I’ll be performing a mix of vintage and brand-new stand-up at this the Sunday after I return from Scotland.
I hope folks are able to understand whatever brogue I pick up across the pond. I hope I’m sober by then, too.
I’m thrilled to be gigging for/with the Workhaus Collective. At The Playwrights’ Center, where theater begins.
That can only bode well for those “acting” gigs not in my future.
If you made it out to Ferrari McSpeedy’s “Once Upon a Time in the Suburbs” at the 2011 Minnesota Fringe, thank you. If you happened to review the show on the Fringe site or on your blog or for a more official print or digital media outlet, thanks again. If you were one of the reviewers who suggested that I speak an unfamiliar form of English out of your ear’s range, believe me when I reply here, in typed words that I hope your eyes can read, I got the message.
I heard you loud and clear.
I used to review books and music for money, so I understand the impulse to protect innocent consumers from bad art for money and/or a lack of self-esteem.
What I think of the Pioneer Press and/or its theater criticism isn’t the point.
The point is this: I learned a ton performing in a big, goofy female western in Ayn Rand’s idea of a theater. Last time I got to perform with such talented folks in such an impressive venue was back in 2007, when I did vaudeville with Ned Beatty. Of course that Ned Beatty. No shit.
And, no, we’re not related. We established that chatting backstage, as soon as we were introduced.
But he’d be a cool grandpa. Too bad he wasn’t available for Fringe.
“An agreeable sensation arising from contemplating the misery of another.”
— Ambrose Bierce