The Greatest Dog and Pony Show on Earth - Or Not
Unfortunately, I did not consider the possibility of poor mistreated animals until I got to the parking garage and saw the handful of protesters. I should have turned around. I knew it, but I didn't want to disappoint my children. Instead, I promised myself I wouldn't support the mistreatment of animals ever, ever again.
As it turned out, however, I did not witness the turning of a profit at the life and expense of defenseless animals - unless you count the two frisbee catching dogs. That's right folks, a real show-stopper. DO NOT MISS IT!!! Truly unique, a once in a lifetime opportunity - these dogs caught a frisbee like nothing you've seen since your last trip to the nearest dog park. And if you've never been to a dog park, by all means, pay big bucks to Ringling Bros. instead of seeing such feats for free at the park.
But wait! There's more! Inside this one-ring (the size of a child's swimming pool) circus, there was a clown. Yes, one clown. Unless you count the one weird guy who walked around or laid on the side in a body bag to be periodically ousted by the ringleader (who served as cannon fodder and a former clown himself during his twenty-six year career – I am assuming his current position is not a high point for him). And let me tell you, this clown was FUNNY! A veritable laugh a minute! He gyrated his pelvis, grunting exceedingly inappropriately to punctuate each thrust – you get the picture. He carried around a doll that peed straight up into the air! Burped loudly! And farted even louder! And he called people STUPID! Whoo! What a knee-slapper! And he kept up these antics for TEN TO FIFTEEN MINUTE INTERVALS THROUGHOUT THE SHOW!!!
There were some vestiges of the circus I remembered. Two guys and a girl did trot across the high wire without a net. Of course, the wire wasn't very far off the ground, but still, at least a remnant of the old circus draw. There were also some trapeze artists, who performed one trick a piece, unless you count falling into the net as a trick. Of the three tricks, one was performed in the dark (why, I do not know), and in another the catcher missed, requiring a do-over (thus the third trick).
Oh, and let's not forget the girl who rode up and down on a trapeze-like swing in between making several horses run around the ring to no apparent purpose. The choreography one was brilliant – I shall paint the portrait for you with my words: the girl ran out , jumped on the swing, went up, came down, ran back, ran out followed by the horses, chased them around in a circle, the horses left the ring, she jumped back on the swing, went up, arched her back, kicked out her foot, came down, called the horses, the horses ran out, trotted around the tiny ring again, stood in a ragged arc and took a few halting steps backward each, and ran out. She took a bow that was met with sporadic confused applause, the audience responding like trained monkeys (of whom none were in evidence here - fear not PETA), far more efficiently than the dogs and ponies.
But really, the best part? The jump-roping tumblers! It was the biggest jump rope I ever saw - no kidding! Just huge! THREE PEOPLE JUMPED AT A TIME!!! It stretched the WHOLE LENGTH OF THE RING! Amazing!
And the dance routines! Beautifully bastardized Disneyesque songs performed by the whole cast. And not one person in time with another! Absolutely no costume or movement in sync - complete chaos! My personal favorite was the jump song, in the admirable spirit of the latest movement encouraging children to exercise done in the flavor of a hip televangical band. Though frankly, they probably should have had the writers of Veggie Tales work with them, as there was a bit too much of the churchy in it.
At the half-time intermission, a kindly and wise looking elderly gentleman said to us, “Great show, isn’t it?” We were astounded. “Umm, yes. Delightful,” I replied, wondering if perhaps a touch of Alzheimer’s had taken hold. My husband could not reply as he was apoplectic. He once saw the Ringling Bros. circus at Madison Square Gardens. My faith was somewhat restored by the fact that the gentleman and his family did not return after the intermission. If only we’d had sense enough to do the same. But the kids enjoyed it, so we stayed until almost the bitter end. My husband, the party pooper, who refused to participate in the dance of interminable exit with two exhausted and grouchy children and the rest of our circus brethren, insisted on departing before the grand finale. Maryn was reluctant to leave, wailing and waving madly to the clown, trying to signal him in hopes of a last minute rescue from her evil parents, bent on dragging her from the cultural experience of a lifetime. We had to buy her one of those twirly eye removal tools with the flashing lights for fifteen dollars to get her out of there.
My husband waxed poetic last night over dinner describing Madison Square Gardens: the dancing bears, the high trapeze, a dozen elephants dressed in the finest blankets marching out in a line, the front feet of each resting upon the back of the one before, innumerable clowns piling out of a car and rolling out in barrels, acrobats flipping this way and that – each new vision designed to cause a collective catch in the audience’s breath, a pounding of that massive animal’s heart, a nearly overwhelming sense of awe and wonder.
Members of PETA may be assured that unless bears, monkeys, lions, tigers, and elephants suddenly appeared in the last five minutes in their circus dress to parade about the teeny tiny ring – a tactical improbability, impossibility even – no animals other than the much domesticated dogs and ponies were to be found. Nor was anything like the drama, dazzle, excitement, pomp, and beauty of the circus we knew as kids. The greatest show on Earth, indeed.
As it turned out, however, I did not witness the turning of a profit at the life and expense of defenseless animals - unless you count the two frisbee catching dogs. That's right folks, a real show-stopper. DO NOT MISS IT!!! Truly unique, a once in a lifetime opportunity - these dogs caught a frisbee like nothing you've seen since your last trip to the nearest dog park. And if you've never been to a dog park, by all means, pay big bucks to Ringling Bros. instead of seeing such feats for free at the park.
But wait! There's more! Inside this one-ring (the size of a child's swimming pool) circus, there was a clown. Yes, one clown. Unless you count the one weird guy who walked around or laid on the side in a body bag to be periodically ousted by the ringleader (who served as cannon fodder and a former clown himself during his twenty-six year career – I am assuming his current position is not a high point for him). And let me tell you, this clown was FUNNY! A veritable laugh a minute! He gyrated his pelvis, grunting exceedingly inappropriately to punctuate each thrust – you get the picture. He carried around a doll that peed straight up into the air! Burped loudly! And farted even louder! And he called people STUPID! Whoo! What a knee-slapper! And he kept up these antics for TEN TO FIFTEEN MINUTE INTERVALS THROUGHOUT THE SHOW!!!
There were some vestiges of the circus I remembered. Two guys and a girl did trot across the high wire without a net. Of course, the wire wasn't very far off the ground, but still, at least a remnant of the old circus draw. There were also some trapeze artists, who performed one trick a piece, unless you count falling into the net as a trick. Of the three tricks, one was performed in the dark (why, I do not know), and in another the catcher missed, requiring a do-over (thus the third trick).
Oh, and let's not forget the girl who rode up and down on a trapeze-like swing in between making several horses run around the ring to no apparent purpose. The choreography one was brilliant – I shall paint the portrait for you with my words: the girl ran out , jumped on the swing, went up, came down, ran back, ran out followed by the horses, chased them around in a circle, the horses left the ring, she jumped back on the swing, went up, arched her back, kicked out her foot, came down, called the horses, the horses ran out, trotted around the tiny ring again, stood in a ragged arc and took a few halting steps backward each, and ran out. She took a bow that was met with sporadic confused applause, the audience responding like trained monkeys (of whom none were in evidence here - fear not PETA), far more efficiently than the dogs and ponies.
But really, the best part? The jump-roping tumblers! It was the biggest jump rope I ever saw - no kidding! Just huge! THREE PEOPLE JUMPED AT A TIME!!! It stretched the WHOLE LENGTH OF THE RING! Amazing!
And the dance routines! Beautifully bastardized Disneyesque songs performed by the whole cast. And not one person in time with another! Absolutely no costume or movement in sync - complete chaos! My personal favorite was the jump song, in the admirable spirit of the latest movement encouraging children to exercise done in the flavor of a hip televangical band. Though frankly, they probably should have had the writers of Veggie Tales work with them, as there was a bit too much of the churchy in it.
At the half-time intermission, a kindly and wise looking elderly gentleman said to us, “Great show, isn’t it?” We were astounded. “Umm, yes. Delightful,” I replied, wondering if perhaps a touch of Alzheimer’s had taken hold. My husband could not reply as he was apoplectic. He once saw the Ringling Bros. circus at Madison Square Gardens. My faith was somewhat restored by the fact that the gentleman and his family did not return after the intermission. If only we’d had sense enough to do the same. But the kids enjoyed it, so we stayed until almost the bitter end. My husband, the party pooper, who refused to participate in the dance of interminable exit with two exhausted and grouchy children and the rest of our circus brethren, insisted on departing before the grand finale. Maryn was reluctant to leave, wailing and waving madly to the clown, trying to signal him in hopes of a last minute rescue from her evil parents, bent on dragging her from the cultural experience of a lifetime. We had to buy her one of those twirly eye removal tools with the flashing lights for fifteen dollars to get her out of there.
My husband waxed poetic last night over dinner describing Madison Square Gardens: the dancing bears, the high trapeze, a dozen elephants dressed in the finest blankets marching out in a line, the front feet of each resting upon the back of the one before, innumerable clowns piling out of a car and rolling out in barrels, acrobats flipping this way and that – each new vision designed to cause a collective catch in the audience’s breath, a pounding of that massive animal’s heart, a nearly overwhelming sense of awe and wonder.
Members of PETA may be assured that unless bears, monkeys, lions, tigers, and elephants suddenly appeared in the last five minutes in their circus dress to parade about the teeny tiny ring – a tactical improbability, impossibility even – no animals other than the much domesticated dogs and ponies were to be found. Nor was anything like the drama, dazzle, excitement, pomp, and beauty of the circus we knew as kids. The greatest show on Earth, indeed.
posted by Shannon at 9:55 AM
2 Comments:
Oh, this just makes me sad. I remember the circus that Scott remembers. This memory, unlike his, goes back 50 years to Baltimore. My grandfather sent us to this huge venue (I can't remember if it was a tent or some kind of arena). But it truly had three rings, with an overload of sensory sensations. Yes, the bears. Yes, the tigers. Yes, the clowns and trapeze artists and early Vegas-like costumes with feathers and jewels.
I remember taking you girls to a circus when you were children and being disappointed then (though apparently you weren't).
As pathetic as this was, Maryn and Conner are so young, it may have been exciting to them. Rapture! Don't take them when they're old enough to know better.
I've read some interesting articles recently on the decline of Gibsonton, the town near Sarasota where retired circus performers live. The bearded ladies and giants and sword swallowers. That was part of the circus too, not just seedy county fairs. Maybe it reflects the diminution of live entertainment --we're an internet/TV/movie nation, where fantasmagorical stories abound and images are manipulated into outrageously impossible beings. A couple of lumbering elephants with beaded blankets don't draw crowds anymore.
Oh my, this is getting way too philosophical. Sorry the circus disappointed.
There's a lot I could say. But damn.
Out of curiosity, I looked up the circus on the Ringling Brothers web site to see why there weren't many animals and discovered that you just saw the show on "The Gold Tour", which they bill as an "intimate, interactive experience [which] brings you so close to our elephants, horses and clowns that you'll experience a day at the circus you never imagined possible! Our aerialists walk, fly and jump through the air. Our Upside Down act leaves you questioning the forces of gravity. It's a one-of-a-kind experience that boils all the action down into one ring to engage all your senses."
They also have red and blue tours which are the more extravagant shows, I guess.
I haven't ever taken my kids to the circus, even though they've been in town several times. I just don't want to support what they do with animals and I don't want them to be entertained by that. Sometimes I feel like really a terrible mom.
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