Date: Wed, 09 Nov 1994 23:58:58 CST
Subject: ANDREW OF AMERICA Live and in Tights
TX-MOTSS-DIGEST and this Web Page are the Sole Authorized Global Archives for
ANDREW OF AMERICA (Archivist Brent Payton)

A N D R E W   O F   A M E R I C A   Live and in Tights

ANDREW OF AMERICA here,

On a break from his runaway smash performance as Laertes in
HAMLET: Men in Tights.

Yes, Shakespeare certainly knew what he was doing when he decided to wrap
up his greatest of tragedies with a breathtaking, death deifying {sic} duel
between that wacky, nutty, sweet prince Hamlet and the crazy as a drowned
daisy Ophelia's revenge-bent brother, Laertes (me).

At this point of the play, after 4.5 hours (in our case 2.5) of spooky ghosts,
oedipal mommies, beheaded bumblers, vagrant actors, illiterate gravediggers,
and chit-chats with chapless skulls, we are *all* ready to see two virile,
sinewy, catlike bodies hurl silk-swathed limbs and whirl flashing steel
in heliocopter quickness in a battle of the blades.

	I do not wear a sock.

Instead, I allow a mere millimeter of black nylon to pass between my
too too solid flesh and the cheer and comfort of the audience's eye.

My foil works.  They swoon to see us sweat.  Our swords whistle and swish
through the warm southern air.  Our blades clink and ping.  The silver threads
in my imported tunic--given to me fresh off the back of a bronze-skinned
Phillipino--a tale more compelling than that of a Danish Prince--mimic the
reflective glister of my rapier.

	I prick Hamlet with a poisoned blade.

Our combat picks up pace with mortal desperation and eternal longings!
Our fell and incensed points dart and darn like knitting needles.
I back Hamlet into a corner.  He hops atop a platform and then another!
With Errol Flynn like accumen we attack.  "Part them!  They are incensed!"
shouts evil King Claudius.

I am incensed with leather and Lauder and Danish dust and Asian sweat and
the well-wishing hugs of dewy teenage girls moist with the humidity of estrogen
comingled with the faint scent of rum-laced drinks proferred from unpoisoned
chalices by high school boys who query if I know the age of consent laws in
Mississippi as they draped they legs over mine on a greenroom couch...

I am stabbed.

I die.

As my eyes flicker shut, like Stella Adler taught, I ask forgiveness from the
Sweet Prince as bouquets, phone numbers and backstage admirers flash before
my eyes.

Curtain.
ANDREW OF AMERICA
Applause
***************************************************************************
(C) 1994, 1995 ANDREW OF AMERICA All Rights Reserved
ANDREW may be briefly seen without his tights in John Grisham's
A TIME TO KILL, dir. by Joel Schumacher, in movie theaters everywhere
Summer 1996

Send inquiries, flowers and requests for photos of me in tights to
ANDREW
617 Louisiana Avenue
McComb, MS 39648