My new PJMedia article…

The Shubert. The Apollo. Carnegie Hall.

So “The Snapple Theater Center” doesn’t provoke the same reverent awe as do the names of those famous New York City landmarks, but hey, a gig’s a gig, right?

Maybe Christina Crawford inherited more of her adoptive mother’s trooper spirit than she’d care to admit.

It’s so easy to imagine Joan Crawford growling, “Snapple, crapple! The show must go on!”

And so it does: the long running “Mommie Dearest” franchise, one angry daughter’s single claim to fame — first a blockbuster 1977 memoir, then a cult movie — is back in a rather downmarket iteration:

A Conversation with Christina Crawford: Live and Onstage in Surviving Mommie Dearest.

Or rather, was. The show’s very brief run at the Snapple overlapped Mother’s Day.

After more than 30 years of telling all, what possible secrets could Christina Crawford have left to reveal about her infamous mom?

Comments should be relatively “Joooo!!!” free!

Confronted by such criticisms, Karber’s now mumbling that standard-issue, dog-ate-my-homework leftist alibi, the one about “raising awareness,” in this case “of the problem of homelessness.”

Guess what? I’m “aware” of the homeless every time I venture downtown.

And by the way: How come I can still see them? Ever since the “homeless” were invented by a terminally damaged, megalomaniac narcissist in the 1980s, we’ve plowed hundreds of millions of dollars into “helping” them, and yet there they still are, stinking up the joint (possibly because the “homelessness-poverty complex” is a thriving industry that keeps other lunatics off the street).