"You whoreson malt-horse drudge." "Oh my delicate sensibilities!"

Last night at rehearsal, I was informed that a board member of the theatre group had expressed some issues with the harsh language in the show. For those of you keeping score at home, that's The Taming of The Shrew, with no fewer than three ordained ministers involved in the production, with no more vile language than you'd expect to see on an episode of The Simpsons.

With the exception, that is, of one particular ad-lib that I deliver offstage, to announce my presence. When Petruchio and Kate arrive back at home after the wedding, there should be some noise offstage to announce Petruchio's arrival. Seeing as Petruchio is about to go into a tirade of Shakespearing swearing, I figured that some contemporary swearing would set the tone for the scene, and I've been announcing my presence with a well-timed "SON OF A...." or "MOTHERFU..." which I intended to substitute with more age-appropriate exclamations for that time when we have a paying audience. Last night I substituted the board member's name, and you'd be surprised at how much better shouting "MATTHEW LIPSCOMB" fit in a line of iambic pentameter than "SON OF A BITCH."


Motherfucker still fits really well in, for those of you who need to write a sonnet in the near future.

In the "Cartoons Come To Life" department:

I should note that the theatre we're doing Taming of The Shrew in is a good half-hour from Memphis, which means that, outside of the school performances, it's likely to be poorly-attended. Couple that with the presence of crickets in the theatre, and there's an actual possibility of two hours on stage with cricket chirping as a reward.