Hello lovely ladies, beautiful flowers, The WC are eager to work with you this coming Sunday at the "Triad's" first of three joint rehearsals. It is going to be fun... but it is also going to be work at the same time.

The WC (and SS) will be on lacation at 11am and setup by 11:30am. From my understanding, the DF dancers will be there by 11:30am. Please be on time (real time... not belly dancer time, i.e. + or - an hour... Diosa and Valerie). I'm a stickler for punctuality. To be early is to be on time. To be on time... well, you're already late. In my benevolence, I have decided that I will not count anyone late if they are at least there by 11:40am. However, beyond that... well, let's just say that I'm bringing my bull-whip, it's hot outside, and I can foresee jingly belt wearing dancers running laps around the church. Oh... and I'm not kidding. However... if you even think that there is a remote possibility of you being even slightly late, I would suggest bringing me a very cold 24oz can of Miller High Life. This magical substance seems to be the only thing that will snuff out my burning anger. In fact, the SS dancers are always armed with several cans of said elixir for just these types of emergencies.

Rehearsal:

We are going to do show development, fine tune things, and then we are going to run sets... a lot. I'm a get in, get it done, and get out type of guy. If we can do it in an hour, that's how long the rehearsal will be. If it takes two hours, same thing and etc. Focus, don't "F" around and let's get 'er done... or we'll be there all friggin' day. You will hear me say, "Let's do it again", until you grow to hate my guts.

This first rehearsal is going to be the hardest as we all mesh together. If we work hard on this rehearsal, the others will be easy. So please come with your game faces on. I don't know how hard Diosa pushes you, but I'm gonna knock you off the cliff. Expect to run routines about ten times per piece. I would like to be done in two hours. Expect three. I'm just being honest. Hence, we will be done by 2:30pm regardless. If things don't go well... well, the next rehehearsal will be longer (though it should be shorter).

This isn't a restaurant gig. It's not a fair. It's not a parade. It's not a hafla. Boom Boom Belly Fest is the quintessential belly dance benchmark in AZ. Although it is not a contest in any way, shape, or form; to think that you aren't going to be judged is just naive. The DF are the only cabaret/fusion group that has been, not only allowed, but requested by the promoters (Domba). It seems they want to see what you west-side snotling girls got... and the "Triad" has garnered an obscene amount of time for it too (You're welcome). So we have three weeks to get all the fear, apprehension, stupid mistakes, etc., out of our systems. Although perfection is by nature unobtainable... The DF, the WC, and SS are about to make perfection look like three monkies trying to F@#k a football on a frozen lake in high wind.

Why? Because I, DRUMOPELLI, have said so. And... so have Diosa and Valerie and Fatimah. We will either RAK with authority, or we will come back, defeated, upon our zils.

Translation: Let's just do the absolute best we can. Every body step it up a notch over the next 4 weeks. Won't everyone be dismayed at how beautiful and skilled the flowers are... and at how sharp their thorns (their claws) have become. It will be like stealing candy from a baby... but then we are going to kick the baby in the head... hard... REALLY HARD!... just for good measure. Please practice safe sex (a public service announcement... hey, it's contractual).

Triad Chant:

"We're gonna rape, kill, pillage, and burn... we're gonna rape, kill, pillage, and burn!

Chorus: "Eat the baby!"

"Nuff said...

See ya on Sunday at the Ch... the Chu... the Chur.... the House of G-g-g-g-g-ggg-ggg-g-o-o-o... cha- cha- cha- cha- chur..err...errr...urrr... cha-ha ha ha hur... hur... hur... um... monkey on a stick (sorry Varlerie, I just couldn't say it). I hope that fire extinguishers are on hand (like any of you, once I burst into flames, would bother to put me out anyway).

The above is an excerpt from the Book of Rehearsal, chapter 12, page 410, verse 37, of the Litannies of Pueblo... a dire account of how the Anasazi culture disapearred after determining that most of them were republicans... as portrayed in Matt Damon's documentary: The Life of a Male Belly Dancer, a hard succinct introspection of rampant homosexuality within the disgusting narcotic filled underground culture of Cabaret and upside down basket weaving. This minnie feature, starring Sharon Stone and the ashes of Sylvester Stallone (cuz he died three years ago) is gripping, haunting, and ultimately frightening. Ropert and Ebert give it two index fingers up the butt, saying this was the stupidest thing they had ever seen (outside of Tribal Fest 2007).

So it is written, So shall it be done!

Amen!

Namaste!

The lord god Avatar, Drumopelli...

It's OK to worship...