When in doubt, punch 'em out

I saw a band Wednesday night called Reggie and the Full Effect. I was only vaguely aware of this band before seeing them, but my girlfriend wanted to go, which pretty much meant that I wanted to go. So we went.

Reggie and the Full Effect isn't a lead singer and some additional musicians as the band name suggests, but a joke or gimmick over which Midwestern kids exchange knowing winks. It's like Ziggy Stardust with less dedication to the illusion. Imagine "This Is Spinal Tap" without going balls-out parody. The balls-out aspects of Bowie or the Tenacious D duo is what make their gigs work. With Reggie, who performed at the surprisingly quaint House of Blues venue, I was mostly unaware something was supposed to be funny or ironic.

Darius Rucker was not technically Hootie. Eric Clapton was not technically Derek and Joseph was never in a band called The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

And apparently, James Dewees is not technically Reggie.

Besides all the identity confusion, the show wasn't bad. It was loud. Generally speaking, loud equals good, or at least not bad. And because the show was neither despicable nor remarkable, it should come as no surprise that my intention isn't actually to discuss the show.

I'd much prefer to address the show's bouncer standing directly in front of the stage.

What is it about certain shows of certain bands that attract certain kids who act like dipsticks in order to replace the entertainment the band fell short of providing?

For the final third of Reggie's performance, punkie teens with skinny jeans and overly decorated hoodies found it entertaining to crowd surf their way toward the 12-foot-tall bouncer. It didn't take long for these goobers to figure out that the House of Blues wasn't going to eject crowd surfers from the concert. Instead, it instructed its security force to lift the sugar-high 90-pound skater kids off their hand-mattress and place them gently back on the ground from whence they came. That's it. No warning, no three-strikes-you're-out, not punch in the eye sockets. Nothing.

The main house bouncer manning the area directly in front of Reggie's caterwauling was bigger than Olympus. Unfortunately for him and anyone hungry to see some blood, the bouncers are forced to set each of the crowd surfers back onto the floor with the same ease you and I would set down a bag of recycling.

How agitating must that be?

GETTIN' THE FULL EFFECT: Although this is Reggie, this was not the Reggie
show I was at. I included this photo from a House of Blues in Myrtle Beach,
SC to approximate what those little punky bastards must have seen moments
before making the bouncer's night a little bit more awful.

With each new (and sometimes repeat) surfer, I watched assuming this would be the punkass to tip the bouncer's scale. I watched each incident hopeful that now would be when one of the little jerks would have the Twinkie-goo slapped out of him. I'm not sure what's more amazing, that the bouncer never snapped or that the teens kept trying their luck.

The kids became so enthralled with the spectacle of the lift 'n' set that they threw up devil-horns to their friends as soon as the bouncer's massive forearms closed in around them. I swear I saw one of them texting while they were being set back on the ground.

OMG!!!!
bowncers got me
C-ya ROTFL!
peece ;b

I imagine there's not an abundance of employment positions available for 850 pound dudes and therefore the house bouncer didn't want to lose his job. This is the only reasonable explanation as to why he didn't punch holes in the brains of half of these kids. It seems however, like the bouncer could have creatively dissuaded the continuing behavior. I mean, perhaps wearing a t-shirt warning that "Bitches get stitches" would have dissuaded a few. Or even better, what if the bouncer just wore a bikini brief and a tanktop? It was hot in the House of Blues and the big fella was sweaty. Who's gonna want to get a bear hug from that? What if the bouncer greased his torso with Crisco, Vaseline, or chicken fat? It wouldn't do a whole lot for total prevention, but you certainly wouldn't have repeat offenders or previous surfers recommending their actions to friends.

Get creative.

Or get permission from management to start beating some rock 'n' roll manners into the next crowd-surfing wave of text-happy grope-jockies.