Sub-dermal hematomai are not laughing mattters. Nor, for that matter, are pornography, teen alcholism and losing one’s faith. It seems only appropriate, then, that I should be brought on to direct this play. Ask anyone. I’m not a funny guy. Odd, yes. But not funny. Not “haha, who’s that guy with the lamp shade on his head?” funny. Not “oh! Tell ‘em that great joke about the…” funny. Not even “drive-you-mad-quoting-MontyPython’s-Life-of-Brian” funny. When my friends think of me they think: serious, contemplative, moody, odd (there’s that word again), out-to-lunch, mercurial (that would be my English Major friends), and – I think the most often used and therefore, arguably, most accurate – “huh?” That being said, one of my favourite books is Douglas Adams’ “Long, Dark Tea-time of the Soul”. So, perhaps I’ve been in preparation for this play for years. In any case, I want to express my thanks and appreciation to this cast for willing themselves to listen to my ravings for the last few weeks; they’re a talented and patient bunch. Which, if you think about it, means they’re virtuous, too! And thanks to Ron Reed and Pacific Theatre for, once again, giving me a good excuse for not being able to mow the lawn. Enjoy the show!
By the way, have you heard the one about the priest who walks into the vestry bathroom?
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