Buskers : 2

In Uncategorized on August 21, 2009 at 12:00 am

Downtown 014

But I have some rules about buskers:

* They cannot interact with me. No magic, no hypnotism. If they talk, they must talk to a crowd. I love mimes (I might be the only American who will ever say this), but I can build my own imaginary wall, thank you.

* They must be friendly. I once met an angry magician in St. Paul — judging by his voice and timbre, you’d think he was a Malcolm X impersonator, not a guy in a top-hat who made cards disappear.

* Talent is appreciated. A pair of jugglers I saw in Greece dropped their pins three times in five minutes. Although they might have just been enduring an off-day. When my friends Brad, Fred and I went to the Clown Hall of Fame in Milwaukee, the resident clown, Melody, was the unfunniest human I’ve ever met. She also messed up her rope trick and blamed it on Fred.

* They can’t expect money. If they are amazing — and I mean amazing — I might drop some spare coins into their violin case. Cruel luck may also win me over: Sensory impairment, spina bifida, missing limbs. But really, if they’re playing the saxaphone all day in the sunshine; they’re perfectly healthy; they’re wearing new shoes; they’re not starving; and I didn’t ask them to play, I feel no tug of obligation. I mean, “When the Saints Come Marching In” is a great song, but seriously.

  1. Well, I’ll be sure to saw off an arm before trying to get any money out of you with my sub-par tap dancing.

    Seriously, this post made me laugh for a lot of different reasons. One of them being the sentence “She also messed up her rope trick and blamed it on Fred.”

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