Lee Blessing’s Chesapeake, a one-man play that could use a smaller cast, concerns a performance artist persecuted by a right-wing politician out to get the NEA. The artist abducts the pol’s even nastier dog, but the pair perish in an accident and our hero is reincarnated as an avatar of the dead pet. Adopted by his nemesis, he corresponds with his owner by e-mail, while also lusting for his married boss’s adorable secretary-mistress. If you think this sounds silly, wait till you see the play, which, despite a winsome performance by Mark Linn-Baker and a few funny lines, I sincerely hope you don’t. Not even the timeliness can make Chesapeake, named in part for its protagonist’s breed (Chesapeake Bay retriever), anything but an irretrievable loss of your time.