While doing some online research on Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself, a poem Mickle Maher cribs and corrupts to singular effect in his nearly perfect new play Song About Himself, I clicked onto a website called articlemyriad.com, which purports to be “the authoritative source for original and insightful articles and ideas on a broad range of topics related to the humanities.” Some unseen roving intelligence—the one that skulks behind nearly every website, throwing up enticements to click on things other than what you’ve sought out—suggested a different articlemyriad essay, unrelated to Whitman.
Maher amplifies the problem to absurd yet sobering proportions. In a dystopian future, the Web, overfilled with catch phrases, trite idioms, smiley faces, and selfies, has become the sole repository of all information and language. It’s where the world narrates and comprehends its own existence. But viruses and malware have corrupted all content, rendering humanity unable to understand or express much of anything. People pass their days mumbling in one another’s general direction, slogging through streets perpetually laden with slush.
Through 4/26: Thu-Sat 7:30 PM, Sun 2 PM (except 4/5) Storefront Theater Gallery 37 for the Arts 66 E. Randolph 312-742-8497theateroobleck.com $15 suggested donation; more if you’ve got it, free if you’re broke.
