Tuesday, July 5, 2011

An Open Apology to My Fellow Mature Theatergoers

Dear fellow mature theatergoers:

It is best that you don't read the following blog post.  You are likely to find it increasingly irritating and gauche.  However, if you must read it, please read this first.  It will inoculate you to the perversions that lie ahead.

Done?  Good.  

Permit me then to inaugurate the fuselage of this missive by defining the terms I will use herein.  A "mature theatergoer" -- you, one presumes -- is someone who is no longer a "twentysomething," but rather has shed the exoskeleton of his jejunity and emerged an enlightened gentleperson, no longer gladdened by mention of body cavities, feces, or porking.  A "twentysomething," however, is an unintelligent suckling, a stripling, a teenybopper whose tastes are yet to surmount that of a mere nursling.  The distinction, I have no doubt, is clear to anyone of taste; therefore, I shall advance beyond the mere definition of terms and issue a proper apology.*

I have recently undertaken a reckless endeavor.  In an invidious attempt to satirize one prized polis' public portage, I resorted to raw wordplay, malpropisms, visual gags, double entendre, and the occasional cunnilingus joke.  At my most fallacious, I even employed a pun or two.  It is for this peccability that I beg your clemency.**  My role models, the Oscar Wildes, Shakespeares, and Mark Twains of this world, would never sink to such kink. I shall never endeavor to "go there" again.

Now, if you'll pardon me, I have to go back to listening to myself fart and planning my next show: The Hyperbolic Adventures of Ms Tweenyurlegs-Armpitare. 

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*Truth be told, I only included this paragraph to scare away any twentysomethings who might dare visit my blog.  It's safe to assume we're alone in proper company now.^

**Be thankful we didn't get the boob and penis map models to work out.  That would have wrecked us all!

^ Seriously, people in your twenties -- grow up!

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