Sunday, May 27, 2012


Karaoke Bars are the worst. Such good words separately, but together they conjure an image of hellish musical awfulness, jabbing elbows, bachelorette parties crammed on tiny stages screaming along to Sir Mix-a-Lot. And if a live band's up there, they probably hate you even if you nail whatever song you're singing.

I much prefer the Asian method: rather than shoving you onstage in front of a roomful of anonymous drunks, it shoves you onstage in front of a roomful of drunks you know and love. I've seen folks who wouldn't dare sing at Trader Todd's hit the high F in a Karaoke Box. Better food, cheaper drinks, and of course you get to sing more often--because let's be honest, no one at a karaoke bar is there to see strangers sing.

I like Karaoke Boxes for another reason. Tottering down the hall for a pit stop in the bathroom or another order of drinks at the bar, you can glance into each room and see freedom in microcosm. People, whether in groups of 2 or groups of 50, totally letting go of their self-consciousness if only for one glorious evening. Moms screaming Gin and Juice. Frat guys singing A Whole New World without mockery or irony. An entire room of friends linked arm-in-arm howling the "NA NA NA NA NA NA" section of Drops of Jupiter in perfect, loving, discordant harmony.

You don't get those charming little boxes at a karaoke bar. You get people watching impatiently and paying too much for their beer.

Corpses can be interesting! I would not begrudge that Chinese man his enthusiasm. On that note: how bizarre and awesome is it that there are competing forms of dead people infotainment?
...buuuuut yeah, that does sound a tad overwhelming. You lost me somewhere around "submerged." Maybe sketch a frowny stick figure with X-es for eyes?

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