The WORST miserable excuse to disgrace the name of ID.

The torture starts about a minute into the video. I can't embed it, so the best I can do is give you a link and hope you'll follow it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bVIMSHimZZA



**WARNING: THIS MAY BURN YOUR EYES AND IS NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN. IF YOU ARE BLINDED OR OTHERWISE SCARRED, I URGE YOU TO TAKE LEGAL ACTION AGAINST THIS MAN.**



Now, either you have managed to survive that hideous, awful clip or you are being rushed to the hospital. (Recover soon, and God Bless.)



Now, I am not going to go on a mindless rant. I'm going to go on an organized, well-thought out rant, convientently bulleted for your benefit.



Things that are wrong on so many levels...



1. This is the same guy that attacked an Olympian runner back in Athens. Yes, he tackled an Olympian that was probably going to finish first, but in the end placed third. He was also that deranged guy waving a flag around at a NASCAR race (The Prix, perhaps? Excuse my lack of knowledge on that one.) He was on the news for all that, and, I believe, being tried for child molestion also shows up in his bad past. Don't tell me that the people who run Britain's Got Talent didn't recognize him or do a background check, because you'd be lying.



3. "I practice virtually every day, for at least half an hour." Tell that to someone who practices 2 hours every day, buddy.



2. That ridiculous outfit. Since when do we wear mustard-yellow scarfs and green knee-highs? And that skirt--no, it's not a kilt. A kilt would have been somewhat acceptable--is much too short. Did anybody notice his shoes? They're Highland dancing shoes. Not ghillies or reel shoes. Highland dancing shoes. So technically, he's defaming not one, but two types of Celtic dance.



3. "A traditional Irish dance called the Soft Jig." The soft jig isn't a traditional irish dance. In fact, I'm not even sure people even use the term "soft jig" (I could be wrong, they might use it over in Europe. Just never heard it here in the States.). Traditional Irish dances are dances like the Blackbird and the St. Patrick's Day. Whatever he was doing with his feet, it sure wasn't irish dancing, and it sure wasn't traditional.



4. His "dancing". Forgive me, but did anyone see anything that looked remotely like, say, a skip? A point? A jump? Cause I didn't. He looked like he was squashing bugs out there, and improvising on the spot. If I went into great detail about how bad it was, I'd be here for a year. Oh, and he doesn't know when to finish and falters at the end.



5. "This guy represents every folk dancer in the country." You've GOT to be kidding me. I actually cringed. Somebody should go and give Piers a good old kick to the head for me. With their hardshoes on. I agree with Simon, only there are far, far more that "a few" problems.

And the mindless crowd ate it up, without any idea of how painful it was. Why can't anybody decent ever be on any of these shows? Like Ashley Smith? Jean Butler? ANYBODY BUT HIM.
I always thought it would be cool if, you know, they had ID on Dancing With the Stars, though the Superstars of Dance with Bernadette Flynn was a step in the right direction. But with guys like this, we're taking two steps back.

Recital Season

With the end of June--summer vacation!--fast approaching, I'm seeing recitals appear all over the board. My own recital is two days after the last day of school, and I'm looking forward to it. I'm ending this ID year with a bang--a feis and the recital all in the same week. I'll be practicing like crazy for these next few weeks, and I'm sure it's the same story for many dancers as they hang up the ghillies for flip flops.

Personally, I love the backstage feel of recitals and shows--feis-esque, but instead of competing against your peers, you're working with them. I see five-year-olds running around in curlers and leotards, moms chasing after them with hairspray before they have to go greet Granny and Pops outside in the auditorium. I see prelim dancers confidently adjusting their friend's wig and lending a forgetful dancer some sock glue. I see unity as the team dancers--myself among them--all sit together in their formations and nervously run through their steps, whispering reminders and tips as they prepare to grace the stage.

The recital is the one time a year when you can really see the school as a school, and it makes all those sweaty practices when you were sure that this time your legs really were going to fall off worth it. I'm sure I'm not the only one that's run around in a dazed, hysterical frenzy the day of and telling anyone that does or doesn't care that "My recital's tonight! Tonight! And I think I forget which way I'm supposed to skip for the lead around!" This short rant is most often accompanied by a sharp tug of the hair and a frustrated groan (It was worse the year I wore curlers to school. There was no hair for me to tug, so I substitued by digging my nails into my palms. I didn't realize I was bleeding until two hours later.)

After the recital I won't know what to do with myself. I know I should enjoy the two blissful months I have where I won't suffer from shin splits and blisters and cracked toes, but part of me will be looking ahead to see what dancing endevours will take place next year.

Excuse me. I have to go practice for my recital.