Origin of the term

If you’ve been wondering where the term “whistle-ass” came from for President Flight Suit, just go here.

Working people make me so much more proud to be an American than cretinous former CEOs shoulder deep in the public trough.

Sally Baron was born in Hurley, Wis., and spent nearly her entire life in the timber and mining country of Iron County. She worked as a factory assembly worker, a waitress, a cook and a dietician, while her husband, James “Slugger” Baron, worked deep in the iron mines.

Following a promotion, Slugger worked briefly above ground on mining machinery but in 1969 was crushed under two tons of equipment. His back and all his ribs were broken and a leg was snapped at the shin.

A Tempest in the Tube

Over at Atrios, there’s a flurry of I-troll-you/you-troll-me entries on his comment board over this entry in Nathan Newmans blog. I skimmed it, just to see what all the smoke and noise was about.

And it’s about TV. Jesus, folks. That box in your living room is a font of misrepresentations, oversimplifications, just plain lies and the sacrifice of everything (EVERYTHING) that stands in the way of making a buck. Go here and buy the very Remington Model 1100 pictured, buy a box of 12 gauge, 2 3/4 inch high brass shells in 00, go home and shoot the fucking demon right in its big glass eye.

Once you’ve finished that mission, drag the smoking heap of glass and plastic to the curb and go find a used book store.

[mumbling to self]can’t believe people….a fucking tv show….morons….[/mumbling to self]


An English friend of mine recently asked another English friend this question (and I overheard): “Thanksgiving? What are they giving thanks for?” Besides the obvious answer (that we don’t have to live in England) (I kid the English….), I chimed in that it’s pretty subjective, really….

Me? My cup runneth over, for sure.



At Least a Year

Well, I know that it has been at least a year since I started this thing, because I am now back at the house where the whole skunk incident happened last year at Thanksgiving. Interesting how the tone and style of the blog has changed in the last year. Originally I recall that I was doing my best to work in the style of the outrageously funny Scary Duck, but then events o’ertook me, and I got all worked up about the war in Iraq.

I never did get back to the Scary Duck style.

I suppose on the one year anniversary of one’s blog, one is supposed to reflect on all the lessons one has learned in the past year and to talk about everything that has happened to them…. that interests me about [ ] this much.

I will say that I have not decided to change the name of my blog to “I Told You So.”

Just briefly, the list:

An engagement ring
Three new computers, only one of them working
Two marathons
One rental truck from Chicago to The Middle of Nowhere(TM)
One new dog
One deer, frozen
Two bullet holes
One really excellent pair of cowboy boots
One screenplay
Three jobs
A 4.0 GPA
and finally,

one skunk attack.

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.

Back to my life

Well, the director goes back to the airport in the morning. I have been deep in creative work for three and a half weeks now, and I just hate the thought of going back to normal life.

I don’t know how much I have written in the last three days as we prepare the last of the long form documents before presenting the various documents to producers.

I realized today that I just love second drafts. I just love to go back and fix everything.

I can’t wait until it’s time to write the script itself.

Like waking from a deep sleep

I am rubbing my eyes and sipping coffee. I hope that my friends and companions that check this space regularly don’t feel like I have abandoned them. I have been so deeply immersed in the process of screenplay writing that I have not had time for any of the other stuff that I do.

We are just days away from having this thing ready to go out the door and look for a patron to fund it.

I have been counseled not to say any more than that by my esteemed colleague, the mad director from Britain.

Amazing how much more work it is writing a screenplay than even I, who made a living as a creative person playing drums for years, could even imagine. I think that writing is even more demanding than music as a way of making things that are ephemeral into something more tangible.

Writing narrative demands that the ideas flow in ways that are consistent with the way that we think. By that I mean this: If character A does this, then the audience member/reader needs to think that he would have done what character A did if he was in the same circumstances. Otherwise, he will disconnect from the narrative completely. (Or he will distance himself from it and become critical of it rather than a willing participant in the story.)

So there’s a lot of time where it would appear that actually no work is being done- two men sitting at a table with furrowed brows, one smoking and one drinking coffee and staring out of the window. What is happening there is that they are both thinking “What would a real person do in this situation, and how can I make this work out logically?” This kind of hypothetical thinking can be exhausting. Then one of them speaks and says “Well, what if…..?” and the other one grunts, and their brows furrow as they ponder the implications of that course of action.

I swear that if the mad director has not done this before and had he not done a tonne of research and brought to the table several texts explaining how this should work, I daresay that this process would have never happened at all. Respect.

But we are nearly all the way through it. The last bit is to get it all summarized into one short document that will serve to interest a producer enough to get the project funded.


Note to self

Don’t dump soy milk on the keyboard of your powerbook.

Seems to be working okay, maybe a little sticky.

That’s no way to start the day.

Anybody have any suggestions on how to clean a slightly sticky laptop keyboard?

more fun with foreigners

Egad, this is genius.

You must go read this, though please pardon the mildly offensive banner at the top of the page to get to the sincerely offensive story beneath.

Notice that in all of the pictures of Le Petomane (trans.- “the Fartiste”), he is standing in this pose:


Clearly, he is saying “Pull my finger.”

fun with foreigners

You ever want to see something fun, take an Englishman to Wal-Mart. Especially if it’s one of those giant Wal-Marts, with groceries and everything. There was definitely a slack-jawed, not sure how to proceed moment for him. It’s just too much to process all at once if you’re not prepared for it.

(I wonder if the folks in Bentonville, AR, which is Wal-Mart world headquarters, have a nickname for those stores. Y’know, Enron called their policy to hijack the California energy supply “Operation Death Star.” Do the people at Wal-Mart call the stores that are designed to destroy every single local business something special? “Town Buster” or something?)

I had to go to Wal-Mart with English film-maker person so that we could pick up an RF converter. My old TV doesn’t have the inputs for a DVD player, but for $20, I bought the converter complete with S-video input so that we can watch Region 2 DVDs from his 17″ Powerbook.

I love a job that requires that I watch movies (for research purposes) but I will be the first to admit that screenwriting is hard friggin’ work.