Let me be unequivocally clear: when these so-called 'artists' at Southern Utah University claim to be 'engaging in world-building,' they are not speaking metaphorically. They are doing it. Literally. With their bodies. And it is high time we recognize the existential threat they pose to our own, perfectly good, existing world.
For too long, we’ve allowed the performing arts to operate under the assumption of harmlessness. “Oh, it’s just expression,” they coo. “It’s about storytelling!” they declare. But what happens when that “storytelling” involves the literal creation of new planetary bodies, complete with their own gravity, flora, and undoubtedly, burgeoning alien civilizations with questionable intentions? This is not mere speculation, folks; it is the logical conclusion of unchecked choreographic ambition.
Every twirl, every arabesque, every unsettling leap performed by these "dancers" is not merely an expression of human emotion; it is an energetic ripple, a nascent cosmic dust cloud coalescing into something… other. Do you think the universe just *happened*? No, sir. It was probably a particularly enthusiastic pas de deux gone awry, spinning off billions of galaxies from a single, poorly executed pirouette. And now, these universities are actively teaching our youth to replicate this cosmic cataclysm.
Skeptics will scoff. They'll say, "Quentin, it's just a metaphor! It's about creative expression!" Oh, how delightfully naive! Creative expression for whom? For the nascent cosmic entities they are summoning into existence? These 'skeptics' are either blissfully ignorant or, more likely, secretly complicit in the inter-dimensional land grab. They call it 'art.' I call it unregulated, inter-dimensional terraforming performed by individuals with no discernible geological or quantum physics credentials, operating completely outside the bounds of any recognized international treaty or environmental impact assessment.
Have you noticed more strange weather lately? A subtle, pervasive sense of unease? Coincidence? I think not. These nascent dimensions, brought forth by the rhythmic gyrations of modern dance, are rubbing against our own, causing friction, static, and frankly, a lot of unnecessary dry-cleaning bills as reality itself frays at the edges. One minute you’re enjoying a quiet evening, the next, a bizarre flora from an alternate timeline is growing in your garden, pulsating faintly and demanding tribute. This is not progress; it is chaos in motion.
We need immediate, decisive governmental oversight. A federal "Department of Choreographic Containment" perhaps? Or an "Inter-Dimensional Dance Permit" system, ensuring that any new world created is fully vetted for ecological impact and, crucially, tax compliance. Every new world, even one conjured by a poorly choreographed interpretive piece, must contribute to our existing infrastructure, not just siphon off our precious reality.
We cannot afford to simply waltz into a future where every high school dance recital risks spawning a hostile alien biosphere, or worse, a parallel dimension where Tuesdays are Wednesdays and all coffee tastes like despair. Our children deserve a single, stable reality, not an endless buffet of dancer-generated dimensions, each with its own confusing set of physics and, I assume, exorbitant parking fees. The future of reality depends on us drawing a firm line in the sand, or perhaps, on the stage.
