thursday, 13 

thursday, 13

First of all, Whoaaaaaaa. All these letters to the editor about something I wrote a few weeks ago about racism -- or the lack thereof -- in Memphis are way out of hand. Someone even told me that this was being discussed on the radio. Please, people, get lives. I by no means meant to say that there is no racism here and did not intend to make the be-all end-all statement on the problem. And while I appreciate the feedback, all I meant to convey was that I had spent a day picking up garbage in Soulsville and listening to a jazz concert in Overton Square and it was very nice and refreshing that the crowd seemed to be equally black and white, young and old, and everyone, at least for that day, seemed perfectly happy to be together without giving any regard to race, much like every Grizzlies game I attended during the season. So calm down. That's all I really meant by the comments. So, please. Move on. I have enough to worry about. For one thing, I am getting more and more disturbed about the print and radio ads for the play The Vagina Monologues. Not that it's not a great show. And not that there is anything wrong with the word "vagina." But it seems like every time I open the paper, there is the word jumping off the page in, say, 50-point type. VAGINA. It's very hard to get past that and read that this is to promote the play. I mean, what if I decide to produce a play called Tales From the SPHINCTER (no pun intended; well, yes, it was actually intended)? Do you want to open the paper every day to have the word "sphincter" jump out at you as you sip your morning coffee? I don't think so. But enough about that. I'm sure I'll get plenty of letters saying I don't know a thing about vaginas and should keep my trap shut. So on to other things. Looks like we did a really fine job handling the big fight -- despite some of the not-so-successful parties that were supposed to be celebrity-studded and didn't quite turn out to be. But so what? It's not like we're in Hooterville and should all faint at the sight of someone famous. I did spot two celebrities. One was very famous. I'm pretty sure it was Jesus. I met him downtown in the South Main Arts District, and he had just walked over from West Memphis (on the bridge, not the water). He owned nothing, and his life consisted of walking the earth and being nice to people. He had on a white robe and sandals and made more sense than anyone I've met in many years. Unfortunately, I had to send him walking down Summer Avenue to get to Highway 64 to make his way to Nashville without walking the interstate. I?m pretty sure it was Jesus and that I was being tested, so I gave him 20 bucks. Hope he made it okay. And then, at a owntown restaurant the other night, I saw our own celeb, Cybill Shepherd, who, by the way, looked very, very pretty and was heartbreakingly gracious and sweet to the restaurant and wait staff -- something from which a lot of you could learn a thing or two. And I am very glad that she is now part of this Riverfront Development Corporation. I heard someone make a negative comment about that the other day. The typical whining "Well, what does she know about that kind of thing?" Ms. Shepherd has, for all of her career, always, always cited the Mississippi River as one of the main things she loves about Memphis. She is very passionate about it. And, lest it fall into other hands, the last time I heard, she has never been caught taking bribe money under a restaurant table, never been found cooking down crack on her kitchen stove, never stolen a wallet from a discount store, and never pulled a rifle on MLGW workers. So there. Go on, Cybill. Have at it. In the meantime, here is alook at what's going on around town this week. Tonight, there's a Fund-Raiser Exhibition at Jay Etkin Gallery for the Women's Foundation of Greater Memphis, featuring works by Jennifer Church. FreeWorld is at the Full Moon Club tonight upstairs from Zinnie's East. The Chris Parker Trio is at CafÇ Zanzibar. And last but certainly not least, The Reba Russell Band is at the Lounge tonight.

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