Even the Midget Likes It

Why are you never pleased by anything? This performance of Siegfried is by far the best I’ve ever seen. This is one of Wagner’s masterpieces, regarded by many to be the pivotal opera in his “Ring” Cycle. And yet even that isn’t good enough for you. It’s intermission and you haven’t applauded once, much less smiled.

Even the midget in the front row likes it. Why don’t you?

How do I know the midget is enjoying it? Look at him! His pixyish hands are clapping rapidly and he’s practically jumping for joy using his adorable bantam legs.

And look at the smile on his teeny-weeny face! Besides, how could any person have not enjoyed that first half? Besides you, you philistine midget-hater.

What do you mean, “How is a midget the barometer for artistic pleasure?”

I’ll tell you.

Midgets face an uphill battle every day to be accepted by a society that is normal-sized. While they don’t suffer as much as dwarves, surely they hear the same whispers as they pass by: “Look at his pygmy gait!” “Don’t let that crumbsnatcher get near my food!” “Is the circus in town again?”

Because of the prejudice and hatred that they endure, midgets derive pleasure from where pleasure can be found, and they cherish every moment that crosses their dainty path.

But you! You take everything for granted, believing that you’re too good for such a grand expression of artistic mastery because you’re of normal size and nobody’s ever asked you to work as one of Santa’s elves during Christmastime. For shame!

The midgets of the world are undoubtedly disgusted by you. As am I.

If you want to leave, then leave. But my new Lilliputian friend and I are going to stay and watch the second half.

Hop up on my lap, Tom Thumb! You shall be my miniature squire!

This is going to be grand. Just grand.