Gruppo Rubato

Livin’ like the Fringers do

// July 23rd, 2007 // No Comments » // Blog, Kris's Soapbox

Originally posted on my CBC Winnipeg Fringe Blog:

After spending a week writing about the Fringe from the performers’ perspective, I thought it would be nice to try something different.  I left our billet’s place this morning in full Stealth Performer Mode, resolving to take in six plays without actively promoting my own show to anyone.

I saw my first play at noon, and finished my last one just after midnight.  I feel that I have had a taste of both the highs and lows of being a Fringe audience member.

I sat in the audience waiting for one play to start when I ran across a Jenny Revue review of the show I was about to see.  The write-up was glowing.  My heart soared as I congratulated myself for making a great pick.  The theatre lights dimmed; two actors walked on stage, began to speak, and sixty minutes of excruciating torture began in earnest.  Less than one third of the way into the play, I desperately wanted to stand up, howl an awful expletive at full volume, and storm out of the theatre… but that would have woken up all of the people around me who were snoring.  I reminded myself that Fringe plays are short, and got through it after resolving to take a nap in my seat.

One of the shows I witnessed was truly Something Different:  a dance-oriented show that I would not normally have thought to seek out.  I was thrilled with the change of pace, and ended up being pleasantly surprised by the experience.  The production wasn’t fantastic, but it was worth the investment of time and money.  I will probably see more shows like it in the future.

Two of the plays I saw today were bequeathed with four-star reviews, and after seeing them both I fail to understand how they were deemed to be of equal quality.  I reminded myself that reviews are just opinions.  If I were a single mother of three, a comedy about being a single mother of three would be met with great interest and a sympathetic eye.  Since I am a gay man with a common-law husband and a cat, however, I have no interest in mommy comedy and would certainly not review a “mom-com” as favourably.  Wouldn’t it be lovely if critics had to disclose things like that?

Oh oh oh.  Since I’ve started to rant, let me state unequivocally that I hate the star system.  It’s safe to say that most performers do — even if they’re the sort who tend to benefit from it.  In my home town of Ottawa, the Citizen’s editorial board committed to abolishing stars on their theatre reviews several years ago.  People complained at first, but the net result has been that people actually read the reviews instead of assuming they’re saving time by skipping over everything but the fours and fives.  People are able to make better decisions about where to spend their money.  I challenge the Winnipeg media to do the same.  I understand that it’s difficult to make informed choices when there are 136 plays on the roster, but stars do not provide any form of intelligent information and I defy anyone who tries to tell me otherwise.  There is one show here that got one star from CBC and four from the Free Press: based on that assessment alone, it is both a must-see and a must-avoid. 

Okay… rant over.

At another show this afternoon, I took great pleasure in shatting with people about their Frnge exploits.  There is a significant debate going on, it seems, over how to pronounce “Eleemosynary”.  People are curious, too, about what precise bits may or may not be put on display in “Hot Pink Bits”.  Everyone wants to know if “The Churchill Protocol” features a real live goat (and since I was in Stealth Mode, I wasn’t going to answer that question.  Besides, why should “live goat” suddenly make the show worth $9 more than “fake goat”?  It doesn’t make me feel terribly good about my performance!)   Finally, consensus seems to be that the Big Surprise of the festival is “The Good Daughter”.  I added the show to my mental list, and then cursed the fact that it wasn’t playing today.

I overheard some stalwart audience members talking about how they can’t handle more than two or three plays in a single day.  I fear that I may be in the same category.  I note that a negative experience from one play can color the experience of another play, as well.  I caught myself on more than one occasion thinking “if this were the only play I had seen today, I’d be miserable… but in light of that OTHER one, this is really quite lovely!”  I think I can get around this by avoiding situations were I run from one play to another, back to back.  Time to decompress between shows is time well spent.

Seeing six plays in twelve hours is exhausting.  As audience members you may think that we performers work too hard… but I have an even more profound appreciation, now, for those of you who consume multiple performances each day.  I am humbled by your determination and your willingness to take risks… but I’m going to go back to just being a performer for the next few days!

Flyus Interruptus

// July 22nd, 2007 // No Comments » // Blog, Kris's Soapbox

Originally posted on my CBC Winnipeg Fringe blog:

All right, Winnipeg.  You get a break today from The Churchill Protocol boys.  We have run out of flyers.  All gone.  We know they’re popular — some guy even left a message for us at Performer Services asking for a copy of our poster because he likes the photo so much — but this is insane!  We’ve actually had to order more! 

(As an aside, what kind of name is “Performer Services”?  It’s where the performers all go to pick up money and messages and things, but the title makes it sound so much more raunchy.  Maybe there’s a reason why we can only go up one a time to visit them, and I just don’t know what that reason is yet.  But I digress.)

What’s interesting is that we had more fun talking to people in line-ups last night without our flyers.  People don’t have to take anything from us, and they seem happy just to hear us talk about our show.  Perhaps this is a strategy we can use in the future….

Enjoy your Sunday, kids.  Keep wet, and keep the sun off your head.  I’m going to spend some time at Performer Services in an attempt to suss out what new Services I may be able to get on our day off.  I’ll be sure to wear something snazzy.

Hats off to college security!

// July 21st, 2007 // No Comments » // Blog, Kris's Soapbox

Originally written for my CBC Fringe Performer Blog:

If you don’t want to experience the joys of Winnipeg Market Square Porta-Potty in 37 degree heat, you can always find a place to relieve yourself at a theatre venue.  Almost all of the artists are fans of the glorious hands-free bathrooms at the Manitoba Theatre Centre; I have amused myself endlessly by giggling and clapping at how paper towel is emitted every time I wave my hand in front of the towel dispenser.

Another set of washrooms that I like are located in Venue 11 — Red River College.  I had a chance to try them out as I was waiting to see The Feel Goods, and as I exited the facility I was amused to see that the building is equipped with a glassed-in Security Office, stuffed full of goldfish-like Security Officers.

These stalwart employees — resplendent in their clean and crisply-pressed uniforms — had their eyes fixed on screens.  They’re probably keeping an eye on rowdy audience members, I thought, before I noticed that the closed-circuit camera screens on the wall weren’t the screens they were looking at.  Instead, their eyes were glued in place by a movie playing on a laptop.

I don’t know about you, but if there was a bunch of great live theatre taking place in the building where I worked, I would be sure to bring my DVD collection to the office so I didn’t have to see any of it.

I shook my head bemusedly and retook my seat in the lobby.  In the middle of a very heated discussion about how many syllables there should be in a haiku, one of the security guards strolled up to us.  A lost theatre patron had located the guards and asked where the theatre was, because it wasn’t evident to her (there really isn’t any signage to be found once you’re in the building, and the lobby is large).  The helpful guard had walked her over to us, and waited patiently while we finished our train of thought on how the second line of a well-written haiku should feature some kind of cutting metaphor.  He then said “the play is over, right?  It’s finished?”

“Oh no,” my erudite compatriot responded, “we’re actually waiting to go in and see the 11:15 PM show.”

The guard’s brow furrowed, and then wrinkled.  I’m sure he was thinking about how he was certain he had seen people leaving the building after a play, perhaps even earlier that evening. He was about to speak up again in protest when a Prison Guard (AKA the theatre usher) popped through the theatre door and laid everyone’s concerns to rest.  “The theatre is right here!” he said. “We’ll be opening the doors in just a moment.”

The guard shrugged and shuffled back to his glassed-in enclosure.  We all shook our heads bemusedly.

I’m never one to shy away from inspiration, so I’d like to take a moment, if I may, to salute the security staff in the building at Venue 11 with a poorly-written haiku:

Plays? In our building?
We don’t know what goes on here.
We just stand on guard.

Flyer Neurosis

// July 21st, 2007 // No Comments » // Blog, Kris's Soapbox

Originally written for my CBC Performer Blog:

No matter how much you plan and plan and pack and plan, you’re bound to forget to bring something on your ten-week tour of the country.  Things like shaving cream and toothpaste are easy to remember, of course, but other more irregular items can be forgotten.  I take great pride, for example, in the fact that I remembered my Ukrainian heritage and thought to pack my versatile ear and nose hair trimmer.  I cannot imagine the shame of meeting all you nice Winnipeg folk knowing that as I hand you a flyer, you could be fixated on a single eight-inch-long hair protruding from my right nostril.

I have, for some time, been painfully aware that I forgot to pack something.  There are many things I am not picky about — using Fringe porta-potties that have been baking in 35-degree heat, for example — but I am choosy about how I rid myself of the constant growth of my finger and toenails.  I know people who chew them, who tear them off, or who have perfected oddly intriguing methods of picking at them to keep them short.  I am not one of those people.  Nor do I trust myself to cut my nails with a full-sized pair of scissors: I still have an unsightly scar from the Great Trim Attempt of 1995.  I require a set of proper nail clippers for my personal grooming… and I did not pack any.

For the past week or so I have become increasingly neurotic over the length of my fingernails.  A few days ago, I began to fear that I would end up indavertently poking out one of my own eyes while trying to use my ear/nose hair trimmer.  By this morning I was convinced that the grotesque length of my nails — nearing some 3 or 4 millimetres at least — was going to become a concern for potential audience members.  “I was going to see his show,” they’d say, “but when he tried to hand me a flyer I thought he was trying to maul my face!”

This afternoon, it came to a head.  I tried to hand a flyer to someone who politely declined it, and convinced myself that it was the terrifying length of my nails that was the cause of the demure denial.  I instantly began to pout, and then ran off to the drugstore to purchase an ergonomically-designed E-Z-Grip pair of stainless steel nail clippers that must have been designed by engineers from heaven.  I was so conscious of my Wolverine-like claws that I found myself unable to wait until a proper opportunity arose.  Paralyzed by my inability to hand a flyer to anyone, I obsessively tore open the packaging for the clippers right outside my own venue, and proceeded to sheepishly clip my nails (whimpering neurotically) in front of the line-up for If These Tap Shoes Could Talk.

My day went much better after that.

I know I have previously instructed you all, dear readers, to feel free to say no when I offer you a flyer… but perhaps I spoke too soon.  I’m too sensitive and neurotic to deal with with that kind of rejection.  Take solace, though: if you choose not to take a flyer from me, and I respond by suddenly sobbing and whipping a cordless ear/nose hair trimmer from my pocket, it’s not about you, and please don’t call anyone to have me picked up.

I promise to trim my nose hair before I leave the house tomorrow.

Introducing the PFG

// July 20th, 2007 // No Comments » // Blog, Kris's Soapbox

Originally written for my CBC Performer Blog:

Outside Kafka And Son, shortly before noon today, I met the man who I consider (so far) to be the most hardcore Winnipeg Fringer in existence. I approached him eagerly, because he was the kind of audience member who had already sprung for the “20 Years to Life” t-shirt, and offered him a flyer for The Churchill Protocol. He beamed at me and exclaimed “You’re on my list and we’re coming to see you this afternoon!”

“That’s great!” I said, as I warily watched him reach around to his back.

“Check it out,” he added, whipping a very large ziploc-style bag from some invisible rear pouch. “I have a system!”

His colleague, who had remained silent to this point, couldn’t help but chime in. “Wait until you see this,” he chided as he finished munching on a hot dog from the vendor outside the MTC Warehouse. “We don’t call him the Psycho Fringe Guy for nothing.”

In the plastic bag, Psycho Fringe Guy (“Um, he prefers ‘PFG’,” his friend helpfully added, after a stern glare from PFG) had stashed his Official Fringe Guide (never shall it be bent or creased) and a print-out of his itinerary. He pointed out that he had only put print-outs of the next couple of days’ worth of shows into the bag, since things may change at a moment’s notice. He showed me his exhaustive list of show selections. Each of them was annotated with a listing of the time the tickets went on sale, the performance start time, and the finish time. The list was optimized to minimize travel time between venues, while maximizing the number of performances that could be seen. “I saw 60 shows last year,” he said. “I think I can do better.” As I picked my jaw up off the ground, he added, “and all of this is on the web, too, so my friends can see where I am and what I’m doing and can join me if they want. We have several web sites, and they’re all linked together.”

I was flabbergasted. Really, how much more hard-core can a Fringer be? How many mortgages do you have to have on your home in order to be able to afford all those tickets? I thought about this, and then suggested that the next logical step in his evolution is an ankle bracelet with a GPS transmitter that his friends could use to track him in real time on the web. Imagine the fun he could have if his exact location could be found on the Internet at all times! If word were to get out that PFG was going to see more than 60 shows, artists would be all over him. They’d be playing “Hunt The Psycho”: using the CBC Web Cell as a base, chasing him down to hand him flyers for shows that he might want to add to his ever-growing list. It could be fun for everyone!

“That’s pushing it a little bit,” he squirmed after I excitedly offered my suggestion, “and I don’t think I like the title of the game. But I have to admit that the idea has some merit.”

If you think you’re more hard-core than PFG, track me down and prove it to me. I think Mr. PFG is a pretty tough act to follow, but I have been consistently amazed at the passion that people apply to their Fringe-going experiences. Here’s to you, PFG, and everyone like you — you rock my world!

Extreme Justice: Performer SuperFriends Save The Night!

// July 20th, 2007 // No Comments » // Blog, Kris's Soapbox

Originally written for my CBC Performer Blog:

It was almost 11 PM. The dry heat of the afternoon had drifted into a calm, insect-free evening. The patio at the King’s Head pub was packed with artists and Fringe-goers celebrating the day’s accomplishments: some of our heroes had sell-out shows. Some had braved a brazen barrage of two-star reviews. Beer was flowing freely as we regaled one another with epic tales of the massive line-ups we had encountered in the afternoon. I had just finished telling a panhandler that I couldn’t give him spare change because I’m an actor when one of my compatriots interrupted with news. “Zounds! It’s an emergency!” he said, complete with campy Batman-and-Robin ‘zounds’-type hand gestures. ” Be Prepared is starting in four minutes and he’s only got three people in his house! We have to DO SOMETHING!” He had just received a text message on his Performer Alert Phone from a fellow actor who, it turned out, just happened to be one of the three lucky people in the audience.

Yep, this is the Winnipeg Fringe; theatregoers are out en masse, taking in all kinds of theatre. And while some shows never manage to find an audience during the festival, many very good shows occasionally have performances that fall through the cracks. Due to some dastardly masterwork (undoubtedly plotted by a villainous rival festival), it was happening to a fine storyteller from Leeds, England. Perhaps it was the 11 PM Thursday time slot, or the lack of air conditioning in the venue. It could simply have been that the show hadn’t had a review yet. It doesn’t matter. The point is that a fellow performer was in need, and he needed our help.

With only minutes to spare until the doors to the performance were closed, barred forever by the No Latecomers policy, the Performer Superfriends Team sprung into action. Artists who didn’t have full pints in front of them ran into the pub, instantly changing into their cape-and-tights Show Saving Ensembles ™. Like a team of rag-tag superheroes in a little-known indie comic book, we raced at top speed down to Venue 13, arriving just in time to triple the size of the house and give a performer some supremely friendly and snazzily-dressed audience members to work with. We were treated to a fine performance, and were even able to get back to the pub before the kitchen closed.

Friends, the power of text messaging and the moisture-wicking features of Lycra are what made this all possible. The Winnipeg Fringe Performer Superfriends are at the ready, eager to help any artist in need, because no performer at the best Fringe in the country should have to play to a house of less than ten audience members. This is how artists support one another; this is how we provide encouragement. This is what we will be doing two weeks from now, for every performance of every show at the Saskatoon Fringe. Hopefully we’ll be able to get a good bulk deal on cape and unitard dry cleaning.

Better than Christmas morning!

// July 20th, 2007 // No Comments » // Blog, Kris's Soapbox

Originally written for my CBC Performer Blog:

“I remember you!” said the woman at the dry cleaning counter. “You’re with the Fringe!”

As the afternoon wore on, the atmosphere in the Exchange district grew electric. More and more people started to arrive. Less and less of the MTC’s actual surface was left visible under a shield of multi-colored poster. An orchestra of packing tape noises reverberated through the region. Throngs of eager theatre-goers began lining up at the advance ticket booth. By mid-afternoon, with the commencement of activity on the Market Square stage, the festival had begun.

The opening night of a Fringe is exciting. The artists are just as eager and optimistic as the audiences. Last night was certainly no exception, as several of the 7 PM performances — the first of the festival — sold out. This gave many of the artists an ideal opportunity to begin handing out flyers to theatrical consumers, and since it was opening night, the lineups were thrilled to take them.

I really enjoy talking to people in line-ups. I get to promote The Churchill Protocol, of course, but I also get to meet people, chat about their lives, and talk about what they’ve seen and liked. Last night, I got treated to a few magic tricks, assisted people as they hunted for the door to Venue 3, and made sure that people in line for Maxim & Cosmo knew that the show was 90 minutes long, and that they should pee before going in just to ensure that they wouldn’t pee themselves as a result of the content in the show. I am very helpful.

On the first night, audiences are thrilled about taking flyers. They want to talk to us. They want our pretty colored handbills. They want to know about our show. They want to know where we’re from. Smiles are big, chatter is constant, and it leaves me feeling like Winnipeg is the most awesome place on Earth. I know it won’t last, though: I’ve seen it before. By next week at this time, the heat will have addled people’s brains, and the constant barrage of artists proclaiming that

their show is the best show will drive people batty. There are several strategies that I can recommend to people for dealing with eager artsy-types who are trying to offer you more paper.

The simplest thing to do, of course, is to politely say no thank you. After all, our handbills do cost us money, and if you don’t want one, we’d love to be able to give one to someone else. Second, if you want to hear about the show but don’t want paper given to you, just say so! Finally, you can use any one of a number of ready-made excuses:

• “I’d love to come but I’m getting a full-body bison tattoo and I’m likely to be too tender to sit in those uncomfortable seats while I heal”: artists have no way of verifying the truth of this… and it’s a cool idea, anyway.
• “I’ve already seen it!”: very rewarding for an artist to hear, unless you make the mistake of saying it to someone who hasn’t had their first performance yet
• “It’s on my list”: wonderfully ambiguous, since you don’t have to specify which list you’re talking about. After all, with almost 140 shows to choose from, your “I just can’t get to it” list is going to be lengthy.
• “I’m from Missouri”: I don’t know why this one works, but it was very popular with people in Toronto.

After meeting a bunch of people from Missouri last night, we opened The Churchill Protocol for an enthusiastic crowd that reminded us instantly of why we love the Winnipeg Fringe so much. I celebrated after our opening by going to see Toasting The Snow Bride, which is a nicely-written and performed piece about addiction that you should check out in Venue 2, and finished the evening being feasted upon by mosquitoes on the patio of that place that’s named after a king’s body part. May every day of the festival be just like this.

John Huston is Everywhere

// July 20th, 2007 // No Comments » // Blog, Kris's Soapbox

(reprinted from the CBC Performer Blog entry):

Patrick (my Churchill Protocol colleague) and I thought we had arrived in Winnipeg early. We had 24 hours to get from the end of our run at the Toronto Fringe to our media call and tech for our run at the Winnipeg Fringe, so we had to take a plane. Most of the bohemian touring crowd will drive between the two cities; these artists are easy to spot because they’re the ones with the dark circles under their eyes, a pent-up sense of rage over 16-hour stretches of driving, and a debilitating fear of moose.

We met our amazing billets (whom we are going to adopt as our own parents, with sincere apologies to our real ones) and headed right into the core of the city, where we discovered that we were not early at all. The MTC building was already plastered with posters, dollar stores all over the exchange district were bereft of packing tape and masking tape, and the advance tickets for TJ Dawe’s first show were already sold out.

The day before the festival began, then, ended up being a busy one. We slammed a quick breakfast as we mused on how even letters to the editor in the Free Press relate to the Fringe Festival. Then we high-tailed it to the print shop at 9 AM to pick up our posters, and eagerly began making Winnipeg unsightly. We ran into John Huston (he’s doing “Underneath The Lintel” this year) in the MTC lobby, and he welcomed us to town. We hung up some posters, running into Cara Yeates (“Bye Bye Bombay”) and Gemma Wilcox (“The Honeymoon Period Is Officially Over”) as we go. On Main Street, we bumped into John Huston again; he was busy welcoming other people to town and talking about the best paces to grab lunch. We grabbed lunch. We went to our media call at noon, where the Jenny Revue, CBC, and the Free Press all asked us repeatedly to “make that funny face again” so they could get a picture of it. Then we ran into the scout-like John Huston on Albert Street, kindly helping the frail and infirm across the road.

Shortly before our technical rehearsal, Patrick and I got lost in the underground. We needed more tape, you see, and we were sure there was an office supply store down there three years ago. We made our way above ground (without tape, natch) with just enough time to catch the erudite John Huston give a brief speech on particle physics to a hot dog vendor, and then ran off to our theatre.

We have always been blessed with fantastic theatre technicians, and our techs here in Winnipeg have raised the bar for techs everywhere. These men and women are an efficient army — many have been personally trained by John Huston — who have to manage as many as ten different plays in a single theatre space. They do it with a smile on their faces, even though some theatre companies arrive with technical requirements that would make Andrew Lloyd Weber blush. We managed to get through our three-hour technical rehearsal in about two hours, and so we already owe our techs a beverage.

Patrick and I finished the evening on the patio of the local pub, dodging insects, meeting up with other touring artists, and basking in the glow of watching John Huston put out a small housefire singlehandedly while saving the lives of six people, two cats, and a raccoon that happened to be in the back yard putting up posters for Jem Rolls.

The Fringe starts in earnest today — perhaps we’ll see you at the Free For All this afternoon! We’re looking forward to another amazing festival, and while we know there are some heavy hitters you’ve heard buzz about, we hope you’ll check out some of the touring shows that you may not have heard about yet but that we have seen in other cities and really liked: Die Roten Punkte (at Venue 18), The Fugue Code (Venue 4), Jesus in Montana (Venue 3), Bye Bye Bombay and Dickens of the Mounted

(Venue 8), Teaching As You Like It (Venue 11), The Honeymon Period is Officially Over and Deep Fried Curried Perogies (Venue 2), Giant Invisible Robot (Venue 5), Kafka And Son (Venue 6)… and Underneath The Lintel (Venue 21), which stars the indefatigable real-life Spirit of the Fringe, John Huston.

Danke Toronto!

// July 15th, 2007 // No Comments » // Blog, Kris's Soapbox

Patrick and I are spending the evening at his parents’ place in Guelph before heading off to the Winnipeg Fringe tomorrow.  We have very little time to get there, so we decided to fly; as a result, much time has been spent this afternoon trying to figure out how to get our set through airport security without getting any of it seized.  We are carrying one stuffed goat, one stuffed goat head, an array of metal shelving that may or may not look like a pipe bomb due to the way it is collapsed and taped together, and a collapsed crate wrapped in cardboard, wrapped in duct tape, labeled with “I heart getting to Winnipeg at the same time as my Westjet Owner!” and “For a good time — especially if you’re hot and female — call Patrick Gauthier because he will really need a woman to look after him once he gets arrested for trying to board a plane with a stuffed goat and what looks like the makings of a pipe bomb.”

We had a very good time at the Toronto Fringe this year, even though the late start with our show meant that nobody was really buzzing about it (and people were, believe me) until the day before we left.  We will always remember the eerily friendly squirrels in High Park, and the excellent shawarma sandwiches at Ghazale.  I sincerely hope that those two items are not related.

The worst thing about Toronto…

// July 10th, 2007 // No Comments » // Blog, Kris's Soapbox

…is nothing that is the city’s fault.  Ottawa could take a few STRONG hints from the fact that the streets here are lined with bike racks, and that there are recycling bins on almost every corner.  Just yesterday I was walking down the street with a bottle of water and an empty coke bottle — looking for the nearest recycle bin — when a guy on the sidewalk (I assume he was on a break) said “hey, buddy… you want me to recycle that for you?”

It’s getting harder to hate this place.

HOWEVER, I must say that I am supremely annoyed with the Dancap Productions people.  This is the new company in town that is bring a slew of Broadway shows to Toronto next year.  I’m a big fan of this idea and I love the shows they’re bringing in, but the brass at the company have decided to promote the return of The Drowsy Chaperone at the Toronto Fringe Festival.  I can see how this makes sense, since the show was born at the Fringe… but they’ve got street teams running all over the place and these people are exuberantly obnoxious and annoying.  They run up and down lines, handing out flyers and CD samplers for a show that doesn’t open until September, annoying people in lines AND other Fringe artists who are handing out flyers for their own shows.

The streets are public, and they can do whatever they want, but I think this is a bit rude.  The most offensive thing is that the Fringe put up a big wall of “pockets” outside the Fringe Club so that performing companies could leave flyers for potential audience members, and these Dancap bastards have come along and stuffed Drowsy Chaperone flyers in almost all of the pockets.  The one in use for our show was so stuffed with them that you couldn’t even see our flyers any more.

I can tell you right now that since these dicks have so little respect for the shows at the festival, I have no respect for the show they’re opening this fall.  I am actively trashing all the Drowsy Chaperone flyers I see in places where they get in the way of Fringe flyers which are intended for Fringe patrons at this, our Fringe Festival.  I have a big stack, in fact, that I would like to ceremonially burn in front of the next street team I see… but I don’t want to get arrested before our next show.