DIVUS PRAHA: MAKROPULOS | divadlo
MAKROPULOS | divadlo

MAKROPULOS | divadlo

08.02.2013 20:00

Divus | en

Pátek 8.2.2013 20:00

8. února ve 20:00 po zimním spánku procitají Depresivní děti a vrací se MAKROPULOS. Přijďte ochutnat elixír věčného mládí a dokonalé krásy, který zažene Vaše úzkosti ze smrti i stáří.

Než být starý, je lepší zemřít!
Než zemřít, je lepší dosáhnout nesmrtelnosti!!!

Josef Škvorecký, Whitney Houston, Ivan Demjanjuk, Dagmar Hochová, Donna Summer, Ray Bradbury, prof. Holý, Zita Kabátová, Tony Scott, Radek Brzobohatý, dokonce syn Sylvestra Stallona a nedávno i Jiřina Jirásková… V poslední době to všechno umírá.

Ale Soňa Červená drží…

 






08.02.2013 20:00
Send to e-mail

Comments

There are currently no comments.

Add new comment

Recommended articles

My Career in Poetry or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Institution My Career in Poetry or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Institution
An American poet was invited to the White House in order to read his controversial plagiarized poetry. All tricked out and ready to do it his way, he comes to the “scandalous” realization that nothing bothers anyone anymore, and instead of banging your head against the wall it is better to build you own walls or at least little fences.
Tunelling Culture II Tunelling Culture II
Acts, Misdemeanors and the Thoughts of the Persian King Medimon Acts, Misdemeanors and the Thoughts of the Persian King Medimon
There is nothing that has not already been done in culture, squeezed or pulled inside out, blown to dust. Classical culture today is made by scum. Those working in the fine arts who make paintings are called artists. Otherwise in the backwaters and marshlands the rest of the artists are lost in search of new and ever surprising methods. They must be earthbound, casual, political, managerial,…
Nick Land – An Experiment in Inhumanism Nick Land – An Experiment in Inhumanism
Nick Land was a British philosopher but is no longer, though he is not dead. The almost neurotic fervor with which he scratched at the scars of reality has seduced more than a few promising academics onto the path of art that offends in its originality. The texts that he has left behind are reliably revolting and boring, and impel us to castrate their categorization as “mere” literature.