DJ (Demon Jacob)

Why Not Guy, you will rue the day you fucked with a demon. I swear, I will have your head on a platter with a side of deviled eggs and swiss cheese. You haven't seen the last of me.

DJ

Claire

I AM SO FREAKED OUT!

There doesn't seem to be any grey zones any more. My dreams are either the most fantastical, etherial dreams about flying and having sex with Johnny Knoxville at the same time, or they're the most horrifying visions I have ever had. Just last night, I had this nightmare about Clarivan, this new laundry detergent which was also a concentrated beverage. It turned out, however, that the United States government were actually packaging it to sell to poor people to kill them so that there would be less people to drain Social Security resources. I know I have been known to have clairevoyant dreams, but if anything of this nature happens, well, I'm just going to have to stop living in my dream world and do something about it.

Love and kisses,
Claire

Frosty the Snowman

I will be unable to attend this week's Cabaret, due to the fact that it sounds quite hellish.

Best Regards,

Frosty

Nick the Nose

This is the last time I'll be contacting you before drastic measures are required. We have tried to work with you to return the money Mr. Brian stole from us last year, but have met with repeated excuses. If we don't recieve payment by Friday, we'll hit you where it hurts. Everywhere it hurts.

Nick the Nose

North Ronawanda

This is just a letter to call off my truce with my sister Ronawanda. I thought we had worked things out, after she tried to kill me and all, and I thought her invitation to rejoin the Cabaret was sincere. Instead she gave me some insane map, which led me to a very weird maze on an island, and suddenly I was being chased by some half-bull half-human creature, probably made by that creep Dr. Milbrando. Well, you can just go to hell Ronawanda.

Love,
Your Sister
North Ronawanda

Cha-ka

me mundi ane yeni erokani.
yeni beni doma.
yeni beni anuanu.
me tesa. me tesa tesa!
me anu aboba.
me huma!

Claire

I would really like to thank the Real Dream Cabaret for helping me find my baby, despite the nasty nipple biter that she is. If it weren't for the help of your audience, my baby may have been trapped underneath that table for an eternity, or at least until she starved to death.

I've never been to the Cabaret before, but it seems as if you have quite an odd show. It was exactly like I dreamed it would be. In fact that reminds me of a dream that I had last night where I got on this bus to leave Buffalo with this large group of very old people. It was around 11 o'clock, and I had no idea where we were going, but I was by far the youngest person on the bus. As the bus approached the intersection of Delevan and Main, we had a terrible accident and were flipped over on our side. I was the only person who was still conscious after the accident, so I crawled out the side of the bus (which was now the top), and went looking for help. I stumbled onto the Canisus College campus, and went to a building I believe to be their student union, though I've never been inside of the building in my entire life. I approached the door, and heard some sort of chanting. After I knocked, a woman in a brown monk robe answered the door, and at that moment I realized that she was Satan and I was God, and that we were about to have a fight over the souls of the world. I looked in my purse and found the handle of a sword which had been broken off, and only an inch of the blade remained, but I knew that this was the only sword that could kill Satan. We had a huge fight, which lasted for hours, until I had her pinned down on a bed, and began repeatedly cutting her with the inch of the sword that remained. As I stabbed her she began to shrink, until she was the size of a pinky finger, and I locked her in a very small box and put her in my pocket. I was so exhausted after the fight, and all I could think about was getting something to eat. I stumbled through the pale blue glow of early morning into a diner across the street and ordered one fried egg and a piece of onion toast.

Well, I think that's about all for me. Thanks again.

Piaget the Mute Swine

My human colleagues in the RDC are a fickle lot. Last week (when the theme was "The Islands") I was the debutante, receiving critical hosannas for my career-defining role in "The Island of Dr. Milbrando" and praised by the cast for saving the show from the brink of disaster. I was even awarded a special hanger backstage, so that I may appear at any time my human friends need salvation--which seems to be mighty often, if you ask me.

That was then. This is now: Friday night (opening night of "Land of the Lost") I hung on my hanger, muter than ever, with no part whatsoever in the script. Is this the thanks I get??? Meanwhile, the new girl--the two-and-a-half-foot Barbie doll who looks like she stumbled in from a dumpster behind Toys R Us (talk about an airhead!)--is cast as Cha-Ka, lead resident of the jungle kingdom.

A lesser swine would have complained about this diminutive hussy's obvious "All About Eve" turn. (Last week the little bimbo was my understudy, damnit.) But no. I hung there, voluntarily keeping silent, until I could stand it no longer. During the ensuing musical performance by Bob's Power Crystals, I joined Cha-Ka and Dopey the Dinosaur for a spontaneous (if wordless) choral cameo.

Saturday night, my impromptu appearance was more prominently featured and I gave myself a larger part in the jungle scene (even as Mini-Barbie's role expanded to elephantine proportions). But for god's sake, my true talent remains untapped. What will it take for the humans to recognize my potential? Am I just yesterday's news? The Fiona Apple of the cabaret orchard?

Not if I have anything to do with it, that's for damn sure.

--PTMS

North Ronawanda

I must say that this weekend was one of the most exciting weekends I've had in a long time, or at least since I was locked away on Riker's Island by my evil twin sister Ronawanda. I had so many visitors to my Island this weekend, and I would really like to thank all those special visitors, especially Martha Stewart & Ronawanda. I think in the end things are starting to work out with Ronawanda and I. Perhaps Ronawanda will finally let bygones be bygones and discontinue presenting me as her evil twin sister, when she was the evil wench who stole the Cabaret from me in the first place...

But I digress...

I'm hoping that Ronawanda will come to my probation sentencing this week, and speak on my behalf so that I will finally be free as a bird. Maybe I'll even be able to make it to the Cabaret this week, though I'll probably get lost on the way. Who knows. Well, sis, I hope you'll be able to make it. I promise I won't try to kill you or stop time again.

Love and kisses,
N. Ronawanda

Real Dream Cabaret Anagrams

THE REAL DREAM CABARET
debate the arrear clam
theater caramel bread
a three-bracelet drama
bathe, cremate a larder
a charmed rebate later
create bad leather arm
lacerated mare breath
a latter-eared chamber
retrace a lamb heart
trachea a-tremble dare
embrace related art - ha!
amber cadet rear lathe
rather a bleated cream
ace rare tablet harmed
breathe malta re: cedar
dear, ramble at hectare
embrace da heart later
halt ember carat creed
archer made at a belter
heard a battle creamer
a heat caterer rambled
matter breach a dealer
belate radar theme car
thermal debt care area
demarcate blather tear
aha! cratered balm tree
tamer cable, harder tea

RONAWANDA ran on a wad
SIGMUND THE SUFFICIENT cuffing his united stem
JACK PAPIER pick pea jar
LIEULIEU DEAUXFLEUR i.e. lux flu due rue ail
KITTY JUNG gitt junky
DONNA CHIARA ion and car... ha!
STAGE MASTER great steams
STAGE BOY bye, goats
DORA road
COMRADE LAMPKIN mocked plain ram
THE WHY (NOT!) GUY hey towny! (thug)
BLEWYN BLACK yank well, BBC
PIAGET THE MUTE SWINE eat thumping sweetie

Dr. Milbrand

I'm just writing to invite the Cabaret and their faithful audience to join me on the Island I recently purchased in the Carribean. The island is beautiful, full of lush vegetation and the most unusual and slightly frightening creatures. I'm continuing my research on the island, as I've been exiled from the United States due to Bush's laws against Stem Cell Research and cloning. I'm hoping that once we get a new president I'll be allowed to perform my research legitamately. My work is important to me, and my findings, rather than being shunned, should be looked upon as a bold breakthrough in finding the divide between man and animal. Here's hoping that I'll have plenty of victims... I mean visitors this weekend.

Sincerely,
Dr. Milbrand

Ronawanda

So?????? What did y'all think about Opening Night? (Y'all = both audience and performers alike.) Do tell.

Ronawanda

Can y'all believe it? The doors open for our first show of the new season in EIGHTEEN HOURS! Just got home from a rehearsal that started at 8 PM and ended at 2 AM, and I have ten costume changes to figure out plus a tape to make for the Borderlands. Plus my current day job, slinging hash at the Waffle House and singin' torch songs to the customers. Bizzy, bizzy, bizzy.

Some of our guest artists dropped by tonight, like Miss Heather from Bossa Womba Loca, and Mr. Tony Conrad, and Mr. Kendall. Very exciting. Plus we had a little stopby from Miss Bonita Z, who will once again be doing dream interpretation in the Borderlands before the show and during intermission (but maybe only for the first weekend, unfortunately).

I would say I cain't wait for showtime, but between you and me, I definitely CAN wait. Eighteen hours, at least.

Ronawanda

Y'all, the October DREAM is rapidly becoming a REALITY. The press releases have gone out, the tickets are waiting for people to buy at Rust Belt Books, the posters are about to pop up all over town, the lasers and fog machines are being tested, the antelope costumes are being FedExed to us... All that's left is to write the show!

This time next Friday, we'll all be frantically lighting candles on cabaret tables, putting on our makeup, sweeping the floor, and rehearsing our opening night gala for the very first time.

I'm jokin' about that last part, but not entirely. But we DID just have our first meeting with some our house bands and guest artists last Thursday, and that's always my favorite part of the whole thing (other than doing the show itself, and falling backwards into a pool of my own sick at Saturday night's afterparty). Our dear friend Christina Kaulbach (whom you might remember from our days with the Cabaret Parasito) dropped by; she'll be performing on Oct. 9. And some of the surfer dudes and dudettes from Dimetrodon, who will be our house band the following weekend (after rocking that very same house to the ground last February), were there with their surfboards and woodies. (Oh, no, that was US with the woodies.) We got a sneak peek at Kalifornia Kim & The Transsexual Experience, who are also playing Oct. 15 & 16, and we met Kate Anderson, who is brand new to town and ready to unleash some kickass standup on y'all on the weekend of Oct. 29 & 30. And naturally our very own Dora was there representing her OTHER very best friends, the band Readybox, who will be our musical guides to the Land of the Lost Oct. 22 & 23.

After all our special friends left, we got down to work on our opening-weekend FERTILE CRESCENT extravaganza, and let me tell you it was ROUGH. For one thing, we were competing with the first Kerrey/Bush debate, which just raised the whole question of what business we have trying to make art, or political satire, or whatever it is we do, in such scary times. Now, granted, I'm a fictional character so I can't vote, and most of my Cabaret friends are imaginary too, but those of you who live in the "real" world (and I use that term as loosely as my sister North Rona uses her diaphragm) have bigger fish to fry. All WE have to worry about is trying to figure out which wig goes with which thrift store pantsuit. Y'all, on the other hand, are on the brink of thermonuclear disaster and/or the complete collapse of civil liberties and/or the demise of every principle that originally united the States, in case you hadn't noticed lately. I swear, it's awful tempting sometimes to just throw up your hands and say that nothing you do or say or create will make a difference, that the country's going to hell in a handbasket if we don't uproot the Bush. But if we don't tell our little jokes and sing (okay, lipsynch) our little songs to 30 people a night, what else could or should we be doing instead that would make any more of a difference?

So what do Y'ALL think, you audience people and fictional characters and nonfictional entities reading this? What CAN be the role of our little show--of all of our little lives--in the face of such a big, big, fucked up situation? Post yer comments here if you feel like it. Or anywhere else you can think of. Don't hold in yer despair--it'll only give you a bad cramp.

Oh, and if yer in the vicinity and still have an AM radio (remember those?), tune it to 1270 AM at 10 AM on Wednesday, October 6, cuz the Cabaret cast 'n' crew will be on Theresa Baker's supercool show "Talkback" to discuss that very subject and more. (Me, I'm still livin' on Taos Time, and I never get up that early, but I'll be rootin' for 'em in my dreams.)

And no matter what ELSE you do today, take it from Ronawanda: you make damn sure that your ass is registered to VOTE on Nov. 2 and that you tell everybody you know and love that they gotta vote TOO or you will withhold sex from them for the next four years.

And (as the Stage Master would say) that's an ORDER.

If You Like Pina Coladas...

Hi everyone, I'm a SWFP new on the scene and looking for some no-strings fun. I like rolling around in the mud, quiet nights in the sty, and sharing table scraps by candlelight with hunky SWMPs. Bonus points if they're mute, vaguely European intellectuals who love the theatre. Hit me up at SizzlingBacon@aol.com.