Martha Stewart: The Opera
Due to tragic circumstances beyond her control, Martha is challenged
with her most difficult design project yet: Turning her prison
cell into a home that even the Biker Bitches From Buffalo will
feel comfy embroidering in. Once she gets her "shui" on, the
"homie" proceeds to try and domesticate the entire Riker's Island
Prima donna Meryl Streep returns to Broadway to bring dignity
to an American icon AND tryout yet another accent -- The Martha
Stewart Nutley, New Jersey Acid-Washed Pretentious one.
Tip: Bring ear plugs. The set design is fabulous though!
Dr. Phil: The Opera
After doling out hokey advice, one too many times, the good
doctor is kidnapped and forced to listen to an entire neighborhood's
problems with his mouth taped shut -- and no book deal. Good
thing for the neighbors they have plenty of duct tape leftover.
It's a big neighborhood, plan ahead for a long evening.
The woman behind the Doc's strings flies in via deus ex machina
during the finale to spring him loose, and her next TV Show
on him: "Smile, you're on Oprah's: Captive Camera."
The Doc -- now wearing a gas mask to enhance the survivalist
experience -- joins in on drum pedal for the touching aria:
"Heck, If I Wasn't So Damn Virtuous, I Might Be Writing Fortune
Cookies for a Living."
Oprah: The Opera
Oprah tries to take over one of the wealthiest towns in America:
Montecito, California -- a backstabbing enclave that makes Dallas
look like Mayberry RFD. Heavy pathos ensues when the Big O battles
a pack of vicious day-laborers/surfers who surround her compound
demanding what's rightfully theirs: a refund for the book club
that went bust.
Matt Damon plays Oprah's main squeeze, Stedman Graham, a dissonant
castrato that ends up introducing Oprah to the fine art of tandem
surfing -- because, God knows, they're not going to tandem anything
the 4th Act, Oprah demonstrates how truly California she's become
when she sings Brian Wilson's beautiful bel canto: "Like Wow,
Dude -- Wouldn't It Be Nice if I Had a Presidential Nomination?"
Brady: The Opera
this opera buffa, it's the Battle of the Ruses -- TV executive
style -- as a whole chorus of suits go to war over where to
fit this amazing talent on the schedule. Major catharsis when
Wayne eventually finds his rightful place among TV viewers --
on his hometown Public Access Station.
multi-faceted Brady pulls a first: Not only is he the first
black man who survived Drew Carey and went on to star in an
opera written by and for himself, but he also signs the entire
chromatic scale in this tour-de-farce production. (Word on the
proscenium is that it's right up there with Dana Carvey's scintillating
"Master of Disguise.")
the show pretty much stops before it begins. But guaranteed
to play great on Channel 47 - Orlando, Florida.
Lake: The Opera
visits Tibet and tries to get in touch with her Inner Richard
Gere. Exactly. If you thought "La Bohème" was deep…
Waters "diva turn" as a female Chopra is simply divine. His
falsetto on a song about Ricki's underlying beauty -- just as
Ricki undergoes plastic surgery for an episode of "Extreme Makeover"
-- is to die for.
dons monk attire and levitates well above the riff-raff on the
finale ultimo: "Till Death, or Trashy Opera, Do Us Part."
to Do While the NBA Playoffs Are Boring the Hell Out of You:
THING NO. 1:
Find a new sport, dude. Quickly.
THING NO. 2:
See if you can't maybe find something useful to do with your
life -- like save the rain forests, or if you can't do that,
I hear Ben and Jerry's Half-Baked ice cream is to die for.
THING NO. 3:
When in doubt: Go shoot your own reality show.
THING NO. 4:
Is the myth really true? (See below)
(The models used for this toon were non-union,
all the way.)
Springer: The Opera
(the real deal, peeps)
Jerr is mistakenly shot by a black nappy-fetishist aiming
at the Ku Klux Klan, he is off to hell to interview Satan,
Jesus, Adam and Eve as if his life depended on it. "Everyone
always said I was going to hell," Springer himself commented
after viewing a performance, "Now I've seen it."
AS IF we haven't for the last 12 years.
One of England's greatest theatre institutions, the National,
is so sprung over Jerr that the moron maestro stands a better
chance of donning a 17th century magistrate's wig and gown
than being elected to office in the states.
Message to her Royal Highness:
Take our Springer, please.
"Three-nipple Cousin-f*#%@r." Enough said.
"I think they may be on to something
here. Just kinda sucks that I don't see a dime of it."
"I can honestly say, that I would go
to the end's of the earth for Oprah. I can't say the same
about you, Ben Lopez."
"I felt deeply connected to Ricki during
one minute of one meditation, so I know she must've at least
brushed up against some level of Gere-ness. Either that,
or there was a furry animal in the room."