Thank you for joining us as we present another night of cultural entertainment for our patrons. If the mere mention of anything cultural causes you to stiffen in apprehension, please note the various libation stations conveniently located along the perimeter of the campfire. You really shouldn’t be here if you don’t have a fondness for the arts, but since you’ve somehow managed to breach security and make it this far, you might as well enjoy yourself.
Due to the latest guidelines from the Trump-throttled Centers for Disease Control concerning proper behavior during this Age of Coronius, we’ve had to considerably reduce tonight’s official festivities. There will only be one brief performance, presented by the wildly-charming and mildly-sexy Hexom Breen, who will appear in the nude, as Hexom has been advised by his spiritual advisor, Salome di Salami, that clothing restricts the natural release of inner toxins. It is not our place to question personal belief structures.
However it is our place to question personal irresponsibility, and therefore I should advise that no photos should be taken of Hexom Breen in his natural state, no matter how eye-opening you may find his peen, and trust me, you will. The vote on the artist-selection committee was unanimous. What happens at Bonnywood stays at Bonnywood. Until someone reblogs the whole mess, and that’s an entirely different matter.
I should also point out another throttled guideline issued by the CDC, wherein it has been determined that speaking excessively in public contributes to the spread of the virus. As anyone with even a minimal sense of propriety already knows, excessive speaking in public has always contributed to the downfall of society, so let’s hope they keep that guideline in place, post-Corona, shall we? In any case, the oral aspect of Hexom’s presentation will be limited to exactly 184 words. Don’t be disappointed with the abbreviated foreplay of his tongue. Just enjoy the view and try to absorb the other elements of his performance art.
Hexom, are we ready?”
Hexom walks onto the rustic stage. Suffice it to say that part of him gets to the hemp-accented podium before the rest of him does. Several attendees in the front rows of the audience are suddenly very glad that they used their Bonnywood Frequent Clicker Miles to get better seats.
“Good evening. An honest artist will always try to recreate the truth and, in my case, the truth is that last night, after somehow escaping the coming madness for many, many months, I was finally forced to use the new Block Editor on WordPress.”
[The crowd gasps. Such horror!]
“Exactly. As such, I felt it my duty to capture the experience in a visual poem, ten carefully selected photos that express the outrage that has been unleashed on the long-time members of the WordPress community. Perhaps, in the future, this time capsule will inspire more benevolent blogging platforms to adopt this maxim: If it ain’t broke, don’t dick with it.” [Titters from the crowd because, drinking.] “Most of us just want to write our stories, because that’s what blogging is all about. We are not interested in making our blogs visually pleasing for the advertisers that many of us pay a premium to not have. If you can’t do the right thing for your members, I’ll go do the right thing somewhere else.”
[The crowd cheers. Mostly in honest support, but still, some degree of drinking, natch.]
Hexom smiled. “And with that, I present to you my visual poem reflecting my first experience with the wretched Block Editor. Enjoy.”
Hexom steps back.
The lights dim.
And the images begin to appear on the now-lowered screen made of recycled face masks…