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When Del Close, godfather of Improv, would go onto the stage for an Improv show, he’d do what he called the “fuck-it adjustment.” He’d stand just off stage, shake his head and torso like doing the hokey-pokey and say “fuck it” very quietly, then immediately step out there and do his amazing thing.
Slow it down and you get this process:
- acknowledge the fear of going on stage totally without any prepared material
- acknowledge the fact that the choice is to follow through or go home
- consciously decide to get out there and entertain these people
- enter the stage
Let’s reword that.
- acknowledge the fear of action
- acknowledge the fact that the choice is to follow through or go home
- consciously decide to follow through
- actually do what we said we’d do
Cool, right? Whenever we make a commitment to do a thing and it turns out to be a bit more than we anticipated, we have the choice. The fear is there anyway. It won’t leave. So we use it a fuel for doing the scary thing or we use it as an excuse no to.
You don’t have to swear to use the “fuck-it adjustment.” Make up something else to say if you want. The important thing is not the wording of the spell but the choice to cast it, if that makes sense. Commitment made, we step out on the stage and go for it, using the fear to fuel our excellence.
Take that, fear!
But Justin, didn’t you say something about topless?
Yes. Yes I did. The adjustment in action…
Last night some pals of mine and I decide we’re going to a local gay bar, the Majestic, because we know the DJ is going to be really fun. As we walk in they announce a dance contest – their version of “So You Think You Can Dance.” $100 prize.
I think, well, I obviously must enter this.
I was to get up third. First up is a UFC championship fighter, no lie, who was ten years my junior. He’s built, fit, ripped. He looks great. They tell him to take off the shirt as he humps the stage and stands around looking cover-model buff dances. The shirt comes off. He, well, he’s a UFC fighter, what do you think he looked like?
I think, well, this isn’t fair at all. He didn’t dance, but it’s a rowdy gay bar on a Friday night. I know what these people are after. I’m going to totally make a fool out of myself, they’re all going to laugh at me, I’m going to look stupid, what the hell was I thinking…
Next up was a hot chick, big boobs, flat tummy. Topless dancing without actually taking off her top, though she did pull up her shirt and expose her belly a couple of times. It’s a gay bar with mostly gay men and straight women. I’m not too worried about her.
I’m next. I’m not obese. I am rather fluffy, however. Definitely not fit/buff/hot-blond. If I wasn’t going to embarrass myself I had to WORK it.
They called my name.
I thought, “fuck it.”
I worked it, baby.
W O R K E D it.
The song I picked: Madonna’s “Like a Prayer.”
It starts, I get to dancing, the crowd gets to cheering.
The sexy chicks in the front row grab me and take off my jacket.
And then my shirt.
I was HOT, baby.
I made five dollars in tips. That’s right. Tips for dancing and taking some clothes off. I’m available for your next party.
Then a couple of pals o’mine danced a nice duet.
Finally a gymnast/dancer dude did some Britney Spears action. Good, but he kept stopping to get his breath.
Much screaming and yelling for me when time came to “vote,” about as much as the UFC dude, ’cause, well, I got game. I’m just saying.
UFC guy won the $100 prize.
He was a nice guy. I hope he does well in the UFC competition in Canada.
Now, I could have followed my fear to the door and left before it was time to dance, but that’s not my style. Instead I trusted one of the most important life principles I’ve ever learned, and it comes directly from the stage…
The moment you think they’re going to laugh at you is the moment you’ve begun doing it correctly.
The butterflies aren’t there to warn you of danger, they’re there to tell you you’re on the right path. I got up. I danced. They loved it. My pals all congratulated me. At the bar after several people told me they were yelling for me to win. It felt good.
Or I could have wussed out. I’m so glad I went though with it. It was fun!
Meantime, I’m working out. I have found a new reason to get fit. I will win a dance contest at a gay bar, people. I can do it.
Yes, I can.
Irony itself appeared to me and insisted I post this. I must oblige.
In January of this year, Cindy Jacobs was in a worship service when the Lord spoke to her, “Cindy, the strongman over America doesn’t live in Washington, DC – the strongman lives in New York City! Call My people to pray for the economy.”
So begins the story by Ivorie Anthony over at CBN of the move, finally, on the part of the god people to do something about the economy. The godly woman has called for implementation of a brilliant plan. It’s called PUSH. “Pray Until Something Happens.”
Not “gather accurate information, create a solid plan and then act on it competently.” That’s too hard and it might actually make a difference. No, we must pray until something happens.
I’ll point out that these people tend to be supporting McCain/Palin.
So here’s what they decided to do:
Cindy the Christian goes on to say that “Don’t think you’re going to be in sin and that God will take care of you in these hard economic times. Holiness is key.” So they decided “to intercede at the site of the statue of the bull on Wall Street to ask God to begin a shift from the bull and bear markets to what we feel will be the ‘Lion’s Market,’ or God’s control over the economic systems.”
“Intercede” meaning to pray as opposed to actually doing something constructive. In this case, to pray on a golden bull.
One of these bright people is running for Vice President, btw. Just FYI.
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