Ever since they pulled the plug on my beloved Thursday nights at Arena, New York nightlife has rolled over and croaked like a diseased dog for the umpteenth time. There are no fresh performers, riveting DJs, mixed crowds, or crowds of any kind (though, as you can tell, there's still plenty of hyperbole). But I've soldiered on and found some fruits for the fruits, determined to at least dredge up enough camp appeal to rival that in Hollywoods California and Florida. Sure enough, at the Plumm on Monday, I found a whirling dervish doing some amazing spinning and contorting onstage, never getting anywhere near as dizzy as the audience did. But the real talent was required... More >>>