Friends and Neighbors,
It's time that we acknowledge the elephant in the room. It’s a fascixt.
(why is it so hard to say and spell this word? Oh its because the titans of internet are watching. Hello watchers!)
If the elephant wasn’t so fat with greed and power we could just ignore it. But we can’t. So, we must combust. And that is why we make a Combustible Cabaret.
What do I mean? To combust is to ignite in the heart a yearning. To feel the spark of hope. To urge a better and more just tomorrow. The cabaret is to laugh in the face of ignorance, fear, greed, hunger and destruction.
To charge an admission is a must. If you cannot pay admission, you are qualified to join up as a popcorn or ticket vendor. Let’s get to work charging ahead with a cultural insurrection, and pay our artists like we care about them. At least grocery money.
Let's talk about the purposes and functions of the cabaret, shall we? It helps to break down the word itself like so-
First, cab. Comes from cab meaning you might need to call one to take you home after the show.
Next, bar, which is why you need a cab.
And finally ret, which comes from Ready? or “stop” in French. (this is why traffic in Paris is so confusing) Stop what you’re doing and go participate, wail, dance, jiggle, love, and thrive in a commune of joyful existence. Or Stop this madness, war, and greed. Ret?
At least that’s what I’ve heard.
Human intelligence is never discounting an opportunity to take another breath.
When we name names in the Combustible Cabaret, there might be trouble brewing. The world is so inaccurately portrayed in two dimensional cardboard, it resembles the actual world. Impossible paradoxes twisted inside of themselves and turned inside out, revealing a terrible emptiness. The kind that reminds you that the speck that we now ride on is dying and we never should have been invited.
Even cleaning up can be fun at the Combustible Cabaret. Please clean up your mess before you go.
Thank you,
Ben t. Matchstick, Artistic Director
Combustible Cabaret, 2025
Neighbors and Friends,
It's not enough to say “we’re done for” and “It’s Hopeless!”. The truly depressed do something about it. When that part’s over, the Combustible Cabaret brings them into the fold. Folding, folding, folding, eight times or more.
Being sad is really pointless. Dull, like a pencil after the written test. The point I’m trying to make is that sharpness breeds thin clarity. Be a bit dull. But don’t be sad about it.
Fundraising now is the hip new trend. Everybody wants a piece of the money pie. A Combustible Cabaret burns through cash by paying artists a fair wage. Who would have thought this possible? It's not. That’s why we ask for donations too.
Artists are blue-collar workers with hoodies. Lifting the mechanism of the cultural experience day after day, toiling on the assembly line of constructed realities, rejecting the process and rebuilding it. The artist clocks in sleeping as travel expenses. Dreams are customers demanding more customs demanding heads of lettuce.
Absurdity is fitting for the Combustible Cabaret, so is fundraising for art.
I believe in you, in us. I believe in speeches and things being said. I believe repetition is the way of foraging for a new tomorrow. I believe in driving a rhythm into the ground. I believe in hollow words and vacant stares. I believe the rest is behind us. I believe I don’t know what anymore. I believe this is the end of this paragraph.
And so, in the words of Abraham Lincole, “It’s been a pleasure, and it’s been a riot, but it hasn’t been a pleasurable riot.”
There is more to life than breathing, eating, sleeping....
Combusting,
Ben t. Matchstick, Artistic Director
Combustible Cabaret, 2025
Friends and Animals,
This world is a busy place. Things going to and fro, fro and to. Versa verses vices. This way and that way. Backwards and forwards. Words words and words words.
Our world is so important. Without the world, we’d be nowhere. That is why the Combustible Cabaret is pro-world. This is not a radical stance. In fact, 100% of everyone alive once was in this world.
You can’t shake the data. It all cracks down to omelettes. One egg after another. One bag missing its cat. The spellcheck checked out. These numbers agree with me. 16, 24, 339.
I can’t believe how big he’s grown. Just like his filthy ugly greedy father. Can you picture him now? It’s easy to call him ugly when his heart is rotten to the core. You know who I mean? If you don’t, here’s a clue.
The Combustible Cabaret is an autonomous state of freedom and celebration that satirizes the moment of unprecedented presidential power that further corrupts a most feuher figure.
And if you can’t spellcheck, the language shifts to make room. Errors become irresistable. Resistance becomes natural. Natural becomes artificial. And becomes becomes becomes becomes!
Combust already,
Ben t. Matchstick, Artixtick Directrr
Combust!ble Cabaret, 2025