While our elected representatives work ever more diligently to provide the free bread that the culturally anesthetized citizens of the modern day Rome demand, our “artists” continue to ensure that those citizens indeed remain dead meat from the neck up.
I saw an advertisement for this play at a local theater on the tube the other day that left me feeling like I imagine a fish must feel when yanked from the water and tossed on a hot sidewalk. Look, I don’t have anything against penis’ whether in practice or in principle. The “Johnson” is a perfectly ordinary “member in good standing” so to speak in the club of mammalian anatomy. They are however in my mind useful for two things and two things only. Pissing while standing, and fucking. Standing or otherwise. When the good citizens of the modern day Rome will pay good folding money to fill a theater for the opportunity to spend two hours watching naked actors…
“display their unusual natural abilities in the ancient Australian art of genital origami to hundreds of speechless audience members. Requiring amazing concentration, astonishing stamina,an unbelievable stretch factor and a remarkable level of testicular fortitude, this show leaves women and men gasping at over forty heroic and hilarious installations including The Pelican, The Windsurfer, The Eiffel Tower, The Loch Ness Monster, and their signature installation, The Hamburger. A video camera projects intimate details of the installations onto a large screen ensuring little can be missed – even from the very back row!”
I must admit I am a bit curious of what their “signature installation” might entail in an engineering sense, but when people willingly will trek downtown, struggle for parking, walk to the show house in the driving rain, all in the service of observing the “heroic and hilarious” act of watching grown men play with themselves, well, I don’t have to see the show to be rendered speechless.