An Angry White Guy in Chicago

At the Intersection of Discrimination and Personal Choice

2009-12-05T06:06:00.061-06:00

There Has to Be a Line Drawn, Yes?

Over at aviation blog Unusual Attitude, we get the following:

This is sent to me with the absolute assurance that it's a genuine picture taken by a flight attendant at American Airlines. The F/A took it to show her manager what was happening on the aircraft (757???) and why she was unhappy about it. Seems the guy paid for only one seat and the gate staff let him board.

You can see the F/A's point of view - how the heck is s(he) supposed to deal with it. Sympathise with the guy or not, he's a major safety hazard in an evacuation, a gross inconvenience for the cabin crew, and I would suggest a totally unacceptable travelling companion for the guy next to him.

Honestly, as much as we angry white guys in America want to jump on the victimized bandwagon, we can't. Sure, there are plenty of white males on the receiving end of discrimination but NOT because they are white or male. So, for me to step into the discussion about discrimination it really has to be from a standpoint of things one can choose to be or not.

I can not choose to be white - it's how I was born. Therefore to prejudge someone based on the color of his skin is ridiculous. I cannot choose to be male - therefore prejudice based on gender is equally silly and needlessly destructive. I can't choose to be straight - my libido is just a part of the way I'm wired. So, it goes to say that to discriminate based on sexual preference is stupid.

I can choose to wear a certain type of clothing. I can choose to speak a certain way. I can choose to present myself as angry or victimized or oppressed. And I can choose to be fat.

And at the intersection between what I choose to be and the tolerance of those around me for those choices, it my personal choice that initiates the discrimination. If I decide that I want to shave my head and get a swastika tattoo on my neck, it is my right to do so. And it is my personal choice to do so that invariably causes security to be called when I go to my job at Navy Pier.

How you choose to be perceived is your choice. Claiming that those perceptions are unfair or discriminatory is only half the deal. Yes - it is unfair for someone to judge you by your race, gender, or sexual preference but how you choose to present yourself within those non-choice elements is entirely up to you. While it may be unfair for someone to discriminate against you because you, say, curse a lot or wear ballcaps every day, it is still something under your control and so it cannot be lumped in with those things you cannot control.

The big man above chose to allow himself to grow to that size. Choice number one. He also chose to fly on a plane with seats simply not built for someone his size. Choice number two. He also chose to purchase only one seat knowing full well that he would block the aisle if on the aisle and that he would likely share the row with other passengers. Choice number three.

Does it matter if the reason he allowed himself to gain so much weight was because he was teased as a child or abused or became depressed? Only to him. Because at the end of the day, no one really cares how hard you have it but you. That's a harsh reality but every single one of us has burdens we live with and in the dark silence of night, when each one of us lies in bed, slowly fading into sleep, the only troubles that matter are our own.

If I was forced to sit next that guy on a flight, I'd spend the entire time talking about the sixty pounds I worked off (I didn't lose the weight like accidentally misplacing a sock - I busted my ass to drop that weight) and how I can see my manhood when I look down in the shower. And he could then discriminate against me for being an insensitive assface. Because that is my choice.

Friday Roundup: Oaths, Santa Hates Immigrants, and New Old Ideas

2009-12-04T05:16:00.089-06:00

Whereby I Promise to Not Overthrow the Government

Over at the WBEZ blog, Sam Hudzik did a little piece on the interesting piece of paper any candidate for office must sign before being allowed to run. It's a strange conundrum, especially if you are a Communist or Socialist candidate, but, what the hell, it is optional...

You can also hear me read the oath out loud. I feel kind of dirty and compromised in a way. After Sam had me read it, he also made me take my top off - I cried like Coco but it wasn't as violating as that scene from Fame because Sam was only recording my voice.
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Because Santa Claus is American, You Beaners!!

In a year when more families than ever have asked for help, several programs providing Christmas gifts for needy children require at least one member of the household to be a U.S. citizen. Others ask for proof of income or rely on churches and schools to suggest recipients.

The Salvation Army and a charity affiliated with the Houston Fire Department are among those that consider immigration status, asking for birth certificates or Social Security cards for the children. [...]

I tend to really believe in the giving spirit that comes over Americans during Christmas. I find it to be a lovely (but temporary) sense of unity, love and giving among a citizenry primarily motivated by self interest and the acquisition of stuff. It occurs to me that there is no better descriptor of "needy children" than those of illegal immigrants so I find it more offensive and disgusting than everything Lou Dobbs ever said about immigration to deny these kids a goddamn thing based on their legal status.

What a steamy load of greasy shit.

UPDATE: Looks like they changed their minds.
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Healthcare IS Morally Superior Than Homeownership, Hershey Squirt!

This is the sum total of the debate (not the part where this is Rush's life and work - he's an entertainer for morally repugnant people - like a racist comic):

Healthcare is not a privilege. Healthcare is a right. Buying material things is a privilege based on one's ability to make money. One's ability to make money should not be the benchmark determining whether one is allowed to live.

SIDENOTE: I love Shatner. LOVE him!
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Sherlock Holmes, William Castle Style

With the average spending dollar shrinking, folks in the [movie] theater bidness are going way back to the late fifties for something novel to draw you into the cineplex:

Ten select theaters across America will be equipped with special motion seats during showings of Sherlock Holmes. The seats will simulate the action during the movie, though they’ll remain motionless during dialogue driven moments.

Castle resorted to all sorts of ridiculous "movie enhancements" to get asses in seats. Some of the best included

House on Haunted Hill (1959): Filmed in "Emergo". An inflatable glow in the dark skeleton attached to a wire floated over the audience during the final moments of some showings of the film to parallel the action on the screen when a skeleton arose from a vat of acid and pursued the villainous wife of Vincent Price.

The Tingler (1959): Filmed in "Percepto". In the film a docile creature that lives in the spinal cord is activated by fright, and can only be destroyed by screaming. In the film's finale one of the creatures removed from the spine of a mute woman killed by it when she was unable to scream is let loose in a movie theatre. Some seats in theatres showing the Tingler were equipped with larger versions of the hand-held joy buzzers attached to the underside of the seats. When the Tingler in the film attacked the audience the buzzers were activated as a voice encouraged the real audience to "Scream - scream for your lives."

I Saw What You Did (1965): The film was initially promoted using giant plastic telephones but after a rash of prank phone calls and complaints, the telephone company refused Castle permission to use them or mention telephones. So he turned the back rows of theatres into "Shock Sections". Seat belts were installed to keep patrons from being jolted from their chairs in fright.

I would LOVE to be in one of those theaters. It might ruin the film but it'll be the most exciting movie experience I can think of except for when Hollywood decides to do something completely unheard of like building movie screens outside and having people watch the movies from inside their own cars! LOL!
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The Master Thespian

Master Class - watch more funny videos

Rehearsing Hopper

2009-12-03T05:21:00.032-06:00

Like Refining Pieces of Colored Glass to Be Assembled Later

We are six weeks away. Six. Weeks.

On January 15, 2010 we open a show that has been in the gestation period for nearly three years.

Given the specific nature of the script I've quilted together from the 30-odd scripts written and re-written and buffed in that three years, the world of WNEP's very individual vision of Edward Hopper's work is being put together. The process has been unusual for me from the director's chair. Rehearsing through two major holidays is always a bit wonky, time-wise and with what amounts to fifteen separate scenes stitched together to make an overall vision, the cast has been essentially apart for most of the process.

Instead of creating a simmering ensemble feel with consistent full cast rehearsals, we met early on as a cast and are now smack dab in the midst of duos, trios and quartets meeting at ZOO Studios and in my apartment to fine tune each scene in preparation of landing together on Heath Hays' expansive set in the Storefront Theater in early January. And then, like a strange boot camp dance recital, we stage the whole from the individual pieces.

Part of the hurdle we have to overcome is that, until we are actually on the set, we cannot stage the show. While the writer's inspiration was the work of Hopper, my overall show concept is culled from the dioramas of Joseph Cornell and the voyeurism of Hitchcock's Rear Window - the audience will literally be looking into windows and doorways to see bits and pieces of the scenes as they play out.

As such, each actor not only has to memorize and contextualize the words written for them but also do a bit of internal writing themselves to get from the beginning of the play (6AM in our piece) to the end of the play (midnight on the same day) in creative and interesting ways. I'm pleased so far because I've got a real crackerjack group - they're far smarter than I am.

• Once I cast an actor in a show, I have made a conscious choice to trust the choices the actor makes. We work together to find the character.

• As a director, I have to know exactly what I want every moment to be and then also be open to completely throw my vision out if something remarkable happens during the development process.

• It's not important that I know why an actor makes a choice. It's only important that I can see that a why exists.

It's really coming along and I have nothing but respect for the work being done by these folks who get up in the morning, go to their day jobs, work all day long, and then spend their week nights and weekends creating art.

Dig.

Six weeks.

Excellent.

I Believe...

2009-12-02T05:14:00.018-06:00

...that if we put forth the effort to build from the shards of destruction with same energy we mustered to destroy we'd have a better world with cooler stuff to destroy. Kind of like a DADA collage approach to society...

...that I have to come to grips with the fact that no one likes my Sweet Potato Egg Nog Casserole as much as I do...

...that waging war during a time when the country is in economic freefall against people not threatening us overtly is as shortsighted and stupid as a neighborhood gang fight...pointless and ultimately self defeating.

...that survival (literally "living beyond") is contingent on one's ability to take in the hardship, the tragedy, or the obstacle that has knocked one down and getting up. It's the getting up part that makes it work because any idiot can get knocked down - being a victim is the easiest thing in the world.

...that all problems are the same - remove the personal, emotional response and they all simply need a solution. Take a breath, look at the problem from a detached place and figure that shit out. That's what a real producer does.

Seeking High School Popularity

2009-12-01T13:02:00.001-06:00

The Way to Become Popular Today is to Simply Be Noticed by Lotsa People

OK. We now know that the gatecrashing couple at the President's State Dinner were not only not invited to the dinner and yet somehow managed to elude the security protocols surrounding the most threatened president in recent memory but also crashed the Congressional Black Caucus Dinner:

"...there are more images posted on Michaele Salahi's facebook fan page , including photo opportunities at the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation's Awards Dinner four weeks prior to the state dinner. Photos show the couple among the likes of Senator Roland Burris and his wife, Patrick Kennedy, and Star Jones. President and Mrs. Obama were also in attendance.

According to Congressional Black Caucus Foundation representatives, Michaele and Tareq Salahi crashed the September 26th dinner, and were caught sitting at someone's tables."

In high school, the way to become popular was not necessarily to be good at anything in particular. That did help in some cases. The Quarterback. The Head Cheerleader. The Class President. But for the drooling masses routinely ignored by everyone else, the key to popularity was to become known. To be seen. I remember a guy who consistently got an erection in gym from climbing the ropes. He had a degree of popularity because everyone knew him - he stood out. Another kid I remember wore a big, purple hat - like Donald on the Cosby cartoons - and, of course, everyone knew him because of it.

The trouble with the Salahis is not the sad, cloying need for attention and the hopes to become famous (or infamous) by pulling a fast one on those wacky Secret Service cats but that, in an effort to become popular, to become known, these idiots crashed the party of one of the most important men on the planet and are now milking that fact for all they can. They didn't accidentally show up. They snuck in. They got caught. Shut up about it, already.

As for the Secret Service dudes in charge of security - WTF? Heads better roll on this one. Remember, this is in DC, where thousands of Birther, Teabagger, Gun-toting morons abide just outside the White House fence. I'm not really into the idea of our president, barely one year in office, getting popped because of some agent snoozing on the job.

THEATER REVIEW: The Mystery of Irma Vep

2009-12-01T05:12:00.045-06:00

The Mystery of Irma Vep
Written by Charles Ludlam
Directed by Sean Graney
Presented by Court Theatre

It's a farce. It's a farce in drag. The gimmick is that two actors play six characters in rapid costume changes. It costs $56.00 a ticket.

Why am I here, exactly?

Primarily, curiosity and the belief in some word of mouth that enthusiastically recommended Graney's production as being remarkably better than the $400.00 ticket to The Addams Family. The reviews have been good and I am a fan of Graney's as well as Chris Sullivan's (who blew me away with his defining performance in The Hairy Ape.)

To the point. Sullivan and his co-hort Erik Hellman are serviceably fast, funny and talented, exhibiting exactly what the script requires and doing a fine, if not spectacular, job under Graney's effective but perfunctory direction. Ludlam's messy, snarky and sarcastic farce is funny although the second act is both unnecessary and kind of dumb (everything in Egypt is an exercise that a ComedySportz team could improvise just as effectively and come up with the same gags) and L-O-N-G. The wrap-up of the ultimately pointless tale of the dead/undead Irma Vep and the cast of characters trying solve the mystery is like the ending of the movie version of Clue: in other words, too overly complicated to justify the fact that I didn't really care about the outcome. See, the point of a piece like The Mystery of Irma Vep is the high camp drag and the virtuoso costume changes.

I can say that on some levels, I enjoyed the production. The $56.00 paid for a nice, almost comfortable space (almost because navigating from the aisle to the the middle seats over the legs of several older couples is less than ideal), a first class set created by DePaul instructor Jack Magaw, phenomenal costume design by the superior talents of Alison Siple, and a gently entertaining evening of theater featuring two very talented actors. And it was a bit of fabulous theater magic to watch Sullivan and Hellman make complete transformations backstage inside of ten seconds.

What jars with me are the itchy questions that this particular production in this particular venue at this particular place and time that are scratching at my mind:

- There's no question that having a white man wearing blackface and playing black for laughs is in poor taste (although I would argue that if a point is being made regarding race, poor taste is more appropriate than not...). Is it similar to have two straight men performing a Gay Iconic play in drag for the laughter of a decidedly straight, older family crowd?

- The Ridiculous Theatre was the New York gay version of the Chicago Annoyance Theater. Is a dressed up, sanitized, Busch Gardens version of Ludlam's most popular play like doing "Co-ed Prison Sluts" or Billy Birmingham's "Cannibal Cheerleaders on Crack" at Drury Lane? If so, does the inherent charm and political heft of the source become lost? What does one gain from such a transfer?

- Seriously - without the political underscoring of the Gay Movement and Reagan's dismissal of the AIDS crisis as gay cancer to balance the quirk, how different is this thing than Greater Tuna set in a gothic tale?

There are those that will say that I'm taking a silly piece of theater, played for the laughs, too seriously.

Chris Jones wrote: "Despite all those portentous doctoral dissertations on the subversiveness of the Theatre of the Ridiculous, this is not dramatic profundity. Not any more. There is really one criteria upon which “Irma Vep” now need be judged. Is it funny? Oh, yes. You will laugh your face off."

On the other hand, the origins of the play and the period in history that it came from are, I think, too important to simply dismiss. All those portentous doctoral dissertations, Chris? Gosh, and one would think that after eight years of a dumbed down government, theater critics would've kept a touch of intellectual integrity...

Graney does a textbook direction of the piece but I look to his work to be more than that. But I'm not the Court's target audience and Graney didn't direct this for me. He directed this for a paycheck.

FILM REVIEW: Fantastic Mr. Fox, 2012, Precious

2009-11-30T05:04:00.096-06:00

A Mixed Bag for Thanksgiving Weekend

In addition to gathering around a dining or living room to eat from Chinettes filled to breaking point with tofurkey and starchy goodness, Thanksgiving is also a time when we Americans like to fill the coffers of the Hollywood machine. We slowly emerge from our homes like Morlocks recovering from a stuffing haze and head to the movies.

Being good, patriotic citizens of the realm, she (who shall not be blogged about) and I spent app. six hours in the dark rooms of the cineplex and caught three flicks to mixed reception.

Fantastic Mr. Fox

The last Wes Anderson film I cared to see and then own was The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. After the quirk of Rushmore, The Royal Tennenbaums, and The Life Aquatic I had had my fill of Anderson's brand of indie cleverness and wry humor - hell, after Juno (not Anderson but certainly the spawn of his work...), I'd had about as much of that Gilmore Girls dry patter and deadpan reactions to contrived situations as I could handle in a lifetime. Anderson tipped that brand over on its head and, while I could still enjoy the earlier stuff, I was content to simply pretend he no longer even made films anymore.

And then we saw his latest - an authentic stop-motion animation of the Roald Dahl children's book about a Fox, his family, his struggle with hitting his midlife crisis and upward mobility (going from poultry thief to journalist, from a hole in the ground to a tree for his home), and his need to be seen as a virile force of nature rather than a cog in the machine. Voiced by George Clooney, Mr. Fox has the expressionless deadpan that Anderson loves and the martini-dry read of the man who brought Danny Ocean back to life.

The animation is both fun and makes fun of the genre; the music is smart and self referential (at one point while the Fox family is enjoying the spread of their new home in the tree, we hear underscoring the scene the song Maid Marion sang to Robin Hood in the Disney animated version - both are foxes in that film); and it occurred to me about a third of the way through that THIS is what Anderson has been aiming for all along. It is why Bill Murray is such an incredible foil for Anderson - he has made a career out of showing an emotionless facade and challenging you to decipher his intentions.

In short, Fantastic Mr. Fox is a revelation of sorts - it is funnier than you think it will be, smarter than it should be, and a remarkable homecoming for a filmmaker that was shooting films comprised of stop-motion characters all along. Fantastic.

2012

The only good thing about seeing this giant turd was that she and I decided to pull a double dip and just move over into the next theater without buying another ticket. Yes - it's stealing but in the most benign "I Needed Those Pens and Thumbtacks from the Office" sort of way and it reminded me what it was like to be ten-years old again. And, trust me, if I had paid nine bucks to see 2012 I would have felt obligated to vandalize the theater in some way so I think we saved everyone a little bit of holiday heartache, didn't we?

Roland Emmerick likes to blow shit up. So does Michael Bay. The difference is between a guy who likes to stage macho, car-chase, blow-em-ups for fun show pieces (Bay) and a guy so into blowing up huge shit for the fun of watching people die in monstrous catastrophes that you suspect he gets sexually aroused when a building burns (Emmerick).

2012 doesn't even bother with a semi-credible story and saying that means I find the premises of both Independence Day and The Day After Tomorrow credible on some level. The sun is microwaving the core of the Earth and everything is melting and the tectonic plates are shifting. The governments of the world have built some giant Arks (yes - they transport animals into them). Emmerick uses this as an excuse to have whole cities collapse, the tiny CGI people cascading by the thousands to horrifying deaths; he destroys national monuments and gets to have a giant tidal wave literally throw an aircraft carrier (The USS John F. Kennedy - smirk) at the White House. Oh, and amidst all of the world coming to an end, John Cusack has got to deal with his estranged family and it turns out that the only way to do so is to believe a crazed mountain man with an accurate conspiracy theory (Woody Harrelson, in the only interesting performance in the movie) so that his ex-wife's boyfriend can get killed nobly but giving Cusack a chance to be a hero in his son's eyes...ACK!

To be honest, I don't even mind the fact that I believe Emmerick is disturbed and probably spanks it to images of natural disasters. What I mind is that 2012 doesn't even bother with any sort of story beyond let's look at the world end and everything blow up or crumble or be submerged in ocean water or catch on fire in molten lava. I mean, it takes some kind of filmmaker to destroy the entire planet and leave the audience feeling slightly apathetic.

Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire

Third on the list is the most interesting film I've seen in a long time. Unlike Mr. Fox and his brood or John Cusack and the End of the World saving of his particular nuclear family comes the awkward, horrifying, funny, and ultimately redeeming story of obese, illiterate 16-year-old Claireece "Precious" Jones (portrayed in a remarkable. layered performance by first-time actor Gabourey Sidibe) and the circumstances that bring her to a place of individual strength and power against odds most of us would find crushing beyond even the destruction of the planet according to Roland Emmerick. Raped by her father (she has been saddled with two of his children) and beaten down emotionally, physically and verbally by a true monster of a mother, Precious is a story of survival by someone most of us would write off.

The film is simply too complicated to write about in this short post but I will say this - it's funnier than I thought it would be, more tragic than I expected it to be and well worth your time to see. Yes, Mo'Nique displays the kind of vanity-less acting chops that make superstars out of actors and plays a character so unredeemable it will likely cause stirs in circles beyond those looking for an entertaining film. It's a controversial role played to the hilt and the story is hardcore. In fact, her resurrection of the negative stereotype of the Welfare Mom Gaming the System is as damning and black and white as what is traditionally reserved for the Evil Nazi or Russian in the War Fantasies of the eighties. The film has been compared to Birth of a Nation by some African American critics and if art isn't supposed to cause heated discussion, it's just eye candy, I suppose.

In the strange tryptich of films I saw this Thanksgiving weekend, Precious is the one that challenges the very notion of the nuclear family and its value in the world. It's the only one that genuinely resonates and has impact politically, emotionally and does so while still being an incredibly well told story.

The Chess Player Makes a Questionable Move

2009-11-28T06:05:00.030-06:00

Obama, Like Clinton Before Him, Is Starting to Show Some Wear

The deal with the GOP when concerning the Afghan war? Looks suspiciously like the Big Sellout of progressives by Bubba when he pushed through NAFTA:

It was 16 years ago this month when Clinton assembled his coalition with the GOP to bulldoze public skepticism about the trade treaty and overpower a stop-NAFTA movement led by unions, environmentalists and consumer rights groups. How did Clinton win his majority in Congress? With the votes of almost 80 percent of GOP senators and nearly 70 percent of House Republicans. Democrats in the House voted against NAFTA by more than 3 to 2, with fierce opponents including the Democratic majority leader and majority whip.

To get a majority today in Congress on Afghanistan, the Obama White House is apparently bent on a strategy replicating the tragic farce that Clinton pulled off: Ignore the informed doubts of your own party while making common cause with extremist Republicans who never accepted your presidency in the first place.

I'm starting to feel the creep of doubt overtake my initial optimism about the President. I still want to believe in the change that he promised a year ago and, for the most part, I still do. In spite of Clinton's many screw-ups, I'm still a HUGE Bill Clinton fan and would rather have a flawed, potentially corrupt Liberal who can read and write and pronounce big words like "nuclear" than have a savant, frat-boy idiot and his dark Sith lord from the Viet Nam Architecture in charge.

I am, however, ashamed of Clinton for NAFTA. More so than for the blowjob he was impeached over. And I think Obama's Afghan War is going to be ultimately more damaging to us than the under-stimulating Stimulus Package or his backroom deal with Big Pharma. No one remembers that LBJ got us substantive Civil Rights - they remember he was the guy who proliferated Viet Nam. No one remembers that Nixon opened commerce with China - they remember he was a liar and a criminal.

President Obama should think hard about selling the Progressives out on this. I'm sure he is. I hope he's right.

Friday Roundup: Mystery Solved - This Ad Sucks!

2009-11-27T05:14:00.052-06:00

The World is Kind of Remarkable...

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First They Came for the Smokers and I said Nothing...

The War on Terr is a farce. The War on Drugs is a multi-billion dollar industry that has failed. The War on Cigarettes is still in its infancy. Now, the War on FAT is beginning to become real:

Lincoln University, the nation’s first historically black college in Oxford, Pennsylvania, has decided that a handful of students won’t be getting their diplomas this spring. It wasn’t because they were underachieving kids caught in a “senior slump,” had pending library charges, or even disciplinary issues. This group of over two dozen African American students will not get to walk across the stage and shake hands in front of their proud parents because they’re fat.

Yup. Knew it was coming. It all boils down to those who feel that all those pesky choices people have need to be curbed for the good of all. That by placing penalties for lifestyle choices (and trust me, being 100 pounds overweight is as much about choosing to eat that Twinkie as smoking is a choice to light up) it encourages people to become more homogenized and like everyone else. Granted, the bellies on these particular Sneeches are huge and ungainly, but the patrician need to dictate personal choices that ultimately only harm the chooser is an insidious thing.
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Someone Got Paid to Write This Shit...

I want to see this movie.

I like Robert Downey, Jr.

I like Sherlock Holmes (you ever see Young Sherlock Holmes? Love that flick...)

This print ad makes me NOT want to see this movie.

This lame print ad that some lame jackass wrote and was paid a hefty sum of cabbage to write? It makes me sad. Deep in my soul sad. Even sadder than when American Airlines used Gershwin to sell airline tickets. Even sadder than when Nike used John Lennon to sell shoes made in sweat shops.

This ad makes me sad because it could've been written by a smart second grader. Or a high functioning mongoloid. Or a Neocon Teabagger.

I will never - EVER - drink 7-Eleven coffee again. Because every time I need a caffeine jolt and enter a 7-Eleven, I will see in my mind some jackass laughing as if this line was interesting or original or worth the ink put on the paper.

Mystery Solved. 7-Eleven has great coffee.

Sorry to have ruined your weekend.
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I'm Not Sure What to Say...

A Year to Be Thankful

2009-11-26T05:22:00.067-06:00

2009 Has Been Quite a Ride

Ah, gluttony! Today is the day we partake in overeating on purpose, spending time with family (of either our choosing or the one we were born or married into), and watching steroid-riddled wife-beating, gun-toting athletes earn millions of dollars for television conglomerates owned by arms manufacturers.

I don't use Thanksgiving as a wrap-up of the year - that comes in about a month or so - but I would like to simply point out a few things that I'm genuinely thankful for this past year.

• Off Loop Theater

Yeah - she often serves as my whipping post throughout the year, but Off Loop Theater has been prolific and turbulent and, most importantly, is surviving this effing recession with the pluck and stamina one expects from those shifty little gypsies. I'm thankful for the folks at WNEP Theater for rallying behind The (edward) Hopper Project after what could've been it's death knell and for the companies out there constantly busting ass to crowds of 4 to 84.

• My Friends

Joe, Bob, and Rebar are just great people and I'm luckier than I deserve to be to have such intelligent, loyal and honest companions. The Gosses (all four of them) have been more supportive than I could ask. The sheer number of people I consider important in my daily walk has increased and I figure that's a good thing. I can only hope I can be as good to these comrades of mine as they are to me.

• My Family

My mom and dad are amazing. And unlike so many families I know, we all get along incredibly well and love each other vocally as well as in deeds. My sister is a rockstar and my niece and nephews are just incredible people. Love 'em all more than a freaking blogpost can indicate. Can't wait to see them this Christmas.

• My Job

Man, do I love working at WBEZ and with the crew of Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me! I'm daily challenged with new things to produce and am regularly working with the smartest, most dedicated people in Chicago. This year I have produced a graffiti art gallery with a hip hop poetry culminating performance, an Expo for Global Activists, a filmless festival, a chef's battle, a faith-based discussion in one of the largest churches in downtown Chicago. I've got to hang out with Carl Kasell, Peter Sagal, Paula Poundstone, Paul Provenza, Ira Glass, and meet Denis Leary, Leonard Nimoy, and Al Gore. And I am able to pay my bills and eat. In this economy, that's something to be truly thankful for.

• New Beginnings and Possibilities

I'm officially not allowed to blog about someone. So I won't. But I'm thankful to have someone I'm not allowed to blog about in my life. So there.

Have a lovely day eating and being thankful. Thanksgiving is the dual legacy of both our own gratitude for what bounty is before us and the fact that, as Americans, we will kill and maim anyone to get and keep that bounty. So eat up and then go out and beat up someone indigenous to the area after buying their home with some beads and giving them a disease-laden blanket.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

I Believe...

2009-11-25T05:14:00.007-06:00

...that the only choice that ends up bearing no fruit whatsoever is the choice not to choose.

...that, when a holiday designated to be for giving thanks for what one is grateful for arrives, taking stock of possesions rarely makes the list. So why is it that we spend so much time during the rest of the year stockpiling stuff instead of being thankful for the things in life that actually matter?

...that those in the country dead set against a public option are both at odds with both the belief that government should be for all of the People and the Free Market ideology that they espouse so fervently. So what do they want? Whatever it is, I can only conclude it has more to do with their asses up in air with their heads embedded in the ground...

...that it is the artist's job to create content and it is the audience's job to derive meaning from it.

...that extremism is good for adding spice and nuance to legislation rather than dictating the terms of it.

Dear AWG...

2009-11-24T13:15:00.001-06:00

AWG,

I believe my dad is become one of those stupid, fear promoting, anti-healthcare, anti-Obama, crazy douchebags. Somehow he has in his mind that the current healthcare bill has abortion included in it, and it will supposedly cost $2.5 trillion. How do I face this Thanksgiving dinner without becoming a miserable drunk?

The bill (neither House nor Senate nor combined) ever funded abortions. In fact, as it now reads, insurers that currently cover abortion will no longer be able to.

The House Bill that passed would cost $900 billion over ten years. The Senate would cost $859 billion over ten years. In addition, both bills have been estimated to save an additional $400 - 500 billion through lower insurance premiums and streamlined Medicare costs. Those numbers are from the Congressional Budget Office which is nonpartisan.

Most important, I think, is to ask questions rather than try to change his mind. His mind won't be changed. Ask him questions that lead him to see how misinformed he is without judging his opinion (I know - it's hard). If that doesn't work, punch him in the balls every time he starts up with his crazy ranting. If people can't learn to read and absorb information, perhaps physical pain will help. That also might just make you feel better...

"Obama is a Social-"
**WHACK!!**
"...ooowwww...but where's his birth cert-"
**SLAM!!**
"...uhhhhhhh...drool...cough...o-bama? he supports abort..."
**SMACK!!**

"...tur...key?"

Hope that helps and have a great Thanksgiving holiday!

DANCE REVIEW: Step Afrika

2009-11-24T05:12:00.052-06:00

Step Afrika
At the Chicago Human Rhythm Project 20th Anniversary
Harris Theater in Millennium Park

As a theater guy, a dance concert is a pretty rare thing. I should go to more of them but with countless opportunities (many of them missed) to see live theater in Chicago and less time to accommodate most evenings out, I sadly don't attend too much in the way of dance.

Step Afrika made me realize what I've been missing.

The headliner for Saturday night's twentieth anniversary celebration of the Chicago Human Rhythm Project (an organization whose mission is specifically centered on "tap and percussive arts"), Step Afrika was preceded by two younger groups, The South Shore Drill Team, whose enthusiasm and skill twirling rifles and dancing culminated in a genuinely cool combination of spectacle, Michael Jackson and the Obama acceptance speech in election night (which pointed out how truly musical Obama's natural cadence is) and the Trinity Academy of Irish Dance, a group of young rubber-legged girls who were incredibly gifted as well as especially disciplined in their presentation.

And then came Step Afrika.

Reminiscent of Broadway shows like STOMP and Tap Dogs, Step Afrika is a series of choreographed moments with short comic vignettes that incorporate dance. Integrated into the evening were short explanations of stepping (a dance form that combines traditional tap dancing, Zulu tribal dancing, and hip hop infused dance moves that originated out of the African American fraternaties and sororities as part of pledging exercises) and demonstrations of both straight up Zulu tribal choreography and South African gumboot dance.

The ten-member troupe was amazing in its ability to dance out incredibly intricate dances that incorporated clapping, snapping, stomping, tap dance, and hambone techniques of slapping body parts for percussive sound while also allowing each member to showcase individual styles and personalities. Standouts included the fierce and high spirited Makeda Abraham, the winning charm of Michael Alford II, and the incredible muscular dancing acumen of Ryan Johnson (whose solo tap dance number was as funny in its use of the audience as it was spectacularly well performed.)

The staged scenes were less successful, both because the microphones were trained at the floor and thus washed out any distinction in words spoken and because these folks were here for their dancing chops, not their acting skill. That said, the shorter moments in between dances were charming - the longer ones were...well, long.

But you don't come to see Step Afrika for their comedic bits. You come for the dance - and, man, they deliver. Fierce and muscular, the group was relentless and heightened the show with each successive piece. For 90-minutes, the roof of the Harris shook with the raw, focused rhythm created by these ambassodors from DC and, if you ever get a chance to catch them on tour (they perform year round all over the globe) you absolutely should.

THEATER REVIEW: The Man Who Was Thursday

2009-11-23T05:14:00.106-06:00

The Man Who Was Thursday
Written by Bilal Dardai
Based on the novel by G. K. Chesterton
Directed by Jessica Hutchinson
Presented by New Leaf Theatre

Part satire (the story revolves around a group of ordinary British citizens enlisted by Scotland Yard to infiltrate the Central European Council of Anarchists in order to snuff them out), part farce (a balloon chase, bloodless duels, lots of goofy British wordplay, and a host of mistaken identities), crammed into two wood paneled rooms navigated by moving the audience from room to room and changing bench placement to force perspective), The Man Who Was Thursday reminded me a bit of the film version of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang without the music. And, for the most part, it works on that exact level - a goof on darker fare like The Bourne Identity (CCBB was itself a spoof of James Bond penned by Ian Fleming) that exposes the inherent silliness of the spy tale while telling a ripping yarn of intrigue and undercover shenanigans.

The whole thing relies on a delicate balancing act between effectively communicating the convoluted plot (which requires pages and pages of windy speeches and explanations), moving things around without having the semi-promenade style of staging become too much the point of focus, and keeping things somewhat believable without becoming too melodramatic on one side and simply muggy on the other side. Hutchinson is successful in this balancing act most of the time and the play works far more often than it doesn't.

The declarative arch-British acting style is, in and of itself, at odds with the intimacy of the room - having an anarchist yelling about his place in the order of things on stage is one thing; having him do the same thing two feet from you is another thing altogether. The combination of the two styles (hammy British Black Adder-esque acting and the immediacy of being in the same playing space as the actors) suffers the tendency to feel one is in a room filled with people pretending to be British - which they are - and this, in turn, pulls one out of the play to be more amused by the act of putting on the play. Given that this is a play about people pretending to be other people written by a NeoFuturist, I suppose this makes sense but it rarely felt intentional.

For example, the laconic Andy Hager puts on a passable German accent which turns out to be a fake thus making it obvious it was a put-on from the start. Conversely, Nick Mikula begins things with the least convincing accent work in the entire production and it turns out that it isn't supposed to be a fake. Some speeches get the tongue-in-cheek treatment while others are simply shrieked as if by screaming them out, they'll be funnier (they aren't.)

SIDENOTE: Are there no women or any other ethnicity present in the anarchist world of Chesterton? It felt a bit strange watching ten white men in a play written by Bilal Dardai and directed by Jessica Hutchinson - not necessarily a criticism of the piece, but notable nonetheless...

Lastly (in the negative column), sitting on a backless bench for nearly two hours is fine if discomfort is your goal. Nathan Robbel's And They Put Handcuffs on the Flowers placed us on very uncomfortable seating but it was in support of the "you are in this prison" aesthetic. If it is not your goal, it just detracts from the evening's festivities.

On the positive notes, both Dan Granata and Ted Evans are standouts in a very capable cast - Granada grounds the entire piece with his deft portrayal of the protagonist Gabriel Syme and has the music of the British dialect well in hand. Evans' transformation from the creepy Dr. Bull to the much more ebullient character underneath is so much fun and so well done, it was as engaging as the big reveal of the entire Council of villains, a moment so cool and well staged that it jazzed up the whole evening.

Hutchinson's staging is clever and playful and only takes too long once (the switching of the bench positions took far too long for the moment to be considered a transition.) It takes a real director to juggle a balloon chase, a full-on swordfight, and the bombing of London effectively in the tiny space available and she pulls it off like a magician with a rabbit. Her choices of musical scoring are both inspired and fun and Jess knows how to make a bizarre chase scene in a tiny room work well.

The ending note perplexes me, though. After all the wackiness afoot, Syme asks "While we were all going through this, who was watching the real anarchists?" to be answered with the one true anarchist in the mix committing an act of terrorism to close the show. While I understand the idea, I'm not entirely sold on the abrupt switch in tone and I'm not sure Dardai earns the gravity of his point - it feels tagged on like a clumsy "gotcha!" without implicating those of us in the room as observers. Without that personal indictment, it has less to say about us and more about Other Governments and People With Silly Accents.

In the end, however, as promised by the only genuine bomb-thrower of the bunch, it was definitely an entertaining evening.

Dear Recently Unemployed Conservative...

2009-11-21T06:07:00.047-06:00

...sorry to hear about that job loss.

I'm sincere in that statement. Losing a job, especially when you have bills to pay and responsibilities to family, sucks. It's hard trying to figure out how you're going to fill up your gas tank when you don't have $50.00 to pay the gas station attendant. Trying to stretch those few dollars you had saved up into meals throughout the week is a real drag.

And the loss of self esteem that comes with being unemployed can be absolutely devastating.

Once you've gotten past blaming Obama, illegal immigrants, gays, Muslims, Socialists, your crafty neighbor who still has a job, Wall Street, your boss, abortionists, the liberal media, health care reform, and all those people with skin darker than yours, take a moment.

I mean, you have some time on your hands, yeah? It isn't like you have a job to go to, right? So, turn off FOX News for a second and pause to reflect.

That bone crushing feeling of defeat? That sudden feeling of hopelessness and shame you're feeling now? That's exactly how millions upon millions of Americans have been feeling for decades now. Every kid who screwed up as a teenager, got in trouble with the law, and now is routinely refused employment knows that feeling. Every immigrant, who in an attempt to carve out a better life for himself by crossing that border, feels that. Every parent watching her children go to schools across the street from burned out crackhouses feels that hopelessness.

Welcome to the America we deserve.

As you sit there on your couch, pondering your dismal future, know that you are at a crossroads. You have to decide if you want to start following that Golden Rule (the one religious tenet present in every major religion in the world) and do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Right about now, you're looking for some help, some assistance, a break. You're looking toward your government and wondering what it is going to do to get you out of this mess - you're a hard worker with a strong sense of duty and patriotism. Perhaps you served your country in the military and perhaps you are a regular church-goer.

This is your Ebeneezer Scrooge moment. In the real, flesh and blood world, there are no ghosts that visit you in the night to show you your Christmas past, present and future. This is your own personal Christmas Carol.

I know it's much more satisfying to blame everyone and everything around you for your plight. Those of us on the left side of things do the same thing - we scream about the environment while running our air conditioners, we cry out about the mega-corporations and still shop at the Gap, we complain about wars but still watch TV owned by major arms manufacturers. But for just today, how about looking at yourself. Look at your past, present, and now hopeless future and see the world, as harsh and unfair as it is, as a place for us all.

Sincerely,
AWG in Chicago

Give WNEP Some Money!!

2009-11-20T12:36:00.002-06:00

Why not?

Friday Roundup: I Think Maybe Grease is Actually the Word...

2009-11-20T05:07:00.056-06:00

OK. I Only Have One Question...

...how did the homeless twenty-two year old posing as a high school student in order to get a college scholarship afford a freaking laptop?
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Reason # 6,009: Why FOX News Is Not News

The White House caused a mini-flackstorm recently when they openly called FOX out for being more propaganda than news. And they just keep proving the point:

Yesterday, ThinkProgress first reported that Fox News aired old file footage of Sarah Palin rallies to claim that she’s “continuing to draw huge crowds while she’s promoting her brand new book.” Host Gregg Jarrett presented the video with commentary that suggested the footage was “just coming in.” (Watch it.) Media Matters noted that one of the scenes was from a Nov. 1, 2008 Palin rally in Florida. Crooks and Liars’ John Amato filed an FCC complaint for passing on “false information” to the public.

Same thing on Hannity's show earlier in the week as he tried to falsely boost the numbers of Michelle Bachman's protest...err...rally...uhm..press conference.

It's cool when more people start noticing that the those particular little emperor's are walking around buck naked. Now how about the mouthbreathing Tea Baggers? Is it fun walking around in a fake news-infested fog?
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Bloodsport

At a recent panel on Arts Criticism in the Digital World at Columbia College this past week as we discussed the ideas that:

• The challenge is that the veneer of objectivity is being cast aside with the immediacy of breaking news (if it gets broken on FaceBook it kind cuts the "scoop" mentality out at the knees);

• The hardest part of news business is figuring out how monetize this free publishing world;

• The question of what makes substantive arts criticism and feature writing

...one of the comments made to me was that "Don, I don't consider this a bloodsport." There was talk of folks being "above" the down and dirty world of pragmatically creating art in a world that isn't really paying all that much attention.

Theater is either bloody or bloodless. It either has muscle and bone and adrenaline or it is pointless noise.
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This Is What What Internet Video Was Built For
(...you know...except for exposing the off-the-cuff hypocrisy of our political figures...)

In a single take 272 HS students lip sync of Grease:

The Music of Obscenity

2009-11-19T05:06:00.066-06:00

The Beauty of the Symphony of Social Criticism

I like to cuss.

If you're a regular AWG Reader, then this comes as no surprise.

Often, I get called on the carpet for my prolific use of the seemingly endless lexicon of vulgarity at my disposal and even I am willing to admit to overkill from time to time. My mother admits to reading my blog but confesses that she "glosses over all the F-words." When I direct a show, I always warn the cast that I'm gonna sound angry but they shouldn't take it personally as I'm simply playing an instrument with the notes I find most effective (and fun.)

Favorites include "douchebag," "asshat," "shit stain," and, of course, any variation on the word "fuck." The Irish can use these words like Yo Yo Ma can play an arpeggio and I consider myself a near virtuoso.

Apparently a prodigy, my mother tells a story about when I was two-years old. I wanted some random bag of pinto beans and threw them in our cart at the grocery store. My mother pulled the bag out and told me that we didn't need beans. My response - as the story goes - was to shriek " I want the FUCKING BEANS!!"

Like spectacular little grace notes to an otherwise eloquent or willful thought, the art of placement and use is both musical and theatrical - like opera but with scatological impact.

For example, the phrase "I actually prefer it if you allow me to finish my thought." while polite and to the point receives an injection of genuine music when a few expletives are peppered in. "I actually fucking prefer it if you motherfucking allow me to finish my goddamn thought, you shit stain."

Nice, huh? Sounds like you really mean it.

It especially works if you can say it without raising your voice or allowing authentic anger to creep into your body language.

"But while they prate of economic laws, men and women are starving. We must lay hold of the fact that economic laws are not made by nature. They are made by human beings. " -- Franklin Delano Roosevelt

"But while they fucking prate of economic laws - the greedy fucks - men and women are starving like a nymphomaniac in Cleveland. We must lay hold of the fact that fucktastic economic laws are not made by nature, you dim asshats. They are made by human beings." -- FD - fucking - R

How about reversing things - take a passage from Pulp Fiction, for example:

"Well, I'm a mushroom-cloud-layin' motherfucker, motherfucker! Every time my fingers touch brain, I'm Superfly T.N.T., I'm the Guns of the Navarone! IN FACT, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOIN' IN THE BACK? YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO SHOULD BE ON BRAIN DETAIL! We're fuckin' switchin'! I'm washin' the windows, and you're pickin' up this nigger's skull!"

Now, defang it, like network television:

"Well, I'm a mushroom-cloud-layin' dude, man! Every time my fingers touch brain, I'm Superfly T.N.T., I'm the Guns of the Navarone! IN FACT, WHAT AM I DOIN' IN THE BACK? YOU'RE THE GUY WHO SHOULD BE ON BRAIN DETAIL! We're switchin'! I'm washin' the windows, and you're pickin' up this dude's skull!"

The music is gone and all we're left with is the clever quips and pop culture references.

Let's try some more.

James 5:4 (from the Bible)

"Look! The wages you failed to pay the workmen who mowed your fields are crying out against you. The cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord Almighty."

"Look, you vapid, greedy douchebags! The wages you failed to motherfucking pay the workmen who mowed your cocksucking fields are crying out against you, shit for brains. The un-fucking-godly cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord "I'm Gonna Smite Your Sorry Ass With A Lightning Bolt Up Your Shitter" Almighty.

and

"I found this national debt, doubled, wrapped in a big bow waiting for me as I stepped into the Oval Office." -- Barack Obama

"Fuck me? Fuck you! I found this national debt, doubled, wrapped in a big ass bow waiting for me as I stepped into the Oval Orifice."

and

"Senator Reid has a lot of respect for Senator Lieberman," said Jim Manley, a Reid spokesman. "But he feels that Senator Lieberman's position on Iraq is at odds with many Americans."

"Senator Reid has a lot of respect for Senator Lieberman," said Jim Manley, a Reid spokesman. "Excepting for the fact the Joe is a douchey piece of shit with no morals or values worth wiping Senator Reid's hairy old ass with."

The beauty of vulgarity is that it both dresses the the idea down a bit and manages to smack those listening in the jaw. A well placed obscenity, when used properly, can be a thing of beauty and anger. It takes practice and a commitment to honing that skill but, once mastered, can add an entire chromatic scale of vocabulary designed to cut through the bullshit and liven up your prose.

I Believe...

2009-11-18T05:06:00.008-06:00

...that most addictions could be cured with a time consuming job that has meaning and purpose. If you have stuff to do and it's important to do it, you don't have time for cigarettes, cocaine, or internet porn.

...that, in spite of understanding the near homicidal rage of being cut off in traffic or being dumped or being picked on, I can't seem to get my mind around the idea that killing random strangers is somehow an antidote. Destroying property is a much better solution.

...that if you don't feel it in the first kiss, all the therapy in the world isn't gonna make it better.

...that 'objectivity' is a fantasy spun by media corporations in order to elevate their opinions to expert status. Facts are facts - how they are presented is subjective.

...that if it was easy, anyone could do it.

CTA By Way of the Pony Express

2009-11-17T05:05:00.017-06:00

Seriously?? This is Small but It Makes Me Mighty Freaking Pissed...

Yup. I get it that it is my responsibility to make sure that I keep the Visa that I pay my CTA card with juiced up. I even understand that if I'm off by $3.00 that the CTA is going to disable my card. Here is what I do not understand;

THIS IS AN AUTOMATED E-MAIL; PLEASE DO NOT REPLY TO THIS E-MAIL ADDRESS.

Dear Donald,
Thank you for contacting CTA. Your card was disabled due to a negative balance on 11/4/09. The credit card was charged and the account was reactivated. However, it takes 3 business days from the 6th before you can use your card on a bus/train. The card was used during the 3 business days and the card was disabled again. The card will need to be enabled and this takes 3 business days. Please wait 3 business days before using your card on a bus/train.

Today is the effing 17th of NOVEMBER!!! How many multiples of three must I endure before my FULLY PAID FOR CTA CARD WORKS, YOU SORRY JACKASSES?

And, why, in the age of instant digital communication, does it take three days rather than three minutes? Is it punishment? Is it just a ruse to squeeze some extra bucks out of my already paper thin wallet? WTF? Are they taking my money and transferring it to the CTA Vaults of Money via a rider on an old horse?

The Delicate Balance of the Bitter and the Sweet

2009-11-16T05:04:00.061-06:00

Why is Intelligent, Dense Theater Good for You?

Andrew Haydon:

In Arguments for a Theatre, [Howard] Barker is unequivocal about enjoyment, reward or understanding. It is a manifesto for a theatre that we are not meant to understand, he argues. If I'd been enjoying his plays for the last 10 years, was that actually a good thing? I liked their sense of humour; I had a rough idea that I'd been following them reasonably well, that I'd understood what they were about. In short, my appreciation of them was possibly contrary to the way they were meant to be received. Barker's intention, after all, hadn't been to give me a nice night out – and yet somehow I'd managed to have one.

Let's face it - a lot of theater on the fringe is boring. Anyone who has ever sat through an evening of the avant garde, striving for obscurity and Grotowski-esque rage and dissatisfaction and sadness using screams, some half-assed video production and an artistic need to tell it like it is knows this better than anyone. If Shrek is your idea of Great Theater, then the idea of sitting in a storefront black box watching the theater equivalent of three twenty-two year olds playing out an adaptation of The Deaths in Somalia as Seen by the Rocks of the Land by Way of Sock Puppets is a bit like waterboarding.

On the other hand, this assessment comes from a self described Neo-Dadaist and director of such family friendly fare as Soireé DADA: Neue Weltaffen, Blinde Eisel Hops, and Schmück der Hallen. I like my theater angry and obscure. Oobleck's last two productions were among my favorites of the past year. Sitting through braindead fare like Legally Blonde makes me go into a sugar coma.

I'd argue that it all boils down to balance.

I'd argue that theater that provides easy answers to simple questions, that tells the simplest of stories with the most convenient conclusions has it's place. People need easy answers and that flattering looking glass from time to time. There will always be a place in the cultural landscape for things like the Twilight series and Michael Bay films. For the same reason they need to have the existence of natural disasters explained as the will of a fictional and moralistic creature in the sky and the possibility of the impossible be made possible, people have a fundamental need to see and hear stories that smooth away the complexities of life on the planet. To cope with these complexities, for inspiration, in order to remember that human nature is anything but humane.

A steady and consistent diet of this sort of entertainment of the taste-buds that tastes the sweet, however, can result in a strangely stunted view of life as if the lessons of the Broadway musical are the only ones worth remembering. A sense of entitlement that comes with the ideas that we all somehow deserve our happy ending, that we all should and could be millionaires, that if we just believe hard enough that bounty will come from above. Without theater that confounds and frustrates, that requires the muscles of critical evaluation and deeper thought, the popular theater audience becomes dependent on the simple and easily digestible.

Thus, in a curious way, I'm more grateful to the production than I thought. More than any other show I've seen, it has made me think about the way I experience theatre. The extent of its jarring, dissonant juxtapositions; its refusal to map on to a received world view; its complete indifference to my enjoyment; even its refusal to be part of "contemporary theatre" – all have continued to fascinate me.

None of this is new - The Rite of Spring was causing riots at the same time vaudeville was cracking up folks with "Doctor, Doctor" jokes. Some people like to think about what they consume but most don't care what they consume as long as it feels good and leaves them unchallenged - there is, however, something to be said for allowing the audience to be a part of the dialogue. Neither the pabulum of popular entertainment nor the the lecturing of the experimental actually communicates with the audience.

With the DADA soireés, I try to find moments of accessibility within the nonsense - grounding moments that open things up for the less initiated audience. With Hopper, it's a different ballgame - creating a sense of unity within the disparate pieces and a narrative that doesn't really tell a full story is an interesting challenge. Mind you, I'm not looking at accessibility as that which pleases the audience but that which clarifies things and allows the audience a toehold in the work.

The key to creating Great Theater is to find balance between the juvenile and the intellectually stimulating and never letting either seat of the see-saw touch the ground. Like dark chocolate, theater should have some bitter and some sweet.

That's a lot of metaphors, huh?

Mind Candy I Plan to Ingest

2009-11-14T06:22:00.016-06:00

Friday Roundup: I Gotta Nekked Picture of Him on My Truck Window...

2009-11-13T05:11:00.052-06:00

This Kinda Makes Me Proud...

First, I used to work with Andy in ComedySportz and it makes me proud to see his Tony Stark-lite conversion from shill to responsible shill. I'm pretty certain this is sincere. Second, I have a picture that Sharko took of the two of us running down a hotel hallway naked. Just saying...
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Quote of the Week

Simply making art isn't enough. It is the responsibility of the artist to speak about the work, to write about the work, to contribute insights to the development of the field. The largely trivial nature of the last 25 years of theatre stands as a testament to the lack of ideas and the lack of communication. - The Prof

And while there isn't a thing about making the art that I would classify as simple, I completely agree. I've been informed about my own artistic path through the writings of Harold Clurman, Peter Brook, David Mamet, and Jeffrey Sweet, as well as Prof. Walters, Joe Janes, Adam Thurman, Joshua James, Bob Fisher, Malachi Walsh, Travis Bedard, and the roll call on the theatrosphere in the sidebar. Can you imagine a blog written by Stephen Sondheim, Andrew Lloyd Webber or Cameron McIntosh? I can.
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Coincidences are Kinda Cool

Over at Fisher's House, there's a remount of his creepy, fun, cool Breed With Me in rehearsals. Take a look at the cast list. Don Hall is in the cast.

But it isn't me.

I read somewhere that Donald Hall is the fifth most common name in the United States but I honestly have never met another Don Hall. I figure the odds that one of my best friends auditioning his show, having a guy named Don Hall audition for him, and get cast in the show can't be that insane but it's still kind of bizarre to see it. I wonder if we'll spontaneously combust if we're in the same room?
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...Or Maybe It's an Image of Charlie Manson...?

JOHNSON CITY, Tenn. (Nov. 5) -- Jim Stevens said he's not particularly religious and is clueless about why an image resembling Jesus Christ keeps appearing on his pickup. Stevens, of Jonesborough, Tenn., said that nearly every morning, an image that looks to him like the face of Jesus Christ has appeared in the condensation on the driver's side window of his Isuzu truck. A Johnson City Press photo of the truck showed a facial image.

And somewhere there's a group of wacky Christian kids giggling behind this guy's house...

I wonder why we automatically assume an image of a white guy with longer hair and a beard is that of Jesus. From everything I've read, he wasn't a white guy. What if it's just an image of that homeless indie-rock guy - what if it's actually Kurt Cobain?
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Don't Take Tony's Picture!

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Another Quote of the Week

Via Paul Krugman:

Real power in the party rests, instead, with the likes of Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin (who at this point is more a media figure than a conventional politician). Because these people aren’t interested in actually governing, they feed the base’s frenzy instead of trying to curb or channel it. So all the old restraints are gone.

In the short run, this may help Democrats, as it did in that New York race. But maybe not: elections aren’t necessarily won by the candidate with the most rational argument. They’re often determined, instead, by events and economic conditions.

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Third Quote of the Week

Rage is the only quality which has kept me, or anybody I have ever studied, writing columns for newspapers. - Jimmy Breslin

The Match.com Game

2009-11-12T05:12:00.009-06:00

So Does the Digital Age Assist or Destroy the Ritual of Dating?

From Alternet:

"Has the search for erotic gratification ever been so efficient?" asks Wesley Lang, who just read and (sympathetically) critiqued 132 Sex Diaries, published weekly in New York magazine since April 2007. In each, using a pseudonym (i.e. The Polyamorous Paralegal), a New Yorker keeps a daily (sometimes hourly) record of his or her dating and mating activities, then a "rambunctious cacophony of commenters" pounces. Taken together, the collection cracks "open a window into the changing structure, rhythm and rhetoric of sex in New York."

Much has clearly changed. "Palliatives" like personal ads, paid dating services, dirty videos and magazines used to be "generally understood to be the province of weirdos and losers." Now, of course, palliatives are the norm. Dating sites and Facebook are ubiquitous, as is text messaging. And these social technologies have "changed the nature of the game."

In June of this past year I decided to try the online dating thing as an experiment.

After two failed marriages, I had hit a wall and had resigned myself to living out the next half of the journey alone. It was sort of freeing to make that decision. Some of my best friends on the planet are single and, while I'm quite sure they all relish the prospect of "getting some" every now and again, they all seem perfectly effective getting through the days as productive members of society. I spent a long while after finalizing the second divorce figuring out what it means to be single.

• I could eat anything I wanted.
• I could manage my schedule independent of anyone else.
• I could go to bed when I felt like it.
• I had to spend a lot more time by myself and, thus, spend a lot more time reflecting on exactly who I was and who I wanted to be.
• I could spend money on myself. For things like clothes and shoes and a lot of entertainment.
• I could walk around the house naked without feeling like an ape.

Turns out that I didn't become an older version of my college self - I still ate pretty responsibly, I went to bed at decent hours, and my schedule was much more inter-dependent (on work obligations, on theater obligations, with my friends) than I thought. I did buy new shoes, walk around naked and spend freaking HOURS thinking about who I had become and what I wanted to be different. I continued to workout and bought an exercise bike for my office. I had marathon conversations with my big plant. I went on some dates here and there but wasn't particularly inspired. Spent six weeks dating someone who turned out to be complicated (and a little nuts - in the bad way) but, at least she made me realize that just because my ex-wife didn't want me around, others might.

And I realized that I now had two whole aspects of this relationship thing at play: I like having someone who likes me around and I like my newly minted, crusty around the edges bachelor mode. So. I needed to date.

The problem I was faced with was not a lack of interesting women around or even a lack of interested women around. The problem was that all the women I encountered were either in theater (and, let's face it, that hasn't worked out so well for me) or co-workers (likewise a real dead-end most of the time.)

"...while there are various complex ideas about what it takes to win, there is overwhelming agreement about how you lose: "by betraying a level of emotional enthusiasm unmatched by the other party. Everyone's afraid disarmament won't be mutual." Constant detachment is the rule."

I tried to take my own advice - boy, was that a wash. The only women I ran into were either (you guessed it) theater people in their twenties or co-workers I had crushes on but didn't feel in the "sexual harassment" world that I even wanted to dip into that potential minefield. After a lot of soul searching, I bit the bullet. After all, those sidebar ads on FaceBook were constantly reminding me that my status was single and there were amazing women out there, like ripe apples, waiting for my call (or email, or whatever...)

So I threw my info out into the Match.com dating pool to see what was in store.

Here's the basic profile text I wrote:

I am a big personality and have been described as a gorilla in the library. Intense. Enthusiastic. Opinionated. I'm Irish and stubborn as that implies; tenacity is both a virtue and a curse.

I have two tattoos - the first says "DADA ist wie DADA" (DADA is what DADA does) and the second says "Ars Gratia Artis" (Art for Art's Sake). I got both of them in the past two years.

I Believe...

...that, in lieu of trying to find the Right One, working towards being the Right One is more productive and a lot more fun.

...that on the first date, we hide our flaws. As the relationship grows, we hide our disappointments. Once we're committed, we hide our betrayals. When the commitment dissolves, we're left with regrets for hiding anything at all - after all, what was the point?

...that scar tissue means you survived.
_____

Who am I looking for?

Someone with a dark sense of humor, smart as a laser, with eyes that bore into my brain. Someone who likes spending time talking about art and politics and pop culture and the state of the world. Someone who grabs life instead of being grabbed by it; who is strong enough to be able to handle herself but still cries at Pixar movies.

I'm looking for someone who is interested in going and doing things in the world and who can teach me things about the world that I haven't experienced yet.
______

Based upon the seemingly standard Match. com inquiries, here's a few VITAL STATS:

• My pictures were all taken in the last three months or so.

• I don't have a car. Got rid of it in 1998. I wish I could say it was for environmental reasons, but it was mostly the finances. Why have a car in Chicago?

• I really do work out five times a week but I'm not a zealot.

• I have the same wallet that Sam Jackson has in PULP FICTION. Call it my daily affirmation or personal delusion. Either works for me.

• I'm not a creep or a stalker so if you dig what you see and read, let's grab some pie and coffee and check each other out. I'm much better in person.

WHAT FLOATS MY BOAT?

• You're smarter than I am.
• You can tell a joke.
• You don't embarrass easily.

WHAT SINKS MY BOAT?

• The phrase "earning potential" used seriously.
• "Oh. That picture was taken years ago..."
• Close minded political stances of either side of the spectrum.

It evolved a bit over the course of the month, but that's pretty much the gist.

I kept it free for about a week. All of sudden, I'm getting "winks" from some fairly hot women (yes - from Florida and New Jersey, but c'mon - they looked good in the pictures, right?) but in order to communicate with these hotties, I had to pony up $30.00 to have complete access.

And yes. None of these "winkers" were real. Nice ploy, but we all kinda knew that to be the case, didn't we?

Instead of doing the wink thing, I started immediately trolling the site, looking for women my age, that seemed to be possessed of less baggage (one profile talked exclusively about her desire to have children - at least five. She was 45 years old. Jeesh!) and whose photos appealed to me.

Yes - one could call me shallow for insisting that the women I date be physically attractive to me, and if that's shallow, throw those stones my way.

I ran into the typical mismatches -

• The Damaged Woman who I met for breakfast and who showed up looking like she rolled right out of bed and then talked about her physically abusive relationships and how much she hated her job

• The False Advertiser whose online picture was at least ten years old and had since tripled in size

• The Deal Breaker who was definitely looking for a Stud to Give Her Children

• The Gold Digger who was interested until she found out I had very little financial ambition

• The Pro-Torture FOX News "Libertarian"

To be fair, I'm certain that they each have some bizarre capitalized referral to me: "Guy with Obnoxious Blog," "Twice Divorced Guy Who Acts Like a Kid," "No Car Guy."

I also met some really wonderful women who just didn't knock me out but were otherwise great people, funny, smart, attractive. For that matter, even the strange list above were all really nice people - just no click. No one I "met" or "chatted" from Match.com was awful - just slightly lonely and looking. Some become professional in the digital pursuit and continually meet people through the service. Not me. I canceled my membership after a month. It was an experiment, after all.

I realized in this process that I don't play the Game very well. That, while the idea of being emotionally detached sounds good and gives one the less risky opt out possibilities, I'm too wildly enthusiastic and tend to "live my life out loud" too much to really be emotionally smart. Unlike quite a few, I really still have an enormous amount of love and affection for my ex. I'm also too old to make huge changes in who I am and the way I'm built but I'm finding after two botched attempts at "til death do us part" that I am at least more open to some changes than either of my wives found possible. No regrets but lessons, yeah?

Here's the thing. Romance is bound to bring up insecurities, anxieties and heartbreak, no matter how or when the game is played.

And sure, digitally enabled mating culture can mean certain new anxieties, like being paralyzed by too much choice. But everything has a cost. And in this case, there are far more benefits.

In the world of instant gratification, of an abundance of choice, commitment really means something. A second date is a big deal. As is picking someone, for however long it lasts. As is celebrating an anniversary.

Did I meet someone? Let's put it this way, if I did, she probably doesn't want to be mentioned on this blog and I suppose that's fair. I figure that I'm going to relax and enjoy the ride - this last year and half taught me that I'm fine being single and I'm pretty good at it. On the other hand, I'm an optimist at heart. And maybe that's what makes dating digitally a positive.

Sometimes you toss those dice and win. But you only win if you toss the dice.

Thanks, Veterans!

2009-11-11T13:33:00.018-06:00

Nothing says gratitude and acknowledgment of service and pride in those who put themselves out on the line to defend our country than denying them healthcare:

According to a study released by the Harvard Medical School, 2,266 veterans under the age of 65 died last year as a result of not having health insurance. Researchers emphasize that "that figure is more than 14 times the number of deaths (155) suffered by U.S. troops in Afghanistan in 2008, and more than twice as many as have died (911 as of Oct. 31) since the war began in 2001."

Where's Lee Greenwood when we really need him?

"And I’m proud to be an American,
where at least I know I’m free.
And I wont forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.

And I gladly stand up,
next to you but not to help you when you're ill.
‘Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land,
I'm a huge mega-corporate lobbying GOP-loving Health Insurance Shill."