Regarding CATS

The two lights of my life, Goonie and Bobo, were born into a musical and operatic family. Both their parents are professional stage performers. Their grandfather is a 35 yr retired drama teacher. They are bombarded on a daily basis with parental singing (sometimes yowling on a bad day), or musicals and opera on CD. They really have no choice but to appreciate and become singers themselves someday. Either that or truck drivers. They can sing along with The Wizard of Oz. They even know all the lyrics to “We’re Off To See The Wizard…”, although it took me well over 30 years to figure out that patter. One day I went to pick them up and they met me at the door all excitable about this “new” show that has a bunch of cats singing. They described how the cats live on a big trash heap and jump around the stage while singing about their curious 9 lives. “CATS?” I asked. “CATS is your new favorite musical?” “YES!” they squealed with glee. Now most everyone I know despises the musical CATS. It has no redeeming value as a musical other than hot dancers in colored tights and fur. They think that Sir Lloyd Webber’s music is simple and non-creative (read: it sucks), the plot is non-existent, and they could better spend their time doing three hours of sewer maintenance than watch this show. I’ve had the complete CD for 20 years, however, and a fan for even longer. I know what a Jellicle Cat is. So I joined in my daughters exuberant joy and promptly ripped and downloaded the CATS soundtrack onto my iPod. We listen to it every time we’re in my car together. We celebrate the mischief caused by Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, we hum along to the magic of Mr. Mistoffelees, and rock out with Rum Tum Tugger. We listen to it again. And again. and again……. I’m finding that this musical has no redeeming value without the hot dancers in colored tights and fur. I’m believing that Sir Lloyd Webber’s music is trivial and consists of clustered notes tossed together like a salad. And dammit! Where is the plot? I think I hate this musical.

I am NOT a headboard

I’m a Bond fan. I’ve seen them all. And I was skeptical about Daniel Craig as the new 007. Even after Casino Royale I was not entirely impressed. However, I watched the new Quantum of Solace on opening night and realized that Daniel is a Bond to be reckoned with. The new film is a sequel to Casino so I had to go back and rent that DVD to pick up what I missed in the sequel. Then I had to go back to the cinema to watch the exciting edge-of-my-seat Quantum just one more time. Well, even after weeks in the cinema the theater was nearly completely full. I had a choice to sit in the very front (no way) or in the very back. I chose the back. Bad choice. The only seats available were next to a couple of teenagers cuddling in the corner, so I sat right next to them. I thought to myself, “they better not start sucking face during the movie!” But, alas, teens will be teens. And I, too, was once a teen who would suck face during in a crowded theater during a movie. However, I never went so far as these two ill-fated lovers. After the first couple of big action scenes there of course needs to be some dialogue to move the plot along. Well, that was a perfect opportunity for the young frizzy haired, droopy pants wearing stallion to make his move. The face sucking commenced, and I thank my disciplined concentration skills that I was able to continue focusing on the movie. After a little shoulder to shoulder smooching the couple progressed to leaning, I reckoned so as to get a little better leverage. Leaning transformed into nearly prostrate with the young gentleman’s (I’m trying to be nice here) frizzy greasy head inching closer and closer to me. Oh, shit, I thought. I’m going to have to embarrass these kids and tell them to get a room. But I found myself hesitate as I was trying to live vicariously through this intimate couple since I’m single and haven’t sucked face in a while myself. And it was fun recalling the joyful intertwining moments during a flick with a girlfriend back in high school. Well sure ‘nuff, the horny adolescents stretched out enough that I was acting as surrogate headboard. “That’s quite enough!” I thought. But as I turned to begin my fatherly lecture about movie manners the girl finally wizened up and put the emergency brakes on their hot-n-heavy endeavor. Whew. But then they commenced to whip out their friggin’ phones and began texting a mile a minute. AAARRRRGGGHHHH!! Is there no consideration with today’s teens?! I’m never going to have a teenager. My girls will have to jump right into adulthood. I’ve decided.