And so, on Saturday night, I found myself atypically watching Pilobolus, the dance troupe that consists of clutching, contorting bodies, at the Joyce Theater, where their artsy-cluster-fuck performance had me bopping my head as if I belonged there.

And then various people made unspeakably whorish compromises and something was signed, practically at the last minute, as the world held its bad breath.

Think of it as an intellectual challenge, the reward being your own surprising cogency under immense pressure.

The words are:

hubris

schadenfreude

It takes him an hour and a half to watch 60 Minutes.

He thinks an innuendo is an Italian suppository.

He tripped over a cordless phone.

He has to go into a dressing room to change his mind.

He stole a free sample.

Photo by Christian Svoboda

What you witnessed from a better perch were snippets of the ballet company's upcoming season -- some old, some new, all swell -- though the biggest crowd-pleasing act, as usual, was when dancers twirled over and over till they looked dizzier than a socalite's hairdresser.

For this crowd, you spin, you win.

"My bad"

"It's all good"

"Narrative"

"Journey"

"Epic fail"

"Love your hair, hope you win"

And ...

"Winning!"

But still, if I ever hear this one more time, I will rip my nipples off!

I'm talking about ...

But now the whole world is ending!!!!

If you believe Reverend Harold Camping -- and why would he lie? -- this Saturday at 6 p.m., bad shit is going to go down and 2 percent of the populace will be "raptured" to heaven while the rest is ruptured to a way lower berth.

This will change everything.

From now on, athletes are going to be mighty wary of letting their prejudices show as they dribble on the court and get into squabbles.

Suddenly they've been dealt the message that any moronically hateful slip of the tongue and it'll cost you big-time, honey.

As a result, their screaming matches will be way more delicate in nature.

We'll surely be hearing such non-heated epithets as:

Teens here have experimented with liquor-soaked "vodka tampons" for decades!

But now this inadvisable phenomenon is finally hitting Germany, maybe as retribution for past transgressions.

Kids are apparently dousing their Kotexes with Absolut and shoving it way up themselves so they can get high without having tell-tale liquor on their breath.

Intoxicating, right?

I guess wearing skin-tight Lycra, rolling around with opponents, and, most of all, winning can be deeply arousing.

Photo link after the break.