Baseball Caps & White T-Shirts with Crap on Them (a Monologue)
(A man comes on stage with a guitar, walks to the microphone, and begins to play. Suddenly he stops.)
Man: How could you all be so tasteless, so trite? As a group? What? No..no.., this isn’t a song, I’ve decided not to play a song. No…. I’ve decided to look at you,… Probably a big mistake, but… All of you, all of you seem so individual, so into it, so excited about being yourselves, and yet none of you are as completely unique as you ought to be, Jesus, it’s like all of you are extremely excited about a flashlight at noon! No, really. Look, there must be two hundred of you here, and do you know what I see? I see about sixty percent of you, a large majority if you think about it, all wearing white t-shirts with some sort of crap or advertisement on them, and forty percent wearing baseball caps, fifty-fifty forwards and backwards. And there’s no club, no reason, no particular brand, no big group of friends, it’s all done automatically out of personal habit and taste. It’s the national garb, the Roman’s toga, the flapper’s boa. You look at a bunch of ants, and subconsciously you register they are all the same, but do the ants know? And here I am, trying to please you, to talk to you, to sing and entertain, but I just realized it’s like talking to a wall…. A big white fucking wall with a sports logo on top. And there’s some correlating percentage of you dancing, clapping, booing, some are sitting and listening, some trying to talk over my amplified voice, a few understanding, quite a few mocking…. And there’s an average to it all, a certain behavior will always have the majority, patterns appears, and everyone goes to their place. All of the individuals find their spot, all regulated by some subconscious reaction to the arrangement of others.… All except me, on this stage,…. No, that’s a load of shit. All oddities eventually find their way to some sort of stage, to be studied and stared at. My difference itself puts me in my place. And there is always a place, an average, a niche in the colony, the organism, the throbbing mass of humanity as devoid of individuality as the dust on an ant’s pecker………. What?
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