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Recently, in my life of lifes, I have been hiding out in a small cabin in the woods with two companions (non-sexual). However, getting bored with that, I headed into town and signed up to join the Utica Men's Choir. In my debut, I hit all the notes and was asked to be a soloist in their upcoming theatrical productions.

Being a soloist is hard work. The first thing you need to do is develop a stage presence. You need to take full control of the stage and in turn, the audience. You must have gravitas and charisma. Some jackass in overalls with a violin isn't going to impress anyone. He has to make his stage presence work for him. When you stand there all sullen like, muttering about how you want to play a tune on your fiddle, people just want you to go fuck yourself. Given time, they will succeed in making you when they boot you out the back door. That is not a proper soloist. That is trash, and such people belong in fenced in yards with plenty of supervision.

So, what is a soloist? Well, to be honest, I had to watch a program on ABC Family channel in order to grasp the concept. A soloist gets up on the stage, creates a persona, and then projects that persona on the audience. They become like Taylor Swift who took command of the stage and projected a stage presence, at least until she lost her mind recently and just began confusing people. That same sort of thing ruined Madonna in the 1990s, but then she found it again, although it has now become a weird and perverse old lady kind of fantasy dance. Not everyone's taste.

Soloists emerge from the pack to take command of the stage. Say you are part of a theatrical ensemble, as I am due to my talent for acting, singing, and dancing. The entire group performs this piece of music or play, but at certain times, soloists emerge. The spotlight falls upon them and they seize the moment. They don't stand there looking like some asshole who took his girlfriend apple picking again because he can't think of any other fucking ideas for a date. He's been taking her apple picking so many times that you would get sick just imagining it if you could. No one needs that many apples. Take her too the woods and show her where the bears shit. Do something different.

When you have the spotlight, you now must show your talent. For me, my lovely voice pours out of me like chocolate from a donkey's ass. It forms something the audience can savor, like chocolate from a donkey's ass. Gummi bears are something also to enjoy alone or with others. You can make arrangements about which colors belong to who and so forth. In the end you basically just end up eating them, which makes it a board game you don't have to put away as long as you can eat that many gummi bears. Sometimes you just start eating them and say, "Enough is enough," and can't eat them for months because you this, ugg, tired of those. I need some Smartees.

Maintaining that presence on stage takes more than standing there in the spotlight with your hands in your pants or all the way up your vagina. It isn't right. You need to give it your all. One gets to be a soloist in a major production on Broadway or in Vermont, and if you need to get an abortion at some point during your career, I don't think that will be an issue. In the entertainment business these things stay very hush hush unless you let bubbling halfwits like my former idol Donald Trump get involved in any way. I studied his track record as a business soloist. Sad. No longer someone to idolize. I will go back to Bernie Madoff and putting pictures of him up in my home. He is a better business soloist.

In conclusion, because you can now order a colon cancer screening kit through the television, being a soloist is hard work. You need to hone your craft. This is the top of the game. You spent years in community theatre, giving blowjobs to acting coaches and garbage collectors and you finally got to the top. Now, don't screw it up. Work at your talent, your craft, and you can win an award for trying some day.

Wonderful to be a soloist.

So"lo*ist, n. Mus.

One who sings or plays a solo.

 

© Webster 1913.

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