[JennyD]

Brothers and sisters in Christ, I write today to warn you of a vile "modern dance" program to which your community may be subjected. I speak of "Garth Fagan Dance".

Garth Fagan is best known for the choreography for the Broadway musical about furries, "The Lion King". I won't describe this in detail, beyond noting that it focuses on interspecies "relationships".

If only I'd known of this individual's nearly-criminal history, I'd never have agreed to go with the hippies (bringing their little 9-year-old son David, even!) to the local performing arts center to see "Mr." Fagan's perverse spectacle last night!

Naturally, I had not yet researched The Lion King. I knew it was from Disney, and thought it innocent. When the hippies mentioned there was a black dance troupe, well, naturally I envisioned some tap dancing (like that delightful Gregory Hines!) or things of that nature, perhaps with some Amos and Andy routines thrown in for color.

My suspicions were aroused when we arrived at the "performing arts center". The crowd appeared rather "sophisticated"; that is, white folk very pleased with themselves for going to a performance by Negroes. They were serving wine in the multi-story lobby, probably to help calm the nerves of the many flustered and scantily clad white women.

Entering the auditorium, I was struck by its odd appearance. The curtain over the stage was painted to look like a tangle of roses, festooned with rhinestones. The walls of the auditorium were crafted to look like some sort of massive basketweaving project. Truly, these hippies have odd ideas about design. Who would think that a multimillion dollar performing arts center should look like "Giantessa's Arts & Crafts Emporium"?

An older white woman -- about Shirlee's age, I think, but far more polite -- came out to announce the show. At first, I thought she was merely nervous at addressing the crowd; soon, I realized she was hot under the collar, and seemed quite aroused by her own description of the upcoming show. This struck me as one more unusual and slightly suspicious note in what would soon become a chorus of sin!

Imagine my horror when the show was opened by a gang of bare-chested buck Negroes, wearing half-leotards so tight, you could tell which of them were circumcised!

I attempted to snatch little David up and take him out of the "perverted arts center" right then, but the hippies held me down, one on each arm. "It's art," they pleaded. "Just give it a chance! There's nothing sinful about the human form, and their private areas ARE covered. Besides, look how talented they are!"

And indeed, those Negroes were talented.

They could not tap dance, so far as I could tell; they instead seemed to do some combination of hippity-hop dancing, knuckle-dragging baboon imitation, and yoga. Much balance was required, and it was clearly strenuous work, from all the sweating and grunting and panting going on (including some onstage!).

Soon, a gaggle of Negro women -- and one Asian of some variety -- joined the bucks onstage. Sweat flew as the dancers disappeared, then re-emerged in body stockings with fringe and Native American headdresses.

"What is THIS?" I cried. "Pagan rituals! Superstitious tomfoolery!" Again I tried to grab David and flee, and again his parents convinced me to relax. "No, dear!" they said. "They're just honoring the tribe that . . . um, yes, that GOD took this land from!" Jane, the rather stocky and mustachioed usherette, came to repeat their assurances.

Well, that didn't sound sincere from them, since they believe in all that Gaia nonsense, but I somehow allowed myself to be swayed. Jane returned to her station and the show continued.

The last straw came when two women did a highly erotic Lesbian dance number! All the fondling, caressing, and affection was too much for me to stand. I shoved the father hippie out of the way, grabbed David by the hand, and ran for the exit!

To my surprise, Jane of the well-groomed mustache (ew) BLOCKED the exit! "No, missy. You will stay and see ALL of the show," grinned Jane. "Your God can't keep you from watching the final act!" She licked her lips lasciviously.

Horrified, I prayed, "Lord, give me strength!" Then, with the strength of ten men, I punched Jane square in the jaw, and saw blood and teeth fly out of her mouth. Without waiting to see what happened or who was behind me, I took David's hand again and pushed through the exit, dashing into the night.

This morning, the hippie mother came to my room and apologized. "We should never have taken you to that show," she said. "We realize that watching live sex acts on stage is against your religion; I suppose we hoped you'd loosen up a bit by the time that part of the third act rolled around, and maybe you'd get into it. I'm sorry if we offended you. Please don't leave, little David loves you so!"

I agreed to stay, if only for David's sake.


Now you know about Garth Fagan Dance. I hope you will take this warning to heart . . . keep away! Picket these perverse shows if they come to your town!