Jeremy's Ramblings, Babblings, and Other Pretentious Bullshit.
Monday, August 09, 2004
From Jason Lindner's "The Gog/Magog Project". This show is exquisitely written, and this is one of the highlights for me:

"Let's face it. This night, this important night...what are you all doing here? Why aren't you at a movie? Why do plays anymore? Why come see them?

Another play with a love triangle and a drunken, drugged lesbian that comes in in the first act. Or a sap-filled drama with a resolution involving some benevolent mystic force that stands on a box and shows us the errors of our racist, sexist, anti-animal, anti-poverty, pro-hatred, pro-sickness, anti-Right On ways. Smacks us on the upside and says, 'Don't you understand how ignorant you are?' Smack smack smack.

Either that or some sugar-filled comedy where Jews shout and Catholics and Protestants try to outpuke each other. Or comedy extravaganzas trying to show how every taboo can be subverted. Oh, man, I love it every time I see them eviscerate a raped child on stage! They really put the boot in there! Well, it's satire. You are all so anti-Right On.

'Not me!' you scream. 'Not me! I'm so Right On, it hurts. Because to be this Right On, I sacrifice. I smell like Right On. I smell like homosexual sex and tear gas from an Alabama civil rights march. That's hard work. Have to buy all the shampoos and body washes. Watch the videos, and buy the breakfast cereals, and log on to it, and hook it into my brain through a really high colonic letting the Right On get into every pore and orifice. How dare you say that I am not Right On.'

There they are...A hundred Right On blobs watching this Right On play, and right about intermission everyone has been straining in half-light to read the bio of the lighting designer because of the absolute deathly boredom that comes with culture. That is sick, isn't it? Culture has become a synonym for boredom. And the same blobs come to see the performance again and again just to prove to themselves that they are Right On, Right On, Right On that yellow brick road. That road to Victim Valhalla. Where everybody gets to die over and over again from nothing. Hit by that invisible misery-seeking missile. No one is ever guilty because we all got it just as bad. No race guilt, no class guilt, that's Victim Heaven.

Well, if that's the kind of self-serving bullshit you are looking for, it is going down! There will be a revolution, and theatre will not survive! It is you who have destroyed it, you self-serving sons of bitches who can't abide to hear one thing you don't already know you agree with!

Theatre that was once an instigator for social change - so dangerous that when the revolution came, the artists were the first to be tortured - is now an ever-turning wheel of bullshit that serves itself feces by the shovelful and loves itself for it. It is a purulent, pus-filled gas bucket and needs to be put out of its own misery. You have murdered the theatre, and I hope you rot in hell for it! Now let me out of it! This is the end! Theatre is dead!!! THEATRE IS DEAD!!!"

Gable that is a sweet monologue...i'll send you a longer email soon.
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