Miss Richfield 1981 is a drag queen, a star of Provincetown in the summer, whose strength is the acidulous off-the-cuff interview with audience members. ("And what do you do for work?" "I’m in food services." "Oh, a professional man!") "2012: We’ll All Be Dead by Christmas!" is her revue based on the Mayan prophecies, but because Miss Richfield is a clueless Midwesterner, she has misinterpreted the prediction to mean that we’ll be murdered by Mexicans. Our star appeared at the beginning dressed as a cactus, and quite soon was leading us all in a cheerful apocalyptic song set to the Mexican Hat Dance: "We’re dead! We’re dead! We’re dead!/The calendar clearly said;/We’re dead! We’re dead! We’re dead!/You might as well stay in bed!"
The Mayan prophecy brought to mind the Christian apocalypse. "How many of you are Jews?" Miss Richfield asked at one point. Numerous audience members sheepishly raised their hands (including me!). "So many of you in the expensive seats! Were there coupons?"
Miss Richfield 1981 came to the Woodstock Playhouse Saturday, September 22. ("This is my first time in Woodstock! You guys are all on drugs! You won’t remember a word I say!") I went there with a cold, and afterwards breathed much more freely. I know this sounds like a joke, but it’s true: drag queens are healing.
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