Bugs V. Fudd, Part XXVIII

Theater just ain’t what it used to be. It’s not 1981 anymore. You can’t just slather yourself in olive oil, slip into a tighter-than-skin cat suit and call it art. Matter of fact, let’s be honest here: you can’t even dress up like a mink.

Fort Saint Davids mourns today the loss of one of our favorite pieces of improvisational street theater. Time was, performances were every Saturday at 1pm, outside Schumacher Furs on SW 8th and Morrison.

Sometimes you merely got your standard floorshow, familiar from over 40 years of made-for-TV dress rehearsals: PETA ladies naked in cages, facepaint, slogans, chants, sickly vegans, pictures of skinned dogs or cats. The usual.

But sometimes, well: sometimes Schumacher hired people to protest the protesters, placed burly security out front (who flirted with the protesters), stood out there and yelled, brandished a stuffed bobcat, or just plain got weird.

Well, Miltonians, sad to say, their epic tale of crossed stars and each being unhappy in its own way has passed us by. We’re not saying this is Tom Stoppard material, exactly. Kushner, maybe. Surely as complex and moving, at least, as your average Lloyd Webber musical (to which this entry, with all our Miltonian heart, is dedicated.)

But: the store’s closed, and yesterday Mr. Schumacher’s lawsuit against the protesters got tossed out of court. Something about the First Amendment.

Poor sad guy. Portland theater will never be the same.

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