To Mr. and Mrs. Spiffy, in the front row at a modern dance show: Your neat-o, logo-infested clothes don't make you classy or honorable, you slimy perverts! Mrs. Spiffy, when you started browsing on your iPhone during the show, I was mildly annoyed, having to look past the light from your little gee-gaw to see my friends' dance. Then you held it up to show Mr. Spiffy what you'd found, and treated me to disgusting, pornographic singles ads, complete with naked butts, and tits hanging out of blouses! How dare you watch these fine people perform with your heads full of that nasty, forlorn shit! And did you even notice the two five-year-old girls seated a few feet from you? Let me save you 70 bucks, you perverted, icky losers: Art is wasted on you. Next time do the innocent children in the community a favor, stay home, and look at this depressing crap by yourselves. You think you are being sly and secretive? Every nasty thing you were thinking was written all over your faces! What a dreary sight, Mr. Spiffy in his logo shirt, Mrs. Spiffy slamming glasses of wine and browsing porn while dedicated artists tried to inspire you. On second thought, I hope you do come to another show, so I can kick your pervy asses!—Anonymous
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