"Don't Make Me Angry. You Wouldn't Like Me When I'm Angry."

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Have a wonderful night tonight with both your tricks and your treats, regardless of what you're bobbing for.

And tomorrow morning, think of this picture before you throw out all the little items you bought to create your 2009 Halloween costume.

As you can see, sometimes a Hulk hand can become so much more than a noise-making, plastic glove.

With the right lube, of course.

Happy Halloween!

Fratboy Friday

I've been neglectful of Fratboy Friday. I heard from a few people that they missed the boys. I guess we all need a little something that says, "TGIF, motherfuckers." God knows I do.

BOYS IN CAPS

Fill me... ummm...

I mean, fill 'er up.




****




SAGGERS


U.R.A.Q.T.
"Is Ur Dad a Dealer? Cause Ur Dope 2 Me!"



*****



MOONERS

That's my kind of wake up call.





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DAMN, I WAS DRUNK LAST NIGHT

The boys love my big pink funnel.

The one in the middle with eyes that look like
two piss holes in a snow bank...

Yes, please.

"Eight Loving Arms and All Those Suckers"

This cartoon from Diesel Sweeties is the perfect guide for picking out your Halloween costume for 2009.

This year, it's all about the mashup.

Draculeia sounds good.

But I'm with Jessica Robocop...

If you see a guy dressed as Doctor Octopus and a bunch of vibrators, grab hold of him and tell him you are NOT letting go until he tricks AND treats!

"Actually, He's a Boy"

The Onion has done it again.

If this video had been around when I was a kid, my parents never would have let me be Aslan that one year.

An elementary school boy...

Dressed as a lion...

With a huge mane...

Now, that's faggy.


How To Find A Masculine Halloween Costume For Your Effeminate Son

Actually, more often than not for Halloween, I dressed up as a vampire. With the long, black cape. And I was just as swishy with it as the kid in the video.

And if some woman had dropped a bucket of blood on me, I would have gone Carrie White on her ass. Fast. Who's the lady boy now, bitch?

"Is He Strong? Listen, Bud..."

Joe sent this pic to me a couple of days ago with a simple subject line...

"Saw this and IMMEDIATELY thought of you..."

If people see hot as fuck Spider-Men ripping off their Spidey suits & think of me... Well, to quote Julie Andrews as Maria...

"Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good!"

Thank you, Joe. I love it. Him. Whatever...

"Good Times & Bum Times, I've Seen 'Em All..."

"Good Times..."

The reviews are in!

Actually, the review is in. That's singular. As in "one."

But after reading Mr. J. Scott Hill's generous and kind words about my performance on the Chicago Stage Review, one critique is all I need to read.

According to Mr. Hill...

"Rader plays Paul Bearer, the most comical of the choir of cabaret cadavers. As an actor, Rader is a fantastic active listener, without stealing focus. In doing so, he accentuates the strengths within others’ performances. Rader is delightfully goofy twanging through a country music parody, and is absolutely chilling when performing a poem about werewolves."

Mr. Hill's review praises the entire show, each actor, the direction, the lighting, the musical direction, everything, which can mean only one thing...

J. Scott Hill is Chicago's brightest and most gifted theatre critic. Wise beyond his years (whatever they are), Hill possesses a keen eye for talent, for star power, for that "it." I, of course, am humbled that this great, learned man would write such a glowing tribute to me and this business I call "show."

I know what you're thinking and the answer is no. If Mr. Hill had hated my performance and written the the exact opposite version of the paragraph above (whatever that would be), I would be telling Mr. Hill where to go, what to take with him and what to shove in his ass when he got there. And I wouldn't tell tell him how to get it out either!

But he didn't write that, so his ass is safe. I admire him, he admires me. We are a mutual admiration society. At least until he reviews another one of my plays.



"Bum Times..."

It's a good thing that Mr. Hill came to our performance on Thursday night. If he had waited until last night, he would have watched as I forgot all the lyrics to the first verse of one of my songs. I lost them. All those words. And I never found them.

It was The Actor's Nightmare as a musical. Sort of like Liza Minnelli singing "Try to Remember," starting the song with those same three words and then forgetting every single syllable after that.

"'TRY TO REMEMBER...' Ummm...
'TRY TO REMEMBER...'
Oh... Mama... Mama!
What's the lyric?
Lorna, put down the pizza
and tell me what the damn lyric is!!!"

It wasn't as bad as that (because Lorna wasn't there), but I did stop the show. Literally.

I went up on the words, screamed "Stop!," walked back to the piano, looked at the musical director's book and neither of us could find the lyric that started the first verse. So, with my fellow cast members looking at me in terror, I basically walked stage right to stage left. And then stage left to stage right. While growling.

And to add insult to stupidity, one of the composers was in the audience last night, sitting second row, center. Close enough to hear me whisper, "We who are about to die salute you."

I was a little worried about performing these songs in front of the composer because they're all still so new. They haven't settled into my voice and brain. So, since I was the most unsure of the second verse lyrics for this particular song, I sang them over and over. Most of the day. Which is why they were all I could think of as the first verse began. So, I stopped the show, we dove back in and I grunted. To the composer. Yeah...

I recovered at the chorus, nailed the second verse (of course) and got most of the audience back by the ending. Then, I let it go. I just kept repeating something my college theatre adviser said to me when something went wrong in the production of a play...

"What Mother Teresa does is important. We do skits."

Very funny and incredibly true. That advice, coupled by a little something I came up with to say to the audience during the curtain speech ("One of the actors, I don't want to say who, has lost a verse. So, please, if you find it, return it to the stage manager and we'll make sure it finds its way back into the show.") and topped off with the extravagant, very sweet Godiva chocolates that Bryant sent backstage for me made dealing with my latest theatrical "senior moment" a breeze.

"What Do You Think I Fought For In Omaha Beach?"

This is Philip Spooner, an 86 year old WWII veteran, speaking about equal rights for gays and lesbians.

To quote Mr. Spooner...

"The woman at my polling place asked me do I believe in equality for gay and lesbian people. I was pretty surprised to be asked a question like that. It made no sense to me.
Finally I asked her,

'What do you think I fought for
in Omaha Beach?'"

Thank you, Mr. Spooner. May God bless you for your service to our country, then and now.

"Billy, It's Susan..."

"It's the day of the show, y'all!"

Gird your loins and pray to whatever god you worship.

Because there's a very good chance that I might forget everything I've been drilling in my head for the last couple of weeks.

And suddenly start performing "Pippin."

The Irene Ryan role.

"Oh, it's time to start livin'..."

Somebody tell Ben Vereen to watch out for me in the wings, if you know what I mean.

"I'm Gonna Learn How to Fly! (High!)"

This is my kind of Batman.

I especially love the rings attached to what usually would be his Utility Belt.

Because, with the right rigging, a belt like that could be the basis of an interesting portable sling.

As far as The Dark Knight dancing on a car, I doubt if even Batman could have saved the remake of "Fame."

Let's face it, if there's no "Hot Lunch," then it's not "Fame." Period.

"The Moment I Wake Up..."

This is exactly what I needed today. I have a board meeting in an hour and this makes me very happy.

Nothing like three hot bears doing a little Burt Bacharach to get me in the mood.

If the three hot bears were actually DOING Burt Bacharach...?

Well, it depends on how well Burt can take it.

From the look he's giving the camera in this pic, Burt not only takes it long and hard, he also shops it around, places full page ads about it and gives out free samples of it on Craig's List.

'Atta, girl!

"I Came Here for a Night, Not a Weekend"

Don Rickles.

On Letterman.

Discussing how, the night before, he helped helped out when the final preview of the Broadway revival of "Bye, Bye Birdie" stopped due to a technical malfunction.

I'd pay Broadway prices to hear Rickles heckle John Stamos from the audience.

I'll need a comp to see "Bye, Bye Birdie."

"George Has Been Mean to Me For a Long Time"

I just discovered the animated YouTube videos created by J. Butcher.

And all of them - - each and every one of them - - are genius. Pure genius. This one especially.

Not to mention that the vision of Kirk in a bikini and later, in a bustier does something for me. Even in just an animated version.

And you thought those people who dress up like stuffed animals and have sex were freaky perverts. No. I've got 'em beat with this Kirk thing.

"Love and Love Alone"

I saw Chita Rivera in "The Visit" here in Chicago when it premiered at the Goodman in 2001.

I had just directed the Chicago premiere of Terrance McNally's "Corpus Christi" and Mr. McNally came to see our production.

...Near the end of our run, we were playing alongside a production of "Naked Boys Singing," and when Mr. McNally got to the theatre, he immediately took out his camera, raced outside and took a picture of the marquee with both shows names on it. He came inside and said, "I had to get a picture. No one back in New York will believe it."...

Happily, Mr. McNally enjoyed our production of "Corpus Christi" ("Thanks for giving my play back to me" he said to me right after the play ended) and invited me and the cast to the final dress tech run of "The Visit" at the Goodman.

And I hated it.

I vividly remember a song called "You" with lyrics that went "You, you, you. Everywhere. You, you, you." They just kept sing "You" over and over and I wanted to stick a pencil in their vocal chords to get them to stop.

Then, the whole cast had a song called "Yellow Shoes" that went something like, "Yellow shoes. Look at me wearing my yellow shoes." Again, I wanted to hurl. As we were leaving the theatre and walking past Kander & Ebb (the composer & lyricist), one of the guys in my cast, who happened to be wearing bowling shoes that day, looked at me and started belting out, "Bowling shoes! Look at me wearing my BOWLING SHOES!"

I almost killed him.

But after watching this clip and listening to Chita sing this song from "The Visit" - - a song that I honestly don't remember - - I wonder if I was wrong about this show.

"I Could Say, 'Life Is Just a Bowl of Jell-O...'"

It took me quite awhile, but it's definitely official - - I've given in to the pop culture cult that is Facebook.

Make no mistake, it is a cult. And I'm loving it. I drank the Cool-Aid and afterward, I said, "Please, Sir. May I have some more?"

But there are still things that I dislike about The Faceplace. Plenty of things. Which is why this is probably going to be the first of a three-part post. Possibly four. Possibly more. ("So, they call me a cockeyed PESSimist...")

The first of my current Faceplace peeves (and I'm sure this will piss some people off) is the breakfast/lunch/dinner status update - - those Facebookers who post overly detailed status updates about the food they're preparing or eating or what have you. Updates like...

"Mike Hunt is looking forward to tapas tonight. YUM!"

Or...

"Connie Lingus is sauteing the mushrooms for her world famous spaghetti sauce! Watch out noodles, here she comes!"

It's like an online version of Rachel Ray's "Yummo!" Gross.

So many Faceplacers do it, though. They LOVE to talk about food. But you know, if you're going to tell me about how you're perving out to something that is or will soon be going down your throat, I would rather read about a very different kind of Italian sausage. (Different, but VERY enjoyable)

When I read status updates like the ones above, I think that this "friend" of mine needs to spend some SERIOUS time with an extra-large vibrator, two bottles of Wet Plantinum and an assortment of George Clooney DVDs if, day after day, the comings and goings of their digestive system is the most fascinating thing they have to share with the world.

That's harsh, I'm sorry that it's harsh and I'm SURE that there are SEVERAL people who would rather burn out their retinas with a heating element than read one more status update from me about "The Theatuh." Some people care a great deal about food, how it's cooked and what a sous-chef actually does, but I'm not a foodie and just don't understand it. No, I might possibly understand it if I was in the kitchen with the person, but I don't know how I'm supposed to enjoy this "virtual food" that they're describing to me.

As Philip said at the top of the first ever episode of "Top Chef," "I can't taste the food, so why do I care." (Plus, there's no Tim Gunn and no Nina Garcia, so I'm out.)

Maybe it's not them at all. Maybe, I'm just a bit of a grouch. Okay, I'm probably a lot of a grouch.

It's like a bunch of my friends are singing the opening number of "Oliver!" and I'm waiting in the wings to sing "That's Your Funeral." Same show, but very different.




P.S. Before anyone says it, yes I did make a status update about going to Paula Deen's restaurant when I was on vacation last month, but that food is something that I am only able to enjoy once every two or three years.

It's different. It's Paula. It's butter.

Don't be hatin' on me and my love for Paula, bitch.

It's deep and it's real. It's the junk in my trunk. Literally. So, BACK IT UP!

"Father to Son"

"Sometimes there's God so quickly."

And now, thanks to Twitter, there's "Shit My Dad Says." Every so often.

Not MY Dad. Justin's Dad. Whoever the Hell "Justin" is.

I don't know Justin, but I do know that we both learned to write down the things our parents say to us. So that we can pass on the kind hearted, but occasionally fucked up, "Yogi Berra on Rohypnol" advice and wisdom they give to us.

Unfortunately, I don't live in my mother's house or city or state, so my "Mama Wanda" Tweets (I can't believe I just wrote that...) would probably be too few and far between to maintain a large number of followers.

But Justin's dad provides him with a healthy supply of (as he calls it) "shit." And while I don't think they quite live up to my mother referring to the pouilly fuisse she drank at a restaurant as "pussy wine," I'm hooked on Justin's Dad's shit.

Well... You know what I mean.

Check out all of Justin's Dad's Tweets (Dear God... I wrote that word again...) here.

And many thanks to Steve for introducing me to "Shit My Dad Says." This is EXACTLY what I needed this week!

"Talk to Me, Baby"

Near the beginning of her one-woman, Broadway show "Wishful Drinking," Carrie Fisher tells the audience about waking up to find a dead man in her bed.

She then takes questions from the audience.

At a recent performance, someone asked, "How did you know he was dead?" Carrie replied...

"Have you ever seen
a dead body?

"They're blue and yellow,
which are the international colors of death.

"And they're really bad conversationalists."

If I don't make it to New York before this show closes, someone's going to get hurt. Seriously. Carrie Fisher at Studio 54 is last year's Liza at the Palace.

And if, once again, I miss this year's Must-See Theatre 'Mo Moment, somehow, I don't think watching my DVD of "Liza with a Z" is going to fill the gap like it did last year.

Maybe I can find a copy of "Under the Rainbow."

"He's Literally a Caped Crusader"

Sarah Silverman proves once again that she is a genius.

Is she right about this? Well, is the Pope a Nazi?

"Yeah, I Want to Buy Some Art"

"Manhood for Amateurs," Michael Chabon's new book of non-fiction essays, has been out for a week.

I can't believe it's been out an entire week and I didn't know anything about this.

I've been a HUGE fan of Chabon's work since I read "Mysteries of Pittsburgh" years ago.

But it was "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay" that cemented Chabon as my favorite author. (Thanks for that Christmas gift, Mike!)

If, as usual, I go to Border's on State and they don't have the new release I want, I will cut a bitch.

And by "bitch," I mean the snarky guy in the skinny jeans sporting Kate Gosselin's haircut.

"You only work in a shop, you know.
You can drop the attitude."

"When Are We Gonna Make It?"

I'm feeling better today. And all the congestion in my throat combined with the madcap rehearsal schedule I'm in the middle of make me feel like...

Well... I feel like the first two and a half minutes of this...



Yep, I feel like Elaine Stritch and right now, I SOUND like Elaine Stritch. And in that clip, SHE thinks she sounds like Lionel Stander.

If you see me walking out of rehearsal tonight wearing a white shirt, black tights and little sailor's hat, you'll know that my fever is back. Or the vodka has kicked in. Or both.

"I'm the Music Meister!"

Dr. Horrible meets the Dark Knight!

As if Neil Patrick Harris isn't hot enough, he now appears in BATMAN: THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD as The Music Meister.

I'm officially in love.

"Relax! I Can't Get My Hand Out! RELAX!!!"

I'm as sick as the proverbial dog.

All the fundraising and running around from rehearsal to collection pickups to my office (rinse, repeat) has left me with a sore throat, a nasty cough and looking like death served at room temperature.

Sure, that's good for my upcoming show, but it sucks when trying to REHEARSE said upcoming show.

While I recover, please forgive my light posting and enjoy my new favorite video. And after you've watched it, answer the question contained in the song...



Well, do you?

"They're Creepy and They're Cooky..."

What has a rubber chicken, carries a knife, wears an ascot and looks like 5 Miles of the Walk of Shame?

Me!

This is one of the publicity pics from Porchlight Music Theatre's production of "Macabaret."

Get it? Macabre + Cabaret = Macabaret.

Just like Stephen + White Pan Stick & Black Eye Makeup = Redundant.

The show is really fun and the cast is a blast.

Yeah, I know who you want to know more about. That's Cameron. He's 21. Born in 1988.

The year that I graduated from high school.

Oh well... At least I've got my rubber chicken...

"It's a Pith Helmet!"

My friend Carmen posted this little video over at the Faceplace, and quite frankly after watching this, I feel like the little bi-polar dog-and-pony show I laughingly refer to as "My Life" is so damn boring.

I thought I was one of the top "Bringers of the Crazy," but this woman, this mall walker, this schizophrenic, psycho bitch (and I mean that as a compliment) just face planted me. Somewhere in the Food Court. Hopefully, beside a Cinnabon.

Watch, but I'm telling you now - - I call dibs on her mall walking song. I will be using it for any and all future auditions.

Anyone who walks into an audition with this song and a pith helmet needs to know that I will cut a bitch. I ain't playin'...

"When the Sun Comes Out..."

Yesterday's AIDS Walk was a big success!


Rain was predicted, it started off chilly (to say the least), but as Season of Concern's Team rounded the path beside the Shedd Aquarium and started the stroll down the lakefront, the sun came out.


It wasn't quite the ending of "Longtime Companion," but it definitely was nice to raise money for people living with AIDS while experiencing light breaking through the darkness.


And while we didn't match last year's "The JERSEY BOYS are on our Team" numbers, we definitely gained serious ground the week before the Walk.


As of this morning, Season of Concern's Team has raised $9,615, all of which goes directly to SOC. And the best part is that we can still receive donations online until this coming Friday. So hopefully, we'll keep the number climbing.


Sure, it took us an hour and thirty minutes to walk a little more than three miles, but as Philip says, "I don't run unless someone is behind me with a knife." So, there.


Thanks to everyone who donated, thanks to everyone to joined our team, and thanks to God for giving us some sunshine and a break in the rain during the Walk.