Once in a while you see the kind of people that make you think, “They’ve seen too many Disney films.” Bubbly little princes or princesses with a worrisome imagination and a bias towards all things pink or cuddly. Not bad people per se, but… Disney types.
So imagine then, the people who play Cinderella her fucking self. Imagine whole rooms filled with such people. Whose job it is to be a mermaid or blue Gizmo. What kind of people would they be?
I got to find out first hand, backstage at Disney on Ice: Mickey and Minnie’s Fantastical Journey or some shit. It’s the oldest DOI show currently touring, which is noticeable by the props that are older than I am.
Artists, man. They’re the key ingredient to our trade but none of us would really mind going without. In World Wrestling Entertainment productions they’re called “Talents”, which is an insult to the word inmyhumbleopinion.
Today’s band in the Kinky star club was late. Two hours late, which is longer than the time it takes from the place they live at. The sound tech was a very okay dude so he didn’t complain much about having to wait, although he had a right to. He didn’t complain either when the guitarist, after setting up his gear, started testing strings and pedals like it was his first time, while the techie was rigging shit dead in front of the amplifier. Now that’s just rude, and I politely told him.