Κι απ'την άλλη ,βεβαίως,υπάρχει και η θέση της Εκκλησίας πάνω στην ομοφυλοφιλία. Το Λευϊτικόν,για παράδειγμα ,στη Παλαιά Διαθήκη ,μας λέει βασικά,πως οι ομοφυλόφιλοι πρέπει να θανατώνονται.Επίσης μας λέει,πως να θυσιάσεις κριάρια και ταύρους και μας διδάσκει να μην καθόμαστε σε καρέκλα που έχει κάτσει γυναίκα που είχε περίοδο τις τελευταίες εφτά ημέρες.Μπορείς να συμβουλευτείς ένα τέτοιο βιβλίο σήμερα;
—  Christopher durang , γελώντας άγρια 

for @bassianprompts #1: laughter (thank you guys for starting up this blog)!

also because every time diego luna smiles it adds 10 years to my life

The only thing that could spread more quickly than a virus through the young recurits of the Rebellion was a rumor.

And there were plenty of those. 

“The Princess has a comlink on her at all times, she hides them in her buns.”

“It’s so she can call up Solo whenever she wants to yell at him.”

“They’re probably sleeping together.”

“I heard the Wookie tore off the arm of the last person who said that, so be careful.” 

One such rumor of course, was that Captain Andor never smiled. As it was with the legends of the Rebellion, there were many versions of the story. But all of them boiled down to this:

If you ever saw him smile, you were either the luckiest person in the galaxy, or the most unfortunate. 

That was, before Bodhi Rook came along.

See, the pilot was a living legend. Not for flying Rogue One out of Scarif - though that was pretty cool - but for his charisma.

The newest recurits flocked to him, held rapt by the stories and jokes told by the cargo pilot from Jedha. 

“So did you really use to work for the Empire? Does the Emperor really smell like bantha poodoo?”

“Dude, nobody says poodoo anymore. You sound like, five.” 

But the pilot would laugh and reply likewise.

“I never met him, but a friend did and he said he smelt like rotten durang fruit.”

The recruits would laugh, and he would laugh, and their laughter would echo across the walls of Base One. 

And if you were paying attention, you could see Cassian Andor smiling. 

Keep reading

Sweet Polly Plunkett
Julie Andrews
Sweet Polly Plunkett

Among the many treasures in the 1993 recording of Putting It Together, a ridiculously constructed Sondheim revue that includes a bizarre rewritten version of “A Little Priest” sung about a party game, a smooth jazz cover of “Hello, Little Girl”, Julie Andrews singing “Could I Leave You”, and Christopher Durang(!!?) singing “I Could Drive a Person Crazy”, there’s this wonderful little gem: Julie Andrews herself singing a 40-second snipping of “Sweet Polly Plunkett,” of all songs. 

Also, good lord, the most ridiculous cast: Andrews, Durang, Michael Rupert, Rachel York, and Stephen Collins. What even? Never forget.


TODAY IN THEATRE HISTORY: In 1982, Christopher Durang’s comedy Beyond Therapy opens at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre. John Lithgow and Dianne Wiest star, and a young actor named David Pierce (later known as David Hyde Pierce) makes his Broadway debut. The production will run only 21 performances.

For more on Beyond Therapy, including a look inside the show’s opening night Playbill, visit PlaybillVault.com.

anonymous asked:

I'm an aspiring playwright. I'm not famous, don't know anyone famous or connected in the industry, and work with original material not adaptations. Do I have any chance of making it to Broadway one day?

If you’re a cis white guy, maybe!

If not, statistically speaking, it’s less likely.

But here’s the thing: Broadway is not the be-all end-all of theater. I’m sure it’s a lovely time for those that get there, but there are plenty of people who have successful careers that go well beyond Broadway. Look at Branden Jacobs-Jenkins or Annie Baker, both consistently produced playwrights off-Broadway, or Christopher Durang and David Ives, who consistently top the lists of most-produced playwrights in regional theater.

So I think maybe you need to redefine what success means to you, as an aspiring playwright. If it’s Broadway, that’s fine, but know there’s a certain level of social politics involved. Or maybe the goal is to live comfortably off your playwright earnings, or find a theater you get to work with again and again (see: Suzan Lori Parks and The Public, Mamet and The Atlantic), or become a critically derided but culty fan favorite (which would be my choice, personally). What would need to happen for you to feel accomplished?