Waiting for Godot

Did you ever have to read Waiting for Godot in its original French?!  It’s a play in two acts written by Samuel Beckett who is a defining playwright of the movement known as Theatre of the Absurd.

The entire play takes place beside a tree and it’s about two guys who are waiting for a third guy named Godot.  The first scene ends when a boy shows up and tells the other two that Godot isn’t coming today, maybe tomorrow.  The second scene progresses exactly the same way, with Godot being a no-show yet again.

Yep, that makes *no* sense. Totally absurd.  An entire play of it.  So much so that I now understand why the French invented wine.  So that they could drink it instead of having to read this play.

And you know what might be slightly worse than having to READ an absurdist play? Having to SEE an absurdist play. Eugène Ionesco is another defining playwright of the absurdist movement, and his La Cantatrice Chauve (the Bald Soprano) is why the French subsequently invented drinking wine…on the sidewalk…before going into the Theatre of the Absurd.

I speak from experience when I say that you can drink wine right there on the sidewalk before you go into Théatre de la Huchette in Paris where The Bald Soprano continues its amazing run. You can have two, even three glasses of wine if you want, at your café table on the sidewalk right before you go in to see the play.  It helps.  A little bit.  But not that much.  Because the whole play is still absurd, and no hairless singer ever shows up.

But you know what must be the worst thing of all?!? STARRING in your own absurdist play.  Which my dog does every single day of his life.

Look at the picture below. This is EXACTLY the setting for Waiting for Godot.  Except the dog’s play is entitled Waiting for Squirrels.  The whole day goes by and the squirrels never come.  Eventually a boy comes by to tell the dog the squirrels aren’t coming today, but maybe tomorrow.

Waiting for SquirrelsThe next day? Theatre of the Absurd, Dog Version, starts all over again.  No wonder why I find a ton of empty wine bottles every time I’m in the back yard.

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