June 2, 2009
Every once in a while you come across an event that is so fucking crazy that you just have to go check it out, if only to make sure you didn’t dream it. Austin has more than its share of them: Chiggerfest, Spamarama, Eeyore’s Birthday, Harry Knowles’ Butt-Numb-a-Thon, O. Henry Pun-Off. Austinites aren’t particularly scared of weirdness, but sometimes “keepin’ it weird” can turn a little creepy – especially when honest, decent, earnest people with good intentions are involved. In fact, some of the most heinous atrocities in human history were committed by people who were utterly convinced they were doing the right thing. The folks loading up the boxcars for Nazi death camps or the ones poisoning the punchbowl in Jonestown weren’t doing it just to be assholes – well, at least not all of them – no, they drank the punch metaphorically long before they did so literally. Unfortunately, they lacked the types of sociological/psychological checks and balances most people take for granted. One of these is humor, chiefly propagated by the wiseass. When everyone seems to be marching in lockstep (reason enough to start feeling skittish), there is always one heroic individual (or sleazy and self-aggrandizing dickhead) who will pop off with a bitingly sarcastic bon mot like, “Wow, can’t the Swiss steal their own gold teeth?” or, “Sorry, punch makes me gassy.” In most heavy situations, the wiseass gets stomped into a grease stain by the brownshirts or their equivalent, and the machinery of evil grinds on, but in certain instances, a subversive idea takes hold and festers long enough to spoil the party, be it Nazi, Commie, or Tupperware. After all, crazy ideas, like food, stay freshest when sealed in a vacuum. Pop the seal, and they just might rot…or flourish. Regardless, it’s always best to air them out and see what happens. For instance, having a dance party at Qua for “for cool kids ages 10 and under and their groovy grownups” sounds like a Bad Idea jeans commercial, especially considering the music is being provided by DJ Sicko, but hold your judgment. You may not know the whole story. Maybe somewhere in Austin there is an 8-year-old who will roll out of bed Saturday morning and say: “Hey, Pops, what do you say we blow off the swimming pool today and throw some Axe body spray, Ed Hardy togs, and nugget jewelry, and head over to Qua and dance our asses off! Who knows? You might even meet a hot single mom!” Maybe there is even more than one. More likely there are plenty of parents who aren’t averse to using their kids as an excuse to troll for strange on a Saturday afternoon. No shame in that game, as long as you and your kid are on the same page. If that’s the case, Saturday’s Who’s Your Daddy? dance party at Qua may be just your thing: live shark tank dance floor, disco lights, aquarium, and complimentary Clif Bar snacks. Here’s the catch: All adults must be accompanied by a child, so if you’re a nonbreeder looking to score, you’re going to have to borrow a nephew or something.