Or NSYNC scatting their way through "A Love Supreme"?
Joined by special guest Jon Hendricks, no doubt. Here's one to horrify Hayden: Ted Nugent sings "Trouble Down South".
Your brain scares me in a "how do you fit it all in there" kinda way.
It almost exploded this morning. The French theater discussion in the lit thread prompted me to search for recent NY productions of Phedre because I knew there had been one. Sure enough, Willem Dafoe's Wooster group had done a production called "To You the Birdie". (I think I tried to get tickets but it was sold out.) Anyway, one of the first couple links was this not-so-glowing review, and it caught my eye because the woman who wrote it was a regular customer at a place I once worked.
"Plate of shrimp" number two, on this day when Ken Lay was taken into custody, was her first paragraph: a funny anecdote -- dealing with coincidence, coincidentally -- about Ken Lay. Didn't really have anything to do with the rest of the article, but it's amusing (see it below).
She scored the coincidence hat trick when she started talking about "Having played Phaedra... in a translation by Greek scholar Peter Arnot." Peter Arnot used to come to my tiny (400 students), ancient Greek-studying college every year to perform a Greek tragedy, which he had translated, using marionettes and doing all the voices himself. He was enough of a campus mainstay to be parodied by my friend Sasha, who dressed as Arnot and performed a 5 minute version of Euripides' "The Bacchae" using candy bars instead of marionettes. Pentheus was the Snickers. "He" dressed as a "woman" (i.e., Sasha slipped an M&M's wrapper over the Snickers) to spy on the revelers, but of course the Bacchantes spotted him and ripped him limb from limb. I still have fond memories of Sasha throwing bits of Snickers all around the theater.
And now that I've further convinced you that I'm just an odd duck I'll just quote the Ken Lay anecdote & slink away:
On Sunday afternoon as I was driving home "Le Show" came on the radio and before I could switch the station, host Harry Shearer began explaining how Mr. and Mrs. Kenneth Lay had just sold their winter cottage, one of several Lay properties, for eight million dollars, the highest price ever exacted for a piece of Aspen real estate. The address of the cottage, as Harry Shearer said, "I’m not making this up," was Shady Lane. At the moment of hearing "Shady Lane," I was drawn to glance at the passing street sign, one of many signs I’d never bothered to notice along the route, and, I’m not making this up, the sign read Shady Lane. -- Joanna Rotté, Villanova Theater Prof.