On Broadway

Livin' on The Great White Way
Last night I watched some of the musical parts of the Tony Awards--and oh my God I had just watched a documentary on making it on Broadway t'other eve and not once did they call it "The Great White Way"--but that's what it was and still is really, a chance for white actors and actresses to make it on the stage or in musicals (though I know it was the Great White Way because it was lit up in electric lights by ole Tom Edison when he put electricity into New York City)--and still Broadway is very white in its songs and in its presentations--even the black shows and there are tons of black shows on Broadway these days are very white in their evolution.

So I watched some of the musical aspects of the Tonys. And they were a raucous bunch--I mean come on, Broadway stars, they are mic-ed up to the hilt--with fanny pack amps and with all kinds of audio-help-enhancements (like Pro-Tools) and still these maniacal showfolks can't keep from emoting so harshly, so frenetically, so exceedingly energetic, to the point before any of the vocalized musical productions were over the singers were screaming at the top of their lungs and dancing with such unabandoned gusto you'd think the stages were carpeted with hot coals. As far as screaming vocalists goes the poor little 1/4 talented banshee Fantasia took first prize for screaming and singing slightly off key (which seems to be the trend in today's male and female vocalists). "My God, Fantasia, who the hell told you you could sing? Paula Abdul, the washed-up, has-been, disco queen? Or the English fop whatever the hell he is (in terms of what makes him qualified to judge young American singing talent)? Or the big overgrown black fellow who nobody had ever heard of before American Idol came on line?"

Of course, we know Fox is owned by Rupert Murdoch, one of the world's most EVIL men (Dennis Potter before he died of horrible cancer said that if he had it in him to murder somebody with impunity now he'd murder Rupert Murdoch, who he said was an abomination to the world of journalism, television, and overall destruction of what we used to know as the Free Press and Public Television), uses a lot of Aussies and Brits--so I suppose one of Murdoch's stipulations before he does a show is it has to use a couple of Brits or a couple of F-ing bumblehead Aussies, like the pitiful Steve Donleavey, the Australian lyin'-like-a-dog reporter who used to grace the Fox network with his sorry, sordid, and in a lot of cases totally untruthful way of reporting.

There was also a black chick singer--good looking older babe--she's won 4 Tonys already--who sang a song called "Raunchy"--in which she slopped around the stage in what looked like an old Plantation maid's dress telling an old white guy how in love she was with a white cowboy--you don't see him just his hat. What a piece of musical garbage, and she sung it with that same frenzie, that same loud, uncontrolled, scream singing as all the rest of these Broadway geeks sang. I don't get it. Why do they have to scream and force themselves on us so fiercely brilliant, witty, and bright? I mean the dancers overdance. The musicians overplay--plus one show, the actors play the musical instruments and it's like watching a high school stage band--overexcited, bumping and jumping and flailing and goose-stepping all over themselves--moving super-sweaty fast (I mean it must stink to high heaven in the dressing rooms after that show)--so utterly not talented but using their youthful vitality and acrobatics to convince the prairie boobs that come to NYC to ogle these Broadway shows that these are our most talented young people--and I say, hell yeah, to a prairieland boob seeing his or her first Broadway production these are brilliantly talented people (the kind of kids who win the talent shows back in the hick and prairie highschools)--it's like little Sissy Lou and Billy Bob Jack making it up here in New Yerk Sitty--wow, they are so wildly talented. Hyper ninnies still performing on the Broadway stages the same as when Broadway was Vauxhall--again why even Broadway is half-British and always has been.

I hate most Broadway show tunes. Cole Porter I dig, yes, but other than him--Gershwin, OK, so he wrote some great songs and they were mostly written for musicals--OK, so all our past standards were taking from the Broadway songwriters--Hammerstein, Rogers, Hart, Kern, all white guys--so far. Bert Williams was the first black to make it onto Broadway. He tells the story of how the Actors Equity (the union of Broadway actors and actresses) went on strike one night--so Bert went to his theater, put on his costume and make up, then went out to the stage and there was nobody there--the stage was dark--he said, no one had told him the actors, of which he was one, were on strike. The Great White Way--see, folks. It is all a matter of black and white in a white society. White stands for purity to a white person. Black stands for "SIN"--the worst Christian evil there is--to white people. Yellow stands for a diseased white person--say jaundiced maybe--Asians are certainly looked upon by whites as the yellow peril. Brown--well, to a white, brown is the color of shit.

Whites do expect their asses to be kissed by blacks, Latinos, Asians--European whites are OK; yet some of the sorriest whites in the world come from certain parts of slummy, backwards, hayseed Europe. I'll not name names, I say old chap.

I do believe the white male is in his last world-control hurrah! But I don't think the white male will ever give up world power to any Third World person no matter how long they've been Americans. You see whites feel they are the "natural"-born Americans. Not the indigenous Americans, oh no, that's the injuns, the savages--whites still think of Native Americans in the Chief Wahoo sense--the "woo-woo-woo-woo," you know, "Me sabe, quemosabe." I mean, yes, the Lone Ranger will accept the savage Tonto as his Dr. Watson, but I bet Tonto didn't get to sit at the Lone Ranger's family dinner table during the nightly meals. "Honey," Mrs. Lone Ranger says discreetly, "could we feed Tonto out in the stable with Silver and Scout tonight and every night. I mean, Ranger honey, he's lower than a horse's ass to me, you know, after what his people did to mom and pops and Little Shanty Anne--I'll never forgive his redskin ass...." "Sweetheart, I need Tonto. Man, you should see the way he shines my boots and keeps Silver's ass wiped."

Nope, I think the white male ruler would rather push the red button and blow the whole world up than give over his power to a black man. Obama look out. Obama should be playing his white side as a trump card or else, who knows--only what the white man has done to black contenders from out of the past. Boom--Malcolm X is gone. Boom--Martin Luther King is gone. Boom--Medgar Evers was already gone. "Boom, boom, boom, boom" the old blues song used to go.

Naw, the white male will not give up his global power; not now that he is so close to totally ruling the world--just that close, man--think about it. Fascism forever. WAR forever. Like Uncle Joe Lieberman says, "We need a WAR NOW with IRAN," the new home of Al Queda and Weapons of Mass Destruction. Yep, you see, the Bush Babys and the Neo-Con asslickers were right all along--they had the right evidence, just the wrong country--Iran and Iraq can be confusing to geniuses like Georgie Porgie Bush Baby our never-elected-honestly "president"--I can easily see where the spies handed Bush a report on Iran back in 2002 but the "n" had an ink stain and looked like a "q" to the Great Decider, so, hell, he naturally thought it said Iraq. There ya go. Now we all understand. A simply mistake. Even a third-grader from Yale could have made that mistake. So yep, another WAR. HOT DAMN! And we are going to be in Iraq for generations to come, did you read that. Wow, these assholes are brave MF-ers, aren't they? They certainly are not worried about getting impeached--they're not even really worried about the Dumbocrats winning the House and Senate in November of 2006. Why should they? The Dumbos are like turtles on their backs--they can kick and scream all they want, but they're still dead on their backs--and can't do a damn thing as long as they're stuck like that.

I think I'll go on American Idol and growl my songs--that'll get me to Broadway, maybe in a Stephen Sondheim production of Little Red Riding Hood --"Stephen, it's me thegrowlingwolf--your Wolfie Boy for your Little Red show."

thegrowlingwolf
for The Daily Growler

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