h a l f b a k e r yQuis custodiet the custard?
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Or some 200 years after the setting of Eugene O'Neill's
alcoholic whinefest
The patrons, veterans of the last Afghan war, make a
meager
living mining the glacier that is slowly but inexorably
devouring Manhattan, having already gotten rid of the
Upper
East and West sides, and currently
obliterating 42nd
Street, and are spending most of their time trying to con
the
bartender into giving them a free puff on the hookah.
[link]
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Who will play the various parts? You will need a cast of about 20 actors pretending to be barflies and working stills. |
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Who will write the convoluted and witty dialog? |
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Original play was four hours long. Can you get any audience to sit and watch that long now? |
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Glaciers take many years to mature. Will 200 years be long enough to lay down a lot of ice that far south? |
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So, its like Cheers, but with everybody snowed into
the joint? |
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I wonder how Eugene O'Neill would have taken a
comparison to Cheers |
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