Well, no. They haven’t. There’s plenty more abuse in their future, never fear. But as we slog our way through that early summer wasteland of concertlessness (turns out the cruelest month is June), allow me to inject a little levity into your life. I’ve been meaning to tell this joke forever, but the viola joke has always taken priority. Not today!
Chopin and Dvorak decided that what their music really needed was some inspiration from nature, so they packed their gear and went on a camping trip. When they still hadn’t returned two weeks later it was determined that a search party should be sent to make sure they were okay. Well, when the seekers located the composers’ camp, they found an absolute mess. Ink and paper were positively everywhere, and in the midst of it all, a pervasive, sticky expanse of honey.
As the search party stared at this in some confusion, they suddenly heard the crackling of forest footsteps behind them, followed by a great roar. Two enormous bears came lumbering out of the gloom, the fangs gleaming with slavering malice. The lead searcher, thinking quickly, lifted his gun and shot the bears in the head, one-two, in an impressive show of marksmanship.
Already knowing in their hearts how Chopin and Dvorak had met their ends, the search party glumly examined the bears, discovering them to be a male and female. They sliced open the she-bear and, sure enough, the Polish composer’s partially-digested body came sliding out. It was then they concluded that the Czech was in the male.
Please note: I do not condone the shooting of bears. If confronted with a bear, I recommend you hold very still and accept your fate as necessary. If it seems your death is inevitable, you may as well get a hug in there. I know I’ve always wanted to.
Q What do you call a couple of manic-depressive bears up in the Arctic Circle?
A Bipolar of course!