Aloha from Hawaii. Oscar weekend is here, and so to get you in the mood, here are a couple of my past bitchy Oscar reviews. Today’s is from 2004. Another tomorrow. Mahalo.
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Welcome to my seventh annual bitchy Oscar review. I didn't get a chance to actually see all the movies this year. For some reason Carmine Caridi didn't loan me his screener tapes.
The Academy Awards were early this year so ABC could finish higher in the February Sweeps than MSNBC.
But earlier Oscars meant fewer full page ads in the trades begging Academy members for nominations. As if these work. My favorite was a few years ago. A full page ad in both Variety and Hollywood Reporter. "For your consideration for BEST ACTOR: DeForrest Kelley, Doc, STAR TREK:THE WRATH OF KAHN".
Always a highlight for me is the pre-Oscar show with Channel 5's dashboard bobblehead, Sam Rubin and new co-host this year, somebody named Emily Frances. Picture any Hooters waitress in a gown. But she fit right in asking questions stupid enough to rival Sam's. Emily to Phil Collins: "Was winning an Oscar an out-of-body experience?" followed by "When you present an award are you allowed to have a favorite?"
As usual I never watch a second of Joan and Melissa Rivers, the Jewish answer to trailer trash.
Angelina Jolie was resplendent in her elegant gown and tattoos.
Yes, Catherine Zeta-Jones looked spectacular but mark my words, she's only three years away from Haddassah arms.
Samantha Morton wore a MacArthur Park dress....it looked like the cake that was left out in the rain.
I'm sorry the Giant Eye from LORD OF THE RINGS didn't win best supporting actor. The horse from SEABISCUIT wasn't even nominated but did land the starring role in the great new Fox pilot, MR. ED.
Billy Crystal hosted again in a desperate attempt to make us all think he still has a feature career.
Jon Stewart, who has as much of a feature career, should be the emcee.
Crystal did a nice job however although his song parodies stopped being funny and fresh six Oscarcasts ago. It's been three years since he last hosted. He couldn't come up with something new in three years? Again, it's not like he's been off making movies.
Why are the Academy Awards classier than the Golden Globes? Sean Connery gives the welcome speech for the Oscars and someone like Rob Schneider does the honor for the Globes.
Since I'm tired of not being nominated I am writing and producing the can't-miss Oscar candidate for next year. Done in the Pixar style, Tim Robbins and Judi Dench play two retards in Middle Earth, directed by Clint Eastwood. Sweeping battle scenes and a dreary Sting song. And Rene Zellwegger as their best friend, "Squint". Total running time: 5 hours 32 minutes.
Has there ever been an Oscar show with LESS suspense??? I found myself rooting for movies I hated just to see an upset.
The set looked like a giant waffle iron.
Congratulations to Tim Robbins. Glad that he won on ABC, the same network that once fired him from the SHAPING UP sitcom pilot.
Rene Zellwegger is the Academy's new darling. She can do accents and never has dated Billy Bob Thornton.
I love how they showed Nichole Kidman when Rene thanked Tom Cruise. Meow.
The Bob Hope tribute was nice. Now that Tom Hanks has starred in and produced movies about World War II he is the Hollywood representative when it comes to the Army (which is why he introduced the Hope tribute I suppose). I remember when that representative used to be an actor who had actually served in the military.
I see the hip hop revolution lasted all of one year. Even Roberto Bernigni lasted two.
Liv Tyler's hair off to one side was interesting. Who was her designer, Picasso?
I'm still humming that catchy COLD MOUNTAIN theme.
After seeing Johnny Depp's haircut I now know why he wore a hat to the Golden Globes. Is he joining Flock of Seagulls?
My son was surprised the winners for the tech awards didn't have pocket protectors in their tuxedos.
Designer Vera Wang wore a dead raccoon. Which looked good on her, by the way.
Every time I hear Jim Carrey being introduced at one of these events I positively cringe. He is unfunny on a par with Whoopi Goldberg and Joe Lieberman.
I enjoyed the Blake Edwards salute. Nice to see a comedy director honored...even if he did ROUGH CUT, SWITCH, BLIND DATE, A FINE MESS, and S.O.B.
Scarlett Johansson wore the mermaid costume from SPLASH but it still looked fabulous on her.
LORD OF THE RINGS might have won 11 Oscars but MASTER & COMMANDER got the big one -- Sound Editing. Expect a big spike in boxoffice receipts this weekend.
The following women looked beautiful: Diane Lane, Jennifer Garner, Holly Hunter (boy, she didn't look that good at my friend's briss), Naomi Watts, and Susan Sarandon (whose push up bra served as her dress).
Can't say the same for Diane Keaton. What was with the Annie Hall look? She makes a movie celebrating her age then dresses like she did 28 years ago. And looked ridiculous in that outfit THEN.
I hope Alec Baldwin has better luck with his custody battle than he did with the Oscars. Remember when he used to be such a catch? Tonight his companion was one of his brothers, either Billy or Fredo, I don't know them well enough.
Catch phrase of the year: "this was an incredible JOURNEY". No movie was a production, it was a "journey". No one had careers. They were all on "journeys". I'm hoping next year the catch phrase will be "What's Up, Hollywood, what's up? Jump on it! Jump on it!"
No nomination for Russell Crowe this year. Guess he has now slept with and dumped every female member of the Academy.
Was Charlize Theron Jean Harlow or what?
No ribbons this go-round. Causes must be so last year.
Director Peter Jackson looked like Rupert on SURVIVOR. They don't have combs in New Zealand? I pity the poor After-Oscar Party that has a buffet.
Lovely tribute for Kate Hepburn delivered by today's equivalent in talent and stature, Julia Roberts. Seeing that montage you had to marvel. Kate Hepburn had a 70 year career and never once had to do a TV series.
Annie Lennox looked like Peter Pan in drag.
How could LORD OF THE RINGS win for best editing when the movie was 3:30 long? What did they possibly leave out???
Thank God for Eugene Levy and Catherine O'Hara. I thought the catagory was "Best Original Song" not "Best Original Dirge".
Only surprise: Brian Helgeland didn't win for writing MYSTIC RIVER. He lost out to a movie where a character named Smiegel says "my preciousssssss" forty thousand times.
I was very happy for Sofia Coppola winning the "Best Original Screenplay" award. Just compare LOST IN TRANSLATION with the bogus SOMETHING'S GOTTA GIVE which explored the same subject matter in a superficial Hollywood way and you appreciate why Sofia won. She featured real people wrestling with real emotions. It's always nice when a fluke wins.
How come Katherine Hepburn got a longer tribute than Gregory Peck? Not that I'm counting lines.
Odd that they gave out the "Best Director" award before the "Best Actor and Actress".
I can't comment on most of the speeches. I Tivoed past them. What does it say when I Tivo through the show but stop at the ABC Natalie Wood biopic promo?
Charlize Theron thanked her mom but not her dad. There's a good reason for this. Her mom shot and killed her dad, who apparently was abusive. (True story) I find it annoying that the announcer spews meaningless Oscar statistics while the winners are walking up to the stage. Wouldn't you love to hear: "Charlize Theron is the first Oscar winner whose mother shot her father"?
Last year Nicole Kidman won for Best Actress with a big nose attached to her face. This year it's Charlize Theron made to look like a skanky whore. How Hollywood is that? Instead of hiring actresses who really are plain or ugly they would rather hire actresses who are gorgeous and load them with make up.
Sean Penn finally won his Oscar. After playing the same meltdown scene in seventeen previous movies they finally gave him one to make him stop.
Bill Murray should have won. It was his best performance since MEATBALLS.
Hope you didn't have any money down on SEABISCUIT.
Until next year, when I'm again at my computer instead of an Oscar party.....
See you at the movies...or at least the video store.
Ken Levine
Friday, March 03, 2006
Thursday, March 02, 2006
He's not always a genius
This town is really getting swept up in Oscar Fever. And by this town I mean Wailea, Maui. I’m on vacation. But in anticipation of the big show here’s something I needed to get off my chest.
Ang Lee certainly deserves his directing nomination for BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN. But I still have to scratch my head. This is the same guy who directed THE HULK people! To refresh your memory, here was my review of that film when it came out.
*****
I made the mistake of seeing THE HULK today. Is it possible that the same guy who directed CROUCHING TIGER and ICE STORM made this steaming pile?? Maybe the worst movie since FREDDY GOT FINGERED. No, it WAS worse. An absolute career ender for all involved.
Jennifer Connelly should give back her Oscar (well, she should anyway).
Nick Nolte was so over-the-top that Bruce Dern in his most crazed "can we kill her now, daddy, can we, can we?" phase was reserved. And he looked better in his mug shot.
Sam Elliott remains the worst American actor since Neil Diamond.
And as for the Hulk itself, I never thought I'd say it but I missed Lou Ferrigno.
The artsy-fartsy scene transitions made the movie look like a Bar Mitzvah video. And it was so relentlessly disjointed, derivative, and stupid that by the end the audience was turning green.
And dialogue? Not to "spoil" anything, but after a twenty minute sequence of the Hulk bouncing from the Grand Canyon to San Francisco pursued by strafing F-16's and helicopters, then a chase sequence through downtown SF resulting in major havoc and a thousand army vehicles -- he finally reverts back to his human self when he reunites with Jennifer Connelly and says with childlike wonder "You found me." Yeah. Amazing. Thank God she had ON STAR.
His mother has a death scene by the way,that Lillian Gish would find too mawkish.
From Stan Lee to Ang Lee this was an unmitigated disaster. I should've seen KELLY & JUSTIN instead.
******
Guess I was wrong about the “career ending” prediction, huh?
Aloha.
Ang Lee certainly deserves his directing nomination for BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN. But I still have to scratch my head. This is the same guy who directed THE HULK people! To refresh your memory, here was my review of that film when it came out.
*****
I made the mistake of seeing THE HULK today. Is it possible that the same guy who directed CROUCHING TIGER and ICE STORM made this steaming pile?? Maybe the worst movie since FREDDY GOT FINGERED. No, it WAS worse. An absolute career ender for all involved.
Jennifer Connelly should give back her Oscar (well, she should anyway).
Nick Nolte was so over-the-top that Bruce Dern in his most crazed "can we kill her now, daddy, can we, can we?" phase was reserved. And he looked better in his mug shot.
Sam Elliott remains the worst American actor since Neil Diamond.
And as for the Hulk itself, I never thought I'd say it but I missed Lou Ferrigno.
The artsy-fartsy scene transitions made the movie look like a Bar Mitzvah video. And it was so relentlessly disjointed, derivative, and stupid that by the end the audience was turning green.
And dialogue? Not to "spoil" anything, but after a twenty minute sequence of the Hulk bouncing from the Grand Canyon to San Francisco pursued by strafing F-16's and helicopters, then a chase sequence through downtown SF resulting in major havoc and a thousand army vehicles -- he finally reverts back to his human self when he reunites with Jennifer Connelly and says with childlike wonder "You found me." Yeah. Amazing. Thank God she had ON STAR.
His mother has a death scene by the way,that Lillian Gish would find too mawkish.
From Stan Lee to Ang Lee this was an unmitigated disaster. I should've seen KELLY & JUSTIN instead.
******
Guess I was wrong about the “career ending” prediction, huh?
Aloha.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
M*A*S*H N*O*T*E*S
For those who wanted more MASH stories here’s a good one.
When my partner, David and I were head writers a precedent had been established during table readings whereby after the cast read the script out loud we went page by page asking if anyone had a problem or issue. Often times these notes resulted in better shows. And we were a collaborative effort.
But….
Sometimes someone in the cast would have a real ticky tack issue with some line. And not to be upstaged, another cast member would have a “problem”. Pretty soon, they all were having “problems”. Page after page after page. We loved and admired the cast and would always be accommodating but inside we were IRKED.
This happened a couple of times and finally we got smart. The next time it occurred we went back to the room, addressed all of their minor concerns, and then made a one other little change of our own to the script. We made it a cold show.
The next day filming began at the Malibu ranch. Summer temperatures were routinely in the 90’s and 100’s. Now the cast was all in parkas standing over fire barrels delivering lines about how bitterly cold Korea was in the winter.
This happened maybe twice and we never got a ticky tack note again.
If only we could do that today with networks and studios.
When my partner, David and I were head writers a precedent had been established during table readings whereby after the cast read the script out loud we went page by page asking if anyone had a problem or issue. Often times these notes resulted in better shows. And we were a collaborative effort.
But….
Sometimes someone in the cast would have a real ticky tack issue with some line. And not to be upstaged, another cast member would have a “problem”. Pretty soon, they all were having “problems”. Page after page after page. We loved and admired the cast and would always be accommodating but inside we were IRKED.
This happened a couple of times and finally we got smart. The next time it occurred we went back to the room, addressed all of their minor concerns, and then made a one other little change of our own to the script. We made it a cold show.
The next day filming began at the Malibu ranch. Summer temperatures were routinely in the 90’s and 100’s. Now the cast was all in parkas standing over fire barrels delivering lines about how bitterly cold Korea was in the winter.
This happened maybe twice and we never got a ticky tack note again.
If only we could do that today with networks and studios.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Stabbing the frog
Thanks again to everyone who logged in yesterday. I’m blown away by the response and the very generous comments. Wow. I’m proud to know me. In the days ahead I will try to get to all of your questions.
First one up -- Jason Looney wondered how we analyze jokes, know when they’re bad, etc.?
The truth is we try NOT to analyze them. We have an expression – “Stabbing the frog”. Remember 10th grade science class? You’d have this cute little frog bouncing around. Then you’d stab him, dissect him, and uncover all the secrets of what makes a frog. Only problem is – the cute little guy is now dead.
Same with comedy. In a writers’ room someone will pitch a joke. We’ll all laugh. Then someone will pick it apart. Someone else will want to change a word. A discussion might ensue. Variations proposed until finally no one can remember what the hell was funny in the first place. So when a staffer starts that, another might yell out “You’re stabbing the frog!” Generally, when someone pitches a line and everyone laughs, just put it in the script like that.
Don’t stab the frog … unless it’s Michigan J.
I personally don’t believe you can analyze comedy. I know there are theories. Absurdity plus irony…or tragedy plus time…or cowboys plus beans. But it all seems ridiculous.
How do you know when a joke will work? Instinct, experience, a keenly honed sense of humor – and then you’re still wrong half the time. That’s one of the reasons why it’s good to have a partner or be in a room with other writers – feedback from people you trust is very valuable.
And there’s a reason you have table readings, runthroughs, test screenings, preview audiences. The only accurate judge of whether something’s funny is an audience.
The tough part for a writer is to be objective. During runthroughs it’s tempting to laugh. You have a stake in the material. Either you wrote it or you know that changing it will mean extra work. You have to be ruthless, leave your ego at the door, and not have tickets to the McCartney concert.
And yet it still amazes me. You’ll have a script that goes through the roof. Next week’s table reading – a steaming turd. Same geniuses that wrote last week’s show. What happened? How did we suddenly become collectively stupid?
Ultimately, you have to do what makes you laugh and hope that others will laugh as well. The scariest script my partner, David and I ever wrote was the “Bar Wars” episode of CHEERS. It was the end of a season, they needed one more script, we banged it out quickly, and turned it in. The next day a Writers Guild strike erupted unexpectedly. Shows were allowed to shoot existing scripts but not rewrite. So they filmed our first draft, word for word. We had no chance to revise it, punch up jokes that didn’t work, make trims, etc. Needless to say, the night of the filming was terrifying. It was here we were going to be exposed as frauds. Fortunately, the show went well (although there were still plenty of little things I would have improved). I was never more relieved in my life. Because if it hadn’t gone well, I was the frog that was going to get stabbed that night.
First one up -- Jason Looney wondered how we analyze jokes, know when they’re bad, etc.?
The truth is we try NOT to analyze them. We have an expression – “Stabbing the frog”. Remember 10th grade science class? You’d have this cute little frog bouncing around. Then you’d stab him, dissect him, and uncover all the secrets of what makes a frog. Only problem is – the cute little guy is now dead.
Same with comedy. In a writers’ room someone will pitch a joke. We’ll all laugh. Then someone will pick it apart. Someone else will want to change a word. A discussion might ensue. Variations proposed until finally no one can remember what the hell was funny in the first place. So when a staffer starts that, another might yell out “You’re stabbing the frog!” Generally, when someone pitches a line and everyone laughs, just put it in the script like that.
Don’t stab the frog … unless it’s Michigan J.
I personally don’t believe you can analyze comedy. I know there are theories. Absurdity plus irony…or tragedy plus time…or cowboys plus beans. But it all seems ridiculous.
How do you know when a joke will work? Instinct, experience, a keenly honed sense of humor – and then you’re still wrong half the time. That’s one of the reasons why it’s good to have a partner or be in a room with other writers – feedback from people you trust is very valuable.
And there’s a reason you have table readings, runthroughs, test screenings, preview audiences. The only accurate judge of whether something’s funny is an audience.
The tough part for a writer is to be objective. During runthroughs it’s tempting to laugh. You have a stake in the material. Either you wrote it or you know that changing it will mean extra work. You have to be ruthless, leave your ego at the door, and not have tickets to the McCartney concert.
And yet it still amazes me. You’ll have a script that goes through the roof. Next week’s table reading – a steaming turd. Same geniuses that wrote last week’s show. What happened? How did we suddenly become collectively stupid?
Ultimately, you have to do what makes you laugh and hope that others will laugh as well. The scariest script my partner, David and I ever wrote was the “Bar Wars” episode of CHEERS. It was the end of a season, they needed one more script, we banged it out quickly, and turned it in. The next day a Writers Guild strike erupted unexpectedly. Shows were allowed to shoot existing scripts but not rewrite. So they filmed our first draft, word for word. We had no chance to revise it, punch up jokes that didn’t work, make trims, etc. Needless to say, the night of the filming was terrifying. It was here we were going to be exposed as frauds. Fortunately, the show went well (although there were still plenty of little things I would have improved). I was never more relieved in my life. Because if it hadn’t gone well, I was the frog that was going to get stabbed that night.
Monday, February 27, 2006
My 100th post
This is my 100th post. Alas, no big tribute issues in the trades. No lovely full page congratulatory ads from my dear friends at the agencies I’ve fired. No pictures of me with Brian Grazer. No fruit baskets. Not even one with Triscuits (the cracker of faint praise).
Fortunately, maintaining this blog has been its own reward. And it does satisfy a goal of mine – to throw my full time and effort into projects that will never pay me a dime. And by the way, that play and musical I’m working on are coming along great too.
When I began this blog I decided I should post every day. All the better to build an audience. My fear was that I’d run out of ideas (which did happen around #67 but I’ve been posting every day anyway). Frankly, I’ve been amazed by the number of people who have found this site and where they’re from. All over the world. Can people in Finland and Reykjavk, Gullbringusysla (wherever that is) really care about Porn Star Karaoke or who I feel should be voted off AMERICAN IDOL? (Brenna!!!!) And I get quite a few hits from “unknown country”. I guess that means the gang from LOST checks in from the hatch.
Folks seem to like when I offer writing tips, which is great because I love to do it. All I ask in return is that you make it and provide me with some laughs sometime down the line.
Thanks to Howard, Mike, Lee, MK, T. Whore, Alex, Matt, and everyone else who has helped me launch this folly. Hopefully the next hundred posts will be, if not as good, at least as often.
Following the Oscars on Sunday night I will file my 9th annual bitchy review. The fact that I’ve never been nominated, even for MANNEQUIN II will have no effect on my objectivity. Although, even I were nominated and won I’d still slam Debbie Allen.
****
But now I have a request. I would like YOU to write. Just a quick comment – who you are, where you’re writing from, what you like, what you don’t, etc. You can say anything…except please read my script. And wait until you READ what I say about BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN before you call me homophobic.
Thanks much. In the meantime I remain...
Never standing down from my comedy watch….
Ken
Fortunately, maintaining this blog has been its own reward. And it does satisfy a goal of mine – to throw my full time and effort into projects that will never pay me a dime. And by the way, that play and musical I’m working on are coming along great too.
When I began this blog I decided I should post every day. All the better to build an audience. My fear was that I’d run out of ideas (which did happen around #67 but I’ve been posting every day anyway). Frankly, I’ve been amazed by the number of people who have found this site and where they’re from. All over the world. Can people in Finland and Reykjavk, Gullbringusysla (wherever that is) really care about Porn Star Karaoke or who I feel should be voted off AMERICAN IDOL? (Brenna!!!!) And I get quite a few hits from “unknown country”. I guess that means the gang from LOST checks in from the hatch.
Folks seem to like when I offer writing tips, which is great because I love to do it. All I ask in return is that you make it and provide me with some laughs sometime down the line.
Thanks to Howard, Mike, Lee, MK, T. Whore, Alex, Matt, and everyone else who has helped me launch this folly. Hopefully the next hundred posts will be, if not as good, at least as often.
Following the Oscars on Sunday night I will file my 9th annual bitchy review. The fact that I’ve never been nominated, even for MANNEQUIN II will have no effect on my objectivity. Although, even I were nominated and won I’d still slam Debbie Allen.
****
But now I have a request. I would like YOU to write. Just a quick comment – who you are, where you’re writing from, what you like, what you don’t, etc. You can say anything…except please read my script. And wait until you READ what I say about BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN before you call me homophobic.
Thanks much. In the meantime I remain...
Never standing down from my comedy watch….
Ken
Sunday, February 26, 2006
American Idle
I admit it unashamedly – I love AMERICAN IDOL. Like most people, I do postgame recaps with friends. Unlike most people, I have a blog so I can spew my demented opinions worldwide. As the musical thinning of the herd continues here are my thoughts:
I was so glad opera girl got the boot…although it would have been fun to hear her perform on Hip Hop night.
And bye bye to Bobby Bennett. I didn’t mind so much that he looked like a Little Richard Macy’s Day Parade balloon. It’s that he sang a Barry Manilow song…by CHOICE.
Sorry to see Becky go. Yeah, she couldn’t sing. But God was she hot. And she has a twin sister so there’s that fantasy.
Every year there seems to be one Sinatra wannabe and he’s always fifteen. Sinatra as a virgin doesn’t work. By the time the real Sinatra was fifteen he had probably already done Peggy Lee. You need that to sing “Summer Wind”.
Same for little Kevin. He sort of reminds me of “Jack” from the Jack in the Box commercials. Or Chicken Little from the recent Disney film. I like him, he can sing. But I just picture his mother standing off stage, fixing his collar, rebuttoning his shirt.
The Vin Diesel guy is a one-trick pony. But then again, so is the real Vin Diesel.
I LOVE Lisa Tucker. Absolute superstar potential. If she’s this amazing at sixteen, watch out. By the time she’s out of the business at twenty-two she’s going to be a legend.
Ditto for little Paris Bennett (hopefully no relation to Bobby “Lounge Lizard” Bennett). Such poise, charisma, and talent. This Cosby kid could go all the way.
Simon thinks Elliott Yamin is the best male vocalist since the series began. If only he didn’t look like the kid who lived under the sink in his house until he was twenty because he felt more “comfortable” there.
I DESPISE Brenna. There’s “sass” and there’s obnoxious insufferable nails-on-a-blackboard shrew. I thought the “Hello gorgeous” Barbra Streisand mimic trollop from last season was annoying but she was Miss Congeniality compared to this relentless car alarm.
Is Ace Young gay? I say he makes it to the final four if he’s not, the final two if he is.
If I press my Tivo “skip” button twice I can bypass Randy’s comments completely. Once for Paula’s.
I hate when anyone sings a Disney song. Please, no more MULAN. Ever!
Best actual singer: Katharine McPhee. Her version of “Since I Fell For You” was spectacular. But Katharine, Barbra Streisand didn’t make that a hit. Lenny Welch did.
Best name ever on AMERICAN IDOL: Kellie Pickler. Although I’m getting a little tired of her crying each week ‘cause her daddy is in prison. Trust me Kellie, your life would be a whole lot worse if he were out. Be thankful that cellmate “Spike” has the role that would have been reserved for you.
I like Mandisa. She’s following in the rather lengthy shadow of Aretha Franklin.
Heather and Kinnik should call Jet Blue and have their reservations ready for Friday morning.
If it doesn’t work out for “Sway” on AMERICAN IDOL there’s always a spot for him as gang member #4 on THE SHIELD.
Gideon with that big shit-eatin’ grin looks like Chief Wahoo, the Cleveland Indians cartoon mascot.
Notice how Randy calls every girl “man”? Press that Tivo button.
Aren’t you secretly rooting for Ayla Brown to get voted off just to see the look on her face? As Ryan gently has to escort her off stage: “What?! Me?! How can that be? I’m student body president. I’m captain of the basketball team. Take your hands off me, you dwarf. I’m a prom queen. My daddy’s a senator. He’s going to get you all. You just wait and see. Have you ever been audited? You’ll be sorry…”
And finally, there’s Taylor Hicks. How can this guy be 29? He looks older than half the members of the WGA who can no longer get work. And his one talent – having seizures – also suggests someone a little long in the tooth. That said, I hope he stays in the competition. Seeing him will remind me every week to tape HOUSE.
Bring back Becky!!
I was so glad opera girl got the boot…although it would have been fun to hear her perform on Hip Hop night.
And bye bye to Bobby Bennett. I didn’t mind so much that he looked like a Little Richard Macy’s Day Parade balloon. It’s that he sang a Barry Manilow song…by CHOICE.
Sorry to see Becky go. Yeah, she couldn’t sing. But God was she hot. And she has a twin sister so there’s that fantasy.
Every year there seems to be one Sinatra wannabe and he’s always fifteen. Sinatra as a virgin doesn’t work. By the time the real Sinatra was fifteen he had probably already done Peggy Lee. You need that to sing “Summer Wind”.
Same for little Kevin. He sort of reminds me of “Jack” from the Jack in the Box commercials. Or Chicken Little from the recent Disney film. I like him, he can sing. But I just picture his mother standing off stage, fixing his collar, rebuttoning his shirt.
The Vin Diesel guy is a one-trick pony. But then again, so is the real Vin Diesel.
I LOVE Lisa Tucker. Absolute superstar potential. If she’s this amazing at sixteen, watch out. By the time she’s out of the business at twenty-two she’s going to be a legend.
Ditto for little Paris Bennett (hopefully no relation to Bobby “Lounge Lizard” Bennett). Such poise, charisma, and talent. This Cosby kid could go all the way.
Simon thinks Elliott Yamin is the best male vocalist since the series began. If only he didn’t look like the kid who lived under the sink in his house until he was twenty because he felt more “comfortable” there.
I DESPISE Brenna. There’s “sass” and there’s obnoxious insufferable nails-on-a-blackboard shrew. I thought the “Hello gorgeous” Barbra Streisand mimic trollop from last season was annoying but she was Miss Congeniality compared to this relentless car alarm.
Is Ace Young gay? I say he makes it to the final four if he’s not, the final two if he is.
If I press my Tivo “skip” button twice I can bypass Randy’s comments completely. Once for Paula’s.
I hate when anyone sings a Disney song. Please, no more MULAN. Ever!
Best actual singer: Katharine McPhee. Her version of “Since I Fell For You” was spectacular. But Katharine, Barbra Streisand didn’t make that a hit. Lenny Welch did.
Best name ever on AMERICAN IDOL: Kellie Pickler. Although I’m getting a little tired of her crying each week ‘cause her daddy is in prison. Trust me Kellie, your life would be a whole lot worse if he were out. Be thankful that cellmate “Spike” has the role that would have been reserved for you.
I like Mandisa. She’s following in the rather lengthy shadow of Aretha Franklin.
Heather and Kinnik should call Jet Blue and have their reservations ready for Friday morning.
If it doesn’t work out for “Sway” on AMERICAN IDOL there’s always a spot for him as gang member #4 on THE SHIELD.
Gideon with that big shit-eatin’ grin looks like Chief Wahoo, the Cleveland Indians cartoon mascot.
Notice how Randy calls every girl “man”? Press that Tivo button.
Aren’t you secretly rooting for Ayla Brown to get voted off just to see the look on her face? As Ryan gently has to escort her off stage: “What?! Me?! How can that be? I’m student body president. I’m captain of the basketball team. Take your hands off me, you dwarf. I’m a prom queen. My daddy’s a senator. He’s going to get you all. You just wait and see. Have you ever been audited? You’ll be sorry…”
And finally, there’s Taylor Hicks. How can this guy be 29? He looks older than half the members of the WGA who can no longer get work. And his one talent – having seizures – also suggests someone a little long in the tooth. That said, I hope he stays in the competition. Seeing him will remind me every week to tape HOUSE.
Bring back Becky!!
Writing job opening
Mike McVay, one of truly great guys of radio, asked me if I knew anyone who might be good for this job. I said, “can I post it?” He said “sure”. So what follows is the info. If this is something you might be interested in, best of luck.
****
RADIO WRITER (FT)
TESHMEDIA
Full time radio writer needed. This is NOT a comedy writing position. Need a person who has written long-form radio programs before - countdowns, lifestyle shows, etc. If you are looking for on-air work DO NOT APPLY. We are looking for an individual who loves radio and wants to create something unique. We are the fastest growing nationally syndicated radio show in America. Position would include script writing and editing, topic research, and staff management. This is NOT an entry level position. Must have a writing sample specifically for radio. Must be highly organized. This is a great opportunity for someone with a strong work ethic. Fun, small office, fast paced environment, benefits, and the joy of hearing your hard work on the air included. Knowledge of Prophet and ProTools a plus. Position open to So Cal locals only. No attachments, paste resume into email.
Betsy Chase 13245 Riverside Dr. Suite #305, Sherman Oaks, CA 91423 FAX: 818-906-8374 EMAIL: bcinla@gmail.com
****
RADIO WRITER (FT)
TESHMEDIA
Full time radio writer needed. This is NOT a comedy writing position. Need a person who has written long-form radio programs before - countdowns, lifestyle shows, etc. If you are looking for on-air work DO NOT APPLY. We are looking for an individual who loves radio and wants to create something unique. We are the fastest growing nationally syndicated radio show in America. Position would include script writing and editing, topic research, and staff management. This is NOT an entry level position. Must have a writing sample specifically for radio. Must be highly organized. This is a great opportunity for someone with a strong work ethic. Fun, small office, fast paced environment, benefits, and the joy of hearing your hard work on the air included. Knowledge of Prophet and ProTools a plus. Position open to So Cal locals only. No attachments, paste resume into email.
Betsy Chase 13245 Riverside Dr. Suite #305, Sherman Oaks, CA 91423 FAX: 818-906-8374 EMAIL: bcinla@gmail.com
Saturday, February 25, 2006
The last GINA (I promise)
After this you have to see the movie. (Actually, after this someone has to buy the movie). Thanks again for your very enthusiastic response. Short of a sale that’s the best I could hope for.
Okay, setting the scene: Late in the picture. Late night in Paris. Hank and Gina have been chased, shot at, and find themselves in:
******
EXT. RUE SAINT DENIS – NIGHT
The shady Red Light district of Paris. PROSTITUTES work the street, taking their customers up to seedy apartments, or MINIVANS that are parked along an alley. The scene is rich with smoke, hookers, lonely men, and bouncing SUV's.
Hank and Gina emerge from the Metro Station. The sleeve of his shirt has been ripped and now serves as a bandage.
A DRUNK (American) approaches Gina.
DRUNK
Hi there. Where you gonna be later?
HANK
She's not a whore, buddy!
DRUNK
Hey, I don't give a shit. For your hour she can be Mandy Moore.
HANK
I mean it. She's not a whore! And I'm sick and tired of every jerk just thinking she is!
DRUNK
Screw you!
The drunk hauls off and slugs Hank in the kisser. He goes down like a sack of potatoes. The drunk moves off and Gina crouches down to Hank who now has a pretty good shiner.
GINA
Wow. "My hero." You okay?
HANK
Oh yeah. (takes out pad) I now have a whole section for injuries.
GINA
(touched)
That was incredibly cool. No one's ever done that for me before.
HANK
It'll be some time before I do it again.
This would be a lovely moment if it didn't start to rain.
HANK
Oh for crying out loud! Again? What is it with this darn town? We might as well be in Tacoma.
She helps him to his feet. The rain comes down harder.
GINA
C'mon. Let's get a room for the night.
HANK
How? You have no purse and I'm dead broke.
GINA
Y'know, if Audrey Hepburn were here right now I bet she'd take your hand, look deep into your eyes, and say... MOTHER FUCKER!!
INT. METRO STATION – CONTINUOUS
Along with a few others seeking shelter they enter the station, now soaking wet.
HANK
It just occurred to me. What happens if you're agoraphobic and homeless?
GINA
For you to even think of that tells me you are incredibly deep. And more important, you need to masturbate way more than you do.
They wander through a somewhat dank tunnel. A number of HOMELESS PEOPLE are there, curled up for the night.
GINA
Well? Shall we?
HANK
Here?
GINA
Why not?
HANK
This is like the cast of "Les Miserables".
GINA
Lighten up. These are my "homies", my "peeps". And you're here so chances are they won't rape me.
They sit down along the wall, joining the others. Hank is very uneasy. A FRENCH HOMELESS MAN near him eyes him angrily. Hank half smiles and tries to be friendly.
HANK
Hi. How are ya? Seen the new Rothko exhibit at the Lourve? (man just glares) O-kay. You have a super night now.
Gina spots her disheveled self in the glass reflection of the billboard across the way and GASPS.
HANK
What?
GINA
Me! Holy shit! Is that how I look?
HANK
You look beautiful.
GINA
I look like Alanis Morissette.
HANK
No you don't. There is nothing in this world I would rather look at than you.
GINA
You really mean that, don't you?
HANK
Yes.
Gina is truly moved. They look at each other and something happens. They may not be willing to admit it just yet, but there within the bowels of Paris they fall in love.
They kiss, a long kiss filled with passion and genuine affection.
FRENCH HOMELESS MAN
My ass in the middle!
HANK
(breaking it off)
Right. Okay. Sorry. It's just that you have such a romantic city here that it's hard not to get swept up in the uh...amour of it all. (off his glare) What did we ever do to you other than save your ass in the war?
GINA
Hank! Let's just get some sleep, alrighty?
HANK
(cooling off)
Yeah...sure. (then) Y'know the Krauts were so confident they made hotel reservations.
GINA
We can talk about it in the morning, Snookems.
She snuggles into his shoulder, makes herself comfy. He closes his eyes and quickly drifts off to sleep. There's a look of total contentment on his face.
Gina, however, registers an expression of regret and sadness.
HOMELESS MAN
Why so sad?
GINA
(with heavy heart)
There is no way he'll ever marry me.
Okay, setting the scene: Late in the picture. Late night in Paris. Hank and Gina have been chased, shot at, and find themselves in:
******
EXT. RUE SAINT DENIS – NIGHT
The shady Red Light district of Paris. PROSTITUTES work the street, taking their customers up to seedy apartments, or MINIVANS that are parked along an alley. The scene is rich with smoke, hookers, lonely men, and bouncing SUV's.
Hank and Gina emerge from the Metro Station. The sleeve of his shirt has been ripped and now serves as a bandage.
A DRUNK (American) approaches Gina.
DRUNK
Hi there. Where you gonna be later?
HANK
She's not a whore, buddy!
DRUNK
Hey, I don't give a shit. For your hour she can be Mandy Moore.
HANK
I mean it. She's not a whore! And I'm sick and tired of every jerk just thinking she is!
DRUNK
Screw you!
The drunk hauls off and slugs Hank in the kisser. He goes down like a sack of potatoes. The drunk moves off and Gina crouches down to Hank who now has a pretty good shiner.
GINA
Wow. "My hero." You okay?
HANK
Oh yeah. (takes out pad) I now have a whole section for injuries.
GINA
(touched)
That was incredibly cool. No one's ever done that for me before.
HANK
It'll be some time before I do it again.
This would be a lovely moment if it didn't start to rain.
HANK
Oh for crying out loud! Again? What is it with this darn town? We might as well be in Tacoma.
She helps him to his feet. The rain comes down harder.
GINA
C'mon. Let's get a room for the night.
HANK
How? You have no purse and I'm dead broke.
GINA
Y'know, if Audrey Hepburn were here right now I bet she'd take your hand, look deep into your eyes, and say... MOTHER FUCKER!!
INT. METRO STATION – CONTINUOUS
Along with a few others seeking shelter they enter the station, now soaking wet.
HANK
It just occurred to me. What happens if you're agoraphobic and homeless?
GINA
For you to even think of that tells me you are incredibly deep. And more important, you need to masturbate way more than you do.
They wander through a somewhat dank tunnel. A number of HOMELESS PEOPLE are there, curled up for the night.
GINA
Well? Shall we?
HANK
Here?
GINA
Why not?
HANK
This is like the cast of "Les Miserables".
GINA
Lighten up. These are my "homies", my "peeps". And you're here so chances are they won't rape me.
They sit down along the wall, joining the others. Hank is very uneasy. A FRENCH HOMELESS MAN near him eyes him angrily. Hank half smiles and tries to be friendly.
HANK
Hi. How are ya? Seen the new Rothko exhibit at the Lourve? (man just glares) O-kay. You have a super night now.
Gina spots her disheveled self in the glass reflection of the billboard across the way and GASPS.
HANK
What?
GINA
Me! Holy shit! Is that how I look?
HANK
You look beautiful.
GINA
I look like Alanis Morissette.
HANK
No you don't. There is nothing in this world I would rather look at than you.
GINA
You really mean that, don't you?
HANK
Yes.
Gina is truly moved. They look at each other and something happens. They may not be willing to admit it just yet, but there within the bowels of Paris they fall in love.
They kiss, a long kiss filled with passion and genuine affection.
FRENCH HOMELESS MAN
My ass in the middle!
HANK
(breaking it off)
Right. Okay. Sorry. It's just that you have such a romantic city here that it's hard not to get swept up in the uh...amour of it all. (off his glare) What did we ever do to you other than save your ass in the war?
GINA
Hank! Let's just get some sleep, alrighty?
HANK
(cooling off)
Yeah...sure. (then) Y'know the Krauts were so confident they made hotel reservations.
GINA
We can talk about it in the morning, Snookems.
She snuggles into his shoulder, makes herself comfy. He closes his eyes and quickly drifts off to sleep. There's a look of total contentment on his face.
Gina, however, registers an expression of regret and sadness.
HOMELESS MAN
Why so sad?
GINA
(with heavy heart)
There is no way he'll ever marry me.
Friday, February 24, 2006
A GINA weekend
Because of popular demand and a chance for me to take a break, it’s a “Gina weekend”. Today, boys and girls, it’s the scene where agoraphobic anal obsessive Hank (who can only eat the blandest foods and is allergic to everything including smoke) meets Gina for the first time. His friend Richie has arranged the dream date and is walking him to her door. Note: The goal here was to make Gina as SHOCKING as humanly possible. I wanted Hank’s head to explode. She needed to be the absolute opposite of everything he had always envisioned. So again, a hard R rating. But hopefully amusing.
******
INT. HALLYWAY/GINA'S APARTMENT - MOMENTS LATER
They enter from the stairwell. Both are out of breath.
HANK
I'm here. I made it.
RICKY
You going to be okay?
HANK
Yes. Wow. For me to actually do this... Gina must truly be that one special person in my life.
RICKY
Congratulations. May she be as sweet and perfect as you imagine.
Ricky shakes his hand, hands him the flowers, and heads for the elevator. Hank crosses to her door. Ricky gives him one last thumbs-up as the elevator doors CLOSE. Hank takes one more deep breath then KNOCKS.
GINA (O.S.)
Coming.
Gina opens the door. And she's even more adorable and radiant than he had imagined. Even though she's just dressed casual. T-shirt, jeans, sweater around her neck.
GINA
Hi. Give me a second. I've just got to take this tampon out of my snapper.
HANK
What?
GINA
Come on in. You want a cigar?
HANK
(stunned)
Huh? No. No thank you.
He begins coughing.
GINA
Be right back.
Hank is completely thrown. He cautiously enters. She crosses to the bathroom passing a MACAW in a cage.
MACAW
You're a whore!
GINA
Shut the fuck up. (to Hank) He picks up little phrases he hears over and over.
She exits into the bathroom. Hank is beside himself.
HANK
You've been called a whore over and over?
GINA (O.S.)
Ah, much better. Baby can breathe.
He looks around. What the hell is happening here? She re-enters.
GINA
You don't get much sun, do ya? What was your name again? Casper?
HANK
Uh, no. Hank. Hank Niehaus.
GINA
(shaking hands)
Gina Trammell. Nice to meet you, Casper. (then) Are you shaking?
HANK
(covering)
No no. Just a little...chilly.
Gina takes a flask out of her purse.
GINA
You want a good stiff belt?
HANK
(completely flustered)
No, I uh don't drink.
GINA
(offering flask to bird)
You?
MACAW
Tampon in my snapper!
She laughs, takes a swig, then takes a big puff of the cigar that's on the coffee table. Hank coughs.
GINA
God, I love to suck Cubans.
Hank starts to slowly back towards the door.
MACAW
You're a whore!
GINA
Shut up! You're not my mom! (then) So, what's the plan? Dinner or a drink?
HANK
Well, I was thinking dinner, but a drink -- a really really fast drink is fine.
GINA
(considering)
Nah, let's eat. I had dinner but I could go again. Excuse me.
She crosses to the bathroom again. A beat then WE HEAR HER THROW UP. Hank wants out of there soooo bad.
MACAW
I left my wife for you!
An awkward silence then Gina, fully composed, re-enters.
GINA
Okay, so where to?
HANK
Well, I uh, er, made reservations at Burkhardts across the street. They supposedly make a wonderful chicken.
GINA
Oh, that place. Maybe in fifty years when we've both got walkers and are wearing diapers.
HANK
Then uh, well, where would you like to eat?
GINA
I dunno. Maybe Ghanian.
Hank hides his horror.
******
INT. HALLYWAY/GINA'S APARTMENT - MOMENTS LATER
They enter from the stairwell. Both are out of breath.
HANK
I'm here. I made it.
RICKY
You going to be okay?
HANK
Yes. Wow. For me to actually do this... Gina must truly be that one special person in my life.
RICKY
Congratulations. May she be as sweet and perfect as you imagine.
Ricky shakes his hand, hands him the flowers, and heads for the elevator. Hank crosses to her door. Ricky gives him one last thumbs-up as the elevator doors CLOSE. Hank takes one more deep breath then KNOCKS.
GINA (O.S.)
Coming.
Gina opens the door. And she's even more adorable and radiant than he had imagined. Even though she's just dressed casual. T-shirt, jeans, sweater around her neck.
GINA
Hi. Give me a second. I've just got to take this tampon out of my snapper.
HANK
What?
GINA
Come on in. You want a cigar?
HANK
(stunned)
Huh? No. No thank you.
He begins coughing.
GINA
Be right back.
Hank is completely thrown. He cautiously enters. She crosses to the bathroom passing a MACAW in a cage.
MACAW
You're a whore!
GINA
Shut the fuck up. (to Hank) He picks up little phrases he hears over and over.
She exits into the bathroom. Hank is beside himself.
HANK
You've been called a whore over and over?
GINA (O.S.)
Ah, much better. Baby can breathe.
He looks around. What the hell is happening here? She re-enters.
GINA
You don't get much sun, do ya? What was your name again? Casper?
HANK
Uh, no. Hank. Hank Niehaus.
GINA
(shaking hands)
Gina Trammell. Nice to meet you, Casper. (then) Are you shaking?
HANK
(covering)
No no. Just a little...chilly.
Gina takes a flask out of her purse.
GINA
You want a good stiff belt?
HANK
(completely flustered)
No, I uh don't drink.
GINA
(offering flask to bird)
You?
MACAW
Tampon in my snapper!
She laughs, takes a swig, then takes a big puff of the cigar that's on the coffee table. Hank coughs.
GINA
God, I love to suck Cubans.
Hank starts to slowly back towards the door.
MACAW
You're a whore!
GINA
Shut up! You're not my mom! (then) So, what's the plan? Dinner or a drink?
HANK
Well, I was thinking dinner, but a drink -- a really really fast drink is fine.
GINA
(considering)
Nah, let's eat. I had dinner but I could go again. Excuse me.
She crosses to the bathroom again. A beat then WE HEAR HER THROW UP. Hank wants out of there soooo bad.
MACAW
I left my wife for you!
An awkward silence then Gina, fully composed, re-enters.
GINA
Okay, so where to?
HANK
Well, I uh, er, made reservations at Burkhardts across the street. They supposedly make a wonderful chicken.
GINA
Oh, that place. Maybe in fifty years when we've both got walkers and are wearing diapers.
HANK
Then uh, well, where would you like to eat?
GINA
I dunno. Maybe Ghanian.
Hank hides his horror.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Me and computers
I admit it. When it comes to computers I’m a retard. Someone explains how to run a program, I nod, it all makes sense, then the minute he leaves I’m the guy from MEMENTO. I’m completely helpless over a skill that every 14 year old in America has mastered. And I can work a TIVO so I’m still ahead of most of my friends (you’d think those Masters degrees and Doctorates would account for something). But even if I knew the first thing about using Pro Tools or how to log onto a porn site without getting a raft of spam, I still contend computers are just too complicated.
Case in point: I switched internet providers this week. I’d been having terrible trouble with my DSL provider. In fairness, the culprit was really the phone company (You can call it Verizon now but it’s still General Telephone – the string-and-two-Dixie-cups of telecommunications). But my internet was down every two nights and finally I decided to switch to cable.
I know a lot of internet providers will provide you with a box of equipment and instructions. To me that’s like buying a car from Ikea. A big box arrives on your front lawn that says Toyota. So I of course opted for the installation package. It took this guy (a “trained” professional) two hours at which time he had managed to completely screw up every computer in the house, the router, and my microwave is now on the fritz. He threw up his hands and left, I had to call my computer guy (at “you need a loan” hourly prices), and it took him another two hours to fix things. And there’s still a problem with my email that he says can only be rectified if I upgrade my entire system (which would be a whole day, the cost of a year’s college tuition, and would probably wipe out my Tetris high score results). For a good part of the afternoon this guy (who really knows his shit), recalibrated, reconfigured, pulled down menus and pop up boxes I never knew existed, hooked things up from modems to bay stations to power outlets, typed in IP addresses, user names, passwords, codes, clicked yes and no to thousands of options, and still had to call tech support twice. When I asked if the tech support guys were helpful he said the second guy was. Jesus, even the tech support people don’t know what they’re doing.
There has to be a simpler way. They can invent ipods and blue tooth and instant messaging complete with video – there has to be a computer even I can use. In the meantime, there’s a guy with a perpetual runny nose, lazy eye, and thinning hair at 22, toting around Natalie Portman stills from STAR WARS – and I’m his bitch.
Case in point: I switched internet providers this week. I’d been having terrible trouble with my DSL provider. In fairness, the culprit was really the phone company (You can call it Verizon now but it’s still General Telephone – the string-and-two-Dixie-cups of telecommunications). But my internet was down every two nights and finally I decided to switch to cable.
I know a lot of internet providers will provide you with a box of equipment and instructions. To me that’s like buying a car from Ikea. A big box arrives on your front lawn that says Toyota. So I of course opted for the installation package. It took this guy (a “trained” professional) two hours at which time he had managed to completely screw up every computer in the house, the router, and my microwave is now on the fritz. He threw up his hands and left, I had to call my computer guy (at “you need a loan” hourly prices), and it took him another two hours to fix things. And there’s still a problem with my email that he says can only be rectified if I upgrade my entire system (which would be a whole day, the cost of a year’s college tuition, and would probably wipe out my Tetris high score results). For a good part of the afternoon this guy (who really knows his shit), recalibrated, reconfigured, pulled down menus and pop up boxes I never knew existed, hooked things up from modems to bay stations to power outlets, typed in IP addresses, user names, passwords, codes, clicked yes and no to thousands of options, and still had to call tech support twice. When I asked if the tech support guys were helpful he said the second guy was. Jesus, even the tech support people don’t know what they’re doing.
There has to be a simpler way. They can invent ipods and blue tooth and instant messaging complete with video – there has to be a computer even I can use. In the meantime, there’s a guy with a perpetual runny nose, lazy eye, and thinning hair at 22, toting around Natalie Portman stills from STAR WARS – and I’m his bitch.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
If I were on SURVIVOR...
If I were on SURVIVOR….
I’d have to give up my religion. Jews don’t camp. And they’d never go to the tropics if there were no cabanas.
For my luxury item I might bring a porta-potty.
I would try to vote off Jeff Probst.
I would write phony tree mail and watch my tribe mates frantically dig up the beach looking for a bogus immunity medallion.
I would fake injuries.
I would start making alliances on the boat ride over to the island.
I would bribe people for everything.
I would tell the producers my name was “Sawyer” and my profession was “Confidence Man”.
They always show close ups of lizards and toads and scurrying crabs. While the rest of the tribe starved or shared one stinking papaya I would eat one of those.
I would lobby to get our tribe name changed to the “Fighting Irish”.
If I ever won a rewards challenge that featured a feast on some yacht or gorgeous luxury hideaway and was allowed to bring one other person – it would always be the pretty girl.
I would not gorge myself with chocolate after not eating anything for three days. The result would be two doubled over nights on my luxury item.
When Jeff asks “Wanna know what you’re playing for?” I’d answer, “Wanna rephrase that just once because you get paid a ton of money and the least you could do is not spout the same idiotic catch phrases every freaking week?”
Another luxury item I might bring is a polygraph machine.
I would tell the producers that Keira Knightley is my girlfriend so they’d bring her over to visit me.
If I won a panel truck I would not sleep in the back of it with my mother. (What were you thinking, Colby??)
I would try to parlay my appearance on SURVIVOR to get a co-hosting job on the VIEW.
If it got down to me and a woman for the final two, if she wins I would immediately propose to her.
I’d have to give up my religion. Jews don’t camp. And they’d never go to the tropics if there were no cabanas.
For my luxury item I might bring a porta-potty.
I would try to vote off Jeff Probst.
I would write phony tree mail and watch my tribe mates frantically dig up the beach looking for a bogus immunity medallion.
I would fake injuries.
I would start making alliances on the boat ride over to the island.
I would bribe people for everything.
I would tell the producers my name was “Sawyer” and my profession was “Confidence Man”.
They always show close ups of lizards and toads and scurrying crabs. While the rest of the tribe starved or shared one stinking papaya I would eat one of those.
I would lobby to get our tribe name changed to the “Fighting Irish”.
If I ever won a rewards challenge that featured a feast on some yacht or gorgeous luxury hideaway and was allowed to bring one other person – it would always be the pretty girl.
I would not gorge myself with chocolate after not eating anything for three days. The result would be two doubled over nights on my luxury item.
When Jeff asks “Wanna know what you’re playing for?” I’d answer, “Wanna rephrase that just once because you get paid a ton of money and the least you could do is not spout the same idiotic catch phrases every freaking week?”
Another luxury item I might bring is a polygraph machine.
I would tell the producers that Keira Knightley is my girlfriend so they’d bring her over to visit me.
If I won a panel truck I would not sleep in the back of it with my mother. (What were you thinking, Colby??)
I would try to parlay my appearance on SURVIVOR to get a co-hosting job on the VIEW.
If it got down to me and a woman for the final two, if she wins I would immediately propose to her.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Monday, February 20, 2006
I Dream of Gina
The Sunday LA Times CALENDAR section ran a big article on the lack of great parts for women in features. It maintains that studios are reluctant to cast women in romantic comedy parts that shoulder the burden of comedy or make them appear unlikable. I can speak first hand that this is unfortunately true. A few years ago I thought it would be fun to write a balls-out R-rated comedy where the woman was the star. It’s always a man. Will Ferrell, Jim Carrey, Mike Myers, Robin Williams, Rob Schneider (God help me). Why can’t a beautiful actress like Cameron Diaz, Reese Witherspoon, even Julia Roberts be the comic star? So I wrote the movie, I DREAM OF GINA, about an agoraphobic (Jimmy Fallon type) with a million neuroses who worships this goddess from afar, only to meet her and discover she is the wildest, raunchiest, most out-there girl on the planet. She winds up dragging him to Paris where adventures and hilarity ensues.
The screenplay was very well received. Several major producers wanted to be attached. I hooked up with one, developed it further with him, and when it was submitted to the studios they all passed saying, “we can’t cast it” and “she’s not likeable.”
With Lucy and Carole Lombard as my witnesses, I swear there’s no reason why women shouldn’t be given the chance to prove they’re just as funny or funnier than men.
******
Below is a sample of I DREAM OF GINA if you’re curious. Gina has just coaxed Hank (who has a fear of heights) to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
*****
EXT. EIFFEL TOWER - DAY
The elevator rises to the top platform.
EXT. EIFFEL TOWER - OBSERVATION DECK - MOMENTS LATER
The elevator door opens and a throng of PEOPLE disembark, Gina first. Last off is a rather green Hank.
GINA
Atta boy. You were very brave. Mama's gonna give you a hummer. (then) So let's check out Paree. Would love to hock a loogie off this thing.
She crosses to the railing and spits through the fence.
GINA
(calling)
That's for the six cylinder Peugot!
Hank takes baby steps to join her. He peers over the side.
The entire city appears to be in miniature.
HANK
Oh God.
Hank gets a real blast of vertigo. He clutches the railing for support then begins sliding to the ground.
GINA
Y'know, I'm guessing you're one of those "therapy is for other people" kind of guys.
HANK
(covering)
It's okay. I'm fine. Just a little dehydrated. I could use some water.
GINA
You got it.
She quickly crosses to a French SECURITY GUARD.
GINA
Excuse me, is there a drinking fountain up here?
The guard gestures that he doesn't understand.
GINA
What? You don't speak English? (he looks at her blankly)
How could you not speak English? Who do you think comes to the top of the fucking Eiffel Tower?
HANK
(from the railing)
Uh...Gina. That's okay.
GINA
(to guard)
How many people from Hooterville do you think speak French? This man needs Perrier.
HANK
Not anymore. Really.
GINA
(to guard)
Here's two English words you better learn --(enunciating slowly)Ep-cot Cen-ter. (then) 'Cause that's where we'll all be motherfucker.
Hank tries to get up but just can't.
HANK
Don't need the water. See? Look. I'm great.
The security guard calls for assistance.
GINA
What, you're going to call for help? Over this? God, that is so France. Well fine. I don't give a shit. Call your whole fucking army.
Two more SECURITY GUARDS join him.
GINA
You don't scare me. (taunting) ACHTUNG!
They begin shouting in French. She responds with a torrent of profanity.
HANK
Remember when I said my fantasy girl in Paris was Audrey Hepburn? Audrey Hepburn never said motherfucker.
Gina is really into it now. A SMALL CROWD begins to gather. The shouting escalates. Finally:
SECURITY GUARD
That is it! We workers are now on strike! Stop the elevator!
HANK
WHAT?!
GINA
Hah! See I told you. You can speak English!
******
Sarah Silverman was born to play this role!!!
The screenplay was very well received. Several major producers wanted to be attached. I hooked up with one, developed it further with him, and when it was submitted to the studios they all passed saying, “we can’t cast it” and “she’s not likeable.”
With Lucy and Carole Lombard as my witnesses, I swear there’s no reason why women shouldn’t be given the chance to prove they’re just as funny or funnier than men.
******
Below is a sample of I DREAM OF GINA if you’re curious. Gina has just coaxed Hank (who has a fear of heights) to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
*****
EXT. EIFFEL TOWER - DAY
The elevator rises to the top platform.
EXT. EIFFEL TOWER - OBSERVATION DECK - MOMENTS LATER
The elevator door opens and a throng of PEOPLE disembark, Gina first. Last off is a rather green Hank.
GINA
Atta boy. You were very brave. Mama's gonna give you a hummer. (then) So let's check out Paree. Would love to hock a loogie off this thing.
She crosses to the railing and spits through the fence.
GINA
(calling)
That's for the six cylinder Peugot!
Hank takes baby steps to join her. He peers over the side.
The entire city appears to be in miniature.
HANK
Oh God.
Hank gets a real blast of vertigo. He clutches the railing for support then begins sliding to the ground.
GINA
Y'know, I'm guessing you're one of those "therapy is for other people" kind of guys.
HANK
(covering)
It's okay. I'm fine. Just a little dehydrated. I could use some water.
GINA
You got it.
She quickly crosses to a French SECURITY GUARD.
GINA
Excuse me, is there a drinking fountain up here?
The guard gestures that he doesn't understand.
GINA
What? You don't speak English? (he looks at her blankly)
How could you not speak English? Who do you think comes to the top of the fucking Eiffel Tower?
HANK
(from the railing)
Uh...Gina. That's okay.
GINA
(to guard)
How many people from Hooterville do you think speak French? This man needs Perrier.
HANK
Not anymore. Really.
GINA
(to guard)
Here's two English words you better learn --(enunciating slowly)Ep-cot Cen-ter. (then) 'Cause that's where we'll all be motherfucker.
Hank tries to get up but just can't.
HANK
Don't need the water. See? Look. I'm great.
The security guard calls for assistance.
GINA
What, you're going to call for help? Over this? God, that is so France. Well fine. I don't give a shit. Call your whole fucking army.
Two more SECURITY GUARDS join him.
GINA
You don't scare me. (taunting) ACHTUNG!
They begin shouting in French. She responds with a torrent of profanity.
HANK
Remember when I said my fantasy girl in Paris was Audrey Hepburn? Audrey Hepburn never said motherfucker.
Gina is really into it now. A SMALL CROWD begins to gather. The shouting escalates. Finally:
SECURITY GUARD
That is it! We workers are now on strike! Stop the elevator!
HANK
WHAT?!
GINA
Hah! See I told you. You can speak English!
******
Sarah Silverman was born to play this role!!!
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Diss 'n dat 4
If Stacey Snider moves over to Paramount from Universal expect her to bump Gail Berman out of her job. But don’t worry, Gail, Paramount appreciates your contribution and has a high level position waiting for you…at UPN.
It’s Spring Training and as usual there are fifteen players from foreign countries who have not yet reported because of visa problems. They’ve only had their reporting date for five friggin’ months! If someone was paying me $10 million dollars a year I’d show up on time even if it meant learning how to read a calendar.
The Bush Administration (i.e. “the gang that couldn’t shoot straight”) in their latest reprehensible move wants to examine millions of internet user’s search engine requests. Kudos to Google for fighting it. I’m especially worried, having recently searched for “bestiality Mother Teresa”.
Scales of Justice: They’ve once again legalized piano teachers in Burbank. Since 1998 it was illegal for them to give music lessons in their homes. Wouldn’t you love to see Vic Mackey and the strike team bust into a house and take someone down for teaching “Heart and Soul”?
A Samuel L. Jackson movie opened this weekend. That’s a big event. I think Sam has now been in more movies than Ron Jeremy. I wouldn’t be surprised if come this December he’s not one of the DREAMGIRLS.
Madame Tussaud’s wax museum has made a life size statue of Hilary Clinton. It has a better chance of being elected President than the actual Hilary.
Snowboarding is an Olympic sport but baseball isn’t? Maybe the sport was dropped because too many ballplayers had visa problems and didn’t show.
And somebody explain why Curling is an Olympic event? Did the ancient Greeks even have brooms back then? I guess the height of status in LA is having a housekeeper with a Gold Medal.
Luge is the human sperm competition.
I wonder if NBC would’ve paid its four trillion dollars and sacrificed having the NFL for years if it knew the Olympics would finish behind both SURVIVOR and DANCING WITH THE STARS?
But it does kick VERONICA MARS ass.
Michelle Kwan made a big deal to be a spokesman for Disney. Smart move to sign the deal now. In three weeks her only offer might be from THE SURREAL LIFE IV.
Forget the heartbreak of losing an Olympic Medal. Lisa Rinna was eliminated from DANCING WITH THE STARS. I blame the French.
Ever notice that the final score of the NBA All-Star Game is always West 185, East 176? It’s a joke. Just a Harlem Globetrotters inter-squad game.
Lisa Marie Presley is getting married for the fourth time. For the life of me, I still don’t understand why it didn’t work out with Michael Jackson or Nic Cage.
I hope satellite radio makes it. I know they’re hurting. Of course giving Howard Stern $500 million only to learn that people are offering free bootleg copies of his show on the internet hasn’t helped. (Pardon me for chuckling.) I have XM and swear by it. My only complaint: there’s a disc jockey on the 60’s channel, Terry “Motormouth” Young who is compelled to tell you if an artist has died while introducing his song. “Here’s Jackie Wilson. Had a bullet lodged in his heart for years, was in a prolonged coma and died. Let’s rock out with ‘Higher and Higher’!” “Sweet Soul Music by Arthur Conley who died of cancer!” “’Runaway’ by Del Shannon who had a bad reaction to Prozac and killed himself. But in 1961, boy was he cookin’!” It’s like I don’t feel old enough listening to and loving 40 year old music already? My daughter has renamed him Terry “Morbidmouth” Young.
Best reward challenge EVER on SURVIVOR was last Thursday. The “girls wrestling in the mud for the pillow”. Inspired!!! The more times I watch it the more I marvel. There’s not a bobsled competition in the world that can compete with that.
It’s Spring Training and as usual there are fifteen players from foreign countries who have not yet reported because of visa problems. They’ve only had their reporting date for five friggin’ months! If someone was paying me $10 million dollars a year I’d show up on time even if it meant learning how to read a calendar.
The Bush Administration (i.e. “the gang that couldn’t shoot straight”) in their latest reprehensible move wants to examine millions of internet user’s search engine requests. Kudos to Google for fighting it. I’m especially worried, having recently searched for “bestiality Mother Teresa”.
Scales of Justice: They’ve once again legalized piano teachers in Burbank. Since 1998 it was illegal for them to give music lessons in their homes. Wouldn’t you love to see Vic Mackey and the strike team bust into a house and take someone down for teaching “Heart and Soul”?
A Samuel L. Jackson movie opened this weekend. That’s a big event. I think Sam has now been in more movies than Ron Jeremy. I wouldn’t be surprised if come this December he’s not one of the DREAMGIRLS.
Madame Tussaud’s wax museum has made a life size statue of Hilary Clinton. It has a better chance of being elected President than the actual Hilary.
Snowboarding is an Olympic sport but baseball isn’t? Maybe the sport was dropped because too many ballplayers had visa problems and didn’t show.
And somebody explain why Curling is an Olympic event? Did the ancient Greeks even have brooms back then? I guess the height of status in LA is having a housekeeper with a Gold Medal.
Luge is the human sperm competition.
I wonder if NBC would’ve paid its four trillion dollars and sacrificed having the NFL for years if it knew the Olympics would finish behind both SURVIVOR and DANCING WITH THE STARS?
But it does kick VERONICA MARS ass.
Michelle Kwan made a big deal to be a spokesman for Disney. Smart move to sign the deal now. In three weeks her only offer might be from THE SURREAL LIFE IV.
Forget the heartbreak of losing an Olympic Medal. Lisa Rinna was eliminated from DANCING WITH THE STARS. I blame the French.
Ever notice that the final score of the NBA All-Star Game is always West 185, East 176? It’s a joke. Just a Harlem Globetrotters inter-squad game.
Lisa Marie Presley is getting married for the fourth time. For the life of me, I still don’t understand why it didn’t work out with Michael Jackson or Nic Cage.
I hope satellite radio makes it. I know they’re hurting. Of course giving Howard Stern $500 million only to learn that people are offering free bootleg copies of his show on the internet hasn’t helped. (Pardon me for chuckling.) I have XM and swear by it. My only complaint: there’s a disc jockey on the 60’s channel, Terry “Motormouth” Young who is compelled to tell you if an artist has died while introducing his song. “Here’s Jackie Wilson. Had a bullet lodged in his heart for years, was in a prolonged coma and died. Let’s rock out with ‘Higher and Higher’!” “Sweet Soul Music by Arthur Conley who died of cancer!” “’Runaway’ by Del Shannon who had a bad reaction to Prozac and killed himself. But in 1961, boy was he cookin’!” It’s like I don’t feel old enough listening to and loving 40 year old music already? My daughter has renamed him Terry “Morbidmouth” Young.
Best reward challenge EVER on SURVIVOR was last Thursday. The “girls wrestling in the mud for the pillow”. Inspired!!! The more times I watch it the more I marvel. There’s not a bobsled competition in the world that can compete with that.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
And the winners were...
The Oscars are just two weeks away. Every year I review them...which is tough because it means I have to watch them. Just to get you in the mood, here is my report on last year’s gushfest.
*******
Oscars 2005
Welcome to my 7th annual bitchy Oscar review. Where has the time and my feature career gone?
Hiring Chris Rock to host provided the only buzz and suspense of the show. His piece at the Magic Johnson theater said it all. No one outside of LA or NY has SEEN these films. It’s the Tonys but for two cities instead of one. And we’re supposed to watch to see stars? The nominees were Imelda Staunton, Sophie Okonedo, and Catalina Sandino Moreno. It'll be 2016 before any one of them appears on INSIDE THE ACTORS STUDIO.
Chris Rock was as funny as he could be under the circumstances. Certainly they didn’t need the five second “dull-ay”. But when he went into the Bush bashing you could hear a loud collective CLICK as 49% of the nation turned off the show and went bowling. Expect this to be the lowest rated Academy Awards show ever. ABC will wish it showed DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES instead.
Every time they came back from commercials you saw a stagehand running for backstage. For about an hour that was the only amusement.
Paul Giamati was robbed. He should’ve been nominated.
Thomas Hayden Church was nominated for being himself. The rest of the WINGS cast has been on suicide watch since the announcements.
The set looked like THE WEAKEST LINK.
Halle Berry now has a rival for most beautiful – Beyonce. Wow! And such an amazing singer. I could almost sit through all three of the nominated songs she sang.
I hope Natalie Portman enjoyed her nomination. She’s sure not getting one next year for STAR WARS VI: ENOUGH ALREADY.
Kathryn Hepburn wins Academy Awards even when she’s dead.
Adam Duritz from Counting Crows looked like a bottle washer.
Thank God the Pope didn’t die. The “In Memoriam” tribute is always dicey. I’d hate to see his photo followed by Russ Meyer’s.
And by the way, they forgot Sandra Dee.
Scarlett Johansson’s dress was a work in progress.
Steven Spielberg was a no-show. Guess if he’s not nominated there’s no need to come and support “the community”. I’m sure he’d say, “why sit through an excruciatingly boring three hour show?” and I would say “how do you feel the rest of us felt watching TERMINAL?”
Drew Barrymore came as Morticia.
Selma Hayek and Penelope Cruz are stunningly gorgeous. But presenters have to actually be able to pronounce names.
The three trophy models (now there’s a job that requires an advanced degree) were all 6’ because as director Louis Horvitz said, “the stage has a lot of verticals. I wanted them to be very tall and thin so in the wide shots they blend in and become almost architecturally pleasing.” Mr. Horvitz, ‘NOW’ on line three for you.
$20,000 goody bags were given away again this year…as if Thomas Hayden Church or Sophie Oronedo wouldn’t have come otherwise. And KTLA was offering Tic Tacs.
Just remember – Cher has won an Oscar.
This just in – the Red States have voted and CATWOMAN is the best picture of the year.
As long as Robert DeNiro continues to do movies like MEET THE FOCKERS Thomas Hayden Church will have a better chance at getting future nominations
Laura Linney looked like a raccoon.
I loved the Johnny Carson tribute. Were the Academy Awards ever better, ever classier than when he presided over them?
I’d like to thank the academy for honoring Sidney Lumet.
And for showing his Jessica Rabbit daughter. Or at least, I think that’s his daughter. She was very architecturally pleasing.
It’s bad enough to be nominated and lose but to be on stage when it happens? Yikes. Talk about pulling the rug out at the last second. I wonder if the losers then got to go to the backstage interview rooms and not be allowed to speak.
When the winners were announced from the audience I thought I was watching “Stump the Band”.
Mike Myers is never funny. Robin Williams used to be.
Where else can you see Mickey Rooney and Prince in the same audience?
For best song why not just use anything from RAY?
Johnny Depp came as Alfalfa this year.
What could the fun motif be for the HOTEL RWANDA after-party?
Boy, I bet Kevin Spacey was surprised when he wasn’t nominated for best actor, director, producer, writer, art director, hair stylist, and Gene Hersholt award for BEYOND THE SEA. Maybe if there was a category for largest ego, best mimic, and creepiest 50 year old playing 20.
Every academy member who received a screener tape of SPANGLISH gave it to their housekeeper.
Annette Bening should have been in the AVIATOR since she is married to Howard Hughes.
My vote for movie of the year: THE INCREDIBLES. But in all fairness, I haven’t seen WHITE CHICKS.
Of the 28 billion people who supposedly were watching I was the only one who appreciated just how good the off-screen announcer, Randy Thomas, was.
If you have Tivo I bet you zipped right through the Gene Hersholt award. And every non-actor acceptance speech. And the last twenty minutes of Jaimie Foxx’s.
Prince and Rene Zellwegger had the same hair style, used the same motor oil.
I don’t care what Sean Penn says. Jude Law was in every bad movie. And contributed to each of them.
Okay, now that Hilary Swank has thanked everyone in the world let’s give the award to someone else.
My son, Matt, is convinced that Hilary Swank is a man. So he was less impressed with her performance since it was a man portraying a woman acting like a man.
Leave it to a writer, Charlie Kaufman, to make the most refreshing speech.
If ever there was a lock it was Jaimie Foxx. No way he’d be singing “Cryin’ Time” tonight.
Julia Roberts looked pretty good for a new mom. Assuming she wasn’t stuffed into that dress like a sausage.
Poor Martin Scorsese gets shut out again. And he talks fast. At least his speech would be quick even if he thanks a hundred people.
Clint Eastwood’s mom is still alive? I thought that was Warren Beatty.
Barbra Streisand is fast turning into Lainie Kazan. And seeing like Ray Charles.
The theme for the Best Picture nominees seemed to be “guy looking to cheat on his wife or girlfriend”. All except MILLION DOLLAR BABY. At Clint’s age all he can lust after now is pie.
I was happy MILLION DOLLAR BABY won….I guess. Oh hell, I didn’t care. And I’m sure at the Magic Johnson theater ticket sales for it won’t go up by one.
At least Jim Carrey wasn't on the show. See you at the DVD rental store.
*******
Oscars 2005
Welcome to my 7th annual bitchy Oscar review. Where has the time and my feature career gone?
Hiring Chris Rock to host provided the only buzz and suspense of the show. His piece at the Magic Johnson theater said it all. No one outside of LA or NY has SEEN these films. It’s the Tonys but for two cities instead of one. And we’re supposed to watch to see stars? The nominees were Imelda Staunton, Sophie Okonedo, and Catalina Sandino Moreno. It'll be 2016 before any one of them appears on INSIDE THE ACTORS STUDIO.
Chris Rock was as funny as he could be under the circumstances. Certainly they didn’t need the five second “dull-ay”. But when he went into the Bush bashing you could hear a loud collective CLICK as 49% of the nation turned off the show and went bowling. Expect this to be the lowest rated Academy Awards show ever. ABC will wish it showed DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES instead.
Every time they came back from commercials you saw a stagehand running for backstage. For about an hour that was the only amusement.
Paul Giamati was robbed. He should’ve been nominated.
Thomas Hayden Church was nominated for being himself. The rest of the WINGS cast has been on suicide watch since the announcements.
The set looked like THE WEAKEST LINK.
Halle Berry now has a rival for most beautiful – Beyonce. Wow! And such an amazing singer. I could almost sit through all three of the nominated songs she sang.
I hope Natalie Portman enjoyed her nomination. She’s sure not getting one next year for STAR WARS VI: ENOUGH ALREADY.
Kathryn Hepburn wins Academy Awards even when she’s dead.
Adam Duritz from Counting Crows looked like a bottle washer.
Thank God the Pope didn’t die. The “In Memoriam” tribute is always dicey. I’d hate to see his photo followed by Russ Meyer’s.
And by the way, they forgot Sandra Dee.
Scarlett Johansson’s dress was a work in progress.
Steven Spielberg was a no-show. Guess if he’s not nominated there’s no need to come and support “the community”. I’m sure he’d say, “why sit through an excruciatingly boring three hour show?” and I would say “how do you feel the rest of us felt watching TERMINAL?”
Drew Barrymore came as Morticia.
Selma Hayek and Penelope Cruz are stunningly gorgeous. But presenters have to actually be able to pronounce names.
The three trophy models (now there’s a job that requires an advanced degree) were all 6’ because as director Louis Horvitz said, “the stage has a lot of verticals. I wanted them to be very tall and thin so in the wide shots they blend in and become almost architecturally pleasing.” Mr. Horvitz, ‘NOW’ on line three for you.
$20,000 goody bags were given away again this year…as if Thomas Hayden Church or Sophie Oronedo wouldn’t have come otherwise. And KTLA was offering Tic Tacs.
Just remember – Cher has won an Oscar.
This just in – the Red States have voted and CATWOMAN is the best picture of the year.
As long as Robert DeNiro continues to do movies like MEET THE FOCKERS Thomas Hayden Church will have a better chance at getting future nominations
Laura Linney looked like a raccoon.
I loved the Johnny Carson tribute. Were the Academy Awards ever better, ever classier than when he presided over them?
I’d like to thank the academy for honoring Sidney Lumet.
And for showing his Jessica Rabbit daughter. Or at least, I think that’s his daughter. She was very architecturally pleasing.
It’s bad enough to be nominated and lose but to be on stage when it happens? Yikes. Talk about pulling the rug out at the last second. I wonder if the losers then got to go to the backstage interview rooms and not be allowed to speak.
When the winners were announced from the audience I thought I was watching “Stump the Band”.
Mike Myers is never funny. Robin Williams used to be.
Where else can you see Mickey Rooney and Prince in the same audience?
For best song why not just use anything from RAY?
Johnny Depp came as Alfalfa this year.
What could the fun motif be for the HOTEL RWANDA after-party?
Boy, I bet Kevin Spacey was surprised when he wasn’t nominated for best actor, director, producer, writer, art director, hair stylist, and Gene Hersholt award for BEYOND THE SEA. Maybe if there was a category for largest ego, best mimic, and creepiest 50 year old playing 20.
Every academy member who received a screener tape of SPANGLISH gave it to their housekeeper.
Annette Bening should have been in the AVIATOR since she is married to Howard Hughes.
My vote for movie of the year: THE INCREDIBLES. But in all fairness, I haven’t seen WHITE CHICKS.
Of the 28 billion people who supposedly were watching I was the only one who appreciated just how good the off-screen announcer, Randy Thomas, was.
If you have Tivo I bet you zipped right through the Gene Hersholt award. And every non-actor acceptance speech. And the last twenty minutes of Jaimie Foxx’s.
Prince and Rene Zellwegger had the same hair style, used the same motor oil.
I don’t care what Sean Penn says. Jude Law was in every bad movie. And contributed to each of them.
Okay, now that Hilary Swank has thanked everyone in the world let’s give the award to someone else.
My son, Matt, is convinced that Hilary Swank is a man. So he was less impressed with her performance since it was a man portraying a woman acting like a man.
Leave it to a writer, Charlie Kaufman, to make the most refreshing speech.
If ever there was a lock it was Jaimie Foxx. No way he’d be singing “Cryin’ Time” tonight.
Julia Roberts looked pretty good for a new mom. Assuming she wasn’t stuffed into that dress like a sausage.
Poor Martin Scorsese gets shut out again. And he talks fast. At least his speech would be quick even if he thanks a hundred people.
Clint Eastwood’s mom is still alive? I thought that was Warren Beatty.
Barbra Streisand is fast turning into Lainie Kazan. And seeing like Ray Charles.
The theme for the Best Picture nominees seemed to be “guy looking to cheat on his wife or girlfriend”. All except MILLION DOLLAR BABY. At Clint’s age all he can lust after now is pie.
I was happy MILLION DOLLAR BABY won….I guess. Oh hell, I didn’t care. And I’m sure at the Magic Johnson theater ticket sales for it won’t go up by one.
At least Jim Carrey wasn't on the show. See you at the DVD rental store.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Some kids write poetry...
….my darling children write rants. Here’s another from my Northwestern undergrad daughter, Annie. And one from my 23 year old son, Matt. Our family is hardly the Cosbys.
****
From Annie:
Theater Majors.
You must understand, that I didn’t want to do this rant. I tried to hold off due to the many many theater friends that I have. But I just had to do it. So, in order not to lose any friends (or so that I don’t have to sleep with one eye open every night), I shall confine my ranting into: Theater majors that fit into one of these categories:
1). The “I’m so unique and funny” major. These are the people who get cast solely for their willingness to look like an idiot on stage. And as a result, they ironically seem to think that this gives them the right to laugh at us. But that’s not what gets me…it’s how ANNOYING they are. And they fool you every time. You always think “Oh he’s so clever and funny” and then five minutes later you’re about to put duct tape on his mouth, tear out your hair and run around screaming “No more funny voices for the love of G-d!!” And if you are in a class with them, it’s the worst! Remember that class clown in elementary school who wasn’t actually funny, but you giggled because you always felt bad that he was sent the principal’s office daily? Well, that little second-grader’s humor far surpasses anything that I have heard come out of the overly ambitious mouths of these 20 year olds. People like this are the reason that quality of SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE has gone to shit.
2) The pretentious majors. These are the ones you know best. The ones who serve your food at CPK, who carry combs around, who always have a headshot handy. I just have one question about this type of theater major and that is “Who the hell do these people think they are?!” I got news for them -- everyone and their grandmother has probably starred as “Nathan Detroit” in SOME production of GUYS AND DOLLS, they are nothing special! I think it’s wonderful that you got into the new musical, I could not be happier that you once played a child in a “Sunny Delight” commercial, now shut the hell up. If I ever start a sentence with “Well, back when I starred in…” just hunt me down and beat me back down to earth.
3) The “Do I know you?” major. Now it might be a bit difficult to follow all these categories because each one involves people whose egos could fill the large venues that they claim to have performed in. The “Do I know you” theater major is a little different in that there are times when you think that these people are normal. Those times include: a) when you’re paying them a compliment or b) when you’re doing them a favor. They have the sweetest tone when they ask you to help them with their costume, and when you say they did a wonderful job in the show they display a wonderfully false humility. However if you see them in a normal situation you must, I repeat you MUST, resist the urge to smile, say hi, ask a question or even stand too close. Because these vultures will stare you down! And the death stare has been perfected in such a way that no matter who you are, where you are, or how your day has gone you will immediately feel like you have been condemned to death. I could have just won a damn Nobel Prize, and yet some girl who played “Tree #7” in INTO THE WOODS will make me feel like I’m going to be flipping burgers for the rest of my life.
So the best advice that I can give you is this: If you happen to have one of these types as your server at a restaurant, and you want anything (e.g. your order to come out right), a little praise can go a long way. Who knows, you may find it’ll bring out the inner actor in you?
*******
From Matt:
Valentine’s Day cards
So I know I'm not the child normally sending out the rants, but I couldn't resist after going to the store today to buy a Valentine's Day card. I've found the cards fall into three major categories:
1) Sappy. These are the one's that just make you want to puke. I don't know who can give them out without their significant other realizing that they are trying to b-line it for their pants. I mean, no straight guy ever, EVER, talks like this:
“It's so nice to know we're in this thing together... no matter what. We're partners to the end. It's you for me and me for you, forever...it's so nice to be in love with my best friend! Happy Valentine's Day”
2) Funny. These are the ones written by the writers who couldn't cut it on Heather Graham's new/expired sitcom. Topics of the "funny" Valentine's day cards:
Diary of the chocolate with the yucky apricot cream center, a guy who says "yes" to the question "Am I fat" (Uh oh, is he in trouble), and of course any type of pun
3) Cute. These are the easiest to spot. Take either a cat, dog, or other fuzzy animal and slap a picture of it on the front of the card. Is this supposed to get you laid? Are women really that shallow?
Now for the worst part, the combinations of the three categories. If you have a weak stomach I'd stop reading now. Imagine a card with a puppy on the front, a pun about "puppy love", and inside a puke-worthy story about how the card sender's life is worthless without the love of their life.
Am I a cynic? Of course. Am I wrong? Absolutely not. If anybody from Hallmark reads this, please, please end this shenanigan of a holiday that allows women to set the bar that much higher for any chance to get some that particular night.
****
From Annie:
Theater Majors.
You must understand, that I didn’t want to do this rant. I tried to hold off due to the many many theater friends that I have. But I just had to do it. So, in order not to lose any friends (or so that I don’t have to sleep with one eye open every night), I shall confine my ranting into: Theater majors that fit into one of these categories:
1). The “I’m so unique and funny” major. These are the people who get cast solely for their willingness to look like an idiot on stage. And as a result, they ironically seem to think that this gives them the right to laugh at us. But that’s not what gets me…it’s how ANNOYING they are. And they fool you every time. You always think “Oh he’s so clever and funny” and then five minutes later you’re about to put duct tape on his mouth, tear out your hair and run around screaming “No more funny voices for the love of G-d!!” And if you are in a class with them, it’s the worst! Remember that class clown in elementary school who wasn’t actually funny, but you giggled because you always felt bad that he was sent the principal’s office daily? Well, that little second-grader’s humor far surpasses anything that I have heard come out of the overly ambitious mouths of these 20 year olds. People like this are the reason that quality of SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE has gone to shit.
2) The pretentious majors. These are the ones you know best. The ones who serve your food at CPK, who carry combs around, who always have a headshot handy. I just have one question about this type of theater major and that is “Who the hell do these people think they are?!” I got news for them -- everyone and their grandmother has probably starred as “Nathan Detroit” in SOME production of GUYS AND DOLLS, they are nothing special! I think it’s wonderful that you got into the new musical, I could not be happier that you once played a child in a “Sunny Delight” commercial, now shut the hell up. If I ever start a sentence with “Well, back when I starred in…” just hunt me down and beat me back down to earth.
3) The “Do I know you?” major. Now it might be a bit difficult to follow all these categories because each one involves people whose egos could fill the large venues that they claim to have performed in. The “Do I know you” theater major is a little different in that there are times when you think that these people are normal. Those times include: a) when you’re paying them a compliment or b) when you’re doing them a favor. They have the sweetest tone when they ask you to help them with their costume, and when you say they did a wonderful job in the show they display a wonderfully false humility. However if you see them in a normal situation you must, I repeat you MUST, resist the urge to smile, say hi, ask a question or even stand too close. Because these vultures will stare you down! And the death stare has been perfected in such a way that no matter who you are, where you are, or how your day has gone you will immediately feel like you have been condemned to death. I could have just won a damn Nobel Prize, and yet some girl who played “Tree #7” in INTO THE WOODS will make me feel like I’m going to be flipping burgers for the rest of my life.
So the best advice that I can give you is this: If you happen to have one of these types as your server at a restaurant, and you want anything (e.g. your order to come out right), a little praise can go a long way. Who knows, you may find it’ll bring out the inner actor in you?
*******
From Matt:
Valentine’s Day cards
So I know I'm not the child normally sending out the rants, but I couldn't resist after going to the store today to buy a Valentine's Day card. I've found the cards fall into three major categories:
1) Sappy. These are the one's that just make you want to puke. I don't know who can give them out without their significant other realizing that they are trying to b-line it for their pants. I mean, no straight guy ever, EVER, talks like this:
“It's so nice to know we're in this thing together... no matter what. We're partners to the end. It's you for me and me for you, forever...it's so nice to be in love with my best friend! Happy Valentine's Day”
2) Funny. These are the ones written by the writers who couldn't cut it on Heather Graham's new/expired sitcom. Topics of the "funny" Valentine's day cards:
Diary of the chocolate with the yucky apricot cream center, a guy who says "yes" to the question "Am I fat" (Uh oh, is he in trouble), and of course any type of pun
3) Cute. These are the easiest to spot. Take either a cat, dog, or other fuzzy animal and slap a picture of it on the front of the card. Is this supposed to get you laid? Are women really that shallow?
Now for the worst part, the combinations of the three categories. If you have a weak stomach I'd stop reading now. Imagine a card with a puppy on the front, a pun about "puppy love", and inside a puke-worthy story about how the card sender's life is worthless without the love of their life.
Am I a cynic? Of course. Am I wrong? Absolutely not. If anybody from Hallmark reads this, please, please end this shenanigan of a holiday that allows women to set the bar that much higher for any chance to get some that particular night.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
The last MASH
In the news:
Last U.S. MASH unit bows out on humanitarian mission
“The U.S. Army bade "Goodbye, Farewell and Amen" to perhaps its best-loved institution on Thursday when it decommissioned its last Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (MASH) and handed it over to Pakistan.
A legendary institution that gained worldwide fame through a long-running television comedy series and a hit 1970 feature film portraying a fictional 4077th MASH, has a history dating back more than 60 years to the end of World War Two.
The field hospitals served in U.S. wars since, from Korea to Vietnam and Iraq, saving many thousands of lives.
The MASH decommissioned on Thursday -- the 212th based in Miesau, Germany -- was based in Iraq until last year.”
******
I spent four years working on the TV series MASH and it was an experience I will always treasure. A few years ago we had a reunion at the Museum of Broadcasting. Standing with the cast and writers I really felt like I was part of a Superbowl winning team.
A few years ago 60 MINUTES did a segment on writers facing ageism (ironic since the 60 MINUTES correspondents range in age from 65-211). One industry idiot suggested that if a writer had a MASH credit he should leave it off his resume because it made him appear too old. To me that’s insane. I could not be more proud of my association with MASH and the day I take it off my resume is the day I start selling Marie Osmond dolls on QVC. (But for the record, I was 9 when I started on that show).
How many television series have books and scholarly papers written about them? Although I must admit, I’ve read these and they’re a joke. They talk about the brilliant symbolism, our deeper philosophical and empirical meanings, the clever use of the Anti-Christ, affectionate homages to classic literature – none of that is true. We were just looking to come up with a joke so we could go to lunch or a story beat for Radar so he’d leave us alone.
But we knew this: we had the best job in Hollywood, worked with the finest people, and it’s nice to know that as the last real MASH unit fades into history the show will live on and the sacrifice and heroics of those brave doctors, nurses, and corpsmen will be appreciated and celebrated long into the future.
Last U.S. MASH unit bows out on humanitarian mission
“The U.S. Army bade "Goodbye, Farewell and Amen" to perhaps its best-loved institution on Thursday when it decommissioned its last Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (MASH) and handed it over to Pakistan.
A legendary institution that gained worldwide fame through a long-running television comedy series and a hit 1970 feature film portraying a fictional 4077th MASH, has a history dating back more than 60 years to the end of World War Two.
The field hospitals served in U.S. wars since, from Korea to Vietnam and Iraq, saving many thousands of lives.
The MASH decommissioned on Thursday -- the 212th based in Miesau, Germany -- was based in Iraq until last year.”
******
I spent four years working on the TV series MASH and it was an experience I will always treasure. A few years ago we had a reunion at the Museum of Broadcasting. Standing with the cast and writers I really felt like I was part of a Superbowl winning team.
A few years ago 60 MINUTES did a segment on writers facing ageism (ironic since the 60 MINUTES correspondents range in age from 65-211). One industry idiot suggested that if a writer had a MASH credit he should leave it off his resume because it made him appear too old. To me that’s insane. I could not be more proud of my association with MASH and the day I take it off my resume is the day I start selling Marie Osmond dolls on QVC. (But for the record, I was 9 when I started on that show).
How many television series have books and scholarly papers written about them? Although I must admit, I’ve read these and they’re a joke. They talk about the brilliant symbolism, our deeper philosophical and empirical meanings, the clever use of the Anti-Christ, affectionate homages to classic literature – none of that is true. We were just looking to come up with a joke so we could go to lunch or a story beat for Radar so he’d leave us alone.
But we knew this: we had the best job in Hollywood, worked with the finest people, and it’s nice to know that as the last real MASH unit fades into history the show will live on and the sacrifice and heroics of those brave doctors, nurses, and corpsmen will be appreciated and celebrated long into the future.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Even more advice if you can stand it
More questions:
HIM: If I can’t get an entry level job in the industry what are the best jobs to get?
ME: Assuming that while you work you’re going to continue writing specs you need a job that pays enough to live on (duh) and you don’t take home with you after your shift. If you’re writing with a partner you obviously have to coordinate your schedules. Work at Starbucks so you can walk around and see what everyone else is writing. Work at an LAX parking toll booth. That way you only have to use .000001% of your brain. I taught idiots how to be disc jockeys at a Broadcasting School. What a jerk-off job that was. But I was done everyday at 6. And no weekends. The students needed that time to memorize how to announce weather forecasts.
HIM: There are sometimes ads looking for screenwriters. Is that something worth pursuing?
ME: I say beware. Usually these are not WGA signatories which means you get screwed. The pay is crap, you have no rights or protection, you’ll work like a galley slave, and chances are the movie will never get made. I know it’s tempting and you’d rather get a job using your skills than putting on a straw hat and serving "cups of dirt" at TGI Fridays, but trust me, your writing time will be better spent crafting a spec, which, if it sells, will pay infinitely more than some laundry magnate’s pet project on the man who invented Sanforizing.
*****
We all have to start somewhere. At times it’s confusing, exasperating, demeaning, and depressing. But when you make it you will look back nostalgically at that period as one of the best of your lives. And for me there’s the added glow that I contributed so much to radio.
HIM: If I can’t get an entry level job in the industry what are the best jobs to get?
ME: Assuming that while you work you’re going to continue writing specs you need a job that pays enough to live on (duh) and you don’t take home with you after your shift. If you’re writing with a partner you obviously have to coordinate your schedules. Work at Starbucks so you can walk around and see what everyone else is writing. Work at an LAX parking toll booth. That way you only have to use .000001% of your brain. I taught idiots how to be disc jockeys at a Broadcasting School. What a jerk-off job that was. But I was done everyday at 6. And no weekends. The students needed that time to memorize how to announce weather forecasts.
HIM: There are sometimes ads looking for screenwriters. Is that something worth pursuing?
ME: I say beware. Usually these are not WGA signatories which means you get screwed. The pay is crap, you have no rights or protection, you’ll work like a galley slave, and chances are the movie will never get made. I know it’s tempting and you’d rather get a job using your skills than putting on a straw hat and serving "cups of dirt" at TGI Fridays, but trust me, your writing time will be better spent crafting a spec, which, if it sells, will pay infinitely more than some laundry magnate’s pet project on the man who invented Sanforizing.
*****
We all have to start somewhere. At times it’s confusing, exasperating, demeaning, and depressing. But when you make it you will look back nostalgically at that period as one of the best of your lives. And for me there’s the added glow that I contributed so much to radio.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Advice for aspiring LA bound writers
An aspiring writer soon to move to LA had a few questions.
HIM: I will obviously have to take another job. The best jobs would seem to me to be production assistant (watching a show get made from the inside) and writers assistant (working with someone who knows what they're doing). How do I start looking for work in these areas?
ME: First off, it helps to know somebody. ANYBODY. This is the automatic answer to any question involving industry employment. Don’t sleep with anyone to get one of these jobs. Having to get sandwiches for them is demoralizing enough. Short of a connection, write to every show and offer your services. Write to the production companies and networks too. Find out what writer/producers have development deals. They may need assistants. Do a little homework. Who went to your college? Who’s from your hometown? Who got drunk and sang “My Heart Will Go On” in a karaoke bar one night? Shows start staffing around the beginning of June. New ones are the best. You’re not competing with any returnees.
HIM: I'm working under the assumption that PA and WA jobs are entry level. Is this correct? What skills should I emphasize for these jobs?
ME: You are correct. As entry as can be. The pay scale was set by the Triangle Shirt Factory in 1911. For Writers Assistant positions you must be very proficient in computers, can type like the wind, and can hold your tongue when you hear morons less talented than you pitch jokes that people on laughing gas wouldn’t chuckle at. For a Production Assistant -- have a car.
HIM: What does a writers resume look like?
ME: There isn’t any standard format that I know of. I think Kinkos provides a few sample templates although they may insist you xerox a thousand copies before they’ll let you see them. It’s pretty basic. List pertinent information. What you’ve written, educational background, any awards, previous experience that might be impressive. Leave out hobbies and special skills. You’re not an actor. We don’t give a shit that you can fence, yodel, or ride a horse.
HIM: What other jobs might you recommend that might help me as a developing writer?
ME: A script reader, providing coverage for a studio. Interning at a studio or network in their development or current departments. Mailroom in a talent agency (the Guantanamo prison of show biz). Personal assistant to a writer (if a writer can afford a personal assistant he’s probably somebody and helpless). Network page. Dialogue coach.
HIM: Where could I go to get an unbiased critique?
ME: It’s not a question of whether the reader is unbiased. It’s whether he knows a good script from GIGLI. Writing instructors often are a good source. Or fellow writers whose opinions you trust. I’d avoid the folks who want to charge you to critique your script. They’re usually bad writers with gambling debts.
HIM: Are there any contests, competitions etc. that you consider legit? For example if you were considering hiring a new writer what contest could they have under their belt which might make you inclined to give them a thumbs up?
ME: A Heisman Trophy. Actually, there’s no one contest that is the Pulitzer of specs. But any competition you win or place highly in is a plus… except maybe PROJECT GREENLIGHT. Winning the Diane Thomas Award from UCLA is pretty big stuff. You would certainly get agent consideration by acing one of these competitions. And whatever prize or bowling trophy you get is keen. If you win a playwrighting contest you might get the benefit of a reading or staged production of your work. That’s way more valuable than a plaque. But ultimately it’s your spec script that is going to sell you.
HIM: Are there any other examples of my work that a potential employer might consider? Sketches or short films? Could a DVD of my work ever be appropriate? (assuming I could get a few shorts made)
ME: The short answer is no. Sketch material and short films might help you secure an agent but won’t even be considered by producers looking to staff or hand out writing assignments on sitcoms. The last thing you want a producer to say when he picks up your sample is “What the fuck is this?” It’s all in the spec, baby.
ME TO ALL: Best of luck. More tomorrow.
HIM: I will obviously have to take another job. The best jobs would seem to me to be production assistant (watching a show get made from the inside) and writers assistant (working with someone who knows what they're doing). How do I start looking for work in these areas?
ME: First off, it helps to know somebody. ANYBODY. This is the automatic answer to any question involving industry employment. Don’t sleep with anyone to get one of these jobs. Having to get sandwiches for them is demoralizing enough. Short of a connection, write to every show and offer your services. Write to the production companies and networks too. Find out what writer/producers have development deals. They may need assistants. Do a little homework. Who went to your college? Who’s from your hometown? Who got drunk and sang “My Heart Will Go On” in a karaoke bar one night? Shows start staffing around the beginning of June. New ones are the best. You’re not competing with any returnees.
HIM: I'm working under the assumption that PA and WA jobs are entry level. Is this correct? What skills should I emphasize for these jobs?
ME: You are correct. As entry as can be. The pay scale was set by the Triangle Shirt Factory in 1911. For Writers Assistant positions you must be very proficient in computers, can type like the wind, and can hold your tongue when you hear morons less talented than you pitch jokes that people on laughing gas wouldn’t chuckle at. For a Production Assistant -- have a car.
HIM: What does a writers resume look like?
ME: There isn’t any standard format that I know of. I think Kinkos provides a few sample templates although they may insist you xerox a thousand copies before they’ll let you see them. It’s pretty basic. List pertinent information. What you’ve written, educational background, any awards, previous experience that might be impressive. Leave out hobbies and special skills. You’re not an actor. We don’t give a shit that you can fence, yodel, or ride a horse.
HIM: What other jobs might you recommend that might help me as a developing writer?
ME: A script reader, providing coverage for a studio. Interning at a studio or network in their development or current departments. Mailroom in a talent agency (the Guantanamo prison of show biz). Personal assistant to a writer (if a writer can afford a personal assistant he’s probably somebody and helpless). Network page. Dialogue coach.
HIM: Where could I go to get an unbiased critique?
ME: It’s not a question of whether the reader is unbiased. It’s whether he knows a good script from GIGLI. Writing instructors often are a good source. Or fellow writers whose opinions you trust. I’d avoid the folks who want to charge you to critique your script. They’re usually bad writers with gambling debts.
HIM: Are there any contests, competitions etc. that you consider legit? For example if you were considering hiring a new writer what contest could they have under their belt which might make you inclined to give them a thumbs up?
ME: A Heisman Trophy. Actually, there’s no one contest that is the Pulitzer of specs. But any competition you win or place highly in is a plus… except maybe PROJECT GREENLIGHT. Winning the Diane Thomas Award from UCLA is pretty big stuff. You would certainly get agent consideration by acing one of these competitions. And whatever prize or bowling trophy you get is keen. If you win a playwrighting contest you might get the benefit of a reading or staged production of your work. That’s way more valuable than a plaque. But ultimately it’s your spec script that is going to sell you.
HIM: Are there any other examples of my work that a potential employer might consider? Sketches or short films? Could a DVD of my work ever be appropriate? (assuming I could get a few shorts made)
ME: The short answer is no. Sketch material and short films might help you secure an agent but won’t even be considered by producers looking to staff or hand out writing assignments on sitcoms. The last thing you want a producer to say when he picks up your sample is “What the fuck is this?” It’s all in the spec, baby.
ME TO ALL: Best of luck. More tomorrow.
Monday, February 13, 2006
What love really is
Most guys don’t love Valentine’s Day. It’s a holiday designed to trap them. If you’re dating more than one woman, you’re dead. If you get the wrong gift, you’re dead. If the gift is too cheap or too elaborate, you’re dead. If you get her a humorous card with Bush on the front you’re dead (although in that case you deserve to be).
Or worse, they love the gift and card too much. Then you’re REALLY dead.
My problem with Valentine’s Day is that it’s also my birthday. Try going out to a nice celebration dinner when every restaurant is packed, all the prices are jacked way up, and everyone is trying so hard to create a “romantic atmosphere” that when their date isn’t looking they’re popping Lexapros like Tic Tacs.
Still, not to be a cynic I would like to offer an explanation for what love really is. It comes from that font of romance -- an episode of TAXI (written by Ken Estin).
Louie is trying to win back his girlfriend, Zena. He asks if she loves him. She says she doesn’t know what love is. He tells her she’s in luck because he does. And he’s the only person alive who can say that. He’s read what everyone else says love is and they’re always wrong. She finally asks him what it is, and Louie says:
“Love is the end of happiness!
The end. Because one day all a guy’s got to do to be happy is to watch the Mets. The next day you gotta have Zena in the room watching the Mets with you. You don’t know why. They’re the same Mets, it’s the same room…but you gotta have Zena there.”
****
That to me expresses more heartfelt love than any bouquet or bling or blowout dinner. Maybe you should change your plans and just get together in her apartment. Especially if you planned on dining at the Lobster in Santa Monica. I’d like to be able to eat my dinner without being so wedged into a little table that the next person’s lobster is on my plate.
Thank you and happy Valentine’s Day.
Or worse, they love the gift and card too much. Then you’re REALLY dead.
My problem with Valentine’s Day is that it’s also my birthday. Try going out to a nice celebration dinner when every restaurant is packed, all the prices are jacked way up, and everyone is trying so hard to create a “romantic atmosphere” that when their date isn’t looking they’re popping Lexapros like Tic Tacs.
Still, not to be a cynic I would like to offer an explanation for what love really is. It comes from that font of romance -- an episode of TAXI (written by Ken Estin).
Louie is trying to win back his girlfriend, Zena. He asks if she loves him. She says she doesn’t know what love is. He tells her she’s in luck because he does. And he’s the only person alive who can say that. He’s read what everyone else says love is and they’re always wrong. She finally asks him what it is, and Louie says:
“Love is the end of happiness!
The end. Because one day all a guy’s got to do to be happy is to watch the Mets. The next day you gotta have Zena in the room watching the Mets with you. You don’t know why. They’re the same Mets, it’s the same room…but you gotta have Zena there.”
****
That to me expresses more heartfelt love than any bouquet or bling or blowout dinner. Maybe you should change your plans and just get together in her apartment. Especially if you planned on dining at the Lobster in Santa Monica. I’d like to be able to eat my dinner without being so wedged into a little table that the next person’s lobster is on my plate.
Thank you and happy Valentine’s Day.
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