Oh crap! The world is about to end. There is no other way to explain this. None. I mean, I can read articles about atrocities committed in third world nations by militias and dictators, I can watch an administration systematically strip away constitutional rights and perpetuate their power on a platform of fear-mongering and misinformation, I can even wrap my head around the fact that our media culture seems determined to perpetuate Paris Hilton's celebrity instead of euthanizing her, and still believe that our world will somehow continue to limp along blithely. But then I read that they're making a Spider-man musical, directed by Julie Taymor with musical score by Bono and the Edge, and my brain just...
...where am I?
Dammit. I was hoping that I had suffered some sort of blunt-force-trauma to the head and was waking up in a hospital bed in a universe where this sort of absurdity wasn't increasingly common. No such luck. What's that? You don't believe me? You insist that I am actually sitting at my computer with a book of Mad Libs open on my lap, and I thought it would be delightful to combine a superhero comic, half of the Irish rock band U2, and the creative force behind such films as Titus and Across the Universe? But no, such is not the case. There isn't enough crack for me to smoke to come up with that one on my own, though apparently others are happily "hittin' the rock" and maintaining their positions of creative control on Broadway. And who the hell okayed this thing? If you came to me and pitched this idea, I'd stare at you like you had a penis growing out of your forehead.
And come on. Spider-man, Turn Off the Dark is the best they could come up with for a title? Good God! It's like one of my remedial students wrote this thing. Perhaps next we'll be treated to Andrew Lloyd Webber's Aquaman: I Humped a Shark. Jeez, Bono, did you run out of starving people to help? Shouldn't you be busy wearing a dashiki at a press conference in the Sudan or something? I need to stop thinking about this - I'm giving myself an aneurysm. Honestly, I kinda want to kill myself a little bit now. I think I'll go watch Step Up 2: The Streets and remind myself what real art is all about.
2 comments:
Someone call Stan Lee and let him know his integrity and testicles are burried under some money, much the same way Scrooge McDuck would hide dead hookers after getting blotto on Scotch and assuming they were with the IRS.
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