Mr. Timmerman's early 21st century (or late 20th century) opus, "Waiting for Mudcat" firmly established his theater credentials among the cognoscenti. The characterizations of Everyman and Everywoman as denizens of an archetypal virtual reality whose eschatological worth is not recognized by the haute bourgeouisie is delicately played out in short, terse segments of dialog. The instantaneous evaluation of psychorelational dysfunction in the denizens of this community by the increasingly distraught "Official" is reminiscent of early Cleese or Gilliam in its evocation of laughter through the juxtaposition of absurdist statements like

"...but anyway, we offer all sorts of refreshments and entertainment, we have special theme nights, a jello wrestling pool, a velcro wall of death, the usual." and "Well, everyone to their taste., as if taste had anything to do with the aforementioned Tavern; or

"Are you trying to tell me that you were watching Elke Sommer in the nude, and all you can remember is the guitar she was wearing????" and "Well, yes, of course.".

All in all, a fine effort, sure to make the Millennium's Best list in the Neil Young Center for the Terminally Screwed...

Bravo, Peter!
Mary