Jobs might be comfortable keeping grand company with Milton's Satan or Marlowe's Faustus.
Poshlost: a virtually untranslatable and highly uncomplimentary Russian noun signifying banality, vulgarity, triviality, stupidity and, well, you know.
Just head on up the hill. Trills and chills await.
Well, it was what it was.
For 2017, expect pristine blacktop and sharply delineated parking spaces.
Yogi Berra, sublime phrasemaker that he was, advised anybody who'd listen that "it ain't over till it's over." So readers, be aware: Santa Fe Opera's 60th season ain't over, and won't be until La Fanciulla del West shuts the place down.
Frankly, Mr. MacKay, it's high time the Santa Fe Opera company got around to Samuel Barber and Gian Carlo Menotti's looking-for-love-in-all-the-wrong-places opus, Vanessa.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that an opera worth anyone's attention is in want of a plot. So it's plot, plot, plot for three of the four operas staged thus far in the Santa Fe Opera's 60th season.