Down& dirty with puppets
AT the Booth a puppet show “Hand to God” just opened. I thought, “Sweet . . . a performance just for children.”
Right. Children with dirty mouths that should be slapped. These marionettes say words beginning with “S.” Words beginning with “F.” Words beginning with “M” and hyphenating to “F.” Words mocking gay sex. Words describing male parts. People call it funny. I call it filthy.
However, being known for my towering ability to interview Broadway names, I met its star. Puppet Tyrone was wearing purple leather. “My pimp coat,” the thing said. Plus a purple fuzzy boa. “From some big ass furrier,” it said. On Tyrone’s neck a diamondish necklace spelling out WWTD. “Means ‘ What Would Tyrone Do,’ ” he said. Not even those Real Housewives in Atlanta were as overdressed as Tyrone.
Figuring enough chatting with a gray sock, I left. Annoyed, the frizzy topknot on Tyrone’s head shook as he called out: “You and I have the same hair comb!”
I wanted to smack that puppet.
Next up, “Avenue Q” visitor Princeton and his pal Cookie Monster. Eager to be friendly, I asked would Mr. Princeton care to go out with me? Said the snarky ragdoll: “No, not really.” Focusing his big eyes on me, Cookie Monster announced: “We look alike.”
These creatures were as warm and fuzzy as Robert
De Niro.
And where was the original Kermit the
Frog, who was promised as a surprise big guest? Answered a staffer: “The bastard didn’t show because the f king curator at the Smithsonian, where he lives, decided against bringing him.”
Really sweet evening.