My Uncle Gary hates mimes.
His face grows red and the veins in his neck start to pulse when he speaks about them. The ironic part is that when he describes how much he dislikes them, he mimics strangulation, and for a moment, becomes one of them. (Sans the white face and beret.)
When asked why they bother him so much, he can’t describe it. It’s irrational, he knows, but real, none the less.
“Those guys playin’ the banjos with the open suitcase, the one legged guys beggin’-they don’t bother me. But those mimes…I just want to-“ (Strangle them)
Red face and veins. Mime-like motions.
We all laugh.
As a somewhat outspoken individual, I’m inclined to think that my Uncle Gary dislikes the fact that mimes can hold their tongues. People are meant to speak and opinions are meant to be shared.
And I’m sure the fact that they “talk” with their hands offends some part of his “New York Italian” ego.
The fact is, we don’t really know why, but my Uncle Gary hates mimes.