Currently Listening Tchaikovsky: 1812 Overture see related

On Staged Suicides and Cleaning My Room

My books are above the garage, officially in storage.  The family continues to squeeze me out of their living space, out of their home, and out of their hearts.  Soon, I will return to find myself sleeping in the barn with the pigs.  And the pigs would eat me, naturally, just like that scene from "Hannibal," with the slight difference being that I would resist nobly, and, perchance, take a couple of hogs down with me.  Yes, grotesque, I admit, but I'm writing a play wherein this Irish King (his name is Bronagh McDonoughkll'aghrny, or something like that) pillages the countryside and feeds his peasants to pigs in time of famine.  Meanwhile, a knight (by name of Sir Knightface) grieves the loss of his darling Rosalind, but finds himself a prisoner of the king, loses certain anatomical members in torture, and becomes Sir Castratus, the singing knight (The "castrato" are, as you know, the chorus boys who were castrated to maintain their pre-pubescent voices, and some of them were quite famous.  Farinelli is one of the most famous.  You can even find a film about him, called, appropriately, "Farinelli."  Handel wrote a few arias for some of these castrato, though their names slip the mind atm.).  And the story continues, so on, and so forth...

It's a little Voltaire meets Henty meets A Clockwork Orange meets the pigs in my barn.  Yeah, they'll be lining up for this one.  And I know exactly how I'm going to promote this film.  A staged suicide.  Yes, I'll fill a box with random animal parts, stuff them in a box, throw it from a skyscraper, and blow the box up in the air so the only intact items the press could get a hold of would be a dog tag (he was in the army?) and my wallet/license/etc.  Of course, I'll buy a few young chaps off the press to word things correctly.  "Brilliant Young Filmmaker/Actor Falls Off Building and Explodes in Wooden Box Before Premiere of Film 'Sir Castratus, the Singing Knight, Formerly Known as Sir Knightface,' Which Critics Are Calling a 'Must See.'"  Sounds more like murder, actually.  Whatever, I'll let them figure that out.  And on the evening of the premiere, I'll float down in a hot air balloon singing Nessun Dorma with Anna Netrebko. 

Anyways, my parents made me box my books up.  Took me five bloody days. 

A couple weeks ago I attended this Model Search America gig.  It was fairly bizarre.  There were about twelve-hundred girls there (with their entourages, family, etc.) praying and hoping to get a spot on America's Next Top Model.  Needless to say, the female stress hanging in the air was enough to make a guy suffocate and die, which, of course, didn't happen.  As it turned out, I got a few nice callbacks, including-but not limited to-20th Century Fox.  So, yeah, maybe I'll get lucky and Christian Kaplan will cast me in X-Men 4: The Rise of McDonald, wherein I become an evil villain and shoot french-fry lasers out of my eye-sockets.  But alas, I must finish my college education first...

Ah, and do come see me play Vladimir Karlovich Rode in Three Sisters at Ithaca College January 20th & 21st, because my portrayal of a deaf, juggling, piano-playing second lieutenant will be just that compelling...

Cheers,

Jefferson McDonald

Currently Reading The Oedipus Plays of Sophocles: Oedipus the King; Oedipus at Colonus; Antigone By Sophocles see related

This Explains So Much

Dear Xanga,

You are Belle. You are strong, deep, and you are not a slave to petty superficial things. You are independent and allow yourself to see inner beauty without sacrificing your values. You are almost too good of a person

But, you know, Belle is the least represented of the Disney princesses, so I'm just pitching in for the minorities.  It's the scholarship hunter in me, really.  "Oh, you mean I can get money for being Hispanic?  Hispanic I will be!"  Works like a charm.  As you can see, I've devolved to throwing pointless drivel on this page.  I'm partly sorry and partly indifferent, to tell the truth. 

These are the classes I am taking this semester:

Acting I, Theater Organization and Management, Theater Production, Script Analysis, Theater History, Tap Dance I, Ballet I, & Belly Dance I.  I'm the only guy in Belly Dance, as you can imagine.  But I'm so excited for that class.  You can't even imagine.  Try.  See?  You can't.

Your friend in ballet tights,

Jefferson McDonald

PS: You think I joke?

Currently Listening Empire By Kasabian see related

Rent to Pwn

I almost sold my first property.  Except the dude who was going to purchase it disappeared from the face of the earth.  I don't understand these people sometimes.  They call and call and call, we set up a time, and poof! They vanish, never to be seen or heard from again.  Guess I'll just have to sell it to somebody else. 

Jihad the Musical is premiering at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and you really ought to check it out.  If you won't be in Scotland for awhile, just check out a video clip on glorious youtube.  http://www.jihad-the-musical.com/media/

I'm personally inspired to write Gihad Jo the Musical, which deals with young up and comer terrorist Nosreffej Sivad Dlanodcm, who has been tenderly raised by Hezbollah terrorists and looks forward to the day when he too can strap explosives under his robe and martyr himself in the global "Jihad against coffeeshops and cafes everywhere."  Allah just can't appreciate a good cup of coffee.  But then, one hot Middle East Christmas Day, an IN-N-OUT burger drops from heaven onto Sivad's lap, and Sivad's eyes are opened to the virtues of Western Civilization.

So the Dalai Lama is coming to Ithaca College October 10th.  I figure I should give him a sacrificial bull as a peace/friendship offering.  Or maybe a couple of chickens.  Or a lamb.  Eh...gotta run.

Sincerely, JDM

Fiddler On the Roof

So, been working diligently on the Cortland Repertory Theater production of Fiddler on the Roof.  As the Dance Captain, I get to crack the whip on all the dancers.  And, let me tell you, I'm pretty experienced with the ol' whip.  I can do some pretty terrifying Zorro routines.  They be swell, let me tell you. 

As for the bottle dance, we're actually balancing them on our heads.  No velcro.  No tying them with our Jew ringlets.  But, I'm not complaining.  'Tis much more impressive this way. 

We get Sundays off.  So, I'm mucking about the apartment, doing nothing in particular.  But there's a charming breeze. 

I'm also trying to figure out who I can pay off to get into Actor's Equity Association.  Essentially, all you need to do is get cast in a Broadway production, and they'll give you your card.  Just befriend one of these producers, and you're set.  None of this "fifty weeks working for an equity playhouse" nonsense.  Nonsense, I tell thee. 

BTW, research the Ig Nobel prizes.  Some funny crap. 

Ciao.  I'm gonna go make a cake. 

Jeffy

Tales from the Politically Correct Crypt

John: Hi, I'd like a coffee.

Coffee Man: And what would you like in da coffee, sirrah?

John: Give it to me black.

Coffee Man: What did you just say?!

John: Eh...

Coffee M: Did you just call that coffee, black?  I will sue your rear!

And that ends today's "Tales from the Politically Correct Crypt."