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10/16/2004: "Big-Assed Weekend Edition (With your host, Nathan E. Bulwar-Lytton)"
Greetings, gentle readers. Mr. Anonymous is spending this weekend
celebrating his tenth wedding anniversary (Making this the first
anniversary where his wife, now 21, may drink legally.) and resting up for
his duties as moderator for next week's BIG DEBATE, so I'll be assuming
all editorial duties (which include - but are not restricted to - beating
copy-boys for forgetting to flush, and going to lunch) until Monday when I
will, once again, pick up the mantel of chief theater critic for the
Burley Protestant Observer!
Of course Monday will be the start of a very busy week for yours truly
because the theater season, here in the sleepy hamlet of Burley
Connecticut, is about to kick into full swing. Which is a nice way of
saying that Burley Elementary has recently wrapped up its production of
Ear Wax is NOT for Eating - Look at Me when I'm Talking to You! and
that means that it's time for the life-long students at Burley High
School (Soon to be renamed "John Brown High" in honor of the native
nutmegger turned mass murderer. ) to embarrass themselves and their
"close-knit" (the polite way of saying "incestuous") families for years to
come.
Ah, High School theatrics, whereby budding teenage thespians are introduced
to the smell of greasepaint and the thrill of the spotlight while we, the
audience, are introduced to the sight of adolescents who are mostly of
Scots/Irish descent portraying Puerto Ricans. That's right, the Theater
Department at Burley High, whose production of Flowers for Algernon
was shut down by the local ASPCA shortly after its star bit the head off
of the "lead mouse", have decided to tackle West Side Story
Oh, gentle readers, there was just so much bad to choose from that, at
first, I was at a loss as to where to start. Finally, I decided that
instead of focusing the sets (What that barn was doing there, painted
between those skyscrapers, is anyone's guess) or the directing (Shouts of
"Get your fat ass out on that stage now" and "you're looking at detention-
for-life, mister!" could easily be heard emanating from backstage) , let
us instead turn our attention towards the casting (for, if I don't tell
this to you, I fear that I may, someday, have to describe it to a
psychiatric professional from the cozy confines of a rubber room).
As mentioned above, the members of both the Jets (the Caucasian
gang) and the Sharks (the Puerto Rican gang) were portrayed entirely by
White students. As if this weren't bad enough, apparently a plurality of
the Jets failed to show up for the performance, resulting their being
outnumbered by the Sharks, in the opening fight scene, by nearly one dozen
to three.
The pivotal role of Maria was assigned to Wendy Kennedy whom I'd like to
think, despite obviously being at least seven months pregnant, was not
"showing" at the time her part was cast. However, since no more than a
fortnight's worth of work (if that) was scattered upon this train wreck,
I find it highly unlikely that anyone failed to notice Wendy's "condition"
The only "student of color" appearing in the production was one Tamikka
"Boom Boom" LeShaun, a seventeen-year-old, African-American, mother of
three, who (in what has to be the most inspired/drug induced act of casting
in the history of the theater) was given the role of Officer Krupke.
It was Ms. LeShaun who, quite inadvertently, became the catalyst for the
evening's most dramatic event when she stepped onto the stage and, after
four minutes of silence, uttered "Aw shit. I can't remember what I's s'pose
to say."
This sudden departure from the script and into the world of the Avant-Garde
was quickly seized upon by a member of the audience who supplied a sort of
"Greek Chorus" by shouting "Ha, ha. Tamikka done forgot her words." This
was followed by an unusual amount of high-pitched giggling.
Having successfully broken down the "Forth wall", Tamikka gave the audience
a peek though the window to her soul by informing us that "Ya'll don't know
me. Ya'll don't know my pain" and then requesting that we immediately cease
"acting like a bunch of stuck-up motherfuckers." Sadly, before Ms LeShaun
could finish her most enlightening lecture on etiquette, her maternal
grandmother, Mrs. Antoinette Jenkins (age 34) lunged across the aisle,
grabbing another patron of the arts by the throat and shouting "I'll teach
your white ass not to laugh at my grandbaby!"
At this point, a sort of general melee broke out in the theater that was
by far better than the lopsided "rumble" which had been presented earlier
on the stage. The best part of this brawl being that I was blessed with
the opportunity to place my foot squarely in the groin of the little
ruffian whom I witnessed defacing my garden wall last Tuesday.
_ . _
From our "It's wrong to gloat" department :
Many of you have written me to express your shock that charges of Sexual
Harassment have been brought against Bill O'Reilly. Many more of you have
written me to express your shock that those charges were brought by a
woman.
I need not remind you, gentle readers, that RATYHTL is highly respectable
web… thingy and we will not be publishing jokes like Who's
Looking Out For You…And Up Your Dress or The No Spunk Zone or
"And now for our 'Most Ridiculous Item of the Day' - Scheming bitches
who can't keep their fucking mouths shut!".
If you're looking for that sort of humor, look elsewhere!
Warmest regards,
Nathan
