Heather Thompson

Cirque-A-Palooza!

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This is the show that the performers would put on for each other. The juggler dropped his pancake (more on that later), the sword swallower even choked up just a little bit of the spaghetti from his dinner (I’ll leave that one alone). That said, even before the show started, I felt like I was in on the jokes, maybe even sitting in Stefan’s living room, dancing a little too wildly and drinking more than I should. So along with other performers, the audience and I cheered the successes, forgave foibles, and generally had a delightful time doing so.

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The Rainmaker: Who Cares if its Not Feminism—Its True

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With such an excellent cast, it’s easy to nitpick. The only off note comes from Robert Standley’s Starbuck. Starbuck is supposed to be a charming con man, but on Standley, the snake oil is a little too thick. Still in later love scenes, he embodies the hope and confidence of a true “confidence man”—one that is able to inspire the confidence of others.

The tale is a familiar one—resting on the idea that nobody can love you until you love yourself. But of course this internal struggle to believe in ones own beauty comes much easier when surrounded by people who already believe in it for you.

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Dispatch from the Culver City Car Show

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I’ll admit if you’d asked me to go to a car show a year ago, I’d have wondered if you thought I was replaced with an alien. I know nothing about cars. Really. Nothing. I drive my car to and from work and I bought the most reliable car on the market so I’d never have to think about it. I even bought a hybrid to save on gas. I take it into the dealer for service when the light dings, and pretty much do whatever they tell me.

So when I say I went to a car show, you’ll understand what a huge, monumental step it was. Oh yes. My boyfriend is really into cars. He likes engines and drag racing, and owns a nonworking VW squareback. I am only now starting to be able to comprehend exactly what a squareback might be.

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