Old-school hog farming makes a comeback, thanks to some fine swine from Frankenstein.
Transgender hookers with rap sheets are successfully fighting deportation--by asking for asylum.
First, Houston's DNA lab became a laughingstock. Then its controversial director was murdered.
When Leon sells his radios, he is telling a story about a future that is willed into being by the act of speech. When Quinn goes on the air, he is cementing a past for himself, for the long-lost Frankie, and for the country he touches that is more romantic and full of promise than whatever actually happened. Frankie's belief in that promise is easy: Her whole life has been a collection of fictions told and believed, and she can believe this one as easily as the next. By simply going to see The Voice of the Prairie, one becomes a member of the same fictional country that bought these stories and loved them, and the flash of recognition one feels as the play unfolds makes one wonder if it's a story at all.