On Tue, 04 Apr 2006 16:38:48 GMT, "Tom Donaly"
wrote:

No wonder no one's communicating with him.

Hi Tom,

To him, from him, at him. OK, this is not going to be a grammar
exercise. No, more that complaints should be registered at the box
office where you bought the ticket to this comedy when you expected a
technical presentation.

Myself, on the other hand, I read the program notes and seeing all the
credits and roles played like:
"Occam the magnificent"
or
"Cecileo the ball juggler"
performances of
"My Contacts with the Aliens"
plus dramatic readings
"Sleepless with Kraus"
all that remains is to saunter back for some popcorn during this
between-acts filler routine, or to wait for the strippers when the
real show begins.

-OH- yeah.... I guess now we know what killed vaudeville.

73's
Richard Clark, KB7QHC

PS
So seeing that "from scratch" is beginning to show why, flea bites,
it's time to add some real entertainment value that befits the
gravitas of this opera:

"Pal-yat-chee"

[H&J]

When we was in the city, we was a-wonderin' where to go.
The sign spelled out "Pagliacci" up in lights above the show.
We thought 'twould be a Western, 'til the stage lit up with light,
And ninety-seven people sung, without a horse in sight!
We couldn't unnerstand 'em 'cause they spoke a furrin tongue,
But we can give you some idear of what we think they sung---

[tenor]

Ridi, Pagliaccio,
Sul tuo amore infranto!

[H&J]

All at once, there's a fat guy in a clown suit.
'Tain't Hallerween, that's for shore!
Then this here feller,
This Punchy-neller,
Begins to beller,
Like we all was deef!

[tenor]

Ah, hahahahahahahaha....

[H&J]

That was Pal-yat-chee, and he sung:

Invest in a tuba, and somethin' or other 'bout Cuba,
He sung about a lady, who weighed two-hunnerd-and-eighty.
When she takes a powder, he just starts chirpin' louder,
An' he don't mean a gol-durned thing, 'cept to stand up there and
sing.
When we listen to Pal-yat-chee, we get itchy and scratchy.
This shore is top corn, so we go an' buy some popcorn.
We hate to go back, but we cain't get our dough back;
Ain't no use complainin', 'cause outside it's a-rainin.

[Slicker chorus]

Seven hours later, we're still in the durned thee-aye-ter,
Takin' turns a-nappin, a-waitin' fer somethin' to happen.
Pal-yat-chee, he ain't worryin',
And the folks on stage are flurryin',
And it sounds like Kat-che-turian's "Sabre Dance".

[to the melody of "Sabre Dance"]

Then ole Pal-yat-chee finds the guy he's seekin' cheek-to-cheekin'
With his wife, he grabs a knife
And stabs the louse who stole his spouse
And then he stabs the lady and him self,
'Tain't very sa-ni-ta-ry.
They all collapse,
But then Pal-yat-chee sets up and he gets up singin'
"I am dyin', I am dyin', I am dyin'", we start cryin'
'Cause to tell the truth, we're dyin', too.

[end "Sabre Dance"]

As the footlights fade out, we see Pal-yat-chee laid out,
But the dagger never caused it: Pal-yat-chee was plumb ex-haus-ted!

[tenor]

Ridi, Pagliaccio,
Sul tuo amore in--

[loud belch]

[vaudeville stinger: da-dut dahhhh da-dut DAT! DAAAAAAAHHH! cymbal
crash]

*Rich*