PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

This text is currently hidden by a css change. Alow's me to go directly to the category description because it is editable in the front end,

Yet Another Gun Farce

I haven't attended an actual theatrical farce since the late 1980s, when I went to see Joe Orton's "What the Butler Saw," accompanied by a woman with whom I was hopelessly infatuated. My strongest memories of that evening – in the darkness of a tiny theater somewhere on Charles Street in Boston (need to check the facts on that) – are less about the comedy itself than the revelation that we humans spew an incredible amount of saliva when we talk.

The director of this production had backlit the stage, such that every time the actors yelled – especially the balding guy playing the central character of Dr. Prentiss – the audience saw impossibly huge clouds of salivary droplets spewing into the air. It was both comical and disgusting and went on for a couple of hours. At times it was hard to follow the play because I was so awestruck by the bursts of goo coming out of the actors' mouths. It didn't exactly provide the romantic atmosphere I was hoping for that evening.

One day, when I was in grade school – call it fifth grade – a teacher angrily hollered at us for treating English class as a farce, which made me laugh because, as a French Canadian, I had many times eaten a meat stuffing called "farce." Then she yelled "Patrick McVay wipe that smirk off your face now!" I might not remember many of the world's thorniest crises of that era, but I remember her saying "farce" and me laughing about it.

Calling our behavior a farce was, to be honest, inaccurate. It was more of a circus. Farces, to my mind, have a pattern to them. Several doors as well. There was only one door in my fifth-grade English class, and our unruly behavior had no discernable pattern.

I've never written a farce, but I did once claim, in these very pages, that I was going to write one called "Gun Farce." I'm guessing that I posted that blog entry shortly after a mass shooting occurred. I won't even bother to check what mass shooting might have happened around January 13, 2013, because, let's face it, they happen just about every day in these increasingly disunited states.

Sometimes, I feel that penning a play around the general contours of my Gun Farce blog entry would be worth the effort, if nothing else to assuage the guilt I feel for doing otherwise little to combat the conditions that enable teenagers to waltz into gun shops and purchase semi-automatic rifles without a license and use them to murder children in their classrooms en masse. However, I don't think it would end up being terribly funny. It's hard to lighten the mood when a minority of Americans are arming themselves to the hilt. It feels eerily like preparation for war, except the enemy is, apparently, young people in school.

Maybe what I'll do instead is write a farce about the US Senate. After all, the Capitol has lots of doors, the principal characters are mad, and there is a decades-long pattern of defending the purchase and sale of guns at any cost.


Continue reading
  712 Hits

 

 

Daily Haiku

 

Cats oft’ void their guts.

They cough out fur balls. They puke.  

We tread carefully.  

 

College Tuition

We dig ourselves a deep hole

Need a second job.

 

Now that I’m sixty

People think I’m a wise man

Probably, I’m not

 

I’m in my Fifties

But tomorrow I’m Sixty

Will need a sports car

 

My PCP Says

“Keep doin’ what yer doin’”

Prob’ly I should not

 

It’s St. Patrick’s Day

We eat beef that has been corned

Whatever that means

 

Robots and A.I.

I will make use of these soon

To do my taxes

 

Strange Oscar night end

Pacino failed to mention

Best pic nominees

 

Who’s this Katie Britt?

Scary. Wierd. We could have used

A Trigger Warning

 

Subscribe To The Blog

Produce This Audio Play!

Ever wanted to produce a radio play?  Think you have the mettle?  Read on!

Tag Cloud

Motorists The Past Putin Bunker Rabbit Hole Roommates I've Had New England Car Dealerships Smoke Meat Ketchup Allergies Eclipse Folk Music Spoon the band Texting Wind weather Cars US Senate Religion seasons Royal Stuff cornhole Stories I should write Imaginings Knots Bands I haven't seen Mike Doughty Peter Paul and Mary Hurricanes Chowder Vaughn TV BB King Audio Canada Climate Change winter Bands I've Seen Rock Bands Higher Education Communication Channels Email Ticketmaster Sports Cornhole star Joan Jett Cats Earth Mustard Big Shoes Soccer Weather Snow Guns Liz Phair Skating Me Trump Them Kids Grass Skiing acerbic high school principal gathering throngs Ice Dancing nukes 1980s Godfather Food Theater Drumming Candy Martinis My Parents NFL Bikes The Old Days Radiohead Belgian Ales Mom and Dad tambourrine COVID-19 Hand Planes Christmas Sports Psychology Ukraine Syracuse Peacekeeping Butterfingers Soviet Union punk music Marketing Gimmicks midwinter vacations Accounting Bodysurfing My sisters Yeast Work The future high winds Things I've done Soul Coughing Real Estate Guns and Ammo Teeth Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde First World Problems Biden Pats Coyotes Hot Air Balloon Football technology COVID Plastic Audubon Bar Bob Dylan Soup Elvis Presley vacation Red Sox afterlife Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Little League Short Fiction Europe Eating and Drinking coronavirus the future Brewing Fiction Scotch and Sirloin The Future Emergencies Reveillon College Hache Verde NPR Golf Canadiana My grandparents Hawaii Good Reads Bill Monroe Sugarbush Bicycles Spice Girls Brain Surgery Skiing Quebect Diseases Barber Shops curling shoes Dad advice When I die Music Head injuries Tom Waits town square People I know Masks Boston baseball My Estate Bands I've seen Stairs War and Peace China Vaccines Mass General Hospital Politics As Usual Existential Crisis Art Advertising Beer soapbox rantings Zoom plan mid-winter vacations Halloween the sea