The Gentlemen's Betterment Society

Spoken poetry and cheap wine. What could possibly go wrong?

Even this bottle has to lay down and take a nap at the idea of enduring a night of poetry and wine. 

You know what?  A lot could go wrong.  A lot.  Back in NYC, I went to the Nuyorican Poets Cafe poetry slam more than a handful of times, fancying myself some kind of New York Intellectual who
could appreciate spoken word poetry.  I also just wanted to impress my friends.  I don't even really remember which friends I went with at this point, if I'm being honest (kids, see?  Peer pressure, bad).  It didn't really resonate with me at first. I thought I was missing something.  That there was some sort of artistry attributed to it that just escaped my comprehension because of inexperience with the subject matter, like learning to appreciate the flavor of pencil shavings in fine wine or "getting" caviar.  I suppose I saw how easy it was though, I thought, "YES!  I TOO SHALL WOW AUDIENCES WITH MY ANGSTY WORDS."  So I saw a lot of shitty poetry, is what I'm saying.  That said, I also saw a lot of things that moved me and sent me home with inspiration, or frustration, or anger, or whatever, but the point is I had THOUGHTS after seeing it, and as a sort of metaphysical catalyst, I appreciate spoken word poetry.  I was just at Richard Hugo House for a book signing last week (Hugh Howey, you're my hero!) and I had a great time there.  It's cheap and you get a good brain meal.  So, April 19th, gentlemen, if ya wanna.

Because there's a chance we could see this: