Written by Andy Lam
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Wednesday, 4 May 2005

A few weeks ago, I was discussing the art of dancing with some of my colleagues. As happens so often, our collegial discussion soon descended to braggadocio, taunts, challenges and name calling. Soon, each of us was bustin’ out our sickest moves to demonstrate the superiority of our killer steps.

Alas, what argument has ever been settled with an obvious and lucid demonstration of superiority? Not this one, that’s for sure. To determine which of us was the best dancer, we decided that a “DANCE OFF” was in order. (We’d considered a Wood’s Run but I am still recovering from the last one I did.) With moves to learn and no time to spare, I retired to my dance studio for some much needed practice.

Being ANDY LAM, I, of course, had my spies report back to me on my adversaries’ progress. The news, my friends, was not good. In their zeal to beat me, these “men” decided to pool their talents to create a single “master dance” that they would do as a troupe. It was an ingenious plan and one that with out warning would have bested me.

They would have no such joy.

Realizing that all of my moves were no match for their combined strength, I left the studio and went straight to the LAM LAB. Armed with a pair of voluminous Levi’s Silver Tab jeans, rods, gears, motors, belts, battery packs, elastics, paper clips and more, I set out to create ANDY LAM’S DANCING PANTS.

I labored on for days and nights, making sure I had each detail right. I rented videos and DVDs of MGM musicals (which contain, I believe, some of the finest dancing ever witnessed), music videos, instructional materials and more. I borrowed taped of dance recitals and weddings and any other footage I could lay my hands on. Together with my technician, I studied each one in detail.

We then painstakingly translated the moves we saw on the screen into instructions that could be put into action by the PANTS. It was no mean feat, but with plenty of blood, sweat and tears, we crammed the pants with more moves that you could shake a stick at. Only two days before the DANCE OFF, it was time to test the pants. Some things are best done alone, and this was one of them.

I had my manservant deliver the pants to my chamber. I had to call him back in to help me don these now massive slacks. Once I was again alone, I accessed the pants control panel and input a series of simple moves. My finger was shaking as I pressed the GO key. At first, nothing happened. Then, my friends, my world was rocked.

The pants were off like a shot. I was tossed around like a rag doll while the pants did their THANG! I’d put on some HEAVY TUNAGE before I started and the pants did their moves in time to the beat. There was no way I would be beaten by those chumps!!
Last night was the NIGHT. I arrived at the arena shortly before 7:00. Even though the contest wasn’t set to start until 9:00, the house was packed! We’d sold out the 15,000 seats in less than two hours, with all of the proceeds going to the winner’s favorite charity. (I am supporting Mostly Monkeys, a place for primates in need.)

At 9:01, the lights went down and a hush fell over the crowd. All of us walked out onto the stage. I saw immediately that the others were wearing matching flared black slacks and ruffled white shirts. My minions had done well to warn me of their machinations.

We all took our seats on the stage and waited while the NATIONAL ANTHEM was sung and signed. Once over, my rivals stunned the crowd by arising en masse and taking center stage. I was totally unphased. They were nonplussed and exchanged confused looks. Their plan to throw me off my game wasn’t working.

The music started. They all locked arms and started circling. Next, they walked inward and raised their hands above their heads. Their dance went on and on. I have to say that they did a good job and that the ovation they received was impressive. But they didn’t have the DANCING PANTS.

Sweating and smiling, they took their seats and looked at me dismissively. They were feeling pretty chuff, but they were about to be SKOOLED!!

Before I mounted the stage, I had entered the most sickest dance routine ever into the pant’s control panel. Standing their alone on stage, I pressed START and waited for the music to begin. I rocked a lot of worlds once the pants got going.

I darted and shimmied and shaked and bobbed and hustled and tangoed and hipped and hopped and cha cha chaed and polkaed and waltzed and mazurkaed and salsaed and pogoed and minueted and polanaised and morrised and balleted and bellied and lindsied and squared and bumped and Kathakalied and grinded and wormed and trotted and quickstepped and clogged and contraed and mamboed and Mohiniattamed and rumbaed and Bharatanatyamed and sambaed and bossa novaed and jived and jazzed and fanned and poled and kabukied and rained and galloped and gavotted and galliarded and jigged and swinged and spagnolettaed and breaked and Kuchipudied and jetted and on and on and on.

When my pants came to rest, the applause was thunderous. People were gasping for air. They cheered and shouted, “More, more.” But there was no more to be had. I – and my pants – were tapped. I collapsed into my chair and savored the beaten expressions of my foes. They realized that they had been bested by a country mile and wisely hung their heads in shame.

My DANCING PANTS had carried the day and now I am prepared to make a SPECIAL OFFER TO YOU!!!! I think that the following poem says it all:

Would you like to be able to vault and PRANCE?
And swivel and shimmy; in short to dance?
Then you need something filled with ants
Andy Lam’s fantastic Dancing Pants

You put them on one leg at a TIME
But one they are on you’ll be moving real fine
Moving and grooving to every rhythm and rhyme
Dancing without them should be a crime

Moving and grooving you’ll be so HOT
All the rock stars wear them when videos are shot
You may think you can dance, but I think not
If you buy a pair you’ll thank me a lot

The price is high but they’re the best you see
So get some money and send it to me
One million dollars is what the price be
A small price to pay for feeling this free

Seriously, if you are interested in getting a pair of DANCING PANTS, please let me know and we can discuss it. I am planning a more limited version (without every dance style in the world) for sale to a less SOPHISTICATED market. For now though, the pants are expensive, but they are the very best pants ever made in the history of the world.

With a wicked sense of rhythm and the moves to match, I am . . .

ANDY LAM!

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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