Rochester, NY- Every year the jazz festival comes upon Rochester like a hurricane on Florida…during hurricane season or whatever. The jazz festival walks into our lives like a bitchy ex-girlfriend who says “Were over”, but then gets drunk and keeps texting you every night and fucking with your emotions like some giant teddy bear who just says “Yeah, sure come over, my heart ISN’T RIPPED INTO NOTHING!” Moving on, I think the jazz festival is a giant cover up, are people really there to enjoy the sweet sounds of jazz? Or are they there to commit a giant mass suicide to be joined with the lord of light!
1) They want to hear jazz music– Okay, this is a giant sign that this is a mass suicide. I mean who in their right mind actually takes time out of their day to listen to jazz music? Jazz music was specifically created for suicide or something like that. Isnt jazz music just people complaining about their lives while blowing into some sort of pipe instrument?
2) Old people are everywhere– Nothing is more a dead giveaway to a giant mass suicide then old people gathering together. I mean every morning at McDonald’s I see old people everywhere and you know what I see the next day on the news? You guessed it, an old people mass suicide! Old people pretty much don’t have anything else to live for besides the sweet sounds of death.
3) The ghost of Louis Armstrong is there– I’m not really a spiritual guy, but I have to admit it’s pretty cool to see the ghost of Louis Armstrong doing something, I mean he’s totally wandering around screaming non-sense about the afterlife and how he needs to swallow the souls of the unworthy or whatever bullshit.
4) My ex-girlfriend loves jazz– If this reason isn’t more obvious that people who listen to jazz music are self-destructive than I don’t know what is. I mean we could have had a great relationship, we could have been something great! But no! That bitch had to ruin everything! I WISH SHE WOULD OF LISTENED AND JUST TRIED TO WORK ON OUR RELATIONSHIP!
5) The hot dog vendor ran out of food– Boom. That’s the final nail in the coffin if you ask me, I mean I’ve personally never thought about suicide, but when I’m a little bit tipsy off of some sangria a man in a top hat offered me and then I can’t even get a good hotdog anywhere. Yeah, I’ll take a knife to my throat along fifty other complete strangers.