So I'm in Phoenix this week and I was forced to go to a luncheon performance of a play that I had no interest in seeing. It was a One-Act for Black History Month. That's right, a luncheon one-act for Black History Month. Yes, it was as awful as it sounds. And it's downtown. And the theater is surrounded by hideously ugly statues of naked people frolicking - totally naked men and women, doing a kind of queer "liturgical dance" with their breasts and butts and genitals flying in every direction and captured forever in stop action by the sculptor. And the audience is a bunch of old folks. And they all get box lunches. And they sit around you and eat their sandwiches and chew their food, packed into a tiny studio theater, and you want to scream. And some old gal comes out and warms up the audience. And finishes with a stupid tap dance. And it's embarrassing. And the old folks, with their moldy tuna fish, sit there laughing. We...
Godot has finally arrived - but he's a multi-level marketing salesman and you can't get him to shut up.