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Trying to Explain the Easter Bunny to My Orthodox Jewish Girlfriend

by Mick Stingley

So, what does the Easter bunny have to do with the holiday? Well, that’s a good question, and I’m glad you asked. You see, We Catholics believe that Jesus Christ is the Messiah. He died for our sins, you know….

I Wanna Be Kinetic and I Want A Webshooter Too!

If the Neoconservatives Had Been Dentists

by Will Layman

Polish Fact

Land Area
304,465 sq. km
(slightly smaller than New Mexico)

Learn a Foreign Tongue!

Impari L'Italiano
Wham, bam, grazie, signora.
Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.


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Literary Knickknackery
Thursday, April 13, 2006   |    Nick's Guff

Vampires Suck On Broadway. Truly.


Today’s Guff is co-sponsored by Jeff DF

chicken_gyrophoto.jpgIn the middle of what was proving to be an impossibly crappy day, a friend at work and I decided to reach out for some comfort food – chicken gyro platters. As we chatted, he mentioned he had seen perhaps the most atrocious Broadway display of all time the previous evening. This of course was also coming from a true buff of the theater. Intrigued as I was, I begged, “do tell!” Tell he did. Here’s his review of the new play “LESTAT”, currently in previews. Consider this not so much Guff but a Broadway Public Service Announcement courtesy of the dynamic Jeff DF


bloodyrabbitmini.jpgImpossible to sum up the steaming pile of horseshit that is the execrable “LESTAT” (a musical, natch), but imagine casting pony tailed Michael Bolton, circa 1988, as the vampire himself, costumed in thigh-high leather trannie hooker boots and a half-fastened Aeropostale leather bomber jacket. Add Meat Loaf-style power ballads (composed by Elton John & Bernie Taupin who must be stopped before they strike again)—each ballad as mind-numbing as the one performed minutes earlier—and an occasional dance break courtesy of the folks who stage Disney theme park productions: a troupe of wholesome, ridiculously multi-ethnic townsfolk smoking corn cob pipes, grinning & shuffling about old (& thoroughly sanitized) New Orleans, singing cheerfully about “The New World” while dancing a reel wearing a peasant skirt snagged at a dollar store on St. Mark’s place. Oh, and throw in a bunch of mincing, fanged faggots—er, eunuchs—two of whom adopt Veruca Salt and set up house as her gay fathers. Let Veruca belt a number that’s part Patty McCormack in “The Bad Seed,” part American Idol audition, then faux incinerate a few undead behind a fake band of fire jets and put the survivors on a giant tire and shoot them up to Heaven, Grizabella-style. Don’t forget to humiliate a great Broadway performer (Carolee Carmello) along the way, and include a Playbill bio of Anne Rice that is so preening and self-serving a sickness bag is required to read it. Urp.

I know, we’re probably thinking the same thing – this is bound to be a smash hit like Cats. Cats for pete’s sake! I still can’t get over that.

Next Stop: Moscow Cats Theatre