I did not know the Cuban Tourism Board had Keith Richards money.
The BBC Reports:
A strip club in New York state cannot claim a tax exemption for the performing arts because lap dances do not promote culture in a community, the state supreme court has ruled.
I originally had a snide comment about this when I read it, something along the lines of if I could have given lap dances, my theater company would not only still exist, it would be turning a healthy profit. Then I remembered an incident during rehearsals for my first produced show, and I was ashamed.
Our premiere production was my play The Danish Mediations/slots. One of the subplots involved a budding romance between two women. In the initial read-through we got to the scene where they made out on stage, which was read impassively by my stage manager and met with shifting and giggling (the two actresses were straight). It was at this point that my fight choreographer loudly and crassly proclaimed: “Can’t wait to see that!”
I allowed the deathly pall that fell over the room to be his punishment. In retrospect, I now know that it was not nearly enough.
Perhaps I could have kicked him out. I could have made it clear that these were working artists embarking on a project that did not exist for his titillation. I certainly needed to tell him, publicly, to shut the fuck up.
To my eternal embarrassment, I didn’t. In asking two performers to take risks, I failed in my obligation to create a safe environment in which they could expose their vulnerability onstage.
I’m not going to even get into the rationale behind the sex work industry — let someone with more letters behind their name and more years in academia unpack that — but a decision equating a lap dance with a theater performance would have justified my fight choreographer’s cat call.
There is a place for titillation and eroticism in theater: part of the excitement of having a line is threatening to cross it. But like Potter Stewart with obscenity, when it comes to an exploitative artistic situation, I know it when I see it.
[FYI: My produced plays live here. The Danish Mediations/slots will join them shortly]
[…] The most perplexing question in the [Dominique] Strauss-Kahn affair is how a career politician with ambition to lead one of Europe’s most powerful nations was blinded to the possibility that his zest for sex parties could present a liability, or risk blackmail.
The exclusive orgies called “parties fines” — lavish Champagne affairs costing around $13,000 each — were organized as a roving international circuit from Paris to Washington by businessmen seeking to ingratiate themselves with Mr. Strauss-Kahn. Some of that money, according to a lawyer for the main host, ultimately paid for prostitutes because of a shortage of women at the mixed soirees orchestrated largely for the benefit of Mr. Strauss-Kahn, who sometimes sought sex with three or four women.
Vice President Biden’s “can you believe this shit?” moment with the camera, for ever and ever, courtesy of The Atlantic, I am happy and content