Transmissions From Within A Cloud Of Absinthe

Many are the ones who would deride karaoke as a bane to humanity, a stage where any fool, no matter how sloshed, no matter how painfully tone deaf, can crawl up on stage, grab a mic, and butcher our favorite songs. Well, this may all be true, but for us brave souls who, despite the inebriation, are willing to ascend that pedestal of Friday-night glory, it means so much more. For in that moment of drunken revelry, the crowd no longer cares that we can't sing, they don't care if the song we're singing isn't even the one playing, for in that moment WE ARE ROCKSTARS! The world is ours, and the crowd screams and cheers for us. It doesn't matter how ugly we are, it doesn't matter how fat we are, and it sure as hell doesn't matter how drunk and stupid we are, the crowd loves us, they scream for more and give standing ovations to every song. Why? because in that moment they aren't watching Jim the cook, or Gordon the cab driver, they're watching David Bowie, Metallica, and all of their other favorites putting on a show just for them and their drunken buddies.
I may have to go back to work the next day, I may not have a maserati or a big house overlooking the ocean, but for one moment, I got to live the dream, I had a taste of ambrosia, and next week, I'll be back for more.