vaudeville9's Journal
(Latest 20 entries) (Calendar) (Friends) (Atomic Vaudeville) (User info)
Navigate: (Previous 20 entries)
Monday, May 7, 2007
Hecklers and Shitty sound systems give me a boner.
Current mood:  horny Current music: Wade in the Water
Monday, April 23, 2007
The argument to arm or not to arm the dangerously mentally ill is a compelling one, ready for many years of lively debate between left and right wing political pundits a like. I look forward to all the nuances of this complex social issue.
On one hand, selling a deranged sociopath armor peircing hollowpoint rounds, might seem a little bit risky... on the other hand couldn't anybody who walks into a gun store looking for atomatic weapons that are made for the sole purpose of killing several human beings, in shortest amount of time... well couldn't any person who wishes to make such a purchase, be argued to be dangerously unhinged? I mean how does one tell a harmeless paranoid libertarian gun nut who wishes to dress up in camoflauge with his drinking buddies and run around the woods threatining to kill goverment officials, from terrifying bi polar beta male who wishes to turn their teen aignst into terrible life shattering tragedy for hundreds of people.
Or for this matter how does one tell a sportman who buys rocket propelled gernades to try the craft of marksmenship of a nest of ducks, with a person who has bought these same RPG's for the unsavory purpose of killing people... having the audacity to do with these weapons... exactly what they we're designed to do.
The whole issue certainly needs to be debated stringently.... it's not as cut and dry as the ban on Majuanna... I mean the ban on Dope, we can all get behind... Did you know that nine out every 10 stoned people have a tendancy to write some really crappy love poetry? And we all know crappy poetry is just a gateway drug into drum circles, and henna tatoo's, these facts represent real statistic's.
But the whole zero tolerance on Gun possesion is such a complex, nuanced, social issue... so idealistic!! So unrealistic! Ha, you'll never remove all the guns... so why bother trying! I say any policy that is somewhat idealistic should be removed from any of our public imagination or effort.... I mean, Child Poverty... Ha, you think we'll ever get to a point where their won't be a starving kid somewhere... it's never going to happen, hippy!! so I say we just increase the poor Children's poverty to the point of starvation... (Dead Children=Less Child Poverty)...
Added to this, we never know when we might have to have an armed insurgency against our tyrannical goverment.... I know when mob rule breaks out, I will really feel a lot better about the drunk frat boys down my street being armed to the teeth... if only we can assure when the great rebellion occurs they have a sufficiant supply of beer, maps to visual minorities houses, the date rape drug, and all the ammo they can handle... Man, this rebellion is going to be sweet! I mean that argument is fool proof.
Once again, it is certainly not a matter of common sence, or social foresight... but a matter of partisan debate between the loonie left and the fanatical right. . . because the partisan Punch and Judy show is so effective in ensuring new atrocities for our daily news coverage... but man, it's so like the WWF, when a concervative gives a smackdown to some leftie, or vice versa... except with the tangy taste of real human blood and tears. Ahh, The art of modern Political debate, where one side implies one side are "Faggot's", while the other side implies the other side are "Nazi's"... once this has been established, our political tents are usually content to call it another fine day in the art of political rhetoric.
Perhaps we need a party of Faggot Nazi's in order to ever get anything done?
And let me tell you the reindeers in my front yard are getting more and more audacious as the years progress... they ravage a pretty garden with their insatiable lust for flower petals... it's only a matter of time before they develop bullet proof Jackets and Humvee's that will nessesitate all the automatic weapons we now can proudly legally own.... with those babies, our roses are safe...
Perhaps I'm being paranoid to the point of hysteria... Oh well, that doesn't mean I can't legally purchase a Glock in this country... hey, Violent Narcissistic sociopaths are people too... the only problem is in their nuero-chemical haze they are incapable of the level empathy one requires to aknowlege, we are people too.
Anyway, rant done.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Po-tee-weet.
"Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward." -Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
So it goes.
Current music: My name is Yon Yonson...
Saturday, April 7, 2007
hello vaudeville fans
I like to skateboard
actually I've never done that for real but it looks like fun
so my personal perspective is that the show is a THUMBS UP
The magic came and swept us away and we all
experienced truth and togetherness
and the world is rad after alll.
I'm disappointed that McDonalds didn't sue us but whatever
that's life
suck it up
I guess they heve BETTTER things to do
like sell hamburgers
made from the body of incontinent cows
so overfed they can't even stand on their legs
yeah yeah I know you're all like we know that
don't stuff it in at our eyes
I just need to be in my happy place right now.
Fuck the happy place
there's a whole ECSTATIC place waiting for you
sponsored by lululemon
For reaeeaaal, where are we spending our money?
Start pretending that it matters and some day it might.
Pretentiously the master of its own destiny,
b-dog
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
J.Cobb is a lazy blogger so here's some fat poetry for all you fat fans.
It's true.
In the limelight with all those lightbulbs flashing
twinkling stars with forozen passion
partially obscured by a gaseous factory
a fart in the distance
a hero illuminated for a crusted moment
smiling wide
cuz you've given them a meal cousin...
It's feeding time!
And you deserve a break today
Hell yes.
You work hard.
a little distraction
some sanctity some satisfaction
a little bit of jesus with your mcnugget
No not a prophet
no sayings no quotes
just do that funny thing and we'll roast a goat!
and the Zeroes all watching and clap clap clap
all loving and judging and
playing Fae Ray
to the King Kong
punching out the buildings
and romancing with your bitches
putting the gloves on
Between Zero and Hero
is nine eleven
totally urgent
we're so coming
so totally totally coming
xo
come hell or high zero
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Back in Lotus Land and the air is like a swamp, all earthy and wet
good for my nostrils that were in perpetual nose bleed town from
the what...
the smog?
NYC made my nose bleed.
and it kicked my ass.
What a totally tearin' place
By the way that's Karen's new bar name: Taren
Shout out out out out to my new crack friend
and Taylor Mac
to the Rabbi's jewpad
and Jeff Wall lightboxphotobaloons and ventiloquist what??? I love you.
and our french hosts Deborah and Jeremy and yes Patrick too.
Patrick, play nice. Not everyone is out to get you.
AND...holy gosh ALI ESTANDARIAN
who was so so Iranian and Jimi Hendrix anew and left me with my small mouth agape
andhetotallygavemeaCDjustbecauseIgushed.
Channeling the loverage...I'm feelin it
Loverage him.
So inspiring so much going on so much of that fighting spirit. I dig it.
And yes it's dirty and difficult and deluxe
Ohhhhh the comique characters
Amitai won the spirit award for embodying the loose confidence of the city.
For his own personal 9-11.
He got a prize. No big surprise here, the A-Tai is beyond simple definition.
Ladies get with the program. and word to your mother.
Celine did not get a prize, but I give the 'school the school' AWARD to Celine
for turning up the theatrical heat in a city stuffed with wicked talent.
Celine is also great to sleep with, next to, throw your leg over.
And someone genuflected her for her performance.
Long live the queen. Say what? Yeah that's what...
I would like to also give an AWARD to the JR for perserverance in the face of
Capital N-Negative experience. He was gonna throw in the towel but in true
fighter mode he clocked the title holder in the last round. Now even Tupac and Biggie Smalls
are givin him serious cred. He's like Ghandi stoppin the vi-o-lence.
Oh and he wrote this nice little play that will never go to Broadway
but Brooklyn wants him bad. JR for Ambassador to EveryWhere USA!
And lastly I would Iike to give myself the AWARD for 'most dangerous outing'
for a promenade with the crack fairy. I didn't do the crack,
my new friend JerseyGirl was kind of like she's the crack.
SO I had a crackish experience.
Also I was really good with event planning and the subway,
which should be noted.
for the annals.
Tom X. Chao says hello to Andrew Bailey and says to tell him that he did this
misogynist play and that he hit on Celine and is in fine form. xo
OK so this is what's happening people.
We are in the midst of a social and cultural burpee
that is airbubbling small matters of greatness
so work it out and start contributing to the annals.
Look up annals.
Let's get exciting and stuff like that*.( *copyright Jacob )
We have the channels tuned, the people greased with desire for live interaction
and perhaps even (do we dare...) something to domakesaythink
The superhighway is curbed with flowers
like our fair city that will never be newyork
but will always be moist with dank beauty.
SO say hello to your proverbial city
Victoria
so out it's in
We live here so...
ya know
FUCKING BRING IT
everything to say,
most of my love,
Britt Candide Small
xoxoxox
P.S. Come to our Heroes/Zeroes show and also Legoland so we can be friends
and experience the true meaning of community and life.
P.P.S. Hi.
P.P.P.S. Home is where your mouth is.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Lately it seems everyone I know is being broken up via email or telephone.... I laughed at them of course, how pathetic I thought... until it happened to me.
as the old saying goes... Comedy is when it happens to someone else, tragedy is when it happens to you.
I suppose the idea of true love has gone the way of the cassete player... I was nice when It was the only option... but no one really missed it when it was gone. It has no defenders, because after you played a tape to long it sounded all worn out and terrible.. and one day you slapped it in the cassette player and it snapped in half... so is the nature of True love in our world of telecommunications.... gone are the days of people being apart for years, to truimphantly return in a tizzy of tears and kisses...
In our fast moving world, if you're apart from your beloved for over six days... you better start booking your seat for your speed dating.... because they've already forgotten you.
So I've learned my lesson... From now on, I only love Number 1... because I will have the decency to break up with me in person... I will have patience for Number 1... I'll laugh at my jokes... I'll admire me... love me... I can honestly say when I die, I will not be able to continue living.
Besides who needs love, when you have tissue, an active imigination, and internet savy.... thanks again tecknowlegy!
Sincerity is obsolete.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
For the last three days my hotmail account only works at one in the morning! What the fuck is up Bill Gates! This is driving me freaking squirrley! Fuck you Hotmail! As soon as I get access to my account I'm switching to G Mail
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
I was thinking about it yesterday and most of our cast look like serial killers... and not the good looking sexy serial killers like Chaliez Theron... no the creepy, freaky ones like Jeffery Dalmer, Ed Geene and John Wayne Gacy.
Some of them even act like serial killers, like the one guy in the cast with the Bat Man tatoo all over his leg. All he ever does is watch movies, read comic books and eat at Mc Donalds... actually practically everyone in our cast eats at Mc donalds... If their is any wisdom in the worn out proverb "You are what you eat", I'd venture to say Mc Donald's is the official food of serial killers... and if the syllogism stands: all our cast are probally serial killers.
But because of all the Mc Donald's they are too malnurished, and don't have enough blood to their brains to even go out and start all their serial killings. Added to all of this we live in era of Slackerdom, so the one upside to living in generation slack, is AV cast of serial killers are too lazy to go out strangling and raping, burying bodies and what not... whew I'm getting just tired thinking about all that...let alone the spirtual crisis of doing such a act...so our cast stay at home reading comic's, with their playstations and eating their Mc Donald's... which I suppose is good for all their potential victim's, but not so good for their self esteem's and repressed bloodymindedness.
The irony of it all is the few people that don't wolf down fifty cent "mystery cheese" pizza slices, and happy meals (ahh burgers filled with trans fatty goodness, with just a dash of a Bolivian child testicles) well the irony is the few people that do not actually look like serial killers in our cast, and like to eat things that don't come out of a Rendering plant in Tijuanna, sing songs about serial killers at our shows.
Perhaps it's being in such close proximity to a room full of malnourished serial killers, that makes her antsy... she's uncomfrotable so she needs catharsis. My theory is it is empathy... like how women that work together get their periods at the same time... she feels what they feel--absolutly nothing.
Perhaps Mc Donald's has a new stategy... forget about the salads, forget about the disgusting deli sandwiches that even look disgusting in the ads... no Mc Donald's, fuck saying you arn't poisoning children and your food is good for all! No! Say that you are the official meal of serial killers the world over! And had they developed a taste for something other than burgers grown in a lab, grafted on a rats back... they might have the energy to pull off their terrible crimes. Don't stop there Mc Donald's! As you are the official food of the working man, and market for the working man's kids, you can also say... "Hey North American Elite! As long as they're eating this toxic shit they'll be too stupid to revolt!"
Current music: German Drinking Songs
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
The new theme... "DIET ROCKSTAR" or "DIE! ROCKSTAR! DIE!"... all I know is Britt is busting out her accoustic guitar and every time I go over it's like the party from hell.
You've been to that party.. you know the one where the person sheepishly picks up the guitar and says with innocent doe eyes... "Do you mind if i play a song?" ... oh no, the group says... play a song, it will be real nice. They start off all shaky, with trembling fingers, sing their song... it's so sweet everyone says as they clap... you have beautiful voice, so talented... "Hey do you guys like Tom Waits?"... next song not so sweet, yet the confidence is growing in our budding troubadour, who now grows increasingly frustrated by any auxilliry noise other than the sweet strands of their strumming and singing... the room, being full of polite Canadians, who have been genetically modified by Americans to cow tow to any show boating, fall silent... they applaud again...
"And for my next song..." The next song? What? Their playing a fucking set all of a sudden?! Surely the host will politly turn up the music as a subtle reminder that "No Virginia, we didn't come to this party to hear you sing Ani Di Franco covers all night. Some of us actually came here to get drunk, and have a good time. If i wanted to listen to some suckhole ham it up with guitar, and beg for a mothers love... I would stayed home and slapped on a Ron Sexsmith CD... silently weeping in between violent bouts of masterbation... but that's so my Monday night"
Anyway... twelve songs later, after several guest have left... the music hostages sence that the guitar player has finally exhasted their covers... the last song was a camp fire song, certainly that shows desperation.
No... you see they we're just priming you for... the world premiere... to bust out ... the Originals! (Sound of organ music)
Oh, you thought for a brief moment their could be nothing worse than mediocre the warballing of some half memorized bluegrass tune... you my freind we're in musical paradise, compared to the cauldron of hell you are about to be dragged too...
At least with covers their was a hope that someone might say "Okay that's enough, put down the Guitar"... but not so with the original set... get your perma smile on because unless you want to make an enemy for life... they demand you love the originals. For the guitar terrorist has photographic memory, and quickly scans the room, and can see the slightest grimace,,, and they will remeber you freind... one eyeroll, or sputter of your lips to their original set... and you might as well of punched their baby in the head...
And no, you can't leave! Leave, while drunken Beethoven is revealing their ninth to the world. If you havn't left before the originals... you're fucked...
You're their until their fingertips bleed and they can no longer speak... or they have to pee...
And when they do... hide the guitar, cut the strings, and blast the music to brutal decibels
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Dear Diary,
I found Joy... she was sitting in a cafe wearing a cute little sweater of hope... we're totally in love!
The world is picking up, I love life!
I don't even think of killing myself anymore.
I want to have a baby, that I will call Funshine.
Peace to all!
Love
Wonderduck
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Deliver us from medium.
Grant us rest give us rights.
Bring the peepel.
lovelove
yoor sheeple
xo
Thursday, November 9, 2006
So with good reviews from almost all the papers in Vancouver, we're still getting the kind of audience you would expect at Klan ralley in San francisco during pride week. We get positivly giddy when we have ten people in the crowd...
Have you ever played roulette? Well you stand a better odds getting your money back at, than producing theatre in Vancouver. You have better odds of making money by giving your pin number to those con artist in Nigeria who write all those fucking spam letters.
Why arn't they coming to the show? Easy... Brett the Hitman Heart. Brett, the ex-wrestler\musical theatre performer is in town playing the Genie in Alladin. That's where people's live cultural money is going... which just goes to show you? If your serious about live theatre you have to hire a professional...
A professional wrestler.
Which is the irony... because in fact our cast is entirely made up of ex-professional wrestlers. We just didn't want to exploit the good name of the WWF by using our former wrestling credentials in order to promote such a taudry commercial form as independent theatre.
Of course Mike Delamont, did have a breif forray on the canvas... perhaps you heard of.... The Undertaker?!
Did you in fact know that Victoria's SweetHeart Celine Stubel, when at her fighting weight was Miss Elizebeth (The most beautiful women in wrestling?)
Remember when that evil Midget was body slammed by Andre the Giant... yes ladies and gentleman, that was in fact Rod's Cock being body slammed by the late legend.
I myself, Jacob, or Jake the Snake Roberts as I was called before the my diabilitating addiction to crack and born again Christianity...
And yes, and Britt Small... when up to her fighting weight, and before her racial reconstruction... is in fact Ko Ko Beware!
And of course the pivitol plot device where we interview Hulk Hogan via satalite and start an in house symposium of sorts on the true nature of theatre and professional wrestling... culminating in him BODY SLAMMING HIS OWN BODY... is not to be missed.
So there you go... we didn't want to have to sink to denegrating our former status as proffessional wrestlers to hustle live theatre but shit man, "The Qualities of Zero" is chock full of former pitutary retards hopped up on roids, repleat with but floss thongs.
Shit, half the second act is a wrestling match... albiet a metaphorical one on the nature of happiness in a society thats grown increasinly depended on synthetic stimulants... but dude, we so open a can of whoop ass on that issue... we Boston Crab the issue until it cries out for mercy in our illegal submission hold.
So what are you waiting for Vancouver... this is the monster truck show of magical realism in a post-Zola world.
Don't listen to the reviews, the show isn't that smart... I know big words make Hulk brain hurt... and when Hulk Brain hurt, Hulk take live theatre money to Beauty and Beast, Aladdins, Phantom Opera or Piss Ville... so Hulk can see shit blow up, man dressed up as candle, and duet about making potty.
Let me promise you there is something for everyone, women, men, boys, girl, and yes even you Hulk... even you.
Did I mention our encore fetures a live golden shower from Victoria's Sweetheart Celine Stubel! And yes, for the children Rod works his magic in The Glory Hole, in stall six of the men's bathroom at the waterfront during intermission... will you deprive your children of the wonders of the Glory Hole Vancouver! I promise, there is more glory in that hole than ten years of sunday school...
COME TO "THE QUALITIES OF ZERO" WE'LL BODY SLAM YA!*
Love
Jacob!
*Body slam the connundrum of happiness in a contempory world rife with alienation.
Wednesday, November 1, 2006
6:33PM
So it's 6:24 pm
Call time is 6:30pm
The show starts at 8pm
It's Preview night at the Waterfront in Vancouver.
Qualities of Zero is about to start.
Are we having fun...
Let's go with yes.
Someone said that we may have 120 to 200 people tonight so we better be fucking good.
Let's say we are shall we.
Don't feel sad Victoria, we will be back ... just not in November.
You can wait can't you.
Yes you can.
Time to get into Costumes...
Britt's waiting for us to get in gear.
Back soon. Better.
Can we even get better.
Let's say yes shall we.
R
Monday, October 9, 2006
So we don't have a new website... yet... you might be going, dude WTF? Well if you are, you should really stop using the word "dude" or the abbrev, "WTF". Dude is officially like doing imitations of Austin Powers at dinnner parties, if you say "Ohhhh Behave", or "Where are the Sexy Stews?" or even "Yeah Baby"... you're not being charming, you are in fact a poster child for the argument advancing early ethanasia.
Other phrases, words, impressions I officially forbid people to use anymore in coversations,
1: "My Bad"
2: "It's all good"
3: "No you dii-in't"
4: "And she\he was all like"
5: Borat Impressions (You know who you are...)
6: "Duuuude" (This used in combination with number 4, is the A bomb of irriation)
7: I'm Rick James bee-yotch
Phrases that are ready for an ironic comedy come back tour
1) Jive Turkey
2) Wussssssssssup (Just late enough in the game to be totally, hilariously lame)
3) Calling people crazy cats... (So anyway, this cat comes up to me, and this crazy cat goes)
4) Batshit (She went totally bat shit)
5) Hogan! (HOGAN!)
6) Rad!
7) Mantain, mantian.
8) Doing impression of made up actors, creating your own stable of fictional actors, with fictional catchphrases, repleat with fictional love intrest... on a fictional planet.
Anyway, that's it... oh, and I for one like the acting prowess of Ben Afleck now, because it's become trendy to hate him. I also like Kim Jong Il for the same reason... Go Kim!... Ahhhh no nukes! You're right Kim, It's sooooooo not fair!
Oh and the next show is actually called "The Delicious Carnival of the Dead"... Christmas Spooktacular was lame, and everybody rebelled against writing anything for it. People hate Chistmas in Victoria, they really do.
You want to know why? Because we are "the third satanist capitol of the world!" the first being some spooky place in Italy, the second being Salt Lake City Utah.... it's a fact, I read it somewhere so it must be true.
Poor Satan, I like him too because it's become trendy to hate him. But I for one have sympathy for this devil, who at the peak of his popularity with big hair metal bands, in cheetah spandex, and cheeks covered in rouge dedicated their albulms to him. The popularity was to much for Poor Satan, who died in 1987... of embaresment...
Nietzche killed God. Kiss, Posion, Warrant, and Slayer, Killed Satan--by accident. Before he was concidered witty, and diabolical (The kind of guy who wore a tweed shirt and could quote Oscar Wilde) But after the eighties, he was concidered the kind of guy that teased his hair, and looked like a Tyrannasourus Rex that liked to dress up like a gay pirate.... it was too much of a fall from grace for him... so he took his life... he did it in his father basement (Hell) after playing Judas Preist backwards, and realizing it was his own voice telling him to kill himself.
Poor Satan! I imigine you now in heaven, crimping your hair, applying your rouge, slapping on some acid wash jean nut huggers, and listening to the sweet strands of a "Suprise Rock Out Guitar Solo" on WASP, or the sweet lyrical genius of one Sebastion Bach
... will miss you Oh Prince of darkness, everytime I look at a Zebra spandex jumper, I think of you.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
This is the last blog entry ever until the new web site! It's going to be soooo sweet!
No more blog entries, time for Vaudeville to put on it's game face. Peo0ple read this blog and think we're on crack... when we're totally on coke... because we're all hi roller like that.
WARNING! The next show is sooooooo gross, sooo puerile & sooooooo amazing!!!
You will leave the theatre going, were some of those jokes just a little to soon? Well, I leave you to ponder that... catch you on the new rad website... thanks for reading. *sob*
EXCLAMATION MARK!
Jacob
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
GO SEE LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE-- OR I'LL KILL U.
And book your seats for the NEW ATOMIC VAUDEVILLE now! You can get them at the wine store in under a week... the show is so suprising, none of us even know what will be in it yet... (No really, everyones been busy and out of town and stuff)... but thems are the best shows, when no one really comes up with anything until the day before. It's Atomic Vaudeville Freaky Jazz thang... only problem is all the screaming and yelling.
Some of the Vaudeville's are in Vancouver Fringe this week, (Andrew, Celine, Amitai, Britt, JJ) it's rad. But we miss you, Wax Museam... but I suppose I miss you Miniture world most of all (Even though I've never bought a ticket to that tourist shake down shack, because everyone tells me it's powerfully lame) I still love the idea of you Diminutive Globe.
Nothing intresting happened this week, and I have no intresting comments about the world... maybe I'm losing my edge, or maybe it's all the f ing drinking we HAVE to do when we're on the road... if you're not drunk all the time, people don't come to your fringe show, and slam you behind your back... you might as well be a Mormon if your not tanked by four in the afternoon. I'm sooo going to rehab after this is done.
SWAK!
Tuesday, September 5, 2006
It was a berry magical Fringe... we made lots of freinds, and nemisises.
I have new nemisis because of the fringe.. (I won't tell you who they are, but they just made the top of me shit list--and soon I'm cleaning house MO FO)
I find the fringe kind of weird, having never done it before.
I had this image in my head that it would be all these bohemian conversations, you know midgets, absinthe, a splash of nihilism peppered with hope, we'd sing to the early morning, and plan the revolution in the afternnoon, to the beautiful music of a one legged girl who plays the accordian. I'd kiss the visiting artist on the cheek, as their train pulled out of the station... we would promise to meet again and, but deep in the pit of the heart of our guts... alas we knew that this joy was fleeting moment of artistic beauty.
Ah all this excitment at other peoples work... yet it actually seemed kind of like a trade show..
"HOW MANY STARS YOU GOT!"... "HOW MANY TICKETS ARE YOU SELLING!" "I CAN'T BELIVE THIS REVIEW!" "COME AND SEE MY SHOW! COME AND SEE MY SHOW!" "HOW MANY PEOPLE YOU GET!"... all it was missing was Pat o Brian from access Hollywood. All this hucksterism, all this desperation. I suppose it's nessary, a lot of people have to pay there travel expences... but honestly you go see this neat show, where the person seemed genuinly intresting... and all they can talk about when you meet them at the bar is their reviews, and ticket sales... as riveting as this all sounds...it's not. Why did they go into theatre, why didn't they go into Cadilac's or computers, as my Granpa used to say "That's where the money is"... and he out'a know, he had the most succesful Hardware store in Saskatoon.
There's also war profiteering, pah, the Fringe... that's chump change compared to arming Lebanon for Isreali\Lebanon war Part 2: Days of Armegedon.
I suppose the entire planet has come down with Salesmenitis... Marketing is the only sincere art form of the twentieth first century. No Arthur Miller, the Saleman is not dying, it's the world around him.
I just should do a show where I sell my show through the entire show... it can be all hip hop.
Maketing and Muckracking,
But shit, is it ever hot today... I can't wait until the MOST POWERFUL VAUDEVILLE EVER! If I wasn't so depressed about all this fringe Jive talk...BUT JUST THINKING ABOUT THE NEW IMPROVED VAUDEVILLE MAKING MY BALLS FEEL LIKE CONCRETE! IF I WASN'T IN THAT SHOW--ID SEE IT EVERY NIGHT, BECAUSE THE NEW VAUDEVILLE GOING TO TURN YOUR SHIT WHITE! R U as excited as I am!
SEE VAUDEVILLE "WHAT IS BEAUTY PAGENT?!" BECAUSE IT'S BETTER THAN ZOLAFT!
***** it's five star entertainment, and will sell out every freeking night--you know it will! We're taking all you playa' hata'z back to school!!
JAKESPEARE
(Da Playa King)
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
So the star score card... out of a potential score of ten... combining the scores of the Times Columnist and Monday Magazine (Which comes out on Wensday for some reason)
Legoland 9 (Good hustle gang, we worked hard, we played harder. Now we got to just take this play thing one show at a time. Got to mantain focus during playoff's and take the play down the 40 yard line past the end zone. This game is won by inches. Every fumbled line or uncomited emotional beat lets the other team win. We're a star away from victory... I want that last star and I don't care how much I have to degrade and abuse you two little monsters to get it.)
Year of falling down 9 (Yet Jacob did technically dramaturge it, so he might ask politely if meg wouldn't mind donating a star to his production which would give his crew a Flawless VICTORY. She scored early with a strong opening with The Beastie Boys, and eating all those cupcakes and still being able to talk without cotton mouth, shows Pro Status. Although she fumbled with the horrific sound of Rod Peters voice midway through the play... she picked up the ball and took this searing drama home, to the cheers of the capacity home crowd. )
Canable 4 (TC not talleyed yet, still to early in the game to say for sure. Havn't seen it. But rumor is this ones going to be the fave, not looking for raves. Half the team is green, but they do have number one drama draft pick Mike Delamont... this guy plays it like a young Dion Sanders )
Flora and Fauna 3 and a half... (I saw it last night, there's good hustle in this lovable team. They want it so bad you can taste it. Perhaps the dark horse.... they came around an score a two point conversion for this audience member when I realized the beer taps we're unmaned and I swang around the weak defence of the bartender and stole three beers during the perfomance.)
And all the other shows, the only show to score a FLAWLESS VICTORY... is Pajama Men... I saw it a few days ago (The teams lights were broken the first few minutes of play, but they rolled with the punches and kept the funny going in the dark. Rumor is these two Lads of Laughter, deans of satire, are the Comedians, Comedians. This Theatre man heartily concures, as a "Funny Man" myself, I knew none of the slobs in the audience were getting how many levels of funny they were operating on. "Saloon" does sound like "Salon", and those philistines had no idea why that was funny--I did but I'm not telling you why, it's a comedy thing. When those pigs were laughing I wanted them to shut up them all with my fists until they left the theatre, so I could appreciate these Pajama man's particular brand of funny in total silence. The score is in this one, and it's a Grand slam Homerun. This is the thinking man's James Joyce.
So there you are theatre fans...
See you at the theatre... where two plank, a passion, an a strong defensive and offensive line... can make dreams come true,
go for the gold
JR
Star system for Judging all works of major art (Always out of five--this was the system devised by Aristole in "The Poetics" where after seeing "Oedipus Rex", he stared off in the midnight sky in Athens and said... "Man I really liked that Tragedy, how can devise a subtle, and fail safe philosophical system for explaining how much I freeking liked that work of art?" And then Aristole saw five stars flashing in the moonless sky... and went "Eureka" the five star sytem. And lo, Aristotle that night gave "Oedipus Rex" five stars out of five... and citezens of the world from that day forward had a fail safe way of understanding the merits of all art without having to sift though a paragraph or two of review... because everyone knows "Writing make Hulk brain hurt. Hilk just want to know how many stars")
So.., the five star sytem of Aristole, on how to judge all drama.
***** (Five stars) Flawless victory...their is nothing more you can do. If you did anymore, people heads would explode. if you get five stars out of five, you're on your way to statuedom. If you died tommorow, I wouldn't be suprised if somebody said they should take your body, bronze it, and put diomonds where your eyes once were... you've made it kid. But watch out, ease off the leather jackets and the Bentley's, and the jive talk... because you've made a lot of enemies... look over you're shoulder, there are other artists that joansing for your stars. This is of course How Christopher Marlow died, after he got Five stars out of Five for Faust... a drunk Hooligan in a bar... seeing the five flashy stars Kit was clutching greedily... beat Kit Marlow senceless and mugged him for four of his stars... stealing all but one of them. Poor Christopher, finding he only had one crummy star left for Faust (A play he slaved over) slit his throat on it's sharp edge. And that was the end of him.
**** (Four Stars) Four star works of art, unlike hotels, are deficient masterpeices. It's like a four course meal, with no dessert... or like red hot sex without a thuderous orgasm with claw marks down your back where you are bespeckled with blood. It's like stunning women with an eye patch, and a mostache. Famous deficiant Masterpeices like Stephen King's "Christine"... are often deflty handled, tightly written, full of insight, homour, and a dazzling array of charectors... yet, like Stephen Kings "Christine"... the main protaganist is usually a Chevy that is haunted by the ghost of a prom queen that goes on a killing rampage... you see, no matter how good the prose is, one just can't get over the sticking point that the stories protaganist is goddamn homocidal Chevy being haunted by a Prom Queen. I mean who the hell can relate to a haunted muscle car that thinks it's a prom queen... I can. That's who. I can.
Four stars is like being Rocky in the first movie... a minor victory... he didn't kick Apollo's ass or nothing... hell he didn't even win... but he stayed in the fight, took his lumps like a man. And guess what, in Rocky Two, he beats Apollo's ass. Take those four stars and look at them, make the absence of that one star fuel your rage... look at those four stars, your just second best kid... stare at those stars until you can puke your so gaddamn mad... you think goddamn Shakespeare would settle for four stars... Time to get your art on! Now get to that fucking Keyboard and write you the goddamn "King Lear" for the modern stage, Rocky, you got a wife and kis to support, anfd they got a name for second teir theatre artist in this country... welfare recipients.
*** (Three stars) Thankfs for coming out dollface. Your like this girlfreind I had once, that I forget the name of. Your the cottage cheese of storytelling, if your in the fridge I'll eat you, but I wouldn't go out of my way to find you. You're the person everyone likes, but no one adores. Your the one with a "Great personality"... you need to get sexy fast, do whatever takes Eliza Doolitle, but your irritating cockney voice, and muddy face is charming no one. A famous three star play, that sexified itself was in fact Pygmalion. For many years it was called Pymalion and everyone went ... "Ehhh it was ohhkayish"... Shaw was beside himself with outrage, he thought his screwball comedy was box office gold... turned out it was box office cancer. To much talking, to much wittyness, not enough pizzaz, not enough Jazz Handery. Two years latter, he took up the pen and re-wrote the shaggy dog of a drama... and busted on the scene with "West Side Story"... Jets and Sharks, gang violence, Latino's, Choregraphy up the Ying Yang... You can't resist Gang Violence, latino's and music... go on I dare you to try! Shaw soon became the toast of the town, and paraded around with his brand new five stars... and he also had three for Pygmalion... so technically he had eight stars out of five... but famously that night, he spied a little flower girl singing, and generously gave her four of his stars, leaving him with four (He was drunk allegedly) and she busted on the scene with Les Miserable later that year.
** (Two Stars) This is (I hate to say) the worst insult a work of art could ever recieve. What? Your not even good enough to suck! You made no impression on the world and you'll probally die alone.
* (One star) You're either a genius, or a madman... or both?... Or perhaps a madwomen? You my friend have horrified the world with your monsterous creation, and that takes some doing in this modern carnival of horrors we call life. People don't just give out one star lightly, this means they actually loath you and want to destroy you. They want you to take that one star and slit your throat... your critic are in cofederacy against you... Samuel Becket. The highest honor one can get, if your freinds all smoke filterless ciggerete's, drink too much, and wear stippy shirt and berets... you my freind are getting laid tonight! Doesn't matter which way your dorr swings, you can truly claim "I am a tortured artist"
Navigate: (Previous 20 entries)
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
vaudeville9's journal