Last night we saw Absinthe, one of this year’s shows at Spiegelworld, the campy, eroticized vaudeville that plays in a circus tent alongside South Street Seaport. (It’s sort of amazing. Go.) We had good seats, right in the front row, thanks to the charming fellow who brought us, and as the lights went down and the first number started, we noticed a man and his companion quietly ushered to front-row seats on the other side of the stage. It was Michael Fuchs, the ousted former HBO chief, now a professional rich guy and a bad speech-giver.
In the second number, “the Gazillionaire,” ostensibly the show’s lounge-singer-like owner, welcomed the audience, shaking hands, falling in laps, mocking the crowd. He did something to Fuchs — we forget what: tripped over him? Insulted him? Sat in his lap? — and then proceeded to apologize for it profusely. By kissing his feet. Then kissing even the soles of his shoes. Then removing his shoes and kissing his socks. Then removing his socks and kissing his feet. Then licking his feet. Enthusiastically. For what seemed like several minutes. Cindy Adams, sitting between us and Fuchs, looked genuinely repulsed. At intermission, we overheard Fuchs say he was considering an investment in the production. We can’t imagine what they do to people who don’t invest.