So I have tried to learn some of the finer points of So You Think You Can Dance.
It appears to be very difficult for dancers paired with God Knows Who and having to perform God Knows What.
And then to be judged by Tia, Maria and God Knows Why.
There seems little favor given for the performances of the week before, though, if I am not entirely mistaken, I detected a touch of the splits along sexual lines on the subject of the delightfully named Kherington.
This girl appears to have many years ahead of her before she can enter a pub, yet she combines an inviting, unprotectedly attractive face with thighs that could support the Leaning Tower of Pisa for many years.
Hell’s Teeth appears to appreciate that. Tia and Maria appear to loathe it with the venom of a pregnant rattlesnake.
Once Kherington performed her emotional waltz with perhaps the first waltzer in history named Twitch, it was hard for me to concentrate on any other part of any dancer’s anatomy than his or her thighs.
Kherington has apparently played a lot of soccer. I suspect she was particularly good in dead ball situations.
In fact, it is clear that all of these people’s thighs could have single-leggedly brought down the Berlin Wall.
So much of their balance and lifting ability depends on the foundation that is their quadricept and hamstring that sometimes I fear that we will suddenly see cracks develop in a dancer’s legs, as if an earthquake has rumbled halfway through a rumba.
Each dancer seems to accept the manifest rumbling inequity of the competition with all the fortitude reflective of real life. Some dances bring out the best in them. Some dancer make them look, as Chris did krumping, like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.
Of course I have my favorites. None of them white boys.
Will and Joshua appear to have the most originality amongst the men.
Amongst the girls, well, did I mention Kherington’s thighs, I mean, her lines?
The biggest problem some of the girls appear to have to whether to let their energy levels exceed those of their more tentative and depth-challenged male partners.
Those that don’t, get penalized. Those that do, risk accusations of excessive individualism.
How convenient that the judges eliminated one whole pair.
This leaves each existing pair having already got used to their partner’s chips-inflamed breath and armpits sweatier than a rookie giving the Pope a haircut with garden shears.
I am truly beginning to be mesmerized by So You Thigh You Can Dance.
The Pond thanks rightee for finding a physical expression of a physical miracle.