Mitt should see this...

The Book of Mormon won the Tony award for best musical in 2011 and it has pretty much been sold out ever since. It took me almost a year to get a ticket and that was only because I had houseguests this weekend who coughed up the very steep price in gratitude for me allowing them to sleep on my kitchen floor under the refrigerator.

It’s a very good show and I enjoyed it. What I don’t get is why the hell hasn’t the Mormon Church of the Latter Day Saints made a concerted effort to shut it down? The picket line should be circling that block 24/7. From the very fiber of its being the play is totally subversive regarding every facet of the church, including its founding and all of its subsequent history. Even the happy ending is totally dismissive of everything the Mormon Church stands for. I have heard people say it is an “affectionate spoof” but, honey pie; it takes no prisoners and is anything but affectionate.

This production proves one thing and that is that we certainly do live in a country of free speech. I’m sure those guys over on Fifth Ave. are just hoping (and maybe, even, praying) that the creators of The Book of Mormon don’t turn their beady eyes on that saintly cathedral from which the Vatican rules. Would an inquisition soon follow?

Companion

Several months ago I saw this creature (from a bus) and had zero idea what it was. It was intriguing but looking into its origin slipped my mind (probably two blocks and five minutes later). Friday I found out it is a character named “Companion” and it is created by Brooklyn-artist Brian Donnelly who is known by his alias KAWS. Yet again I have not been paying attention, although I try, goodness knows I try, to the art world constantly swirling around me like so many red admiral flutterbys in my back yard. KAWS paints and sculpts and designs toys and is known worldwide for all of the above. He is so well known that Companion is scheduled to be a balloon in next years’ Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. It makes me wonder sometimes how I’m so out-of-it even though I watch SNL and read The NY Times.

Flutterby

Every year at about this time a species of butterfly named the red admiral flutters by on its annual spring migration from Central America to Canada. I’m happy to say my backyard usually attracts a select few but this year, for some reason I know not, they are arriving in profusion. My yard gets direct afternoon sun and it reflects dazzlingly off the red admirals’ coloring as they acrobatically swirl around the birdbath and plants/bushes/trees that I have purposely provided as backdrop. They also seem to like sunbathing on the brick walkway, nonchalantly waving their wings. Their visit doesn’t last all that long but, although small, it’s one of nature’s miracles I enjoy every year.

Merry Melody

Forgive my self-absorption regarding a minor (to you) weekly pastime but it’s currently on my mind and, what the heck, it’s important to me and it’s my blog.  My bowling team came in first this season and I have the sofa slip-covers; clock repair, haircut and a shopping spree at Trader Joe’s to show for it!  Yeah, a nice amount of cash entered my coffers and was almost instantly dispersed.   There is no trophy (we voted at the beginning of the season not to waste that money) but I did get a nice shiny key chain with League Champions 2011-2012 on the side.  I know pride goeth before a fall but, hey, it’s good to win.  Begin the Rumpus!

Where's Geppetto when you need him?

Maurizio Cattelan is known in the contemporary art world as a joker. He is seriously whimsical and thrashes back at his mentors (aforesaid art world) by hanging taxidermy horses and a lot of other junk) from rotundas in fancy places. He is really best known for a piece called “La Noma Ora” which has Pope John Paul II, in full pontifical garb, flattened by a meteor. I like his stuff because he’s such a goof, thumbing his nose at society and its pretensions (of all kinds).




However this piece, called “Daddy Daddy” made me feel unsettled in a way; it’s hard to describe my brain-function looking at it. Probably it’s because of the propaganda foisted on my childhood; the Disneyfication of my distant (and sometimes not so distant) past that doesn’t want sacred fantasies sullied in any way. Everything is supposed to work out in the end, doncha know.


“Daddy Daddy” is floating face done in a large boat-shaped pool of water…wouldn’t you say lifeless? Discombobulating but mesmerizing. Even the title of the work is dark and full of meaning. Jeez, I hope Mr. Cattelan is just joking.

Sad About Sendak

Maurice Sendak passed away this morning and I am saddened. He was a genius and I loved his work. In his obituary in The New York Times they ended with a quote from a letter sent to him by an 8-year-old boy. “Dear Mr. Sendak,” it said, “How much does it cost to get to where the wild things are? If it is not expensive, my sister and I would like to spend the summer there.” Me too.

The Odor of Arrogance

What do the New York Yankees smell like? If you are willing to pay (at retail) $62 for a 3.4 oz. bottle of a new fragrance called, well, New York Yankees Fragrance or, maybe, just NY (the logo) you can find out. Although I think it should smell like Crackerjacks or chewing tobacco or sunflower seeds but, if you want a more metaphoric allusion, how about “arrogance?” Its manufacturer, Cloudbreak Group, says it was looking to “create something that exudes confidence, strength and classic timelessness” and promotes it’s aroma as a “fresh wood fragrance that captures a fresh, clean element on top with citrus and aromatic notes.” The official malarkey, uh, I mean description continues, “With woodiness, earthy patchouli and aromatic suede,” and then piles it on with, gag-me-with-a-spoon overkill, “a sparkling gourmand with floral notes and a flavorful muskiness.” Can any of this be true? Personally I smell a hoax of some sort but, if not, it’s another large-franchise rip-off of the gullible sports fan. At the very least the copy writer should be thrown right out the door or, at least, get a pie in the face.

Venus in Fur

I loved this play (by David Ives). Nay, I was thrilled by it. I loved the actors in it (Nina Arianda and Hugh Dancy). The direction is flawless (Walter Bobbie). The ending enigmatic but, oh, so right. The 7:00 curtain was curious but allowed time for a nice dinner (at Bobby Van’s--almost directly across the street from the theater) afterwards. Home in time to watch the Daily Show with Jon Stewart and the Colbert Report. Even Rachel Madow at midnight. It took my brain a long time to wind down after all that stimuli in one evening. Maybe shoulda hadda ‘nother glass of Riesling.

Meetcha at Lulu

When a restaurant calls itself “hip” it’s not a word that immediately catches my attention as an establishment I would rush to experience.  Despite this unfortunate beginning I have to admit that Lulu California Bistro in Palm Springs, CA is (at this point in time) a really, really good restaurant.  (I always hesitate to call anything “great” because I feel we are comparing something to that wall in China or that book about Gatsby.)

Whatever hip means as applied to this restaurant there are better adjectives.  The food was excellent and presented nicely, with a flourish of personal service from the attentive wait-staff.  The décor is pleasing to the eye overall with some huge vintage photographs of sort-of familiar show-biz faces that catch the eye and test one’s recognition synapses (I failed miserably…sorry about that) although Cher looked a little familiar.  There is a variety of seating areas with levels of “mezzanines,” any one of which gives you a good view of the others and/or the bustling street.  Good location, Good food, good service, good looks…well, hell, what more could one ask for?

You guessed right, there is one more consideration up for discussion; how much is this really really good place going to set you back?  Fear not, fair ones, the prices are well within reach of the average gourmand and, if you make the right bet with a friend on the Super Bowl, it can be a freebie forever remembered!  You can also, if you can stand the thought, eat before 5:00 p.m. and get a break on the bill.  However, the thought of having dinner at that hour, or earlier, makes me a little nauseous but not from the thought of food itself but of the admission that we seniors can take advantage of our advanced age.  Age is not food ingested easily, no matter how well seasoned.  And a measly $4 off isn’t enough for me to change my view of what’s right in culinary civilization.