Back In the Saddle, Again.

Yes, You Are Seeing Double. The 'Fares' of Langhorne Players' Production of "Bluebird"

Next month will mark the first anniversary of my mother's passing. Uncle P's life has changed so drastically in such a short time that it seems both much longer and hardly a minute later at the same time. Of course, this probably only proves that time is an illusion. There can only ever be now. ("Whoa! Dude, too heavy..."  "Shut up, ya bloody wanker!"*)

Most of the inside of my house looks almost nothing like it did 11 months ago. It is very much starting to finally feel like my own place with my own distinct sense of style. That's helped a lot. I've also recently taken on a boarder (something I didn't want to do - I'd grown accustomed to being alone), but not something I regret. He  is a friendly acquaintance I first met while performing as Cassius in Julius Caesar in 1997. He needed the place, I had the room and I certainly like the extra money. Our schedules are different enough that we aren't often home at the same time and even when we are, we seem to get along quite well. He likes to boast that he is sharing a house with a gay man. I like to complain that he leaves the lid (not the seat) of the toilet up (toilet seats have lids for a reason - I don't want to have to fish anything out of mine, thank you) and he claims an inefficient freezer in a former home has left him with a habit of only filling ice cube trays half-way. But I will break him. Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! No, seriously. It's working out well... so far. And yes, being a 12 year-old bartender means I must have a full ice bin at all times. Thanks again. Dad!

To tie all of this in with this post's title and the sprawling publicity photo above, despite the crazy crap that's been going on since she passed, I know Mom would be very upset to know that I'd put the thing about which I am most passionate on hold for so long. I was contacted by a director I knew by name only, at the suggestion of my very own Q (who knows me well enough to know it was time, as well). I was asked to come in and read for one or possibly two small roles in a play I'd never heard of, Bluebird by British playwright Simon Stephens. I got both parts and joined a show already two weeks into rehearsals with a bit of trepidation. Yes, they weren't huge rolls, but they were obviously important to the story and both have some hefty monologs. Thank His Great Noodly Appendages for my "Line Nazi" K, who always gets the job done! (LOVE you, Honey!). We officially opened last night (Friday) and while it was good, I still had a flub that almost threw me. 

Tonight, however, I was feeling particularly 'on,' as we say. I was calm and collected; focused and and firing on all cylinders. The performers among you will totally understand the feeling. Even better, two performances in and I am still finding new things about these two characters, both of whom are as different as can be, yet have so much in common. Bluebird is mostly set in a London Bluebird Mini-Cab and revolves around it's driver and a single night of fares who both inform and reflect his own story. I play Robert (a middle-class father returning to the scene of a crime on the day the perpetrator is being released from prison) and Andy (a tough-guy bouncer with a heart of gold, on his way home to his family after a rough night). Stephens' spare dialog is delicious to work with and immediately made me decide Andy was Cockney, which really gives him some delicious linguistic energy that's so very fun to play (and his very dirty mouth doesn't hurt - I love swearing on stage - it's very liberating)! Robert is much darker and sadder (and very drunk) - still a good exercise in character and mood, which is not as 'fun' to play, but equally satisfying. *And while I don't actually say it, "Shut up, ya bloody wanker!" seemed the obvious response in a post that has somehow turned out to be about dichotomy; death; life; theatre; acting; change and growth.

"Dude! What'd I say?"  Yeah, I know, but I'm not going to stop, because if there is one thing I have had reaffirmed these past few weeks (and especially tonight), it's that theatre can and should be transformative, for both performers and audiences. I can't speak for the audiences of any work in which I am involved, but as stressful and wonderful (I've not only made many new friends, but reconnected with one I hadn't seen in 30 years) as Bluebird has been, it reminded of why I do what I do. It is my 'religion' and it feeds my 'soul,'  however you decide to define either. And I am so very glad to be feeding so satisfyingly. Of course, I used to have to add silver to my hair to age me. Now I have to spray it darker to 'youthen' me. And don't get me started about mascara in my goatee!

Depending on when you are reading this, there are still 9 performances left. Be forewarned, this will not be everyone's cup of tea, you should pardon the metaphor. It's dark and spare and doesn't have a lot of action (almost the entire show is set inside the cab - cleverly designed and executed by the director and a fellow cast-mate, so it's never static for too long) but every 'episode' - no matter how brief - informs, echoes and/or foreshadows the bigger picture that is ultimately Andy's path to a sense of closure and self-redemption. Chewy, yummy actory stuff and exactly (as Q knew) what I needed, when I needed it most. For info and tickets, visit www.langhorneplayers.org.

Well, there's a ramble for you, eh? One of Andy's admonitions is "Enjoy the sunshine!" This is my sunshine. It is warm. It is friendly. It is good. Thank you to Mr Ken Junkins, who saw something he liked and trusted me to do what needed to be done.  And forever and forever thank you to Q for knowing this was the right project to ease myself back into and K for the line drills. Small enough to not have the line-load of 'Prospero,' but still artistically challenging and rewarding, I am so happy I agreed to do it.

Things are really starting to look at least a little bit better. At least, I hope so. Change is both inevitable and good. While embracing change isn't always easy, stagnant water both looks icky and stinks!

Here's a bit more about Bluebird and the London company that developed the original production:

I'm not saying it's all roses and lollipops. Hardly. There's all sorts of nonsense still going on that you would think I was making it all up if I told you. But the newest sense of normalcy seems to be a thousand times better than the worst possible scenario. 

Shameless Self-Promotion/Nonsense/Philosophizing over.

More, anon.
Prospero

Deepak Oprah or: 'Oh No, She Dit-int!'

The Lizard Queen?

"Uma... Oprah. Oprah... Uma." - David Letterman, hosting the 67th Academy Awards in 1995. 

As reported in several media outlets, while interviewing endurance swimmer Diana Nyad, Oprah Winfrey has supposedly said that atheists don't believe in awe and wonder. And while I and every other Humanist I know would disagree 1000% with that concept, further review of the clip may well belie that claim. 

What the 'lifestyle guru' actually says is that she doesn't believe that an appreciation of and belief in awe and wonder constitute atheism.  OK. Big deal I don't really see the reason for Humanist/Atheist outrage here. In fact, Nyad's logical and well-spoken response is pretty dead-on. 

Can I not believe in a "Creator" and still be 'spiritual?' Odd as it may seem to some, yes. Of course I can. As I often told Mom, one of the laws of physics is that energy and matter can neither be created or destroyed; only transformed. Our 'spirits' (or minds) are the result of the electrical impulses in our brains, which evolved over eons to become modern Homo-Sapiens. Of all of this I am more than certain. Beyond that... there is likely little more. It would be nice to believe in an afterlife, I suppose. I'm sure it gives many people comfort and a way to deal with knowledge of our own mortality. Mom always thought of religion as a 'crutch' for the weak and frightened. And while I would never deny anyone's right to think otherwise, you all know by now that I think so, as well. Among Mom's last wishes was for her body to be donated for research and/or teaching. Her wishes have been honored. A private dinner for family and friends will be held in Mom's memory at a date and place to be determined.

The Cult of Winfrey is no more or less ridiculous than any other, be it religious or momentarily culturally relevant. She didn't actually say what she's been misquoted as saying. And she, like every other human being has the right to do so, is simply expressing her own beliefs. And whether you agree or not, it's no reason to (you should forgive the expression) demonize the woman. Yes, she's promoted her fair share of charlatans; liars and fakirs. She's in the Business of Show, my friends. She doesn't care if you really buy what she's selling. I assure you, she's far more interested in you buying what her advertisers are selling. 

Watch the 'controversial' clip below (via) and decide for yourselves. I'm not afraid to tell you what I do and don't believe. Don't be afraid to disagree. I won't think too much less of you...;)  

Here's the thing: What matters is now. Life live on your own terms but do nothing to harm others. Tell the people you love that you love them as often as you can. Treat everyone... EVERYONE... the same: with compassion, respect and empathy. Laugh often; laugh hardily; laugh loudly! Taste everything you eat or drink. Savor every damned bite of every delicious thing! Don't waste your time or energy on negativity. Take risks. Travel. Meet new people and make new friends. Don't deny yourself, but take care yourself, as well. Move. Dance. Have sex. Act. Write. Create. Make love. Do what brings you you joy. Get everything you can out of every moment you can. It' all we've got, folks. It's all we've got.

More, anon.
Prospero

Reflections On a Randomly Assigned Value of Time

Astronomically, a year is how long it takes for the Earth to revolve around the Sun; approximately 365.25 days. And we measure a day by the time it takes the Earth to revolve around its axis. Of course, the measurement of time is a completely random assignment, as we can only really exist 'now.'

Time has been measured ever since man first realized there was a regularity to the rising and falling of the sun. But it's still a completely objective thing, cut into increments that make sense  to our own concepts of existence. Much like space, time is truly immeasurable and exists solely as a conceptual ideal. The dates on our modern calendars were set by an ancient Roman emperor, to coincide with the seasons. We gladly accept that this coming year is the 2013th year since the apocryphal life of a Nazarene who may or may not have lived in the Middle East some 2000-odd years ago (and there is very little in the way of historical proof of that). 

Setting all of the religious; philosophical and astronomical implications aside, this past 'year' has proven to be a rather extraordinary one for Uncle Prospero. I performed in a musical for the first time in 10 years. I celebrated the 10th Anniversary of a philanthropic theatre company in which I was instrumental from the very start. I made new friends and visited places in the U.S. to which I'd never been. I finally got to act with a dear friend who I've been directing for the past 8 years. I saw some amazing theatre; movies and other performance arts. I set up a future artistic endeavor with one of the new friends I made this year and started a few new projects of my own. I rewrote two screenplays and outlined a dozen or more others. I blogged, Tweeted and Facebooked thousands of words, photos and videos. I also explored thousands of things both online and off, and tried to learn something new, everyday. I earned and spent money; attempted to dance (despite my aging, arthritic knees and total lack of coordination); grew closer to existing friends; cared for an aging parent and hopefully grew as a person. 

I may not have millions of dollars or the perfect house/car/boat/whatever. I may not be a famous celebrity or an award-winning artist. Hell, I'm basically just another Joe Schmoe trying to make my way through another randomly assigned value of time. But I do have some rather amazing friends, family and acquaintances who help me get through every day. In the end, that's what really matters. Astronomy; Philosophy, Religion and Physics aside, all that really matters is living the life you want to live and loving the people who help you live it.

So far (with a few minor exceptions), I think I've done just that. And my 'New Year' wish for all of you is to have the same.

Sorry for the cheesy Rent clip but Larson actually had a good idea with that number.

More, anon.

Prospero

Review: "Cloud Atlas"

Sorry, no Ghost Movies tonight. That's because I've seen an extraordinary film and need to talk about it. As I update this review, I'm still digesting Cloud Atlas, the new film from Tom Twyker (Run Lola Run & Perfume) and the Wachowskis (The Matrix trilogy). Based on the novel by David Mitchell and adapted by the directors, Cloud Atlas is unlike any other film you've ever seen, mixing genres and periods to tell six interconnected stories over several centuries. 

The plot(s) are so complex, I can only describe it/them  in the most basic of ways. In 1849, a young man journeys from the Pacific Islands to San Francisco to close a slave trading deal, while slowly being poisoned for the gold he carries; a young composer in the 1930's writes letters to his lover about his services as an amanuensis to another aging composer; a reporter finds herself caught up in a dangerous game in 1970's San Francisco; in 2012, an elderly ne'er-do-well publisher falls into a comedic trap after his ship finally comes in; a cloned waitress in 2155 'Neo-Seoul' finds herself the unlikely center of a revolution and a frightened tribesman in post-apocalyptic Hawaii aids a stranger in her attempts to save humanity from a radiation poisoned Earth, while trying to survive against cannibalistic raiders.

The truly International cast includes Tom Hanks; Halle Berry; Hugh Grant; Jim Broadbent; Hugo Weaving; Doona Bae; Jim Sturgess; Ben Wishaw; James D'Arcy; Keith David and Susan Sarandon, all of whom play at least three (and up to six) different characters; switching races, ages and genders throughout. In fact, part of the fun in watching Cloud Atlas is trying to figure who is who under some often remarkable (and occasionally terrible) makeups. Grant's old-age makeup in the contemporary story is particularly bad, though Berry's transformation into a white woman is quite startling. Personally, I was (unlike some) never offended by the racial transformations (even the less successful ones) because they made complete sense in the context of the stories and how they they related to one another. That's probably because the concepts presented actually transcend race, gender and sexuality.

Most of the performances are truly terrific here, though Hanks has some problems with a convincing Cockney accent in the contemporary story. Sturgess and Bae are quite effective in the 2155 story, while Broadbent is absolutely hilarious in the 2012 tale, though Weaving and Grant seem to be having the most fun. Weaving is best as 'Old Georgie,' the embodiment of Hanks' fears in the post-apocalyptic story, though his voice as sadistic Nurse Noakes in the 2012 story borders on Pythonesque. Grant is a very effective villain as both the operator of a nuclear power plant in the 70's and a cannibal tribal chief in the very distant future. And I dare you to figure out which male character Sarandon plays, at least until the end credits roll.

Visually, Cloud Atlas is nothing less than astounding. The directing jobs were split evenly between Twyker and the Wachowskis, with the siblings taking on the more fantastical stories (and rightly so) and Twyker dealing with the more historical ones. The scenes in 'Neo-Seoul' are staggering and the location shots in Hawaii just gorgeous. While it does take a good 20 minutes or so to get used to the way the film jumps between stories, the apparent randomness of the editing soon starts to make complete sense and the connections between the six stories becomes clearer and clearer as the film unfolds, not unlike an onion revealing its layers as it is peeled. The brilliant score by Twyker, Reinhold Heil and Johnny Klimek serves perfectly to tie the six stories of the movie together and you can be sure that I'll be adding it to my collection. While I may not personally agree with the philosophies of Mitchell's novel, I could still appreciate what he and the filmmakers had to say, here even though I found it philosophical twaddle. As much as I would like to think we're connected in the ways the novel and movie espouse, I'm much more of an "It's all pretty random" kind of guy, so I took its central message with a grain of salt, as it were. That doesn't mean I didn't have a fine time at the movies.

My companions and I all agreed that we loved this movie and need to see it again, though I understand how some critics just hated it (personally, I think those who hated it, just didn't get it). Never boring, often hilarious and always fascinating, Cloud Atlas is the kind of movie that stays with you long after you've seen it. I know I'll be thinking about it for quite some time. Truth be told, it's the best movie I've seen so far this year. Of course, there are plenty of other films yet to come this Fall. **** (Four Out of Four Stars).

More, anon.
Prospero

A Facebook Fracas

Oh, Great Noodley One!

Regular readers know by now that Uncle P was, until recently, an agnostic. They also know that a few years ago, I became an avowed Secular Humanist. And while I suppose that belief in an eternal life rewarded for being a good person is nice, it's probably better (and certainly more rewarding) to be a good person just for the sake of being a good person. And honestly, should I believe in stories that are not only thousands of years old, but which have also been re-translated and mistranslated from dead languages who knows how many times, or should I go with empirical scientific evidence to the contrary? Truth be told, I'm placing my money on Science.

Earlier today, I shared a Humanist message on Facebook which read: "Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he will eat for a lifetime. Give a man religion and he will starve, praying for a fish." I had no idea that this would start such a war of words between my humanist and religious friends. The thread had grown close to 30 comments before I shut it down and deleted the post.

Here's the thing: believe what you want. I don't care. Whatever gets you through the night. And while I would like to think that my consciousness will go on after I've passed away, I seriously doubt that it will. Whether it's in "heaven" or on another plane or in another incarnation, I just don't think (like millions of others) that it will. Dead is dead, baby. And that makes every day I live all that more meaningful to me. My late jackass of a father (who would have been 74, today) often told me that "Life is it's own reward." As I have gotten older (and hopefully wiser), I've come to realize that those words are true. Enjoy and embrace each day you are alive. And know that it's like will never be repeated. Like live theatre, no performance is the same as the one that came before, nor will it be like the one that comes after. Every day is a gift to be cherished for what it is. Every moment is one that will never be again. Embrace and it enjoy it, for it's like will not be seen again.

I truly believe that if every person on the planet shared this view, there would be less violence; less hatred; less jealousy and less fear. Do away with religion (the single biggest reason for hate, war, murder and separatism in history) and we are all the same. 

Wow. Between yesterday and today, I've really gone off on all the world's ills, haven't I? But I can't keep quiet when I see corporations, governments and religious leaders supporting discrimination and hatred based on superstition and fear.

Love who and how you love. Be kind to one another; obey the law and do what you know in your heart is right. Don't judge; don't hate; don't discriminate. Admit that differences of opinion don't equal right or wrong. Embrace diversity. Don't fear differences in color; race; sexuality or ethnicity. Know that we are all human, and as such, are equally flawed and equally valid. Stop comparing yourselves to one another and accept your individuality. In the end, we all have the same fate: rich; poor; famous; anonymous; healthy; sick; beautiful; ugly... we're all much more alike than we are different and we all end the same.

Yikes! I once again find myself pontificating. I think I need a massage and a sauna. Or something.

The Pythons seem to have gotten it right, anyway:

"There's bugger all down here on Earth!"

More, anon.
Prospero

Oh, Joy!

Shhh! Don't tell anyone about what you're about to read. Don't comment on anything but the images the links take you to. And here's why:

It seems that my new keyboard has a bit of a larger learning curve than I anticipated. This enigmatic post will be updated as soon as my gigantic sausage fingers get used to the damned thing's spacing, layout and feel.

So, "Yay! I'm back on-line!" and "Damnit! I mistyped 6 out of 10 words on these flat, small and close-together keys!" and "Oh sh*t! What the... Grrr!"

I vow to conquer you, new and alien keyboard! You will NOT win! I'm not even signing this, because this text will be gone, soon. So there! 

 I will, being part evil genius -- as you no doubt must have realized by now -- leave your comments up, so those who read it after it's been changed will wonder what the hell ya'll are talking about or maybe even if you're all completely insane (or - hopefully, make them think that they're insane). Shhhh! Don't let them know! :-) There are lots of fun links to reference in comments, too. So have at them and have fun.

The Gayest (and Saddest) Things You'll See This Week

Jeffrey Gomes. Photo: Annia Torres-Rossi

Yesterday was an unusual day, both historically and personally. I had posted this first video on Facebook the other night and it has been highlighted on plenty of LGBT and mainstream blogs. The fact that it went viral right around the time of Obama's announcement, made it all the more poignant (and important). 

When Shane lost Tom in a terrible accident after almost 6 years together and a promise to marry as soon as it was legal, Shane found himself blocked any all access by Tom's family, who rejected their son after he came out to them. Emotionally devastated, Shane wasn't even able to attend Tom's funeral, let alone have any say in it.

The 10 minute short, It Could Happen to You, chronicles Shane's pain and frustration and his determination to make sure no one else ever goes through what he did. If you've seen it already, it is so worth seeing again. If you haven't seen it, you must, but make sure you have tissues nearby. This is why Marriage Equality matters. I know I'm preaching to the choir but maybe some uneducated or curious or outright bigoted person, who came to bash or troll a story about gay marriage will see this video for the first time and suddenly get it. That's my hope, anyway. But then, I've always tried to be an optimist (though it isn't always easy, these days). 

I hope that made you not just sad, but angry. I hope it prompted you to write, email or call your elected officials and make your voice heard. Share this post or even just the video and get other people angry. I hope it made at least one of you see that this is not about sex, religion, tradition or however you choose to rationalize it. It is about love, plain and simple. Love, you dopes! How hard is that to understand?

Okay, okay. Important stuff out of the way. Let's talk about Jeffrey Gomes up there in the right corner. What's that all about? Well, I'll tell you. Via Towleroad comes this sort of sexy and just terrifically upbeat dance video from Choreographer Drew James featuring James and Gomes tearing it up in Manhattan. It's meant to make you smile. And it does. Enjoy:

"Wait just one second! How the hell do those two clips go together in the same post, Uncle P?"

Truth is, they do and they don't. But mostly they do, because they are opposites. Sorrow V. Joy. We would never appreciate one without the other. I didn't initially intend to get all Zen on ya'll tonight but it seemed like a good opportunity to make the point. Enjoy your life. Express your love. Share your joy. Thus endeth the lesson.

More, anon.
Prospero

In Memoriam

My Sweet Friend, Bill

I met Bill in 1996. We were in group therapy together for just about a year. After most of us in the group had gone our separate ways, Bill and I remained friends. We met occasionally for a drink or dinner, caught a movie or just hung out.

Eventually, he moved out of the area and we lost touch for a while. Then, about two years ago, I got a Facebook friend request from him and we picked up right where we left off. We reunited when he came to see some show I had directed and it was  like we'd never been apart.

Bill was smart and funny and gentle and oh, so kind. At 6' 3", he was a "gentle giant." He loved Swedish pop music and singing show tunes at The Raven, a local gay bar in New Hope, PA. He came to see just about every show I directed or was in and we kept promising we'd get together again, just the two of two us. We often commented on each other's Facebook posts and he left comments here on the Revenge. Earlier this month he emailed me to tell me he'd bought his tickets to Hairspray and that he was very excited to see the show. And then I didn't hear from him for a while.

So last night, after posting here, I went to his Facebook wall and wrote: "Where have you been? I miss your snarky comments." Then I scrolled down to find messages from his other friends. "Miss you, Bill!" "My heart is broken." "I can't believe you're gone."

What?!?!?!

I couldn't believe what I was reading. Apparently, Bill had passed from a massive heart attack two weeks ago at the young age of 47. Bill smoked maybe one or two cigarettes a month, bumming them when a craving hit. He drank, but not excessively. He didn't use drugs and was hardly obese. 

Needless to say, I was devastated. I think I cried for an hour. How was it possible that this smart, funny, gentle and oh, so kind human being was no longer with us, at 47? I am still in shock.

Losing someone you care about is terrible, though it does put some things in perspective. We're not guaranteed tomorrow, folks. Life is a fragile thing. Don't take those you love for granted. Tell the people you love that you love them and do so often. You never know when they (or you) will be gone.

This is for you, Bill. I love you and I'll miss you more than you can know.

More, anon.
Prospero

Nunquam Alieno

By the time most of my readers see this post, it will be September 11th, 2011. 

It's strange to think that it is both only and already ten years since that horrible day. I was home with a sinus infection that day and slept in a bit. I came downstairs at about 8:30, turned on the TV and went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. But then I heard from the TV that a plane had crashed into one of the WTC towers. I went back to living room to see what was happening, only to be stunned to see a second plane fly right into the other tower. My heart sank as I realized, along with the rest of the world, that we were under attack. 

The rest of that day is sort of a blur. I watched people leap from the towers and cried. I heard that the Pentagon had been hit and cried. I watched the towers fall and cried. At some point, I called my mother, surprised that I actually got through. The fourth plane went down in Shanksville and I cried again. In the hours and days that followed, I cried a lot. Seeing all of the pictures go up of the missing was awful. Thinking about the fear and pain of those innocent people was awful. Hearing accounts of bravery and heroism helped, but it was still just awful. I spent three days feeling numb and horrified and... awful.

Nothing that has happened in the ten years since that terrible day has made me feel better about any of it. Thousands more have been killed in the two wars that followed. Hundreds of first responders have fallen ill by being exposed to the toxins produced by the attack. Thousands of children grew up never knowing fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts.

And all it because of religious fanaticism.

I had a wonderful high school civics teacher who once said "Every war is a holy war, because both sides think God is on their side." That may well be true, but there is absolutely nothing 'holy' about war. Or mass murder. Or the pain and suffering that results from them. Honestly, what kind of God would take sides in the wholesale slaughter of His children? What kind of God would tell Jim Jones to force his followers to drink poison? What kind of God would tell David Koresh to burn his followers alive? What kind of God would tell Adolph Hitler that Jews were the cause of all ills in the world? What kind of God would tell Fred Phelps; Sally Kern; Maggie Gallagher; Bryan Brown; Pete LaBarbera; Beverly LaHaye and any other number of so-called Christians - including the Pope - that gay people are worse than terrorists?

Here's the thing: Hate is learned. Hate is taught. Hate is born of ignorance. 

Don't get me wrong. I still have hope that the Human Race will someday come to realize that we are all the same, despite our differences. But until we do (and I can only imagine that contact with extraterrestrials will cause that to happen), we are doomed to repeat the cycle of hatred and xenophobia that permeates modern society. I can only hope to live long enough to see the day when every human being is treated with the respect and dignity we all deserve, no matter who we are or what we believe. 

More, anon.

Prospero

A Taboo Topic

By now, you all know how Uncle P feels about religion and "God." For all I know, the Flying Spaghetti Monster actually did create the Universe and everything in it. That's just as plausible to me as any other explanation of our existence, though. 

Judeo/Christian mythology would have us believe that an omniscient being who 'always was' one day decided to make everything in a 6 day orgy of creation. I guess that's no more outrageous than ancient Egyptian mythology which posits the Universe was created when a god swallowed his own semen to do the same thing. Or the Hindu story in which Vishnu creates the world from a lotus blossom in his navel. Or the Apache myth in which the Creator made the world out of the sweat of his brow. Or the Mayan mythology in which two lonely gods simply thought the Universe into being. Or any of hundreds of creation mythologies. And who is to say which one is true? Their believers, I suppose... 

These are the kinds of things one thinks about as one approaches the half-century mark (yes, I've I already told you that I am that old), I suppose. As a child, I was raised a Christian, though that ended when Mom was bedridden through the majority of her pregnancy with my sister. My paternal Grandmother was a Roman Catholic and when spending weekends with her, we were subjected to Sunday masses that seemed endlessly boring to Yours Truly. My mother's family were raised in the Episcopalian church (the American version of Church of England) and both Sis and I were baptized as such. Our father tried to  convince everyone that he was a Zen Buddhist, but his behavior belied just about everything espoused by Siddhartha's teachings. Mom for her part, claims to be an atheist, though I've personally heard her express ideas that contradict those claims. My sister is an anomalous 'Liberal Born Again,' though I think she was unduly influenced by the fervently religious family of a childhood friend.

And you may well ask why I am writing about things most people wouldn't talk about in private, let alone so openly on an Internet blog where any one and everyone can see... 

The truth is... I'm not really sure. As I said in my Easter post, I have no problem with religion in general. Whatever helps you sleep at night... I suppose I am most bothered by religious hypocrisy, which seems so prevalent, especially in the Catholic Church right now: "Don't you dare use a condom or fall in love with someone of the same sex, but go ahead and ignore the fact we've been hiding and protecting child molesters for centuries." Ick!

A long time ago, a high school history teacher told me that "...every war is a Holy war, because each side believes that 'God' is on their side." Really? Should "God" even take sides? I would think that with an infinite universe to deal with, "God" probably has better things to do than care about who controls the oil on one of

the billions of planets in said universe.

I don't profess to have any answers, folks. I, like many of you, have just as many questions which aren't easily answered. If you are reading this post and nodding along, then I must suppose you get it. If you are reading this post and angrily disagreeing with everything I've said, then you are either too young to know what I'm talking about; too closed-minded to think about what I'm talking about or too stupid and/or biased to consider what I'm talking about. 

I'll admit this isn't my usual kind of post. I'd honestly much rather keep things light and silly. And I honestly have no idea what's gotten into me tonight... it may well be my impending 50th birthday. Who knows? I guess I just felt like ranting. I promise I'll get back to my usual nonsense tomorrow (supposing there will be nonsense worth discussing).

Thanks for letting me rant. Let's leave on a lighter note, shall we? 

More, anon.

Prospero

How the Mormon Stole Everything

You may want to file this under "Prospero's Philosophy," though I will leave it up to you. Suffice it to say, I think this is the first time I have shared my personal views on philosophy and religion (other than the "Religious Right's" role in the passing of Prop 8) on this blog.

From The Big Gay Sketch Comedy Show on Logo (via) comes this hilarious animated parody.

More Gay & Lesbian Videos At LogoOnline.com

I don't hate members of the CLDS. They're only doing and saying what has been ingrained in them since childhood. I don't hate anyone, actually. Well, maybe Brad Pitt. And whoever is sleeping with Brandon Routh. And Goldie Hawn. Oh... and for a while, Meg Ryan.

What I hate is the perpetuation of the misunderstandings and outright lies of nearly every religious doctrine in the world. Why, in 2009, do we still hold on to mythology? The answer, of course, lies in our unending quest to know why.

The teachings of Zen tell us we need to learn to accept life as it is; savor it and revel in the joy of existence. Hinduism espouses multiple incarnations toward the ultimate goal of enlightenment. Valhalla is accessible only through valour in life and death in combat; eternity with Ra requires the careful preservation of of the body and the accompaniment of all that is earthly, while Wiccans pray to goddesses of the Earth and Moon, long thought dead. As Paul Rudnick says about members of the LDS, "If he'd told (his wife) the truth, you'd all be worshipping a waitress."

And I'm certainly not saying you should not believe in God (or the deity of your choice). Personally, I consider myself an 'Agnostic Secular Humanist with Leanings Toward Buddhism. ' Does that mean I don't believe in a Higher Power? No. What I believe is that the Higher Power is unknowable (that's the actual definition of Agnostic., by the way).

In fact, some important scientific minds agree that there must be something intelligent in the design of the complex mathematics and physics which seem to guide the Universe (even if the more we know, the less much of it makes sense), though they offer no truly rational explanations for their beliefs.

Since the dawn of civilization, man has struggled with the same philosophical questions.

There are more theories; superstitions; legends; mythologies and religions, than I can count on hands, fingers and other appendages (wink-wink). With so many things from which to choose, how can there possibky be One way; One answer? How can only one religion be the "true" religion? Obviously, it can't. Which then implies that all religions are false. And in a way, they are. I honestly believe that some questions will be forever left unanswered. And I'm OK with that. Because I am having a grand time while I'm here. Not all of it is wonderful, but most of it is amazing!

Of course, a lot of what I am saying is directly influenced by my current theatrical project, which I am sure you sick of hearing about, by now.

Alright. I know, I know. You didn't stop by for a lesson in esoterica. Honestly, I didn't expect to give one. It's just that kind of night.

'

Thank you for reading. I love that you do. Comment away.

More, anon.

Prospero