New York City

“Now that I have your attention, let’s talk about Jesus,” says the Incredible Rubber Man. He speaks to us while balancing the weight of his body between the palms of his hands and the narrow horizontal ridge of his ass. Both legs fold over and behind his head.

We all laugh. Jonathan’s parents laugh, too, though his father shakes his head. By this point, we have watched a transsexual woman in a rubber dress swallow the long steel leg of a stool. One pin-striped and hatted British gentleman has stood on the head of another similarly attired British gentleman. A Ukrainian has slung hula hoops around her ankles, knees, thighs, wrists, arms, and long bare neck, revolving them all at once, her head thrown back. The woman in the rubber dress has stubbed out a cigar on her tongue. A Brooklynite in a long black dress has dropped her panties to her ankles and given us a singular performance of “God Save America” involving a kazoo and the most intimate of body parts. There has been a wild variety of acts in this show on a seaport, a hodgepodge of humanity; Jesus, however, has not yet been incorporated.

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