Features
Tours de Farce: Welcome To The Big House
You’re in Concert Prison.
Maybe you were one of those people who won a radio contest but never picked up your prize tickets for Yes at the will-call window. Perhaps you hit someone with an ill-tossed Frisbee while waiting for Prince to take the stage. Or maybe you were the one passing gas during The Commodores encore. It doesn’t matter now. Society has judged you guilty and it’s time to pay the price.
Life ain’t no disco at Concert Prison. In the prison’s factory, the inmates are stamping out Bernard Allison tickets for state-run concert venues. Down in the exercise yard, the guards are sticking Eminem fans in Insane Clown Posse territory and taking bets on the outcome. Meanwhile, the infirmary doctors are conducting experiments with the latest in hydraulic pressure pumps in order to find out just how much beer a Jimmy Buffett fan can really hold. Yes, life is cheap at Concert Prison.
But unless fans start behaving themselves, there will always be a need for Concert Prison. In California alone, judges have sentenced over 5 million unfortunate souls to work on the infamous Ike Turner chain gangs and slave away picking up trash along the Green Day Memorial Highway. The audiences are fed up and the courts have spoken. Use a laser pointer at a Mary Chapin Carpenter show and you’ll go to jail. No pardons, no plea bargains, no time off for good behavior. When you come to Concert Prison you’re here for the long haul.
In fact, it’s almost as bad as Cell Phone Prison. But not nearly as crowded.