Pussy Talks Back

Reposted here from over on the Facebook - only about a year since my last post which, I cannot help but notice, is about the exact same thing. Because we sure haven't made much progress over the last 13 months, have we?

•••

Since apparently I have to articulate this *yet again* ... here's the thing:

Most of the shows in which I am involved in any capacity balance out at 90 - 100% female-identifying performers. The audience is at least 50% female (generally more these days I am delighted to say).

That means that for every given show, almost all of the performers and much of the audience has to think of the following things when leaving home for a Night Of Sexy Fun:

Who is at the show? Is there security? Is that "security" trustworthy or will they abuse their position? If a dude grabs me in the public restroom (which is often the only one available to performers as well), is anyone at the venue or in the show going to do anything about it or am I on my own? Will they even believe me that it happened? Will I be groped on the go-go platform after the show? If I am, will that person be removed from the venue by anyone in charge or do I just have to 'laugh it off'? Can I walk to the bar simply to get a glass of water or a drink during the show without for example a male patron attempting to insert his fingers into my vagina on the venue floor?* CAN I TRUST THE MALE PERFORMER(S) IN THE SHOW TO NOT HARASS, ATTACK OR MOLEST ME BEFORE, DURING OR AFTER THE SHOW? What time am I traveling home afterwards? Will I be alone? If I am alone, what am I wearing? What route do I have to take to minimize the possibility of harassment and attack? Should I literally double my public-transportation travel time just to take the slightly 'safer' route home? Should I spend a third of my night's pay on a cab or car service that still puts me entirely at the mercy of a driver that I do not know? And on and on and on. 

So. When a male host - the only fully-clothed person in the show with a microphone and therefore a voice and therefore all the perceived authority (well - even more authority than that already bestowed upon them by The World and Privilege) makes dick jokes onstage, talks about his dick onstage, tells the audience to get their dicks out, physically takes his own dick out onstage, or in any way makes the show about his own dick - he is reinforcing EVERY SINGLE ACT OF VIOLENCE, AGGRESSION AND MICRO-AGGRESSION EXPERIENCED ALL DAY, EVERY DAY BY MORE THAN HALF OF THE AUDIENCE AND ALL / ALMOST ALL OF THE CAST. 

Even if offstage he professes to be a full-on feminist ally.

This is not an "old-school vaudeville joke." It is not in-character riffing. It is not edgy, hilarious, or attention-grabbing hosting. It is a reinforcement and an acceptance of, and a further permission for the constant abuse that yes, all women learn to be prepared to receive from strangers, from co-workers, from patrons, from bosses, from partners EVERY minute of EVERY day.
And it is fucking exhausting. 

I refuse. As a producer, as a performer, as an audience member: I refuse. I deny that permission. My money, my time and my talent will not reinforce that dynamic. I may have to consider nightly that I "should" wear long pants home in the 95-degree heat after the show so the mere sight of my knees doesn't "provoke attack", but in my small corner of our small corner of the world I refuse to continue to support the Dick Joke Model of strip-show hosting. It's 20goddamned17. We're done. Whether we're personally into dick or not - we're bored and frankly disgusted by having to navigate your goddamned dick here, now, on our stages, after constantly being required to step over and around and to celebrate and compliment and adore every single other one thrust in our direction at every other moment of the day or night. 

So do better. Now. 

I don't want to have to write this goddamned thing one more fucking time. 

* Yes, this has absolutely happened.

#whogetsavoice?

Talking about your dick onstage is not edgy. It is not daring. It is not progressive. It is the most mundane thing you could possibly mention, onstage or off.

You likely have not noticed (because part of privilege means not having to notice) that this society - indeed, our entire world - is set up to accommodate your dick. Your dick takes up as many seats as it wants on the subway. Your dick has healthcare. It is up to us to avoid your mismanaged dick in bars, in public spaces, in long-term relationships, in our homes and our schools and our ‘safe’ spaces, or just walking by on the street. Your dick makes laws that apply only to our vaginas. Literally every minute of every day, we are aware of your dick: therefore rest well assured that if you host a show or ten shows or every goddamned show ever in the history of shows there is no point at which we will forget about your dick, even if you go that entire time without mentioning or referring to it even once.

You are the system. And whether consciously or not, you benefit constantly and endlessly from that – even in our own microcosmic female-dominated pussy-positive artstripper world. YOU ARE THE SYSTEM. Getting on stage in front of this gorgeous world of Strong and Opinionated Pussy and talking about your dick is basically standing up and saying, Hey. You built this. This is one small part of the largely heinous world where you could have power, you could have a voice, this could be a system of support and accountability that is potentially revolutionary but FUCK THAT AND FUCK YOU BECAUSE I HAVE THE VOICE AND I HAVE THE POWER AND EVEN AS YOUR VOICE AND YOUR REPRESENTATIVE AND YOUR PROFESSED ALLY I AM STILL GOING TO EXERCISE THAT POWER OVER YOU BY CONSTANT REMINDERS OF THE SOCIAL AND PHYSICAL POWER I HAVE OVER YOU AT ALL TIMES JUST AS YOU EXPERIENCE FROM MY GENDER IN ALL OTHER FACETS OF YOUR DAILY EXISTENCE.


I seem to recall having heard that bit before. Why don’t you call us when you have some new material and if we’re still looking for hosts at that point maybe we’ll take a look at what you’ve got.


Maybe.

My Booking Policies: In Plain Language

In the hopes of clearing up misconceptions, preconceived notions and prejudicial ideas; in an effort to maintain transparency; and with the ultimate goal of ending speculation and rumor I am now laying out - in plain language - my own personal criteria for booking shows.

All producers work with a different set of professional standards, but I do believe that similar ideas prevail within our industry. Though I don’t presume to speak for anyone else, I daresay that I am not the only person who considers any or all of the following conditions when hiring performers; regardless, to all those who wonder – internally or aloud – why so-and-so gets booked so often while they themselves do not, I offer the following considerations: 

Physical Characteristics

Do you have a rounded head which is large relative to your body size? A wide forehead and large eyes placed below the midline of your face? Rounded, protruding cheeks? In short, do you have kinderschema? As a producer it’s my job to engender in an audience feelings of protectiveness and sympathy and the desire to nurture, shelter and support. I primarily book performers with the physical traits associated with 1940’s-style animated woodland creatures, infants, and small, palm-sized rodents in order to elicit these maternal instincts in a paying audience.* 

The Casting Couch

Call it smarmy but it’s the truth: I only hire performers who won’t sleep with me - which certainly limits my casting pool. But it’s one of the perks of being a producer, and I intend to work it for all I can, without apologies. Hell, if I could get away with it’d never book anyone who I’ve ever actually spoken to, or even made eye contact with for that matter ... I’m just saying, the performer who’s freaky enough to leave the building every time I enter could go a long way in my productions, if you know what I mean. 

Ethnic Background

Listen, I don’t know how many times I have to say it: I’ve got nothing against Belgians. (Well, not the Walloons, anyway.) 

Awards and Recognition

If you look at the lineups of my last dozen or so shows, you’ll notice among the performers eleven Fulbright Scholars, one recipient of the Carnegie Award for outstanding work in literature for children or young adults, six Nobel Prize winners (2 in physics, 3 in chemistry and 1 for peace), various members of World Series and Super Bowl championship teams,** and no less than twenty-three Emmy and/or Oscar nominations (mostly in the technical and production fields, but impressive nonetheless). This should tell you something. 

Money

Like many producers I negotiate different rates with different performers, based largely on how many of my booking criteria they meet; but it is my policy to pay all of my performers and staff across the board in pre-decimalized British currency units. Therefore any performer – no matter their pay rate – who can’t convert £3 12s 6d into an understandable and contemporary monetary unit *** is simply of no use to me and won’t be booked until she can be bothered to learn how. 

Gifts go a long way.

It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or expensive - but a dead bird, bit of string, piece of tinfoil or small shiny button left on the doorstep certainly knocks you up a few spots on my booking list. Really want to impress? Just drop half a mouse in my lap, lick your butthole while staring at me for a minute or two, and saunter away like you don’t care … then check your inbox for that booking email. 

A Personal Connection

I’m getting an N, an N – do you know an N? An M? Do you know an M? Someone who recently passed. An M … or a W? It’s a W, yes – I’m getting a Wanda. A Walther. A Waldo … Wendy? You had a neighbor named Wendy when you were a kid. Yes, that’s it – it’s Wendy. She’s here with me now and she wants you to know that she’s happy, and she loves you, and she’s wondering if you’re available for a 9pm show in Brooklyn on the 14^th. 

What have you done for me lately?

Seriously - I know you used to do a lot of nice things for me, but what have you done for me lately?

[They’re rare cases, but please note that all of the above conditions are automatically superseded by ancient familial oaths, wizard’s curses (Level 16 or above) and any obligations of Masonic membership.]

* It’s a science fact that being subliminally reminded of cartoon bunnyrabbits makes audience members purchase on average 3.72 more drinks each – certainly something to consider when attempting to drive up bar revenue and maintain a profitable relationship with venue owners.

** The 1972 Dallas Cowboys, the 1964 St Louis Cardinals, the 1986 Chicago Bears, the 1910 Philadelphia Athletics, and the 2007 Boston Red Sox.

*** About $66

On Turning Twelve and Not Drinking The Kool-Aid

Not having felt moved to shout into the abyss of late, I haven’t been writing much - and the abyss, it appears, has been just fine without me.

But several days ago I passed my twelfth anniversary as a full-time performer, producer, writer and director within the neo-ecdystiastilogical arts. Twelve years. Big fucking deal, right? But it’s the longest I’ve had any job and, frankly, making a Life In Art – especially in New York City, and in 2016, and at no-longer-25 – is something.

So it seemed time to attempt to articulate a thing that has been sitting there taking up brainspace for a while now.

The temptation to hashtag about lacks of fucks is strong, but as we are not actually twelve years old, we resist nonetheless.

••••

I’d like to talk about The Myth Of Community.

The Myth of Community says that we are all one amazing loving shiny sparkly supportive gilttertribe that only wants to see all our sisters (and maybe brothers but really only The Acceptable Ones) shine and sparkle like the sassy empowered amazing fierce deserving creatures we all are.

The Myth of Community says that everybody who “does” burlesque (well, but of course what we really mean is performs burlesque, or maybe also teaches it) is equal: equally experienced, equally skilled, equally respectful and professional, equally deserving of financial and artistic success. It says that the sheer fact of existing under a stage name renders one worthy of every benefit that The Community has to offer.

The Myth of Community says that the one shining goal of burlesque is To Elevate Burlesque: that we’re all working hard, and all towards this same goal; and that at all times this single, universal, Community-wide goal is at the forefront of everyone’s motivations and thoughts - to the exclusion of individual needs and desires, so that it trumps and eclipses even personal events and real-world needs.

According to The Myth of Community, we all have the same artistic goals. We agree on what “is” and “isn’t” Burlesque. We all value the same things as people and as artists. And above all and beyond everything We all like each other and love each other and like each other, all the time and in all circumstances and we act like it too and we’re all best friends with everyone else, even the people we’ve sort of never really even met.

••••

… You do realize that this is pathological, right? It runs counter to almost every facet of basic human nature - which somehow and subconsciously we know, we realize and understand. But the Myth is so pervasive (and glittery and attractive and unicorns and butts omg yay!!!) that we all buy into it  - we pretty much have to, in order to Succeed At Burlesque. (Remember: you’re never going to Be Voted Number One if you put yourself first without also putting The Community first too.)

The Myth feeds and fuels all the feelings of entitlement, butthurtédness and persecution, the lack mentality, the competition hysteria and zero-sum mentality, the climbing and posing and starfucking and cutting down and backbiting and shade-throwing and simple basic lying that creates such a wildly unpleasant and constant undercurrent to everything that we do.

Because of course we’re human: and it is in the nature of humans to be selfish. Not grab-all-the-candy, tax-the-poor, kick-the-orphans-out-of-the-hospital Gordon Gekko greedy, but we all have our individual needs, desires, likes and dislikes, goals, values and opinions. Sometimes these synch up with other people’s, and sometimes they do not; but either way truly and honestly our only obligation is to seeing that serving our own goals doesn’t actively hurt or intentionally deprive others. And that is called Existing In Society.

When we Exist in Society, we get to make the decision to collaborate artistically or financially or personally with this individual rather than that one. When someone hurts or is unkind to us – deliberately or by accident - we are allowed to speak up about it to that person. Artistic opinions can be expressed and discussed without personal attack or reprisal. We get to spend our leisure time with people whose company we enjoy, with no implied obligations on our professional time and relationships (and vice versa). We get to work towards goals that are meaningful to us personally, to not participate in events that are uncomfortable or unpleasant or uninteresting to us, to avoid situations that would mean interacting with people that hurt us, or disrespect us, or who we simply and for no particular reason just kinda don’t like. WE ARE ALLOWED TO JUST KINDA OR ACTUALLY AND IN FACT NOT LIKE PEOPLE, FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON OR FOR ACTUAL REASONS TOO.

••••

And so.

In rejecting the Myth, we’re not instituting a self-centered free-for-all. We’re simply freeing ourselves of these self-imposed obligations of behavior and interaction that constantly butt up against the nature of humans in general and Us Sensitive Artist Types in particular:

When we reject The Myth of Community we’re acknowledging that we’re not one giant hydra-headed single-minded “glittertribe,” but countless self-created, geographically-convenient, interest- or circumstance-based groups, cliques, families, companies, troupes and organizations, some of which overlap in a giant Venn Diagram and others of which exist as independent satellites - and that is alright.

When we reject The Myth of Community we’re acknowledging that not everyone is at the same place in their artistic journey, that not everyone has the same level of experience or training or talent, and that opportunity, compensation and recognition are based at least in part on these factors - and that is okay.

When we reject The Myth of Community we’re acknowledging that the reasons for which people participate in burlesque are varied and infinite; that one person can have several or many different reasons and that these can change over time and with personal experience; that often different people’s goals are complementary but many times they are not - and that is acceptable. 

When we reject The Myth of Community we’re acknowledging that “art” has as many definitions as the people who create it - and that is as it should be.

When we reject The Myth of Community we’re acknowledging that humans are just that – human – with different personalities and experiences and outlooks and intellectual responses and emotional responses and likes and dislikes and relationships and attractions, that everyone is owed basic human respect and that that is the only thing everyone is owed - and that is, simply, what existing as human beings means.

••••

So when we reject this Myth what, practically, happens?

Well.

The idea that there is one single “definition” of burlesque finally being discarded as ludicrous, no show or performer is any longer dismissed by others as being “just classic” or “only doing weird shit” – or indeed is required to define it- or herself in any way. The fucking pointless Is burlesque stripping? non-discussion finally just stops. If people want to perform or produce or teach solely as a lucrative and early-retirement-friendly career, they are free to do so to the best of their ability and the limit the market will allow. If people want to create performances or shows simply for the sheer artistic exhilaration of it and never charge a dime, they are free to collaborate with like-minded individuals and organizations to do so. Other artists will agree or decline to work under these conditions as they so choose. If people want more than anything only to re-create historical striptease with absolute accuracy, or just to perform neo-burlesque based on pop culture references, or solely to be recognized with a particular title or crown, they are free to work towards these goals with as much or as little energy, focus, money and time as they choose to expend.

With producers under no perceived obligation to book anyone, backstage and online bitching about why so-and-so never books me stops, creating a far more professional and pleasant environment for everyone. Forced instead to both evaluate their own attitude and skill level and to learn to interact with peers in a businesslike and appropriate manner, performers, producers and others elevate the level of skill and professionalism across the board. With this increased level of professionalism comes independent, value-based decision-making (“Your host tells racist jokes onstage, so I will not perform with your show”) and also actual accountability (“I choose not to hire you because you speak very badly of this show to other producers and performers.”) With this transparency, rumor-mongering is no longer tolerated and thousands of social media ‘secret groups’ are disbanded. The number of Facebook-fueled pre-ulcerous conditions among artstrippers plummets. 

Without an undefined, constantly contradictory notion of “community” fueling commentary on all ideas and events people focus on their own work rather than monitoring everybody else’s. They work towards fostering meaningful real-world interactions with other living breathing beings, rather than speaking only through the comments section or vaguebooking. They work with whom they choose, for whatever personal or professional reasons they like, while expecting or requiring nothing from those with whom they do not have any relationship.

Festivals become actual ‘reunions’ around the world and celebrations of the various facets of the art form, rather than in-name-or-in-notion attendance-obligatory cookie-cutter pageants. Numerically-ranked voting lists vanish in a puff of illogic and the endless commentary on these lists is instead channeled towards proficient and informed reviews and discussions of art and of craft. Literally almost everyone never wins Miss Exotic World. There is no Next Dita, the Facebook police still crack down on stage names, bots still flag nipple pics and trolls still call us sluts and fatties in the comments section.

And because we don’t have the obligation of Community to contend with all the time, we simply deal with it all in our own individual ways, with the support of our actual friends and families, and with an actual mindfulness towards others’ journeys and the impact that our words and actions have on them beyond trite floral inspirational #myshowgirlfamily quotes on Instagram.

••••

Most of this of course will never happen. It is the utopian fantasy of a middle-aged wiseass title-less non-numerically-important neo-ecdysiast whose goal is to create weird smart shit with like-minded, dependable and adventurous artists, and to sell enough tickets to that shit to pay her exorbitant rent and not die of scurvy in the streets of New York. Would she like to be Heralded as The Eternal Queen of What She Does? She surely would. She would like to be ensconced as Permanent Number One for A Life In Art, Flawlessly Exhibited. She would like to see her Enemies Vanquished By Fire, she would like everyone to agree with her all the time, and to Do Better, and to shut the fuck up about everyone else for a goddamned minute and live their own fucking lives. Is that gonna happen? Ain’t. After twelve years of it the best she can hope for is one single hour when all the other butthurt whiners just do their work, and leave everyone else alone to do their work too.

And so I do enter into a new era of fucklessness. I’d invite you along but really, at this point, I don’t give a fuck. I’ll be over here like an adult caring about the things and people that matter to me and that care back, and not worrying about the rest of it .

But I’m sure I’ll hear everyone’s thoughts on that through the grapevine eventually, anyway.

Freelancers! Performers! Independent craftspeople!

 --> Do you find yourself spending inordinate amounts of time answering cold emails to no actual effect or personal benefit? Now you can use that time on more fruitful pursuits - like spending hours on the subway in transit to gigs, or updating your FaceTube page in a desperate attempt to get just a few more paying customers to your show - with this handy form letter!

Just choose the relevant information, copy-and-paste, and hey presto! you have a convenient and ready-to-go auto-reply to all those moronic emails from individuals with no grasp of the actual value of your services in today’s world:

•••••

Dear Sir / Madam / Thing;

Thank you for your inquiry regarding [circle one] private bookings / costuming commissions / add your own specialty.

Before I waste another second of my life replying to your email, however, please understand that [choose one:]

• six five-minute performances all crafted to fit within the musical, thematic and physical requirements of your event and space - which does not have a dressing room, stage, or sound system - happening “sometime this Saturday between 10pm and 2am, we’ll have to play it by ear when you get there” will cost you more than fifty dollars.
• it is not practical to expect a custom-designed gown, wrap and headpiece based on the attached painting of Marie Antoinette but with enough specific design alterations to require ten hours of research and sketching alone, price complete with labor and materials and “also I really want real seed pearls on the hem and I need it for a party next week” for under one hundred dollars.

If you would like to continue this discussion, wherein I clearly and concisely list over and over again my monetary and physical requirements for providing [the service for which you have contacted me] and to which you repeatedly reply “Well we’d really like to have you, I want to make this work” but offer nothing else until you finally simply do not answer my 7^th email back to you, the up-front charge is $150 or $25/hour, whichever is greater.

Please feel free to send me your credit card number to start this process; otherwise, thank you for your inquiry, and I wish you much success in your attempt to extract the maximum amount of work, time and effort from other skilled professionals for the barest minimum of money on your part! Please do know that despite our lack of health insurance, professional respect or any kind of dependable income, you cheap bastards really do make us independent artists smile. With many thanks for that I remain

Yours truly,

[Your name here]

First Becky: A Rebuttal

--> The groundbreaking newshound Huffington Post today put forth their stunningly well-researched list of “20 Burlesque Stars To Know And Their Wildest Signature Acts.” It was the single greatest honor of my career – nay, of my life - to be included on this absolutely complete, up-to-date, and non-geographically-biased compilation. In fact, I’m planning on killing myself tomorrow as anything that follows cannot but be a miserable and feeble, pale imitation of the glories that it has been my singular privilege to taste.

To save you the trouble of looking it up yourself (and to keep their page count if possible in the single digits), I include below the particularly thorough “blurb” (like the list itself, the blurb is one of the greatest boons to incisive reporting) that accompanied my own modest entry:

Nasty Canasta

Known for: Being one half of a burlesque power couple along with husband Johnny Porkpie, until they called it quits. Luckily the two were together long enough to found Pinchbottom Burlesque, one of the city's most ingenious burlesque spots.

Signature acts: Performing as her alter-ego Kobayashi Maru, an android creature.

Based in: New York City

I will say this for them: They sure did get my city of residence right.

I mean, what independent artist with nearly a decade of experience, international recognition, and a full-time solo career as both a performer and a producer wouldn’t want to be known exclusively for ‘having been married to some guy?’ And who wouldn’t be thrilled that – several years after their divorce – that guy still gets equal mention in her press? And that the only link in that press is to the company that they co-founded, that she was forced out of, and that has produced no original work since she left? That alone is an artist’s dream.

There’s certainly nothing about my solo career at any point that merits its own mention. Dozens of original and innovative acts? Yawn. Six years of Sweet & Nasty Burlesque? Meh. Runner-up at the 2010 Miss Exotic World Pageant? Piffle. Pioneer of the geeklesque genre, host and producer of Naked Girls Reading NYC, seven Golden Pastie awards,  – yeah, but she was married to that guy! Remember that? That was awesome. And you should totally go see all his shows.

(Although. As the official history of that show would have it that I made no substantial contribution to the theme, creation or content of those productions other than having happened to be cast in them, and as my name and likeness have been Photoshopically removed from images, videos, and works of fiction thereunto associated, it occurs that the “reporter” who “wrote” this “article” actually had to do a modicum of research … and that this is pretty much the only place in print that actually acknowledges my equal contribution in the creation of this show. (And, hey – incompleteness, lazy research and geographic bias aside, it’s a fucking fantastic lineup of legitimately amazing performers.) So score one for you, Random Bloglist That No One Outside Of The Burlesque Profession Really Cares About At All.)

My parents split up in the late 1970’s. My schools wouldn’t let my mother sign permission slips or pick me up after class with a different last name from mine; she was advised that business associates would be ‘confused’ and her career would suffer if she went back to her maiden name. And so she’s been stuck with her ex-husband’s name for over three decades now.

The idea that in 2012 anyone should see fit to define an independent female artist with a legitimate solo career exclusively by a past relationship (professional or personal or both) is just … really dumb. Even in a top-20-list situation.

Unrepentant Snark: Dear Civilians

--> Some musings directed towards civilians looking to book, hire, interview, solicit or otherwise interfere with stripperfolk, especially as the season of the holiday party once again closes in upon us, and based upon a decade of various communications received:

• Yes, admission to my show was $15. No, you cannot hire me to do that same act at your private party for that same $15.

• A producer is not a Rolodex; if you want her to “send a couple girls” to your party, you will pay a booking fee.

• Don’t ever ask a producer to “send a couple girls” to your party.

• Would you show up entirely alone at a stranger’s house because they ‘sounded nice in the email?’ Neither would we. This is why you pay for a handler.

• Would you show up at a stranger’s house with the blithe assumption that you’ll most certainly get paid after your performance? Neither would we. This is why you pay a deposit.

• Here’s a scenario:

“Hi there, Worker Bee, this is the Boss. We’d like you to go to a sales conference in Shanghai. It’s only two hours long, and since we’re such a benevolent and altruistic corporation we’re going to pay you a hundred dollars for that two hours. How’s that, huh? … What’s that? No, you’ll have to buy the plane tickets … No, no we won’t be compensating you for the 72 hours of travel time either. But a hundred dollars, huh? Can’t beat that.”

Geography is tricky, I know, but here’s a good rule of thumb: if we can’t take the subway home* after the gig - be it a private party or an out-of-town venue - then you’ll need to cover the travel expenses.

• Drink tickets are not currency and “the chance to hang out after the show with some really cool people” does not pay the rent.

• I’ve never understood the assumption that if someone is a good burlesque performer, they’ll also be good at “walkaround.” (Let’s face it, I don’t understand the concept of “walkaround” entertainment that isn’t actually doing something, like close-up magic or tarot readings or making balloon animals.) If someone can satisfactorily explain to me what about my stage performance as a stripping sandwich implies that I’ll be stellar at talking to guests at your party while wearing a sexy devil tail then I’ll … go to your sales conference in Shanghai.

• It’s just great that you’re part of a small and wildly unsuccessful theatre company - and it’s really neat that along with your aggressive IndieGo-go campaign and asking your aunts and cousins for non-tax-deductible donations to produce your site-specific all-female free-verse adaptation of Death Of A Salesman, you’ve decided to put together a super-fun benefit with all kinds of wacky acts and some great raffle prizes from the yoga studio downstairs and five-dollar-a-glass-suggested-donation pink wine, and as a fellow artist you just know I’d jump at the networking opportunity of performing three numbers for free on a Saturday night in a warehouse in Bushwick, because I’ll have a great time hanging out and mingling afterwards and supporting the arts. Really. That’s just swell.

• Before you hit ‘send,’ glance over that email and see if it anywhere contains the phrase “no pay but opportunity for exposure.” Now replace that with “I will skull-fuck your grandmother’s corpse in the middle of the kids’ table during your next Thanksgiving dinner,” and decide if you still want to send it.

• Yes, I am an experienced and skilled professional in my chosen field. No, you cannot “pick my brain for a couple of hours” over a cup of coffee.

• Once upon a time the public school system taught things like elocution and correspondence. We had typing classes and practiced business interviews and learned how to tuck in our shirts. And then they invented the internet and everything went completely to hell.

Here’s a sample cold email, just to prove that it can still be done correctly:

“Hello Ms Performer;

I am putting together a holiday party for my office that will take place at a Midtown restaurant on the night of Friday, December 17^th. We’re interested in booking a classic burlesque act as part of the evening’s entertainment, and I’m writing to inquire about your rates and availability. Please feel free to call or email me at your convenience, and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have as well. I look forward to speaking with you.

Thanks,

A. Reasonable Request”

And here’s an actual FaceTube message I (and, apparently, more than a few other performers) received some little while ago:

“i need a show this Tuesday with 3-4 girls. can you swing it? 10pm show”

I would hope that my 8^th grade Business Practices teacher is not required to explain this one.

* I’ve heard that in some parts of the world private citizens actually own their own automobiles, though I don't entirely believe this. The premise is the nonetheless the same.