Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of March 29, 2020
Humor is not a universal language. It is, by nature and design, intended for siloing. Even the greatest broad comedy has its haters. The closest thing to universally accepted comedy is Jay Leno and, c’mon, fuck Jay Leno.
By morning, he had decided he needed somewhere nobody cared about theater, someplace where the name Chekhov was more likely to be mistaken for a rifle than a playwright.