Gentle reader, I have been away from you and from this forum of true theatrical correctness for some time. I should have given you warning. I should have been warned myself.
My wife and I are among the dwindling faithful of Our Lady of Perpetual Disappointment Evangelical Community Temple. Every year, we organize an international mission to spread righteous indignation and “love” to the guilt-starved peoples of the world. My wife was in charge of the travel details and, somehow, we wound up lost in Malaysia where I was mistaken for a mildly misshapen albino Lady Boy. What happened next beggars description, but suffice to say that, during your own travels in Southeast Asia, should you ever hear rumors regarding a dubiously skilled, mildly misshapen albino Lady Boy named Sweetmeat, I would have you know that those rumors are largely untrue. My skills are hardly dubious.
For the record, my wife insists that we were not in Malaysia but Manitoba, enjoying the joyless hospitality of a breakaway sect of cheerlessly devout agriculturalists known for raising curiously judgmental farm animals. Further, she maintains that I suffered some sort of delusion-inducing Canadian flu. I do not know that the Manitoba/Malaysia distinction matters overly much. The one definitive characteristic of a foreign place is that it is foreign. As to my health…while the thought that the previous 10 months or so have been only a nightmare is comforting, I feel that, should my wife be wrong, I must continue to insist that my skills are hardly dubious.
At any rate. I am home after a very long sojourn through the dark and exotic vales of Manitoba or Malaysia or my mind (which latter remains, happily, as foreign to me as the others–no one should completely know his own mind if he wishes to be continually surprised and amused by his own genius), and I am ready to embark on a New Year of dogmatically defending the doctrines of Correct Theatre and its prophet, the Critic.
I hope you agree!