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Here it is
again, March—the month named after Mars, the god of war and nougat-filled
chocolate bars. For a mercifully brief few days, the dedicated pacifists of
Funsville turn their attention to matters martial, in anticipation of the
town’s annual military maneuvers, held appropriately enough on March Fourth.
(The date was first used at the suggestion of Funsville resident Major R.
Tillery-Strike, inventor of the long-range pun.)
The word
“maneuvers” makes the exercise sound a lot more efficient and (not to put too
fine a point on it) organized than it actually is. Once the Funsville Civil
Defense League and International Flag of Truce Colour Guard assembles at the
local armoury (which is located next to the local shouldery), all they do is
wander aimlessly towards Rookies’ Memorial Park (veterans already have enough
memorial parks named after them), then ask directions to the Tomb of the
Unknown Deserter. If nothing else, the undertaking ensures that, no matter what
the weather may be, March comes in on terms somewhat similar to both lion and
lamb.
Speaking of March and lions (well, not
really, but relevance is where you find it), I’ve just received the latest news
from my old friend Dermot the Circus Worm (click on the blue letters you just
read past to remind yourself who that is). As he does every winter,
Dermot has been training at the winter quarters of Professor Vermiphile’s Worm
Circus, in a window box outside a third-floor walk-up near Sarasota, Florida.
Those of you who remember Dermot may also
recall that he occasionally partnered with a hamster in a lion-taming act.
Dermot and Leonardo di Hamstero (alas,
only a stage name, but one with a fair bit more panache than the hamster’s real
name of Leonard Jones) have been using their furlough time to put together some
new material. March is the final shakedown for the show before it hits the
road: Dermot and Leonardo have high hopes for a new trapeze routine they’ve
been working on.
They should have most of the bugs out of
it before they reach the bigger cities. That’s what the first part of a tour is
for.
Speaking of tours, Kurt Fitzpatrick’s
one-man show Cathedral City (directed by Mrs. Cousins; lush sound by Mr.
Cousins) opens (like a lion, we hope) tomorrow at the Rogue Festival in Fresno,
California. For show times, ticket prices, and all the other things that
responsible consumers of serious theatre need to know, click on the blue
letters just ahead that say Kurt in Fresno.
I hear Fresno is lovely this time of year,
as a town known far and wide as The Raisin Capital of the World should be. As
if that weren’t enough incentive for a road trip to catch Kurt in action, here’s
an audio preview. (You did get that the letters that said “an audio preview”
were the link, didn’t you? Good—go ahead and click—no-one’s judging you. This is
guilt-free web-surfing, of the kind a certain Canadian political advisor should
have mentioned, instead of the kind he did.)
Just in case there’s still someone reading
this who hasn’t dashed off to their travel agent or the nearest Greyhound bus depot,
getting to Fresno couldn’t be easier. Take a map of California, draw a line
northeast from Los Angeles and a line southeast from San Francisco, and head in
the general direction of where the lines cross. A further note to any Fresnonians
who may be reading—be kind to the visitors I’ve sent your way. They’ll be easy
to spot: just look for people meandering around, staring at maps with two
crossed lines on them.
Oh—and if by chance you folks in Fresno
happen to come across any political appointees made by the current Prime
Minister of Canada who’ve been reading this and have gotten the idea that your fair
city might be a good place to lay low until the heat’s off, the Canadian people would like them back as soon as possible. The government is busy building
a fresh spate of jails, and it would be a shame to let any of their nice shiny
new cells go begging.
Uncle Fun
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