The wonderful thing is also the disturbing thing about computers and the Internet.  In tandem conspiracy they both compile and store things, and do it very efficiently.  It keeps all this information about you - out there-  in digi-space. Internet sites you have visited, email you have written, blogs never published, videos you have watched, it's always there somewhere even when you think you have erased the trail.  

There is a new area of crime solving called Forensic data recovery. If you get charged with murder, nerdy ex-hackers take your computer and autopsy the hard drive.  If they discover you visited a website called "www.How can I kill the guy next door and make it look like he ate a bad sandwich.com", don't expect to claim to the Judge you were "just being neighborly."  

So... going through my blog list today I found this draft hidden in the list it never got published and I assumed it was erased. It was written about two days after the show closed.  I was upset and trying to adjust to the information. I never finished it,  but here it is.   I might as well publish it now and get it out in the open.  I don't want some blog that I don't even remember writing coming back to haunt me.  I was a little surprised when sections of my blog ended up on Playbill.com a couple weeks ago.  I publish this un-edited and  stick out my digital tongue to caution. 

I have been married to the same beautiful Lady for longer than I was ever single.  I have been in love for so long,  is hard for me to remember what it was to be out of love or to fall out of love.  However, I know that when a relationship is over, it is over. The little things that used to be so cute are, after all, annoying and inflammatory.  Even worse when you believe you have been betrayed,  you start searching for things to support your belief.  

My relationship with London is over and I feel betrayed.  I'm not sure who is the betrayer. Is it the producers who failed at producing, is it the public who didn't come quick enough, or is it the Arts Theatre (Of Death!) that betrayed me?   Since the producers, the public and the Theatre (Of Death!) are all part of London, let's just say London is the betrayer.  And now that I have been betrayed the city is beginning to bug me. The things I used to love are now an irritant.

London is cold, and rainy, especially in the summer. They have a pub on every corner that is exactly the same as the one on the next.  They give them different names so oppressed Brits believe they are making a choice.  Names like "Kettle and Crown" and "The Cat's Paw" are created by the drunkards who drink their dinner every night at 5:00 on the street outside the pub.  These names are created simply  by putting two nouns together with a conjunction or using the first noun as a possessive adjective. The drunker you are the better they sound. Any two nouns will work.  The Brick and Turd,  The Dog's Balls, The Cock and Mouth, The Rat's Ass, it doesn't matter because it is all the same warm beer and bland food.  

They use the same effective strategy with pub food,  giving it colorful names like Bangers and Mash, Bubbles and Squeek, Bird and a Peck. This is designed to help you  forget they are actually serving only Wiener and Boiled potato. And what the hell is "mashy peas"? Traditionally served with Fish and Chips.  It's mushed up English peas. Predigested Gerber baby food mixed with a little mint to give the English pea some form of identifiable taste.

Also, in London there are video cameras everywhere watching every move anyone makes.  Half the population of London is watching the other half on a television screen to make sure they behave. This is more than Orwell's Big Brother, this is nationally sanctioned invasion of the right to privacy. It is probably being repackaged as a reality show and broadcast to one of the lessor channels on the BBC.  There are plans to expand the surveillance.  My theory is: eventually the entire country will be employed to watch the one last person left who thinks he's free. The thought........

That is where the rant ended.  I'm not sure where I was going from there, but really don't feel that way about London now.  I did have a great time and hoped to have a longer even greater time. I have now taken a more classical approach to the event and simply say:

Non Gradus Anus Rodentum Dickless Producers

As you were,

Jay