Transcendental Masturbation: the come backs…..

Well. It seems my failings are now tied inextricably to this Marvel of Manhood. I was charged with seeing this show on sept 6th (I did), and write a review (I did...36hours later…bad me).

So I finish that rough draft and I sit down to edit and submit, only to find… a lively little discussion already commenced. So far the online tally is a plus, a minus, a ‘mud-sling’ and some ‘petty’ stuff…  Now I gotta follow this up? Can’t  NOT do it. My editor would kill me. But I’m supposed to be an impartial reviewer, with an empathy for performers and an understanding of not only the theatre and the Fringe but I also have to be an aficionado on what’s funny (to me of course. I can’t speak for you). So, after careful deliberation and a little bit of tweaking (I like to think I stayed true to the original), here is what I was gonna say before some of you crossed that line afore me.

After an 8 year absence and a full tour card this year (not to mention his recent debaucherous stint at Burning Man) Glen Callender Ufa is still coming down to earth. Perhaps he already has and is only now rebounding off the bottom. Either way, with proclamations like “I just don’t care anymore!” The question must be asked. Should ‘you’?

Looking like the bastard love child of two great Rick’s ( Mr Ocasek and Mr Astley) our synth styling singer/songwriter takes the stage to croon his catchy introduc-”tion”.  While it sucks us right in with its  bobble head-like rhythm, given the ‘vegan’ peeler-routine that follows, I’m glad I sat at good distance.
Perhaps, in the expansive Performance Works space, thoughts began to grow in me. I couldn’t help but realize the work was better suited to a smaller, more intimate venue. Say....a lounge…..  in a gentlemans’ club….. Perhaps a ‘bored silly’ waitress in a bad tuxedo outfit, cut a little too short. The happy hour highballs would flow while we flirt and laugh at all the sexual innuendos assailing us from the nook where the band usually sat, home now to the evenings’ entertainment. Perchance numbers would be exchanged, dates set, kept and consummated.

Years later we find ourselves driving up to the Airport Suites, a quick overnight stay before we spirit the kids off to Disneyland. We’re halfway through sign-in when the hauntingly melodic strains of “Imagine: reImagined” waft out of the lounge and stir the ashes of memory. A knowing glance shared, a soft wry smile met with a toothy grin.

“Let’s get these little ones an adjoining room”, she says. I inform the ‘concierge’ of our requirements. 

Jennifer (our precocious little 1st grader) asks, “Mommy, why do we have to sleep next door?”

“Well darling, you and your sister are big girls now, correct?”

“ yes mummy”

“and you were up early this morning, before mummy and daddy were, and you packed your own bags, and you didn’t have a nap”

“no mommy. I didn’t…….   (whispering) Emy did…”

“that’s okay darling, well…. We thought that maybe you ‘young ladies’ would like to go for a dip in the pool and then order some room service from your own phone….”

“really…”

(whispering) “well actually, I have to stay up for a while and make sure daddy understands just how important this trip is. and he’s not going to go and hang out in the lounge and listen to that silly man tell his dirty jokes.  or mommy will have to give him a spankin. and, I want to make sure you girls get your beauty sleep before we see Gramma”

(whispering) “okay mummy. I’ll help. but don’t tell emy…. I’ll explain it later when you and daddy have your talk… okay?”

(in a loud whisper) “You have yourself a deal.”  They shake on it.

Neither her mother or I think she’s ready for that conversation yet. No matter how grown up she may act.

Perhaps in another   …….8 years.

So then I’m sure somebody would have read it (cause clearly people are) and gone all:

“What’re you talking about? Does this reviewer think that he’s being all funny by starting us off like we’re gonna like where we’re going, then he starts to make up his own stuff along the way like it’s supposed to be better than what the guy did? And then we’re gonna think ‘wow, you’re so witty’
Right! like I’m supposed to care about that? Talk about masturbation!”        posted by   [email protected]

So then somebody else would have responded:

“deep.
Like a toilet.”      posted by [email protected]

Sometimes we are clever. Sometimes we are entertaining. Sometimes we’re both.    (sometimes)

Come over this to find out more.