I loved those stupid assed jokes.

I still wouldn't buy tickets to a Jimmy Kimmel show - for the record, as bad as they were, my dads shaggy dog jokes were still better than one of Kimmel's monologues.

[Remington Raidr]

I am STILL unhappy.

[Box]

Originally Posted by Remington Raidr

I am STILL unhappy.

Give me a hot minute and I'll put one up that may or may not address your feelings about punchlines...

[Box]

Let me share a tale about life and true love. To protect the innocent, let’s pretend this story takes place in a wealthy democracy, long ago in a faraway galaxy.

The society had a rich and interesting history; compared to other societies it was one of the youngest cultures on the planet. This wonderful country had a population of over 300,000,000 people with an estimated per capita GDP of roughly $65,000 and arguably the largest economy on their planet. It was a great place, or so it seemed. The problem was that for all their talk of freedom and equality, the people were mysteriously trapped in a bizarre caste system that was never talked about in the light of day.
Never.
Never ever.

Behind closed doors, many people knew the truth – this wonderful nation was unofficially divided into several VERY distinct castes; the Wealthy Elites, the Governing Class, the Pseudo-Elites, the Commoners, and the Ne’er Do Wells. It was very rare that the citizens would marry outside of their caste and this is where our story begins, with a young cis-gendered fellow named Joe that had grown up in a family of Ne’er Do Wells.

Joe always wanted more from life but the current power structure of power-hungry activist billionaires actively crushes the dreams of people like Joe. One day, Joe was looking for work and wandered near a wonderful gala event taking place in a beautiful park. He saw an attractive young lass standing all alone and his heart began to flutter. He decided to take a chance and walked up to her to say hello. She looked down her nose instantly recognizing his lower economic status and yet, she was intrigued by his willingness to deny his caste to talk to her – plus – he was a handsome young man and obviously liked biological females like herself. She introduced herself as ‘Molly’ and told him, “I’m impressed by your willingness to deny your caste – you’re handsome and very different from the tiresome and self-important people that have been crowding my life but I cannot risk losing all that I have worked for to be courted by a young man so far below my own caste. If you can raise your social standing, I will surely find a way to entertain your company.

Joe left the gala with a gritty determination to win her heart. He got a job at MacWendyKing and began to pay closer attention to the world around him. He worked hard and treated people the way he would want them to treat him. Before long he realized that his efforts empowered his transition to a higher caste and he was no longer treated like a Ne’er Do Well. He began to save and invest what little money he could and before long he had enough to help those less fortunate than himself. He realized that despite the caste he was born into, in his heart he was the epitome of a good-hearted common man – but he still wanted more.

Joe wanted to spend his life with Molly. Time went by and Joe continued to rise in wealth and stature. He becomes a shift leader, then a manager, then regional director, and over time became the vice president of the Company. Joe began to invest his money in various charitable organizations to help others and then he branched out into other ventures that allowed him to build even more wealth. Never once does Joe forget his humble beginnings – ever the common man at heart, Joe always used his growing resources not only for his own welfare but to help others as often as possible.

One day as he while going about town tending his investments and helping the many people that have now started working for him, he came across his beloved Molly. He went to her and asked, “Now will you marry me?" Molly was astounded at his success and more importantly, she was swept off her feet that he had risen to his status without becoming an empty soulless despicable liar like so many of the people that make up their caste. Joe's kindness and down-to-earth manner helped Molly realize that regardless of one's caste, even a billionaire if they are dishonest and treacherous are still little more than a lowly Ne’er Do Well at heart.

Joe and Molly got married and have a wonderful wedding and reception. After their first dance, Molly said to Joe "I’m so hungry, can you bring me a snack?” Joe joyfully took off for the buffet and even though it was his reception, he refused to cut in front of the guests; he waits and waits and waits and waits in the buffet line for what seems an eternity but eventually, he gets to the table and returns to his bride with a delicious plate full of snacks.

The guests all enjoy a light meal and when it is almost time for the best man to give his toast, Joe gets up to grab his bride a fresh and full flute of the finest champagne. Just like the buffet, Joe refuses to bully his way in front of his guests so he waits and waits and waits and waits in the long long line at the bar until he is able to return to his bride with a flute of the finest champagne.

After several glasses of champagne, Joe desperately needs to tinkle so he lights off for the bathroom before it is time to cut the wedding cake for dessert. He finds that he isn’t the only one that needs to relieve himself of too much champagne so he patiently waits in line for the bathroom - and he waits and he waits some more until he finally gets his turn so he can return to his wonderful bride to cut their wedding cake.

They both enjoy a piece of the most delicious wedding cake ever made but the cake has made the love of his life quite thirsty, so she asks him to go and get her a refreshing glass of punch. Joe runs off and, in a flash, he returns with Molly’s refreshment. She says to Joe, "Wow, that was incredible. How did you get back so quickly?” Joe smiled a loving smile and pointed towards the punch bowl as he told his new bride….




…”because there is no punch line.”