We'll See How Long This Lasts…

So, I don’t know how many of you know it or not, but I freakin’ LOVE Jesus Christ Superstar. Now, this does not mean I love all musicals. I find the majority of musicals ridiculous and artificial. Many good comedy skits have spoofed exactly what I’m talking about: out of nowhere, actors will break into song and choreographed dance as if that’s perfectly normal, then lapse back into spoken acting as if THAT’S perfectly normal, too. Buffy tVS:the musical did a good send-up of that, I feel, and that’s one of the reasons I like it so much, despite the lacking vocal skills of some of our favorite characters.

But JCS is different. It has no speaking, a la Opera. Hence, the term Rock Opera. All of our story comes in lyrical form and acting. Groovy.

My relationship with JCS began as soon as I could hear my brothers and sisters playing that classic, dark-brown-leather-look LP with the gold icon of the two conjoined angels:
I have vivid memories of nabbing the keys to my brother’s bright blue Firebird and going out in the rain just so I could get in and pop-in the 8-track he had of the Original London Cast Recording. Murray Head, and later Carl Anderson shared Judas’ insanity with us in his opening lines “My mind is clearer, now.” So was mine, now that I could settle in and enjoy a good listening, skipping over Mary Magdelene’s “I Don’t Know How To Love Him”, watching the rain pelt the windshield. Throughout my childhood, no album spoke directly to me like that one did. Many years later, having no stage experience, when the opportunity drifted my way to actually BE IN a local staging of the show, I JUMPED at it! And, while I recognize that the show we all made ten years ago was strictly amateur, I will cherish it as if I had been on Broadway with my name in lights. I have made an effort to see every local production or presentation of it, ever since (Sebastian Bach sucked.). Privately, I long to play the role of Pilate, myself – it so fits my dramatic, agnostic personality.

One really geeky thing I do is to think up Dream Casts for the JCS movie I will make when I become a millionaire. It will be a fulfillment of a dream to see a movie starring Chris Cornell as Christ. He was born to play the role, IMO, as much as Ted Neely from the 1973 movie. I would direct the movie, and produce the music (with Lenny Kravitz’ help). Here are the rest of my cast picks:
JC – Chris Cornell – I’d pay good money just to hear him sing Gethsemane (I Only Want To Say)
Judas – ? I have never made this tough decision – after all, it’s really Judas’ play, and the singer should be strong and have great range
Mary Magdelene – Sarah McLachlan? Amy Lee?
Peter – somebody wholesome
Simon Zealotes – Lenny Kravitz
High Preist Caiphas – Marilyn Manson? somebody evil
Second Preist Annas – ? somebody weaselly
Pilate – David Bowie – hey, he already played it in Last Temptation of Christ, so perfect!
Herod – Fred Schneider from the B-52s

So, I put it to you the audience – who would you fill in the blanks with? Who would you re-cast, supplying a different singer?

We have a new segment we’d like to introduce the audience to, here on We’ll See. It’s called “Overheard” and it will feature some usually incomplete portion of an overheard conversation I found funny, odd, alarming, or just stupid. They may make no sense to you, but then, they probably will have made no sense to me either, which is why you will see them. All names and actual quotes will be altered to protect the blogger. I make no claims as to the entertainment value of these, except that they made ME laugh or arch an eyebrow. And, as usual, if you don’t like them, get your OWN damned blog and bitch about them on it. ; )

Overheard, today :
M1: Hey, who’s that baseball player with the really hot wife or girlfriend?
M2: I dunno.
-pause
M1: He players for the Dodgers
-pause
M2: Jose Garcia.
M1: Thanks!
-pause
-pause
A1: Who’s Jose Garcia?
M2: I dunno. That white guy baseball player with the hot girl.
A1: Jose Conseco?
M2: Garcia.
A1: There’s no white baseball player named, “Jose” on the Dodgers.
M2: I dunno. Black? White? Spanish. You’re a racist bastard.
A1: (Sarcastically) Yeah, maybe he was white but changed his name to sound all cool and Dominican!
M2: How about go f*&k yourself?

Saturday, January 22nd, was the night of the Excalibur Ball. It was a lot of fun, and I’m thankful to have been invited to participate.

All the guys looked cool, and I kept referring the the gals as, “Ye Olde Hotness.” Missy was looking especially fine in her olde school dress and jewelry, and I’m told her undies (which she is reported to have flashed, accidentally) were nice, also. Hey, Missy, at least you had some on, right?

At the beginning of the event, we each were assigned tasks to perform, such as handing out blinky beads, helping folks find their assigned tables, or just general greeting. Unfortunately for the table escorts, the system seemed to break down, so I resigned myself to greeting at the “moat” entrance. I had fun smiling, wishing “Good eve!”, warning attendees to watch their step on the “moat bridge”, and (clandestinely) blessing the cleavage that passed me (Amen!). Oh, by the way, to make that last statement make more sense I will mention that I went as a friar/monk. I even had the Franciscan ring/crown of hair left unshaved, with everything above and below it trimmed off! Maybe we’ll see pictures of that.

Sancho was cool as a juggler, mingling amongst the guests. I got bored and joined him, wandering around, wishing I could think of something fun and in-character to do, but I was too worried about offending with off-color religious banter. Oh well.

Then, everyone was seated and the event began. Yay! Then the bars, which we all had no opportunity to visit, closed until the end of the procession of every last krewe member (and even their friends!) had ended! BOOO!

After all that, the bars opened, and we all got several drinks. Except me. My numb-nuts of a bartender, when asked for three drinks, poured three drinks HALF EMPTY. I had to go the the bar next to him, wait in line again, and then ask the NICE bartender if she would make the rest of my drink for me. She helpfully obliged, and with her help I spent the rest of the evening CRUNKED! I don’t often get drunk, but I like to think I’m a friendly, jovial, (if lusty, but not grabby) drunk. I also discovered the joy of the company of Drunk Savannah – she’s a hoot when she’s drunk and we had a good old time laughing and drinking, and toasting Eddie, MissyG, and everything else we could think of. Here’s to that! *CLINK*

Food: Artichoke soup was good, even when spilled on Missy’s dress. Then salad, then Petit Filet steak and shrimp! Even Heather had a yummy dinner of shrimp that some of us donated to the cause. Wrap up the meal with cheesecake and I was spent! Of course, I was drunk and happy, so it was “like, the best ever!” Awesome!

And then the dancing: what’s white, has sixty-two legs, drinks heavily, and flails it’s arms and legs around? That’s right, it’s the entire collection of people on the dance floor, including me! Oh, I do love drunken white people in formal wear! I used to dance much more when I was much younger, but time and a growing girth have reduced me to vogue-ing like Madonna, since all the moving of the feet and such wears one out. Not that I have two left feet – I just prefer to stay upright, so I don’t jump around as much, anymore. Ah, youth.

Fun was had by all, and I was glad to have been there, despite the early-on drought. Excalibur? Excelsior!

Ok, here is a weird story told to me by my buddy “Nawlins”, as he asked to be called. He began the phone conversation with, “Milton, I really need to ask your opinion about what you would do on something.”

Nawlins and his wife “Flora” decided about a year ago to have a baby. And, medical science being what it is these days, we now know what causes women to get pregnant, so they decided to use that helpful information and make one. Out of the blue, a few weeks ago, Nawlins called to tell me that Flora was due to deliver TWINS in a few short days. Well, whaddaya know, Flora gave birth to two bouncing baby boys. Congratulations!

Now, all introspective navel-gazing musings on this being a dreadful sign of us “getting old” aside, that was the normal bit.

Here’s the weird:
Nawlins’ parents arranged to go see their two new grandsons, and hopped in the family caravan for the trek to Atlanta, GA. As planned, they were to arrive Friday evening, and the new parents had no reason to expect otherwise. Now, stay with me, here, because due to they way Nawlins told me the story, some of the details get a little sketchy (Nawlins, if you’re reading this, please feel free to post corrections). Thursday night, around 10:30, Nawlins is sitting with his newborn sons, trying to get them to sleep, when he hears, almost NOT hearing it, a voice calling his name slowly. It didn’t sound like Flora, and it wasn’t coming from the bedroom, where he knew she was already off in slumberland. And though I’m sure he fathered two bright kids, I think we know THEY weren’t the source of the voice. No, as he listened for it again, he determined with a horrible shock that it was coming from the FACE STARING AT HIM THROUGH HIS LIVING ROOM WINDOW!

“Jesus!” he said, trying to make his heart start, again. After a few seconds, he composed himself enough to see that the face was his mother’s(!) and he could just make out their vehicle beyond her in the dark, so he rushed to the front door and called her in. She wasn’t saying much, and Nawlins was too startled to get much out of her about why she didn’t knock. Once he calmed down, being tired, Nawlins left the twins with her, and went to bed. When he woke up, Grandma and Grandpa weren’t in the house and their vehicle was gone, but the twins were sleeping in their crib.

Let’s stop a second. Imagine you are me hearing this story up to this point. How badly does this sound like every urban legend summer camp ghost story you have ever heard? You know – the parents leave early on their road trip, beckon eerily at the window, waiting to be invited in, saying almost nothing. He passes the babies to her, and goes to bed, entrusting his new sons to their grandmother. Upon morning, Ma and Pa are nowhere to be seen, but he swears he can smell his mom’s favorite perfume on the twins’ PJ’s. A ring comes on the phone with the terrible news of a deadly highway accident the night before at precisely the time he saw his mother at the window... Ooo, man that’s creepy!

OK, back to reality.
What really happened is that, yes, his parents did show up late at night, the night before they were expected. And, yes, Ma did call quietly at the window, scaring the bejebus out of Nawlins. And, yes, she and the car were gone the next morning. When asked why in the hell somebody would act in such a bizarre manner, she explained that they didn’t want to wake the babies, so she didn’t knock or ring the doorbell, being late at night. Yeah, so a good thing to do instead is to give the new dad holding his days-old babies a farking coronary? As for being gone the next morning, I believe she explained that they didn’t want to be a burden, so Ma and Pa left to get a hotel room between when Nawlins went to bed and when he got up for work. Yeah, that’s normal, too. Not.

Nawlins, I agree. No matter how much I know your parents are good people, your folks are just plain weird. In answer to your question, I would say to them, “Uh, Hello? Quit stalking your tired, already-stressed-out, gun-owning son through his windows late at night while he is holding his babies. Also, if you’re going to take my brand new children, do me a favor and let me know when you give them back. Lastly, I have a wooden door, a doorbell, and a telephone, all of which have been proven as good ways to let me know you would like to come in. Feel free to try any and all of them from now on, m’kay?”

Mm’kay.

Last night, MissyG, Lady, and I attended Laila’s ball for the Krewe of King Arthur.

It was held at the St. Bernard Cultural Center (pause while obligatory oxymoron jokes pass), and it was fun. OK, I admit, the presentation and procession of the krewe actually were mostly boring. Hell, even the people who had been in it the year before could hardly maintain the modicum of interest one might expect from someone who has done this before. It was cool, though, because Laila OPENED the show, as the first member to step from behind the curtain and give her Miss America wave, moving from choreographed stop to stop, looking all cool in her silver gown. Later, intermixed between members of the court, people with GIANT character heads on their shoulders were a trip to watch dance around, almost falling over and narrowly avoiding running into each other. Sucks to be THAT guy. Once the whole procession was done (imagine watching a parade with no floats, bands, or dance groups, set to dramatic tracks from various soundracks, each being about 2 minutes too long – step lively, people! I’m waiting to get my party on!), the Dj started with the jamz, and the white people was groovin’. Ah, white people. We do love dancing to the “colored” music. Baby got back, indeed.

Like I said, it was fun. There was more juicy stuff going on involving dresses slit way up to there, some beotch who “stole” MissyG’s pants, and cleavage, cleavage, sweet Jebus there was cleavage. Did I mention the cleavage? I think MissyG was mad because some friend of Laila’s out-titted her. But I think I’ll let MissyG post THOSE stories…

It was a nice time, and we all got to dress up, which I do like every now and then. It was nice to meet your mom – she’s sweet. I guess it was even nice to see your brother and dad there at the end of our tables, even though Snap seemed afraid to introduce us. I was afraid, too, and wouldn’t take finger sandwiches from the tray near them without having Snap as an escort.

Thanks for the invite, Laila.

Now this is pretty funny.

This guy is doing what I would never have the nerve to do, myself. Admittedly, I may not agree with all of his choices of targets, but I have to give him the big ups. All he needs is a box, a megaphone, a weird helmet, and he’s off to speak his mind. I love how his target audiences are apprehensive, then interested, then hostile. That’s fun.

Check it out and let me know which is your favorite! Mine is Staind. Angst-ridden indeed!

(P.S. Credit for passing on the site to me goes to CTF – you know who you are, you crazy bastard)

Attention fans of Good Eats!. Mark your calendars, people. TV-show host and kitchen geek extraordinaire Alton Brown will be making an in-store appearance here in lovely downtown Metairie, where parking is free and left turns are legal! He will be at the Barnes and Noble Booksellers (3721 Veterans Memorial Blvd., Metairie, LA 70002) on Monday, January 31st to sign and talk about his new book, I’m Just Here For More Food.
The event starts at 7:30pm and may last about an hour, according to a worker at B&N.

If you don’t know who Alton Brown is, you can check out his website to learn all about him. He makes one of the most interesting and entertaining cooking shows on the Food Network, always offering an insider’s education about the history and processes involved in whatever food item each episode may feature. I think he’s a hoot. Dmentd is so enamored he’ll probably give AB a big smooch right on the kisser. It may not be too early to get in line at the store, Dmentd (“No sleeping in line, no sleeping in line.”).

MissyG claims she used to think AB was cute, but I think he went way too far into geekdom for her and turned her off with a few shows. (Was it that one with the Castaway theme, M?) I’ll stick with Rachel Ray, myself, from the two shows 30 Minute Meals and $40-a-Day. Now, if I could just find out when SHE’S going to be in town, I’d definitely give her forty dollars…

(short silence, followed by the sound of MissyG’s hand whacking me in the back of the head)

Welcome to a new segment here at We’ll See! It’s called Ask the GP! The GP in Ask the GP stands for General Public or General Populace. Now, we here at We’ll See know that there are important reasons why one should never give the GP a voice, a microphone, a podium, or any medium with which to express themsleves. This is because, statistically, at least 50% of us are idiots, and we’re all better off not hearing from them. However, I know that we have only the finest, most intelligent audience here at We’ll See.

Inspired by MissyG’s post here (Coffee Pot from Amityville), today’s useless poll is:

Coffee or Tea (or Neither!), and why, and what kind?

Personally, I enjoy a 32oz cup of freshly-brewed iced tea (from one Community tea bag and one flavored tea bag, such as Raspberry Royale or Earl Grey) every morning at work, and sometimes again in the afternoon.

And yourself?

On the right, in my list of links, you can see a link named “Sluggy Freelance”. “Sluggy” is a daily online comic that I think everyone who claims the title of Geek should read.

It’s the story of a couple of friends, Riff and Torg, who are geeks themselves, their hot friend Zoe (not a geek), their pet ferret Kiki (sweet and naive), their kind-of-pet Bun-Bun (a homicidal lhasa-apso bunny who killed the Easter bunny and is warring with Santa and his crew of evil elf agents), and Aylee, their Alien secretary who eats people. Lots of pop-culture and nerdy stuff goes on. It’s lots of fun if you’re into sci-fi, fantasy, horror, gaming, demons, aliens, vampires, PCs, killer robot girls, time travel, X-files, Tomb Raider, etc…

Admittedly, I haven’t read it in a while, myself, and when I decided ot make it a link, I went to the page and was a little lost, not being up-to-date on what’s going on lately. I recommend you use the link, then using the pull-down menu directly beneath today’s strip, select BOOK1: Is It Not Nifty and hit GO. That will take you to the beginning of the strip, which is defintely the best place to join the adventure.

Read a few dozen. They go by quickly. If you’re like-minded, you’ll laugh your ass off. If not, hey, ask for your money back. Also, you go to hell! You go to hell and you die!