On December 20th, Joan Rivers returns to the Laurie Beechman to test out some new material. At 79 years old, she really is one of the hardest working women in show business. If you don't get a chance to check out her hilarious show, then you must flip though her latest book I Hate Everyone...Starting With Me. I couldn't help but notice the following sections which touch on the theater. Enjoy!!!
I hate the Tony Awards show. I can't get booked anywhere that night because every gay man in the world is at the ... Tonys.
I hate the actors who stay in new York instead of going to Hollywood because they are "artists" and don't want to "compromise their craft." Now the only "kraft" they have is the macaroni and cheese they eat for dinner six nights a week. "Theater actor" is an old English world that means "cater waiter."
I hate gypsies, the itinerant Broadway dancers who've been twirling and plie-ing for thirty years and are still hopeful and eager and waiting for their big break, gosh darn it! The only break they're going to get is their spine, when their flat feet and thick ankles collapse from standing on food-stamp lines since 1977.
I hate stage actors who take thirty-six curtain calls at the end of a play. I think actors who keep taking bows at the end of the play should have to stay in character. At the end of The Miracle Worker Helen Keller should walk off stage and fall into the orchestra pit; at the end of Death of a Salesman Willy Lowman should blow his head off in the lobby; and at the end of Cats the actor should have to lick themselves and cough up fur balls.
When I finish a play, I come out, bow, and go back to my dressing room to have sex with a stagehand - assuming I can find a straight one. I don't need the audience validation to make me feel complete; I need a quickie.
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