Jeff Wysaski
If there was a street performer hierarchy, I think the mime would be above the human statue. Because, when you think about it, the human statue really doesn’t do anything at all. And in the real world, people get rewarded, promoted and recognized for the actions they take. Actions like pulling an invisible rope or getting trapped in a pretend box.
“Okay, how’d you do that?” the banker said with relief as the crowd applauded and his wristwatch was handed back to him, good as new. But, of course, he never got an answer. A wristwatch repairman never reveals his secrets.
If you’re a street musician, here’s a tip: put a few dollars in your guitar case as soon as you start playing. That way, no matter how many people have actually donated, I can steal some money from you when you aren’t looking.
I don’t mean to sound condescending, but if you’re sitting on the sidewalk banging on a bunch of buckets all day, that’s a pretty good way to make a living. Wait. What does condescending mean again?
If I were a street performer, I think I’d bring back the flea circus. Because I think it would be the easiest and most fun way to get that whole Black Death epidemic going again.
Street performers may be kind of annoying, but at least they work for it. Every day I walk by this really gruff bum who just says, “change?” to me every time I walk by. It was fine for a while, but someone really needs to tell him that Obama guy already won.
I handed the man a dollar and he picked up the flute and started playing. Suddenly, the snake shot out of the basket and bit me right on the hand. “Thanks a lot, Mr. Suicide Snake Guy!” I said as I happily laid down next to the other corpses and slowly drifted off into unconsciousness.
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