June 11, 1995 |
These are desperate times. Usher in Act I of desperate measures: "What is this? A lounge act?" whispers one be wildered late arrival, eyes wide, sliding into his seat. Certainly it's not a starched-and-pressed affair of the Roberts Rules of Order variety; these proceedings have shades of some circuitous Lucy Ricardo-Ethel Mertz scheme to usurp the Tropicana, if only for a day.