So I went to a Toledo Symphony concert a few nights ago, and it was pretty good, considering that it was the first concert of theirs I’ve been to, and it was held in a cathedral, and the old people outnumbered my friends and me seven billion to three.

Come to think of it, the most enjoyable part was when I fell asleep halfway through. I would not recommend this, however, because there is a chance that when you wake up you will be spooning with someone roughly twice as old as your grandma. I blame it on the classical music.

But really, why did the concert audience consist almost entirely of grumpy geriatrics? Is there some unstated rule that only people who share dentures can enjoy classical music? I propose that there is a direct link between a preference for classical music and the tendency to drive 15 miles per hour under the speed limit in a 20 foot-long boat masquerading as a “car.” Not only that, but somehow, this is the source of what I call “old people smell,” which scientists still have not been able to identify, even after 20 years of intense research in cheese-related fields. A dangerously high concentration of old people, such as was present in that church, was nearly enough to make a lightweight like myself pass out.

Don’t get me wrong; I love old people, especially any of my grandparents who may be reading this column. It’s just that I felt slightly out of place, most likely due to my lack of an ear-shattering, phlegm-expelling cough and the presence of hair on my head. Then again, maybe it was just the fact that we were sitting inside a cathedral, which, by the way, has the worst acoustics in the world next to a room made entirely out of foam carryout boxes.

I just don’t understand it — how could anyone think that having a concert in a place that echoes more times than Ted Kennedy’s belly jiggles in an entire week is a good idea? That would be like holding a Ben Folds concert in the middle of the Grand Canyon. Wait, no — it would be like trying to hold a Ben Folds concert just about anywhere, like, oh, I don’t know, Bowling Green State University?

With that in mind, I propose something that has never been done before, except maybe in books or movies or maybe a few times in real life: An underwater concert. You see, people are always asking me if I can sing (it must be the uncanny resemblance to Clay Aiken), and my response usually is something like, “Technically, yes, I can emit sounds from my vocal chords.” The fact that these sounds shatter windows and damage eardrums within a 30-mile radius is not important; if it doesn’t stop Ashlee Simpson, it won’t stop me. While we’re on the subject, that is a superb saying to live by; another is, “It is not possible to ski through a revolving door.”

But since Bowling Green is not known for its hills but rather for its abundance of large bodies of water teeming with bountiful aquatic life, let us return to the subject at hand: Underwater concerts. I see these as the next step in extreme sports, or music, or mankind or something; it doesn’t really matter what their purpose is, just that they exist and that suckers buy tickets. Incidentally, this is also the logic behind Cher’s Las Vegas show. How else can you explain why they let her, an obvious Canadian spy, into the country? You may wonder if she is obviously Canadian or obviously a spy; to me, it is clear that she is “all of the above” and then some.

But anyway, my reasoning is that since I normally sound like a horrific cross between Bjork and a tragic garbage truck accident, and the shower usually makes me sound as good as mediocre singers like Ruben Studdard and Madonna, then being submerged entirely underwater would put me on par with one of the best music artists the world has ever known — Vanilla Ice. That’s right, I said it. Anyone who comes up with lines like “wax a chump like a candle” deserves our respect, a place in the Hip-Hop Hall of Fame and a place on a high-quality VH1 reality show (think Flava Flav).

If all goes well, my underwater concert tour will launch in early 2005 and take me to over 10 ocean hot-spots throughout Ohio. Be prepared for the ultimate experience in new-age rural Midwestern battle rap, and come ready for an underwater performance that’s so amazing, one critic said, “It’s better than Van Helsing.”

We’ll even invite the old folks — if Ruben Studdard doesn’t eat me first.

Jim is currently perfecting his wicked rhymes and practicing his lip-sync. Drop him some phat beats at [email protected].