That was simply wonderful, in the finest tradition of SDMB quasi-serious-quasi-tongue-in-cheek analysis! But I’d love to see what you’d do with Lysistrata.
In High School I wrote a parody of Oedipus Rex called Octopus Rex.
“Help us, King Octopus! All-you-can-eat Shrimp is destroying our city!!”
never mind… :rolleyes:
Actually I prefer to choose my wine by either how easily I can open the screw off cap or whether or not the little tap on the box leaks in my refrigerator.
Not a chance. My wife knows about a thing called The Straight Dope. And we’re not that old yet. And thanks for the kind words, which I don’t deserve. After all, the most pretentious empty-headed puppy in New York apparently knows as much as I do.
Still chancey. I prefer to rely on the advice of the sommelier at Wal-Mart.
Now I’m actually considering writing a liberal-angst detective play based on Oedipus Rex and getting it staged, just to piss this guy off.
I’m off to Lincoln Center now, wonder what I’ll hear in the elevator today?
I hate to encourage this sort of thing, but that would’ve been so very funny.
Oh, who the heck am I kidding? I love to encourage this sort of thing! Eve, when you’re off to the Lincoln Center today, be sure to take a “fart machine” with you in case you need to produce on cue!
I say to take a machine because, of course, a lady would never actually fart, let alone on cue.
Go for it, Eve, I’m sure you’d be able to make it work! And I’d come to see it, again, just to piss that other guy off. 
You know, I had a guinea pig named Edible Rex…
The same guy as yesterday:
“I had to get rid of Jocasta, the character just wasn’t working.”
Did he go with the Boone’s Farm?
“…the best thing about box wine is when you’re done, you take it apart and you’ve got cardboard to sleep under, and a shiny silver pillow to sleep on!”
–overheard at a North Carolina BBQ
I once was listening to two men behind me on a plane. They were discussing theater and one was looking at Architectural Digest. They had what I might call expensive New York accents. The part that sticks with me is:
“Oh, look, this house is behind my father’s house at the Vineyard.”
“That’s right, I recognize that patio furniture in the corner from your house.”
“I’m afraid he’s going to leave the house to The Boy.”
“Who is the The Boy?”
“My father’s yoga instructor. If he leaves it to The Boy, I’m going to burn the place down.”
I felt like I was in a play, or at least something on Fox. And it wasn’t even first class.
Just too funny.
Crap.
::throws first act of play about private dick snooping into murder-incest triangle into trash::
I can’t compete with that sort of pretension on Broadway.
::begins writing musical about feral dogs with hepatitis C::
I know the mods frown on this sort of thing, but the next time you are at the library you could set up a one-time-only sock puppet guest to post it under. I think your summation of Lysistrata would be really funny.
Well now, I know what my part-time job is going to be when I retire now. Except I want my name tag to say “The Old Fart In The Wine Aisle.” It’s much more prestigeous.
Once, I was looking at a medieval tapestry exhibit, in the Met. I walked up to a tapestry that depicted the first canto of Dante’s Inferno. In front of me was William F. Buckley Jr., explaining the canto to someone. I very quietly uttered a verse from it, in the original Italian, and moved on. I don’t think he heard me.
No. Stop it. You guys are wrong. All of you.
will now proceed to laugh hysterically through her professor’s lecture on Antigone and Oedipus Rex
Nah, the correct response would have been to start singing PDQ Bach’s Oedipus Tex:
“Howdy there! I’m Oedipus Tex!
You may have heard of my brother Rex.
I’m Oedipus, Oedipus, that’s what I said.
But my friiiiiieeeends just call me Ed.”
“Now the moral of the story is of course
Don’t love your mother, pardner. Save it for your horse.
I guarantee you will be filled with great remorse
If you give your mom the love you should be saving for your horse.”