Ten Ways to Save Local Theatre

Still nothing from the student yet. Your Sis made pumpkin soup with chicken. The yoga ball killed me dead.

+ + +

I found this article via The Stranger, Seattle's alt-weekly. I'll add my comments.
Ten Things Theaters Need to Do Right Now to Save Themselves
In No Particular Order
By Brendan Kiley

1. Enough with the goddamned Shakespeare already. The greatest playwright in history has become your enabler and your crutch, the man you call when you're timid and out of ideas. It's time for a five-year moratorium—no more high schoolers pecking at Romeo and Juliet, no more NEA funding for Shakespeare in the heartland, and no more fringe companies trying to ennoble themselves with Hamlet. (Or with anything. Fringe theater shouldn't be in the game of ennobling, it should be in the game of debasement.) Stretch yourself. Live a little. Find new, good, weird plays nobody has heard of. Teach your audiences to want surprises, not pacifiers.

[What I say: It comes up later, but "new, good, weird plays nobody has heard of" sell fewer tickets. I'm in favor of layered pricing: The name shows charge full-price, and the new shows offer a discount tickets. Make it less of a gamble for the audience. I'm in favor of doing Shakespeare if the following measures are taken:

a) no one uses an English accent
b) modern staging
c) exploit the humor]

2. Tell us something we don't know. Every play in your season should be a premiere—a world premiere, an American premiere, or at least a regional premiere. Everybody has to help. Directors: Find a new play to help develop in the next 12 months.
Actors: Ditto.
Playwrights: Quit developing your plays into the ground with workshop after workshop after workshop—get them out there.
Critics: Reward theaters that risk new work by making a special effort to review them.
Unions, especially Actors' Equity: You are a problem. Fringe theaters are the research-and-development wing of the theater world, the place where new work happens—but most of them can't afford to go union, so union actors are stuck in the regional theaters, which are skittish about new work and early-career playwrights. You must break this deadlock by giving a pass to union actors to work in nonunion houses, if they are working on new plays.

[What I say: To my local theatre's credit, they premiere two new plays a year -- a one-act and a full-length play]

3. Produce dirty, fast, and often. Fringe theaters: Recall that 20 years ago, in 1988, a fringe company called Annex produced 27 plays, 16 of them world premieres—and hang your heads in shame. This season, Annex will produce 10 plays, 4 of them world premieres, which is still pretty good. Washington Ensemble Theatre will only produce three plays, one of them a world premiere. (An adaptation of... Shakespeare!) What else happened in 1988? Nirvana began recording Bleach—and played a concert at Annex Theatre. By the next year, Nirvana was on their first world tour. The lesson: Produce enough new plays and Kurt Cobain will come back from the grave and play your theater.

[What I say:I'm in favor of occasional staged readings. Less rehearsal time, fewer props, casual atmosphere, and an intense focus on the story. The closer to a radio play you can get, the better.]

4. Get them young. Seattle playwright Paul Mullin said it best in an e-mail last week: "Bring in people under 60. Do whatever it takes. If you have to break your theater to get young butts in seats, then do it. Because if you don't, your theater's already broke—the snapping sound just hasn't reached your ears yet."

[What I say: I suggest performing scenes in schools and libraries and street festivals. Leave the theatre and go into the community.]

5.Offer child care. Sunday school is the most successful guerrilla education program in American history. Steal it. People with young children should be able to show up and drop their kids off with some young actors in a rehearsal room for two hours of theater games. The benefits: First, it will be easier to convince the nouveau riche (many of whom have young children) to commit to season tickets. Second, it will satisfy your education mission (and will be more fun, and therefore more effective, for the kids). Third, it will teach children to go to the theater regularly. And they'll look forward to the day they graduate to sitting with the grown-ups. Getting dragged to the theater will shift from punishment to reward.

[What I say: I like this. It removes screaming children from the audience.]

6. Fight for real estate. In 1999, musician Neko Case broke up with Seattle, leaving us for Chicago. (It still hurts, Neko.) When asked why in an interview, she explained, "Chicago is a lot friendlier, especially toward its artists. Seattle is very unfriendly toward artists. There's no artists' housing—they really like to use the arts community, but they don't like to put anything back into the arts community." Our failure abides. Push government for cheap artists' housing and hook up with CODAC, a committee that wants developers on Capitol Hill—and, eventually, everywhere—to build affordable arts spaces into their new condos. (CODAC's tools of persuasion: tax, zoning, and business incentives.) Development smothers artists, who can't afford the rising property values that they—by turning cheap neighborhoods into trendy arts districts—helped create.

[What I say:We had to do it, and it's a shame the county won't help out to establish a public performing arts center.The local college's venue is the domain of the college exclusively.]

7. Build bars. Alcohol is the only liquid on earth that functions as both lubricant and bonding agent. Exploit it. Treat your plays like parties and your audience like guests. Encourage them to come early, drink lots, and stay late. Even the meanest fringe company can afford a tub full of ice and beer, and the state of regional- theater bars is deplorable: long lines, overpriced drinks, and a famine of comfortable chairs. Theaters try to "build community" with postplay talkbacks and lectures and other versions of you've spent two hours watching my play, now look at me some more! You want community? Give people a place to sit, something to talk about (the play they just saw), and a bottle. As a gesture of hospitality, offer people who want to quit at intermission a free drink, so they can wait for their companions who are watching act two. Just take care of people. They get drinks, you get money, everybody wins. Tax, zoning, and liquor laws in your way? Change them or ignore them. Do what it takes.

[What I say: The local theatres do offer wine during intermission.]

8. Boors' night out. You know what else builds community? Audience participation, on the audience's terms. For one performance of each show, invite the crowd to behave like an Elizabethan or vaudeville audience: Sell cheap tickets, serve popcorn, encourage people to boo, heckle, and shout out their favorite lines. ("Stella!") The sucky, facile Rocky Horror Picture Show only survives because it's the only play people are encouraged to mess with. Steal the gimmick.

[What I say: The loyal audiences are too old to hear when only the actors are speaking. But I like the idea of actors breaking character to give asides to a reactive audience and then stepping back into the play.]

9. Expect poverty. Theater is a drowning man, and its unions—in their current state—are anvils disguised as life preservers. Theater might drown without its unions, but it will certainly drown with them. And actors have to jettison the living-wage argument. Nobody deserves a living wage for having talent and a mountain of grad-school debt. Sorry.

[What I say: The unions are in Asheville, and they are smaller than the community companies. Only Flat Rock can compare to the county theatres.]

10. Drop out of graduate school. Most of you students in MFA programs don't belong there—your two or three years would be more profitable, financially and artistically, out in the world, making theater. Drama departments are staffed by has-beens and never-weres, artists who might be able to tell you something worthwhile about the past, but not about the present, and certainly not about the future. Historians excepted—art historians are great. If things don't turn around, they may be the only ones left.

[What I say: I'd rather work with an actor with some formal training than a diva with bad instincts.]

Picture of the Day
Kabul, Afghanistan.

Rain Running

So, yes, despite a daylong downpour, I wanted to keep my schedule. I suited up and ran for what became 46 minutes, the longest I've run without a treadmill. Maybe I'm water-cooled model. It felt great. I let my shoulders swing with the stride, and it staved off my rib aches. I think I may have found the runner's plateau that allows ridiculous distances like half- and full marathons. I hopped over gutter streams. I swerved around puddles, I wrung out my shirt every few minutes. It hasn't felt this easy to run for a long time, and again, I normally can't run for so long at one time.

I didn't hear from the student yesterday, and I may have spooked his teacher when I described all the hoops the kid may have to jump through. Not hoops of my construction, mind you. If someone wants to make a logo that has to be approved by someone else, they will face heartbreaking frustration. The other person may toss them feedback like "make it nicer" or "I don't like it, but I don't know why." The lack of critical thinking will crush your soul. I want to prepare him for that so it doesn't discourage him.

Picture of the Day
I know my phone works. Why, oh why, won't he call?

A New Project Perhaps

Your Sis pulled me over as I got home yesterday to ask if I would mentor a student. The seniors have to present an extracurricular project in their last year of school. This guy wants to make a logo from scratch for his church and use it for "branding," a marketing term for establishing the logo on brochures, shirts, cards, etc. He knows a little Photoshop, and he wants to learn Illustrator and InDesign. He had a mentor, but she bailed because of schedule problems, and he approached Your Sis about me. Some students know I do this professionally.

I have some questions about the project and his scope, but it's something I can certainly help with. I talked to his teacher and gave my phone number to pass along. Students who take on such a project go into the community to find a mentor. They can get guild-type skills, sometimes while earning a paycheck. Now, I have no chores to give him. But I can teach him how to create multiple logo suggestions and set up the other documents. He supposedly wants to print the documents at home, but he needs to learn how to prepare material for a print shop.

I'm waiting for him to call me and ask nicely. I know his teachers; I assume this gives me an advantage in helping him.

Picture of the Day
I thought the debate was a draw. If this was a title fight (with Obama as the champion of state and national polls), he would have retained on points. McCain tried a few stunt-punches (specifically the bit about fining employees for not providing healthcare) but didn't land a haymaker. They exchanged jabs as the debate calcified into statistical gainsaying. Obama continues to have an aggressive foreign-policy voice, and Mccain tends to fall on rhetoric when discussing the economy (his admitted weaness).

Neither man went for low blows on acquaintances and preachers, but McCain will need to swing for the fences if he's going to overtake Obama in the polls.

Running From Illness

Your Sis is recovered and back at school today. I'm also feeling much better; I credit the run last night. I have three weeks before the next 5k, and I mean to keep my schedule. I ran for 35 minutes. That's almost the speed of my slowest 5k. After running for time this week, I plan to target a 5k distance next week. I've noticed the running is much easier lately. I like to think my new coffee diet has something to do with that. Also, it's much cooler outside.

The campaign has turned ugly again as McCain and Palin assert that Obama has ties to domestic terrorists. The left-wing talkers fired back with Palin's husband's connections to a secessionist movement in Alaska. Also another old ghost has emerged: Trig. According to some outlets, there is no record of the newest Palin's birth at her local hospital. The rumor has long-simmered that Trig is not her child but one of her young daughters'. Also, there are no pregnant Palin photos.

McCain has nothing to lose by going ugly. The latest round up of polls show McCain leading only two state polls and in no national polls. As it stands now, the vote would be a blow-out. It makes for an interesting table-setting for tonight's debate. We will not miss this.

Picture of the Day
Looking out a space station porthole.

Are You Not Entertained?

We got back home about 3 Sunday afternoon. The drive back was fine and included a quick stop for McDonald's and gasoline. Not together; that would be yucky. We four split a bottle of sparkling red wine, and the in-laws shuffled out to Asheville. Your Sis and I, bedraggled as can be, hit the grocery store and got Starbucks. A pub dinner followed, and she decreed she wanted to watch a DVD. She picked Glaidator, which she had never seen.

It was the subject of a simmering argument with my comic gang. They hailed it, and I shrugged it off as a popcorn movie. It remains so. The script is crap. Great actors and director. Joaquin Phoenix stole that movie outright. Poopy story. And it seems to borrow heavily from a major storyline in the WWF from the late '90s. Just sayin'.

Your Sis is staying home from work today with continued exhaustion, and I have a sore throat. The babies may have infected us ...

Picture of the Day
But, as we all know, it's better to look good than to feel good.

Running on Empty

I decided to join the annual Halloween race. I ran it, what, two years back? That was when it remained a midnight race. Now it's run at sundown, almost seven hours earlier. I opted out because the fun was lost. But I need to run again before my body packs on winter weight. I ran for more than half an hour last night. My new idea is to run for time instead of distance. Thirty minutes should be enough to run a 5k even at a slow trot.

I found myself in a gas line last night for about 45 minutes. It was the weakest day for gas supplies in our region, but this morning looked better at local stations.

We both watched the debate last night. Biden did a much better jobs with specifics. Palin used so much homespun dialect, it was almost a caricature.

Picture of the Day
Here's to drinking in Atlanta.

Things I Forgot

1) On Saturday, I picked up my painting from the frame shop. The nice gent behind the counter dug it out from his pile of orders, held it up to me, and asked "it's supposed to hang this way, right?"

It was sideways.

This is why painters sign their work. It's not ego. It's so the framer knows which edge of the painting is the bottom.

To his credit, he immediately took the painting to his workbench and changed out the screws and restrung the wire. Ta-dah, I have a framed painting.

2) I sold Mom on opening iTunes on her new PC, but she wouldn't give up her credit card info to buy songs. I knew that she'd find songs she hasn't heard in years and years, and sure enough the first song she wanted to look for was a tune by the Harlem Globetrotters. Yes. It was the '70s; everyone made an album. She found the song, and I made her a deal: I'll set her iTunes to charge purchases to my songs, and she could pay me back. She agreed. We bought the song. She played it a lot.

She emailed me Monday to say she had somehow muted the program. This is why I didn't want her to sign up with Geek Squad. I hope I can remotely fix any similarly small problems like this.

She was hoping to buy the extended version of Sex and the City, but couldn't find it. I found it online and shipped it to her. I was hoping to surprise her, but I'm sure she'd see this Amazon order on her stoop and think someone had scammed her by finding her PC information online. Also, I never thought I'd have any conversation with My Mom that involved the word "sex."

I was asked to stage manage a show in the upcoming theatre season, and I agreed. I did it in the fall of 2003 for a much larger stage in a play called Tintypes. It required stacks of props. And that worked OK. I had stagehands to boss around. I can do this again with my local theatre.

Picture of the Day
The painting is up. And it suddenly looks tiny. I want a big painting now.

Working From Home

To save gas, I took my work PC home Thursday night and stayed home Friday. I like that set-up. I could take a break for Wookie-throwing when necessary, and I had plenty of snacks.

I watched the debate that night. Your Sis made it about 20 minutes before conking out. I have to admit, I was swim-headed when they started talking about Russia, but I stuck with it. The candidates were clearly talking to the undecideds. I think I'm objective when I say Obama made the better effort; McCain did himself no favors by stumbling over the name of Iran's president and nor did the tug-of-war over preconditions. But it felt like a substantial debate, and I'm glad we're finally at this point in the campaigns.

I drove back home Saturday and had dinner with high-school friends. I became re-acquainted with someone I hadn't seen since I graduated, and we all ate jambalaya and birthday cake. Long conversations about decades-removed relationships and drama ensued. Also, my buddy Esther's child is a little over two years old, and he looks juts like his dad.

The next day, we bought Mom a computer, her first. We practically tackled the Best Buy store as the doors opened. She wanted a Dell, easy enough) and a printer with all the bells and whistles. And she got it. It faxes, copies, and scans. It's an office. She does want the ability to work from home in bad weather, and she's set up for that now. It took some doing to set up the DSL in her new computer, and we both had to react to Windows Vista. After three hours of unboxing and activating, my brain shut down. I drove back home in time for dinner and some vegetative couch time.

Spartanburg and Mayberry are a little better for gas supplies. Georgia continues to have problems, but it's "supposed" to be stablized by this weekend.

Picture of the Day
A bad morning:

Patiently Gassing

As my tank fell below half capacity, I started to plot. I have a number of stations along my commute, and I warned the boss that I might be late if I saw a gas line. But I didn't want to line up until my tank got lower. I couldn't bring myself to get in line with half a tank. I passed a few lines and got to work. In about an hour, a line stretched past our entrance as the Ingles station two stores over received a tanker. Again, I held off. A co-worker took advantage and got in line. He had a full tank in about an hour.

As the day progressed, I started to worry I may have missed my chance. Asheville announced that city offices will close Friday and Saturday. My boss offered to let me work from home tomorrow; I'll simply take my work PC when I leave tonight. As I drove home, I listened to the crackpot radio preacher as he fielded calls about local stations. He announced a tanker was on the way to a particular station. How he got the information, I don't know. Within 20 minutes, he announced the station had to shut down the pumps becuase the line was getting rowdy. Seven police cars were en route, he said. Fifty-five cars were waiting for gas already. He likes to exaggerate, you see. It ifts in with his perpetual end-days rhetoric. I didn't even try it.

I met Your Sister at the lib'ary for a board of education forum for the teachers. Virtually all the audience members were school employees, and the candidates answered questions with this demographic in mind. After, we trotted to the local Mexican restaurant, and the owner said the local Ingles had gas and long lines. The commute had knocked my tank down to a third capacity, and I left to line up.

I got there at 9:30. The line reached around the perimeter of a secondary parking lot and toward the grocery store. Emergency volunteer crews directed traffic, including splitting the line depending on which side our gas tank doors sat on. I got through in thirty minutes, got my eight gallons, and got home less than an hour after I left. I felt good about it. Now I can go to Spartanburg this weekend AND I'll work from home tomorrow.

As I drove to work today, that same store had a gas line, and two BPs had small lines. The good news is that the lines are getting shorter now. But yesterday, it was a bad sight.

This is from the Citizen-Times:

I'm too young to remember the gas shortages of the '70s. The crazy-ass radio preacher was convinced this surpassed that, but those shortages were nationwide. I don't think this panic qualifies. Some stores are offering free snacks for people in line, and that's the kind of PR you can't buy. They'll win over lots of folks.

Your Sis is worried the gas shortages might scuttle the Atlanta trip, but I assured her the gas stations should be better by the middle of next week.

During all this, I took back my bath towel and rug set to Sears (the colors didn't match my new art matting), and bought a new set at Bed, Bath and Beyond. The latter store, surprisingly, doesn't sell sets of towels and rugs, and color matching is a chore. I splurged for the set I settled on, and now I'm covered on this domestic front for the next ten years or so.

I'm using some of your South African curry tonight in my recipe. Don't know which one just yet.

In the News
I'm just saying: If Obama had suspended his campaign on the same day polls showed he had slipped behind by nine points, he'd be accused of cowardice. McCain claimed he was willing to lose and election to win the war. Is he willing to lose the election to rescue the economy? And why can't he debate in primetime when the Senate has adjourned for the day? Move the debates to D.C. if need be.

It's Dead, Jim

I had to buy a new PC about, wow, almost three years ago when my old PC suddenly refused to work. Windows ME crashed. It took months to meticulously copy files from that PC to the new one. I had hoped that I could at least use the old PC as a backup drive for my files. I loaded it with Windows XP this weekend in hopes of salvaging it, and I bought USB and ethernet cables to connect the two. But the old PC continues to freeze during the simplest functions. So it's worthless to me. I'm going to trash it, including bashing the hard drive to bits. It was a good PC while it lasted.

The gas situation is getting spooky. Atlanta is running dry. Nasheville is getting low. Mayberry has no gas to speak of, and the Asheville airport BP had a line stretching down the road. I'm supposed to go to South Carolina this weekend, and I hope I can get at least half a tank to get me there and back.

The restoration folks came back to the house to make an estiomate for drywall repair. Maybe they'll get started on the repair this week.

Picture of the Day
All cats is evil.

Out and About

Asheville won an ugly game against Mayberry. We walked to a local party and stood around a bonfire before getting home after midnight. After a surprisingly long sleep, we woke up and hit the road for time-killing shopping. I'm putting together a grab bag for a high-school friend whose birthday is this weekend. I think wine and chocolate will spoil her enough. She's a mom and a wife, but I don't want to get her anything that relates only to those relationships. She needs a gift just for her.

We watched Vicky Christina Barcelona Saturday night. I can't believe I got Your Sister to a Woody Allen movie. She's ethically repulsed by him, yet this viewing was her idea. I wasn't complaining. It's a good film, and solidly in his wheelhouse: people get in their own way to finding happiness. Also, she declared her desire for Javier Bardem. I, on the other hand, remained unmoved by Scarlet Johannsen. Years of celebrity news coverage have instructed me to want her, but it doesn't take. We ended the night with a pile of doughnuts.

Our town is out of gasoline. It's a problem that's also spread into South Carolina and Tennessee. I still intend to drive down this weekend to visit Mom; she wants a computer -- her first -- and I'll make sure she gets one with all the bells and whistles she's looking for. I installed Windows XP on my old PC and hope to move its files over to the newer PC. Then I might donate the old PC to Your Sister's school. I want to get the newer portable hard drives and save a copy of all my computer files off the PC.

I pulled up almost all of the garden. The squash vines withered to a pallor, and the lone pumpkin couldn't develop any further. We chucked it. We saved what few corn cobs we could and ate them last night. We still have tomatoes and peppers growing.

My Sith apprentice killed Rancors last night. This game is brilliant.

Picture of the Day
Help me, SuperPig. You're my only hope.

A New Game

Our NFL Bet
Her Teams
Patriots (2-0), Chargers (0-2)
Panthers (2-0), Giants (2-0)

My Teams
Steelers (2-0), Jaguars (0-2)
Panthers(2-0), Cowboys (2-0)

A new Star Wars game, Force Unleashed, is out for the major gaming systems, and the first five minutes of it surpasses everything we saw in Clone Wars. We get the blue text, the horns blaring, the shrinking logo, crawling yellow text, and the camera pans down to a planet and a Star Destroyer. I smilled and smiled and smiled.

The game is between Episodes 3 and 4, and it, so far, involves Darth raising an apprentice from childhood. Players learn the game basics by playing as Darth leading an Imperial assault on the Wookie homeworld. The game allows you to grab a wild variety of objects with the Force and toss them. This includes dead Troopers and attacking Wookies. You can force choke, you can block blaster fire with the lightsaber, you can throw your saber and kill specific targets. This is as far as I've gotten so far because I went back to do it again. It's glee.

Asheville comes to Mayberry tonight for a football game, and we're going. The weekend looks open so far.

The garden is winding down. The cold seems to hit the tomatoes hard, and we'll be lucky to get three ears of corn. I think I planted too late. But the soil will have plenty of nutrients for next year.

Picture of the Day
We didn't pick the Vikings this year.

Cooking With Villainy 4

Because we now officially have no play running this fall, I find myself with lots of free time. I'm going to run in the annual Halloween run, and I intend to improve my 5k time. I ran Saturday and Monday, thanks to the iPod and decent weather. A school bug may have hit home. I think I have a mild flu. It hurts to move my eyes.

We double-checked our money-market accounts in light of the Wall Street news. We're OK, I believe.

And since this is a puny post, let's wheel in our regular guest blogger, Iron (Face) Chef Doctor Doom.

It has indeed been a hectic time here at Stately Doom Manor, what with alien Skrulls getting all up in Doom's bidness. These interlopers dare hope they can conquer Latveria and exploit the populace for nefarious ends. That's Doom's job! Doom commands them to step off, and Doom would single-handedly thrash them from ribbed chin to funky green toes if Doom were not otherwise occupied with his new recipe -- a formula that verily drips with genius and skill, traits unknown to that Accursed Reed Richards!

Tonight, Doom deigns to grant you Chicken Tetrazzini!

Doom commands you to boil one package of spaghetti noodles. Oft times this will equal 7 ounces. This shall suffice. For convenience, Doom prefers to snap his noodles into thirds. Doom likes to imagine they are the very bones of the Accursed Richards. Doom relishes the loud cracks. Doom screams aloud "Crack your bones, Richards! Crack your bones! Doom lives for the sound!"

[Somewhat famous English transvestite comedian Eddie Izzard walks in]

Eddie Izzard: Oh, hey, Doom. That, um, that sounds a bit like my chiropractor bit. You know -- oh, nice apron, by the by. I like the little design. What is that, a retarded iguana?

Doom: This ... This is Doom's family crest. What are you --

Izzard: Oh, sorry, love. Anyway, yeah, I do the "crack yer bones" thing in my act. The joke is the chiropractor prescribes the same medicine for every problem, you see. "Hangnail? Crack yer bones. Smelly pits? Crack yer bones." And then I make funny faces and pretend I'm in a crazed state as I move their spines. "Make the noise! I live for the noise!" It goes over like --

Doom: WHO LET EDDIE IZZARD INTO DOOM'S HOUSE?! Doombots! Throw him into the sun!

Now then ...

Doom commands you to melt 1/4 cup of butter in a 2-quart pot. When the butter is entirely liquid, Doom commands you to mix in 1/4 cup of all-purpose flour and pinches of salt and pepper. Doom commands you to stir this on low heat until it is smooth and bubbly.

Doom commands you to add to the pot 1 cup of chicken broth and 1 cup of heavy cream. Doom commands you to bring to this boil. Doom commands you to to stir constantly.

When the noodles are al dente, Doom commands you to drain them and add them to the mixture. Doom commands you to add 2 cups of cubed chicken, 1/2 cup of sliced mushrooms, and 2 tablespoons of cooking sherry.

Doom commands you to pour the mixture in a 2-quart baking pan. Doom commands you to preheat your paltry oven to 350 degrees. Doom commands you to sprinkle 1 cup of grated Parmesan cheese atop the mixture. Doom forbids you from greasing the pan first. Heed Doom always. Doom commands you to bake the mixture for 30 minutes. When the cheese bubbles, Doom permits you to remove the pan.

Doom commands you to relish.

+ + +

You can probably replace the chicken with fish and the chicken broth with fish stock. Probably. I added a new Cooking With Villainy page on the bottom-right links list so you can find the recipes.

Ever the Drama.

We ate dinner Friday with some theatre buddies, and I got more news. The renovation project is going in a bad direction. The tiny subcommittee talking to the architects thinks it's a good idea to spend a full third of the total funds on the dressing rooms. Instead of, maybe, the stage. When we produced the courtroom show, we changed in teh law library. All you need in a dressing room is a toilet, a mirror, a sink, a table and some clothes hangers. That's it. It shouldn't cost more than $50,000 -- their proposed amount. The people I had dinner with are considering leaving the group over this and other weak decisions. There's no cohesion on fund-raising. For these concerns, he held off sponsoring me for the board of directors.

It's a small theatre, and they seem to have exceeded their grasp with this major renovation project. They need a space to present shows to make money, but they need money to fix up that space. I had the idea of a paid Banned Book Week reading. Get folks to sign up for 15-minute readings from a banned books and sell snacks for money. We could partner with the library or local bookstore. Barnes and Noble used to do this, and I once found myself reading Where the Sidewalk Ends to half the store.

Our season of plays still isn't public, and the expected backlash from vocal theatre mainstays is still on the horizon. I've offered to field the complaints, and I stand by that.

Again, there's always more drama backstage.

The squash vines are fading fast, and I plucked up all the gourds. We have one pumpkin still growing, and I don't think it will mature before Halloween. The tomatoes might keep going for another month, and the corn --- well, we'll see. We'll be lucky to get four ears off them. Next year's garden will be much better.

We walked into a local store and found a comic spinner rack. They wouldn't sell it to me, but they offered to pass along the name of the company from which they bought it. I'd love to have one in the big living room. I also bought a GI Joe comic for Your Sis. The cashier thought she knew her from Earth Shine, and we suspect she recognized you in Your Sister's face.

+ + +

The Sarah Palin interview made one thing clear: Framing yourself as an outsider suggests you don't know how things work. Palin didn't know about discretionary spending versus accepted budgets, and that's significant if you pledge to fix government expenditures. She also wouldn't definitively answer a question until she was prompted two or three times. She has to step up.

Picture of the Day
I have to work to stay pretty.

A Smidgen

It's not that I'm bored with the blog. It's just that nothing big is happening.

I've done some garden work. We've developed little worms laying eggs on the gourds. It seems that my monstrous pumpkin vines will only grow one jack o'lantern this year.

Your Sis is dragging, and needs a weekend badly. But she'll work most of the time, of course. She's also trying to set up the Atlanta honeymoon weekend for Your Parents.

Our hamlet is running out of gasoline. This exact same thing happened after Katrina. The pipeline stopped running for a few days, and morons flocked to the stations to fill up any container they had. Some, like my late uncle, filled up their boats. Prices soared, stations ran dry, and then gas was trucked in a week later. I filled up this morning and should be OK for a week. The panic has hit Asheville too.; the Ingles station nearest to the office is now sans gas.

I'm sketching more, and plan to take my painting to the frame shop this weekend.

Picture of the Day
He can even stop the political rancor.

Estimating

The ductwork company called last week to set up a time to come by and give us an estimate for the basement work. We agreed to meet at the house Friday night at 6. He4 never showed up. I gave him 90 minutes before I left to get dinner. He called again yesterday to set up another rendezvous: last night at 6. He showed up at 6:20 and said he needed to hurry because he had his young kid in the truck. The estimate was about what we expected, and I signed it. He said he needed to bring his boss by on Tuesday to double-check the ducts. Then he explained the codes had changed and new ductwork has to be a half-inch thicker. The estimate might change becuase of that. Common sense would ask why the estimate wasn't offered before that inspection.

Whenever this work is done, we'll need to ask the restoration people to come by and patch the drywall. And then -- maybe -- we'll be finished with all this.

Your Sister officially has a motorcycle endorsement on her license. She's a biker chick.

I was told yesterday that the theatre board decided to drop the proposed opening play, the apartment comedy, and focus on renovating the space and aiming for the Christmas show. I'm of mixed feeling. I like that comedy a lot and fought hard for it. When it didn't have the support, I watched it get shelved, only to emerge again late in consideration. Now it's gone again. On the other hand, as the new publicity director, it's one less show to sell to the press, but I think we need to tell the community our plans.

Also, since I heard about this board decision secondhand, I assume this means my application to the board was rejected. I had an energetic sponsorship, but they meet at lunch while I work in another county.

I also talked to next semester's newspaper teacher, and we made tiny plans for organizing the paper virtually from scratch. She used to run a college paper, as did I, and I think we can give the kids a good start. I got to introduce her to Chick Tracts, the horrifyingly zealous Christian comic books. I grew up with them, adoring the artwork and dutifully nodding along to the text before my brain convulsed and rejected the outright bigotry and paranoia. They're now unintentional comedy gold, and the best is Dark Dungeons, the "expose" on role-playing games. I had plenty of arguments with My Parents over my casual gaming. They were convinced I was going to hell for it. This was the official stance of the Baptist church. Probably still is.

Our NFL Bet
Her Teams
Patriots (1-0), Chargers (0-1)
Panthers (1-0), Giants (1-0)

My Teams
Steelers (1-0), Jaquars (0-1)
Panthers(1-0), Cowboys (1-0)

Picture of the Day
This allegedly a real church sign.

A Weekend of Competence

Your Sister began her three-day motorcycle safety class Friday night. I should have wallowed in bachelor decadence, but I'm shaking from caffeine. I got productive.

The motion detector went kaput early last year, and a change of bulbs dis nothing. Now I always suspected that the bulbs were the wrong kind, but I didn't have the instructions for the thing, and I had no way of resetting it once the right bulbs were found. A motion detector has to be programmed, and they all work similar but with enough variance to make deciphering its particular system infuriating. I was also concerned with the level of bug habitation I saw within the detector. If it was original to the house, like the water heater, it, like the water heater, may have died on us, like the water heater. A new one was needed.

I picked one up at Lowe's and got bulbs that the package called for. Now, it's been a long time since my wiring/AC/heating job. It was my first paying gig, and my mom set it up to see if I was salvageable as a man. For an entire summer, I squirmed through crawlspaces and attics with a co-worker of hers who had a side job, and he was commissioned to talk to me about guy movies and sports. I'm convinced of this. I did pick up some simple skills from him too, but that was -- oh, my -- 23 years ago. I couldn't rely on my memory of wires to get me through this. Luckily, the detector had enough instructions to get me started, and if the wiring was my only obstacle, I would have been fine.

When I got home, I discovered the new one wouldn't affix to the housing. The detector housing is a shallow metal cylinder. Like an ashtray. The original model had a center screw, and this new one had a faceplate for round housings. To make it work, I would have to cut away the siding, and that was getting more involved than I already wanted to be. Back to the store. I upgraded the model. That was Saturday morning. I figured, while I was there, I'd get a cheap voltage tester. I knew to shut off the circuit breaker before playing with a device like this, but it's best to test those wires before you grab them. They didn't have the simple, cheap testers. All they had were at least $15, and I didn't want to spend that for a one-time device.

Got back home, cut the circuit breaker for half of the house, and started reverse-engineering the wiring. I found the black, white and ground wires. I gingerly, meekly, timidly, terrifiedingly touched them to make sure they weren't live. They were not. I checked the new mounting bracket; it would fit the housing, but the screw that came with the new model was too long for the housing. No problem; I used the old model's screw. I took down the old mounting bracket because the new ground wire didn't look right. Instead of a coated wire, this was a tiny copper rope. Like a toy golden lasso. I didn't like that, so I removed that from the new model, and attached the original model's ground wire to it. Instead of the bracket, the ground wire now attaches to the device. Also, the house wires were huge compared to the model wires, and I had to use the original wire twists to bind them. Here's my point: Every step of this was different than what the instruction model said. And the accessories were insufficient.

I wired up the new model to the house wires and realized I had forgotten the black rubber seal that covers the interior. I had to now unwire everything, lead the house wires through the seal, and rewire. I bolted the detector to the bracket. Now to install the bulbs. First one went in fine. Second one broke. The screw piece broke off in the socket. After wrenching that out, I had to go back to the store to get a new bulb two-pack. This was the second time in two hours that I was there for an exchange. Back home, I screwed in the bulbs. I turned on the breakers and flipped the light swith. I had light. The wiring was solid. I followed the instructions to set the detector settings, and later that night, I tried it out, and the lights clicked on. Four minutes later, they went off as they were programmed to. I did it.

Your Sister came home that night exhausted after nine hours of biking and testing. She went back teh next day, and I patched up the gutters which we now suspect are also as old as the hosue and need to be replaced. She came home last night, equally tired and sore, but possessing a safety endorsement. She passed the test and can now get a cycle status added to her license. She trained on a big cycle, not a scooter, and she wants to see if a motorcycle is something she can afford to buy, fuel, and insure.

+ + +

I'm going to move my sketch scans to FaceBook. I doodled quite a bit this weekend on comic design stuff.

+ + +

I'm reeling from a long, weird dream last night where I was on a luxury spaceship infested with the monsters from Alien. It ended with tranquilizer-aided suicide. I don't think it means anything.

+ + +

Your Mom called to ask if we were doing Thanksgiving at Your Brother's house. I told her we had made that plan before Dad died and cemented it right after. Brooke took to Mom.

+ + +

We hope school's going OK for you. If you need to call us for a mental break, please do. My phone is virtually always on.

Picture of the Day
This doesn't mean anything either.

Starts and Stops

I got the jones to make some comics again, and I spent the evening doodling and scripting one-shot comics. I have a sound idea for a non-hero story, and then I have this ginormous hero tale that's simmered for a decade now. I have to get to work. Now that Your Sis will be teaching again, we can both hunch over a desk and empty our brains onto stacks of paper.

We watched the Giants-Redskins game last night (her team won), and then I watched the last night of the GOP convention. Cindy McCain has a better biography than I knew. She founded the American Volunteer Medical Team for overseas work and adopted her daughter from a Mother Theresa orphanage.

Two things about this:
1) This was the same child who was spun by Bush's 2000 campaign to scullte McCain's chances in the South Carolina primary. The campaaign asked folks if they would vote for McCain if they knew he had fathered a black child. He didn't, and they technically never said he did. But the suggestion spooked the bigots, and Bush took the state and rolled to the nomination.

2) I thought kids were off-limits in the campaign.

John's speech had flashes of maturity. He praised the Obama/Biden ticket for their love of country and sincerity to improve the nation. He also claimed he had no obligation to "any party." Then he leaned hard on his POW experience to gain sympathy votes, and that well is gonna dry up if he keeps dredging it.

Palin continues to be a font of gossip (she asked a local librarian about removing books and bounced around five colleges in six years), and I can't wait for the debate against Biden.

Picture of the Day
Turn it up. Bring the noise.

Are You Ready for Some Rhetoric?

We made our annual bet about the new NFL season.

Her teams
Patriots, Chargers
Panthers, Giants

My Teams
Steelers, Jaquars
Panthers, Cowboys

The winner gets to boast and wear a customized Burger King crown. 

+ + + 

Football season opens tonight, and John Mccain better hope the opening game doesn't go into overtime. He's scheduled to speak after that game, and one wonders how many die-hard sports fans will be sober/energetic enough to listen to a political speech.  I'll stay up to hear him, but I don't expect much beyond playing the military card.

Palin's speech last night was surprisingly weak stuff. It wasn't written well, and that may have affected her delivery. It wasn't the home-run she needed. I wonder how well she can debate Biden. She'll get plenty of education on piolicy matters from her new campaign staff, but can she keep it together?  The new conversation on her is whether she'll make it to the election. I don't see her dropping out unless something really big is uncovered. Given the number of disclosures since her coronation, it's not impossible. 

Picture of the Day

The DJ Car

Still Glowing

Here are the rest of the photos I took. I'm scouring the net for more of them, and I'm finding a decent amount. Hopefully, the official site will post links to the various photo albums and post the convention's commissioned photos too.

Your Sis is still adjusting to the school semester and goes to bed earlier each night. She has her motorcycle safety class this weekend.

+ + +

You've heard the reaction to the Sarah Palin nomination. You've no doubt heard the allegations that have emerged since: the pregnant daughter, the scandal with her brother-in-law, the connections to lobbyists, the membership in a group that wants Alaska to secede from the states, and her comment that she supports "under God" in the pledge because it was "good enough for the Founding Fathers."

So you couldn't miss the questions about how McCain picked this person with so many dangling subplots. McCain is now quoted from his memoirs that he prefers to make quick decisions. There are reports that the vetting committee only talked to her face-to-face the day before she was named. Some are comparing this to the Dan Quayle nomination, and that's not quite fair. Quayle was a virtual nobody when he was named, but he didn't put his foot in his mouth until he was sworn in. He wasn't faced with a cloud of cynicism upon emergence on the national scene.

Palin is in a bad position, and it's not by her doing. I don't blame her for taking the job, but the McCain campaign seems to have been oblivious to the potential backlash to her background. Makes me wonder that the other candidates had in their background to lose the spot to her. Then again, maybe they did just want a young woman for the sake of headlines.

Picture of the Day
You might remember parts of Kavalier and Klay where the artist discovered surrealism and montages via the girl he loved. That guy is based on Jack Kirby, the god of comics, and his birthday was last week. Kirby died in the early '90s. You can see his surreal montage work on this page. A later appreciation of this style lead to his broader status as comics' greatest hero artist.