Boebert and her male escort (identified by the Daily Mail as restaurateur Quinn Gallagher) were seated near the front of the Buell, in Row E, right off the aisle. While neither Boebert nor her companion were named in the incident report, the surveillance video makes it clear exactly who was being ushered out of the theater mid-show, and who gave the middle finger to the usher simply trying to do his job.
Not that Lauren Boebert wanted to keep things quiet. In true Karen form, she was reportedly “argumentative” after being told by theater employees that there had been complaints. When they were asked to leave, Boebert and pal refused to do so. When they were informed that if they didn’t exit, they’d be trespassing and the Denver Police Department would be called, Boebert’s reply was, “Go get them.”
But they indeed decided to leave on their own, Boebert and her new beau (who happens to own a restaurant in Aspen, home to prime Boebert competitor Adam Frisch), perhaps realizing that getting publicly arrested was probably one more not-good look on a long list of Boebert’s not-good looks. Once in the lobby, Boebert can be seen making some sort of finger gesture at the usher seeing them out, and then stopping to complain. “Do you know who I am?” she reportedly said. “I will be contacting the mayor.”
(According to Mayor Mike Johnston’s office, Colorado's 3rd Congressional representative has not reached out.)
Boebert, either to her credit or just trying to get ahead of the story, posted an oblique reference to the event on her X (formerly Twitter) account. “It’s true,” the post says in a tone desperately trying to be in on the joke. “I did thoroughly enjoy the AMAZING Beetlejuice at the Buell Theater and I plead guilty to laughing and singing too loud! Everyone should go see it if you get the chance this week and please let me know how it ends!”
This post, of course, focuses on the “creating a disturbance” leg of the nasty little stool created by Boebert’s own performance at a professional performance not her own. Maybe it’s her natural inclination to force all spotlights to center on her in any venue, or it’s just her inability to be anything but a fourteen-year-old girl in any given situation. Vaping is stupid just by itself, but at a show at the Buell, it’s insulting. This wasn’t a high school pep rally, Representative, and you weren’t back under the bleachers. And recording a performance — well, that’s just illegal. But given Boebert’s defense of the criminally indefensible in Washington, D.C., her philosophy clearly seems to be that if you get away with it, it’s not illegal. And all you need to get away with something is to delay and deny long enough, right?It's true, I did thoroughly enjoy the AMAZING Beetlejuice at the Buell Theatre and I plead guilty to laughing and singing too loud! 🤭
— Lauren Boebert (@laurenboebert) September 12, 2023
Everyone should go see it if you get the chance this week and please let me know how it ends! 😅https://t.co/8JHypcCKsP
So maybe it’s refreshing that Boebert copped to the incident, even as she attempted to laugh it off — but this is also just one more reason for her to be unsummoned from Congress for conduct unbecoming, if not for her utter lack of anything approaching considered political efficacy. Her record in government so far has been Beetlejucian in the sense that it's been an equal mix of absurdity, comedy and horror. Look no further than her support of the completely unfounded impeachment of President Joe Biden — for no other reason than to allow Donald Trump to claim that it happens to everyone — for evidence of that.
But Boebert's slant-admission is dishonest at its core, and misrepresentation has always been her bailiwick. Her tenure in the U.S. House has been rife with examples, sadly, but most recently, video surfaced disproving her claim to have performed a "no-show vote" on the debt ceiling back in June. CNN video shows her rushing up the Capitol steps, looking surprised when she was told that the voting was closed. It was another moment that made Boebert look more like a middle-school truant than a U.S. Representative.
If Boebert is such a theater nerd — one of the more endearing parts of her cultivated and largely repellent persona —perhaps she could consider seeing other shows, rather than one about a callow malevolent force accidentally summoned in a moment of weakness. Her political career makes that story sort of redundant, doesn't it? And there are better choices, more inspirational productions, for Boebert. As long as she leaves her vape pen and phone in her purse.
1776, for example, follows the Founding Fathers in the days leading up to the composition of the Declaration of Independence. Since all Boebert seems to know of 1776 is to invoke it in honor of the coup that was supposed to happen on January 6 (and later disclaim it), this would be a constructive show for her.
Or she could go see Hamilton, now that the crowds have died down and the fad seems to have passed. Lin-Manuel Miranda's super-catchy soundtrack would probably have some appeal for Boebert, though the idea of being responsible for your own political legacy — as the final song asks, "Who tells your story?" — would by all evidence be lost on someone as short-sighted as her.
Then there's Arthur Miller's The Crucible, though the use of the Salem Witch Trials as metaphor for the abuse of power and the ease with which a society can fall under its thrall might risk Boebert talking up legislation about burning witches again.
Perhaps most applicable to Boebert's own political career would be Shakespeare's classic Richard III — something she's almost certainly never seen, let alone read or studied. But considering the Trump era through which we're all living, an era she supports vocally and with bellicosity and bloviating, the age-old story of an amoral sociopath rising to power, all the while sowing the seeds of his own downfall, is tragically relevant.
All theatrics aside — voters of CD3 should take this lesson from her Beetlejuice ejection: Say her name three times to unsummon her, and let's move on to a U.S. Representative that isn't a cartoonish dead-souled clown.
