“Ehhhhhhhhxcellent.”
However precipitous its decline,
The Simpsons remains the only TV show my entire family will sit in the same room and watch together. (Mom, I suspect, might just be going along to get along.) But one needn’t have so intimate an association with TV’s longest-lived comedy to appreciate the grim genius of
Anne Washburn‘s
Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play. I
review Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company‘s world-premiere production in today’s
Washington City Paper, available wherever finer alt-weeklies are given away for free. Sorry about the ugly split infinitive that crept in there, you guys.
Oh, and I should find out tomorrow whether of not I won the AltWeekly Award that I’m up for. I’d be honored to take third place behind the other two finalists in my category — arts criticism, circulation 50,000 and up — but upon reflection I would rather take second. Or first, even. Please cross all six fingers for me.
That’s a little Simpsons joke, there. Very.
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EXCELLEEENNNTTT