December 11-21, 1968
"There's your extraordinary confusion of mind again."
In an age where man's inhumanity to man seems never to have been more casual; where mass murder, genocide, national starvation, public assassination, minority repression and ugly war have become regarded not just as "solutions to problems," but in fact "socially acceptable behavior;" the gloomy shadows of a gaslit room and the faint rusgle of Victoriana seem not only an escape but indeed a haven. Under the velvet cloak of Victorian manner, robeery, throatslitting, driving one's wife into insanity, ill-disguised flirtations with the below-stars-maid, all seem but a comfort station on the road to nuclear holocaust. Tonight we invite you to come in and relieve yourself.