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.
At the end, having coaxed the gypsies to reveal their vulnerabilities, Zach makes his selection and dismisses the others with the usual banalities about how they're wonderful and he wishes he could cast them all. The dancers who provided the stories at the heart of A Chorus Line must be in their fifties now, but I'm guessing the casting process for both the New York show and this excellent touring company was one that they, and Bea, would recognize.