Rest and Culture
For the most part I took it easy this weekend. During that day on both Saturday and Sunday I just rested, took antibiotics, and watched TV. However, Saturday night I did get together with some friends to see the most recent play by Ryan Landry and the Gold Dust Orphans at the Ramrod Centre for the Performing Arts.
The place was packed and the play (actually, a musical) was quite fun. It was a remake of the Wizard of Oz (or the Wiz) called ‘Whizzin’. But this wasn’t your childhood 1939 version of the story. Oh no. Without giving too much away, let’s just say the (white) Dorothy has a black mother. Instead of Kansas they live in Hyannis. Instead of farming, her family grows and sells pot. Instead of that sideshow magician Dorothy runs into, it’s Miss Cleo (the “psychic”…remember her?).
And that’s the part of the story before things get surreal. Like the munchkins who all have floor length penises. Or the scarecrow, tin man, and lion (the latter who wants go from King of the Jungle to Queen of the Jungle, if you catch my drift). Oh, and there are no ruby slippers…just ruby panties.
Oh, and instead of a yellow brick road they all climb into a giant vagina to get to the wizard. And that scene in the movie where the flowers (poppies?) make them fall asleep? Well, here they fall under the influence of poppers (and disco balls).
Did I mention that Dorothy has a bladder problem? Yes, when she’s nervous, she can’t control her bladder. That’s a key plot point since, well, that’s how she kills the Wicked Witch of the South End – by accidentally whizzin’ on her (hence the title).
Gee, it all seemed less far fetched when seeing it live on stage. I can’t recommend it enough!
**The photo above is from my own 6th grade play in 1983, Alice in Oz (a mix of Alice in Wonderland and the Wizard of Ox). I’m the geek in red on the left.
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Gosh, I remember Alice in Oz. Let me see if I can find that pic of me as a 10 of diamonds playing card…
whizzin sounds way better!
OH HOW I WISH I COULD SEE YOUR ALICE IN OZ PICTURE! I was up for Alice. But my homeroom teacher (stage manager? casting queen? producer?) was in charge of the play if I remember correctly and she totally hated me and when it got down to Beth and Me, well, I don’t really blame her for picking Beth. But thus endeth my stage ambition. Ah well.