Bride's Maid's Oscars

Well, I regularly voice my derision for the Oscars. This makes it particularly hard for me to defend watching at least a portion of them every year.

Last night I had every intention of going home from work and playing video games, but as I got to Broadway Station I was feeling both hungry and in need of a little social contract, so I decided to have a burger at Toby's Pub.

The very charming waitress and I kept each other entertained on what was clearly a very slow night for her... and we watched the Academy Awards.

It all started with a disagreement over Ellen DeGeneres's suit. The waitress thought the colour was awful. I though she looked great... but to be fair, I was wearing an orange and green t-shirt with The Hulk on it and a blue cardigan reminiscent of Kurt Cobain. It was laundry day, what can I say?

I'm not going to bother wading through each and evey moment of the night. I'm going to comment on two thematic things and the elements within, but that's all.

The smallest first:
The two major stage performances (not counting the ubiquitous best song performances). The vocal jazz choir sound effect thingy... very very cool. Very cool. The shadow dancers... just seemed dull to me. I didn't fell like the images presented were genuinely representative of the films in question... boiling 'The Departed' down to a gun? Huh? It looked like the credit sequence of a James Bond film. And the first one where they turned into an Oscar statue... cheap-o! That was totally a cut out.

Then the over-arching theme of the evening...

I'm not sure exactly how to phrase this, but I guess perhaps this was the Bride's Maid's Oscars. The biggest example is of course Martin Scorsese finally winning an Oscar for directing. I admit I haven't seen all of The Departed - with a wee bit of irony I turned it off less than halfway through the other night as it wasn't effectively overcoming my grogginess, merely adding to it. I will watch the rest, but it hardly struck me as his best. I'm not so fond of The Aviator, but all of the other four films he's been nominated for are thoroughly worthy of an Oscar. (For the record, that's Raging BUll, Goodfellas, Casino and Gangs of New York.) Hooray for finally getting recognized for work you did 27 years ago.
Similarly Alan Arkin. I actually think the look on Alan Arkin's face when his name was announced read "You gotta be fucking kidding me. You're giving me a defacto 'lifetime achievement award', not awarding me for the actual work I did in this film!"
Helen Mirren - perhaps in less, er... desperate... need for a statue - looking like the sexiest blue-hair I've ever seen, winning after three nominations (albeit this is the first as Best-Actress).
If there was one person in the auditorium in greater need of getting a make-up call... I mean that metaphor in the sporting sense, not the thespian sense, despite the venue... than Scorcese it would be, of course, Peter O'Toole. We can pretty much assume that Lawrence of Arabia will never get an Oscar. I'm not a fan of the, as I called it above 'defacto lifetime achievement award' - but if some one had it coming, it was Peter O'Toole. At least Scorcese is going to have another chance - possibly even as soon as next year, and likely with a better film!
Moving on...
Jennifer Hudson... a bit of a 'Huh?' But she fits the theme. Didn't win American Idol - won an Oscar instead. As inexplicable a win as Marissa Tomei, but a good consolation prize for an American Idol also-ran if you ask me.
And lastly - Al Gore. Do I need to explain how he fits the theme? No? Good. 'Cause if I did, then clearly the best comedy routine of the night was wasted on you. Sorry, Ellen - you too are a runner-up. Gore's routine with Leo DiCaprio (who I admit has become a pretty interesting actor in the past year) was pretty funny, but the punch line was the best. And when Inconvenient Truth won Best Documentary, his "My Fellow Americans" line was priceless. It truly would have been a historical moment if he had announced his candidacy though, huh?

Okay one last thing... as I'm talking about Al Gore. As amusing as it was, the Academy's self-congratulatory announcement about going green was infuriating. It's 2007! The Academy Awards - Liberal Hollywood's biggest night - has just managed to 'go green' this year? How long has the environment been an issue? It's been in the public eye for easily 25 years, and the past 10 or more have been really really significant. It took this long for the Academy to adopt enviromentally low-impact practices? That is retarded.

The Evidence

I've said before on this blog. I'm going to say it again. (I haven't said it yet, but I will...)

I just came across a Pixies video that I had never seen.

(I haven't said it yet, but I will...)

Minimalist to an extreme - I'm betting the entire video cost less than a grand to produce - and yet unlike many other extreme minimalist videos, it's very watchable...

(I haven't said it yet, but I will...)



The slow motion is pretty fascinating.

(I haven't said it yet, but...)

The Pixies were fucking genius. One of the best acts ever.

P.S. For the record, as much as the sentiments above are genuine and from the heart, this entry was as much about testing embedding video as anything else... after all, I'd pretty much expressed the sentiment already.

Molly Grows Up

I'm trying to wrap my head around the YouTube phenom.
I wonder how long it's going to remain such a cultural touchstone?
How much opportunity is left to exploit with in it (and what is that opportunity / how can I get me a piece)?
Or does it represent a true paradigm shift?

Sadly it has already begun to be corrupted.

Case in point.... Molly Grows Up

I think what amazes me the most is that there are folks out there - young and old who didn't get it right away. How is that possible? Am I truly that much more media savvy than... however many folks?

I suppose it was inevitable, but that doesn't make it less crass.

The mocked ironic voices, the low-budget You Tube staple... it all makes me cringe. Once again, counter-culture co-opted by the corporations. I wonder what Naomi Klein would have to say?

Aparently it's referred to as 'Astroturf' - this faux 'grassroots' marketing.

Is it wrong? Well, so much about advertizing is wrong and this pattern has played out many many times before. I believe we are powerless to stop it, and I'm not even sure I like the greater implications of freedom of speech that would be implied by any legislation that could prevent it.

A necessary evil? Not precisely. It sure isn't necessary. But the lack of boundaries which allow it also allow so much that is necessary. So I suppose that make it a concommitant evil?

Must go... must figure out how to bend the YouTube generation to my nefarious will.

Ultimate American Idol Douchebag - Martik Manoukian A.K.A. - Eccentric

I'm not exactly sure what is at work here, but I have a funny feeling...

Last week in the LA auditions for season six of American Idol, Martik Manoukian made a complete ass of himself. He also uses the performing name 'Eccentric' - though perhaps he deliberately misspells it in some (ahem) cool way like Exentrik.

Where to begin?

The self-delusion in this guy is absolutely epic.

I'm going to assume that the current trend is going to continue... for some reason, his videos keep getting removed from YouTube at a rate unlike any other i-stick who makes a fool of themselves on that show. I don't think Fox gives a shit whether the videos stay up or not - the show really is a one-time thing except for the car-accidents like Martik. They've got a whack of in show promotion - like the drinking cups on the table - so they're happy to be able to say that the show continues to be broadcast on the 'net.
So here is my thinking... fuck-head Manoukian either by seeing the public opinion or perhaps, just perhaps, by simple assesment of the actual clip has come to realise that he looked like a complete and utter knob. And he has since made an effort to attack each and every clip that makes him appear so - he did sing a song of his own writing, so arguably it's copywrite material (though I'm sure Idol required a release). In any case there are probably any number of ways in which he could be manipulating the YouTube policy and rules to have the clips ditched.

But what he cannot do is keep people like me from giving a complete PbP and repeated using his name and tags and so forth to make sure that future google searches on him result in him being revealed as a delusional twit into posterity.

So...

(Play by Play to follow.)

Veritable (Relative) Assault of Controversial Attention

Not sure exactly what caused it, but my last post about Little Mosque on the Prairie was the first evidence that my blog is being read.
I got comments. Five of them!
Perhaps considering the controversial nature of the responses I should be taking this more seriously, but I have to admit that I'm really still just stuck in the cycle of being giddy about actually being read!
I will wade into the fray if it seems like it's relevant when I return...
Oh yeah... I'm going away for nearly a week.
I'm actually quite excited about it.
I'm going 'home' to see my Dad.

I love my Dad. But no doubt we are very different animals. We're never going to have a 'father-son fishing trip.'
It's been over two years since I Iast 'went home.' I've seen him in that time, but I haven't made it to Prince George. For at least half a year he's been saying 'you should just hop on one of our planes and come up for the weekend.' That's nowhere near as 'Daddy's flying me to the Hamptons on his jet' as it sounds. He has worked for Northern Thunderbird Air for around forty years. Every Thursday a plane goes from Vancouver to Prince George and every Monday one comes back. It's simply a perk.
So we've been agreeing that I should just spontaneously do that for ages. It never happens.
So before Christmas we agreed that we'd pick a weekend in the New Year and stick to it.
Dad said "Any weekend but the second weekend in February. I've got a curling bonspiel."
I countered "Heck, that's exactly why I'm coming up then."
My limit in Prince George is about 3 days before I go stir crazy. But I really like watching curling - even curled with Dad when I was a teenager.
Dad is a lifer. And he's even won some significant stuff in his day. Curling is a really big deal for him, though his knees don't let him be competitive anymore.
So I'm volunteering at the bonspiel and hanging out with Dad. We'll be busy as heck, the time will fly and we'll be doing something together that has meaning to us both. We'll get in a few beers at the clubhouse - my current moratorium on beer is going to have to be tabled for the weekend - we'll probably be exhausted, but in the end I'm thinking it promises to be one of the best times we've spent together in years.
I called him last week to confirm the flight and while we were talking he said "This is going to be a lot of fun." I had a little moment of YEEES! Nailed that one!

Head Space Sickness

This one is just so unlikely that I have to add it to the list of things I've blogged about - though I haven't got much to say about it...

ASTRONAUT CHARGED IN ATTEMPTED MURDER PLOT IN NASA LOVE-TRIANGLE

It's all over the news. It's just too strange a story on an other wise slow news day.

I have lost track of the original article I read, which is too bad as I can't find the quote that amused me the most in it anywhere else. It was a NASA spokesman - I assume James Hartsfield who is quoted in article after article as saying the parallel statement that "Nowak's status as an astronaut is unchanged; I cannot speculate on what may happen in the future" - who said something to the effect of "As far as we are concerned, Lisa Marie Nowak is still an astronaut." Practically the same thing, but something about the latter strikes me as funny.

With little doubt, Lisa Marie Nowak will be this year's Tonya Harding/Lorena Bobbit/Amy Fisher.

Hmmm. Now here's something... I was once stalked - long story not going to get deep into it here, but I'll sum it up with a few phrases: break and enter; 14 phone calls at 3AM in one night; spying through my window; reading my journal; 13 holes in the apartment wall with a hammer; and to her limited credit - ended once the police got involved - but the salient point... her name? Lisa Marie. Well, not exactly. She had changed the spelling of 'Lisa' to 'Lhesa' because it provided better numerological results.

I guess the lesson is don't name your daughters "Lisa Marie." (It's probably not a good idea to name your sons "Lisa Marie" either, but let's assume that that is academic.

Sextup... No, Quin... Okay - Quadruplets should be saved from their parents

Meet the Douchebags.
They're a nice young religious couple who believe that letting your children die when action could feasibly save them is a righteous way to live their lives.
They believe that blood transfusions can also infuse a body with sin. Yes, that's right, their definition of 'bad blood' means that you can become a bad person by accepting the blood of a bad person into your body. I think it must have something to do with the Red Cross not screening for Dark Side Midichlorians.
They also believe in the sanctity of every precious life. Or so they say. In fact, what it means is that they believe that their own souls are precious. They don't want to go to hell. They are scared that if someone else forces them to allow their children to have a life-saving proceedure which happens to be against the tenets of their specious religion, that they - the parents - will fall from grace with god. Therefore it is better for them (and supposedly the children) to allow their children to die. Perhaps the children have been spared. Not from hell, but from being raised by parents who have fallen into the Watchtower Society's trap of spiritual slavery.
It borders on hypocrisy that the Douchbags would allow themselves into a pregnancy which could only be achieved by modern medical miracle, yet not accept the added benefit of saving their children's lives via those same modern miracles.
Or perhaps the Douchebags just got in over their heads? One (or two, or five) children too many? And luckily for them their religious beliefs supported a choice that would ease their load?
Personally, I think that the Douchbags have forfeitted their right to a say in the treatment of their babies. There is a Hypocratic Oath for doctors. If you ask me there should be one for parenting.
What are the surviving kids going to think when they grow up? It's not like this is going to be something that can be hidden from them. It's simply too public. They will put it together. They'll Google (v. 11.51) it and find a backlogged history that their church cannot keep covered. They could even read this very post. (Sorry for calling your parent's 'douchbags', kids - but they are, and I hope you are recognizing that by now, because your disdain is the true hell which they deserve for reasons I shall discuss henceforth. If your real family name was not being kept secret, I wouldn't have to make up a symbolic one.) They can read that their own Mother and Father were willing to let them suffer and die so that THEY THEMSELVES might avoid going to hell... or at least avoid being ostracized by their JW elbow-buddies. Two (so far) of thier former wombmates have already died. It could have been any of them. That's how much your parents care. They are willing to let you die so that their social life with YHWH isn't disturbed.

The Douchbags have every right to refuse their own medical treatment, but if they have no such right to impose such gobbledy-gook on children too young to have a say. It's nonsense. The sooner the government can re-set and save those babies from their parent's dogma the better. And hopefully it will set a clear precedent for the future so that next time some a-wipe zealot squirts out a prodigious litter in need of ICU attention, they'll get it without any sort of interference from a collectively insane religious sect.
Apparently before someone can refuse medical treatment they need to satisfy three conditions: they must be deemed competent, adequately informed and be free of coercion. (I'm not sure exactly how this - particularly the second item - is applied in DNR cases or in the case of people who have declared that they are not to be left on life support if their quality of life has been compromised, but that's a different issue.) So let's break that down quickly...
Competent: I'm thinking that if 5 week old babies were considered competent that we'd give them the right to vote.
Adequately informed: "Hello 5-week-old-baby. I'm your paediatrician. If you don't get new, potentially sin-filled, blood into your vascular system ASAP, you are going to die and possibly be saved from a life ruined by a tidal wave of sectarian gibberish and lies imposed upon you by Ma & Pa Douchbag and their zealot chums. Stare blankly or cry if you understand."
Coercion: I think it's pretty safe to say that any choice, positive or negative (however one defines those based upon their political and religious beliefs) is being forced upon the child, so I figure that we have to go with the default - which by definition of these conditions is to adhere to a treatment regimen. But even if we look past the kids to the parents... I'm going to turn to an excerpt here to make my point: (Full Text.)

"Congregations are deliberately kept to no more than about 100 people so everyone can get to know each other, said Mr. Ruge. They spend hours together doing door-to-door canvassing and attend a number of meetings each week, he said. Other parents of multiple-birth children say such aid is crucial in dealing with the monumental child care challenge.
However, the infants still have months of medical care in hospital ahead of them, with their survival not at all assured, physicians say.
Extremely premature babies experience a drop in levels of hemoglobin, the protein in red blood cells that transports oxygen from the lungs to the rest of the body, to the point where anemia often develops, said Ian Mitchell, a Calgary pediatrician who has dealt with Jehovah's Witness patients.
It is very common for such infants to require transfusions as a result, he said. Jehovah's Witnesses, citing various parts of the Bible, believe that blood is sacred to God and that Christianity forbids its consumption, storage or transfusion.
In a paper published with Dr. Mitchell last month in the journal Pediatrics and Child Health, Ms. Guichon argued that patients and their families sometimes feel pressure from the organization to oppose a transfusion even when they might feel differently themselves.
The fear, both explicit and implied, is that anyone who agrees to accept a transfusion will be banished from the organization, and lose the social network on which they depend, said Ms. Guichon. That prospect may be even more frightening for the B.C. couple, given how much they will need the help of their fellow Witnesses, she said.
But Mr. Ruge said Jehovah's Witnesses do not reject transfusions because they feel coerced. In addition to their religious beliefs, most are convinced that they are better off physicially without the blood, and there are many alternatives now to transfusions, he said.
"I wouldn't have a blood transfusion for a million bucks."
However, he did not deny the consequences of willingly undergoing a transfusion. Anyone who does so "wouldn't be a Jehovah's Witness [any more], of his own accord," said Mr. Ruge. "Jehovah's Witnesses follow the teachings of Christ and by your own actions you wouldn't be one."

Little Mosque, Better Fare

Okay, so I'm glad to be eating most of my words.

Episodes two and three of Little Mosque on the Prairie have now aired and gosh if they weren't pretty funny.

The pro-am acting has largely been dialled back and a few of the actors really shine - Sitara Hewitt springs to mind, who is not only funny and real as an actor, but gorgeous as well.
Additionally the bad word play has practically disappeared. (Allah, be praised!)
The characters are developing nicely. Still a bit surface in some cases, but hey, it's only been three episodes! The range of characters is quite pleasing. Varying levels of devotion to Islam - even within single families - and plenty of universal virtues and foibles.

Yeah, I still with it were a bit edgier, but I think I'm going to have to relent on that matter. Edgier would appeal to a narrower audience - quite possibly even the Muslim audience that likely make up the shows core viewers - and would probably be the kiss of death to a show which is already pushing the boundaries of viewer expectations.

I can hardly wait for the curling episode!

Mooninites Attack!

Adult Swim Ad in South Boston
Originally uploaded by Vanderlin.

In the whiplash splash of opinion that is the internet, I am over a day behind on this one... but last night I was telling two friends (and they'll tell two friends...) about the 'Aqua Teen Hunger Force Bomb Hoax.' They had not yet heard the news, so I suppose there's still some value in weighing in... even if it's just so I have something to reflect back upon in my dotage.








So... who is the mental midget who called in the lite-brite? And once the police are on the case, they have to follow through.




But here's the thing, THEY WERE UP FOR A WEEK! Do the math... of the four flights involved in 9/11 the longest any one flight went from scheduled departure to crashing was just over two hours (United 93 which crashed in Shanksville) - let's call it an even two - that's 84 terrorist hi-jacked flights that Al-Queida could have sandwiched into a week if it had taken people the same length of time to notice that there was a big column of smoke billowing out of New York.




I really don't know which is worse. The retarded paranoia that leads to thinking bird-flipping low-res cartoon characters hate America, or the sharp as a brick instincts that keep said paranoia in check longer than all the days strung together that Jack Bauer has been awake for public consumption. (And how long is it going to take before there is a YouTube video about CTU fighting Mooninites.)




I'm particularly bothered by the incessant use of the word 'hoax.' It implies that the folks at Adult Swim, or the Cartoon Network, or Turner Broadcasting had every intention that someone would take their publicity campaign as a bomb threat.




Having said all that, the media conglomerate who will benefit outrageously from this campaign should be expected to pay the public expense.

A Television Classic

This is gold.

I was already too old to watch much Sesame Street by the time this aired, but I was getting close enough to the age where I was watching it again for nostalgia purposes. In fact, I think that it might have actually been this incident that got me watching on occassion again.

I am talking about the Death of Mr. Hooper.

I don't recall being terribly affected by it originally. Apparently it only ever aired once - on a Thanksgiving Day in the U.S. to ensure that the most families were home together so that kids could talk to their parents about it after watching, and possibly before (it was well known that what was going to happen on the episode.)

Here is some more info on it.

I recall reading somewhere about the taping of the actual bit. One take (with a multi-camera set-up). That was all anyone could handle, and it was really affecting the first time around. All the tears were real. You can really see the actors trying to hold it together - some more so than others, and those who have the most trouble are actually the most affecting... Bob stands out. David (particularly subtle and good when he talks about the store), Maria (who appears the most affected by the end) and Susan are also really good. Susan barely makes it through "Big Bird, Mr. Hooper's not coming back." and sets the tone. I'm going to make it through this despite how broken up I feel.

It was pretty tear-jerking to watch it now. What a brilliant moment in TV. Although I'm always amused by the theatrical convention of everyone sitting on one side of the table especially on TV when it's used mostly to facilitate a three camera set-up.

It also had the added effect of making me scour YouTube for old Sesame Street bits - mostly Muppet bits, that is of course what I started watching Sesame Street again for in my teens.

Pickton Begins

Well, here we are.
Another hugely public trial.

Robert Pickton is on trial for the first six of twenty six murders of prostitutes on the Vancouver DTES (Downtown East-side). This one has been a long time coming. Five years since he was charged.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/background/pickton/

In that time I have had a few brushes up against the case.

Firstly - as things were heating up towards the conviction, I was involved in a one night performance of a short-play called 'Missing Women.' It was singled out as one of the highlights of 'Theatre Under the Gun' that year. I had participated the previous year and had fun, but this particular year the group I was in was made up entirely of men. The previous year there had been two groups which had proudly declared themselves theatre groups comprised only of women. And while I certainly have no issue with women taking a position of advocacy for themselves, we did feel it was somewhat important that therefore it ought to be perfectly acceptable for men to do the same with impunity. For the most part, our move was seen as what it was. Not many people were upset. Though it was clear that the expectation was that we were going to do something that fell into the category of 'collegiate humour.' I suppose large fraternal groups only have one possible trajectory in the minds of the many.
In any case, we didn't go down that road. We created a multi-levelled piece which acknowledged the absence of women amongst us as a group, explored the many possible iterations of what it could mean to be 'missing women' on a personal level, and on top of that, we hid gold when the day we went on, the dual headlines in the paper was the capture of the Green River Killer and a huge step forward in the DTES case that became the Pickton trial. This was particular gold for us in that we already had a format where the entire piece was framed with the eight of us, marching up and down the stage to a primal drum beat with our heads in newspapers. The timing - for us to be able to carry newspapers from the same day with headlines that perfectly fit the theme - put it right over the top.

Secondly - I also got to do a show (The Woman in Black) at the Terry Fox theatre, which is right around the corner from the Pickton farm. We were performing while the farm was being sifted for evidence. I believe the school that the theatre is a part of is even built on land purchased from the Picktons, and it's definitely new enough that there could be some disturbing artifacts buried beneath the foundation. Though presumably no-one would be that stupid - too easy for a body to be uncovered during the excavation process prior to laying the foundation, no?

In any case, the trial will be starting as I write this. The judge is probably setting the stage for the jurors and the media right now.

Should be curious. And as we have no death penalty, you know that after these six charges of murder, unlike Saddam, he will stand trial for the remaining twenty. Oh, the lawyers must have creamed their jeans when the trial got split - all the more money for them!

I kind of feel that few people are in doubt of his guilt right now. The simple fact that for five years they've been gearing up to this without being derailed by some sort of evidence is going to sway people. The real question is - just how badly is he going to be penalized? Which is probably moot beyond this trial. The chances of him getting a sentence that is anything less than the equivalent, if not actual, life without parole is slim to none.

Too Much Information - III

Day 99 - Jan 14th - An Optomistic 'Before'
Originally uploaded by Kennedy Goodkey.

Well, fuck that.


I did some reading that criticized the cleanse. Add that to how lousy I felt doing it, and I decided it was time to eat again.


On the plus side. I did decide to wait out the caffinne withdrawl headaches - which largely have subsided now - and try to ditch coffee permanently.


So far, so good.


I used to not drink coffee at all. But, hanging out with friends who liked to hang out at what was Victoria's pre-eminent coffee house, Java, in the 90s, pushed me in that direction. I've never drank a lot of coffee, and even less in the past year or so as it has really started to keep me awake if I have any after say... NOON!


So it was simply time to drop it and this was a good springboard into that.


Better eating habits are also on the agenda. The photo is a rather embarrassing and hopefully not too optomisitc 'before' shot.

Little Mosque Scant Humour

Oh, poo.

I had high hopes for Little Mosque on the Prairie, CBC's apparently highly contentional new sitcom about, well, a little mosque on the prairie. When I first saw a preview for it on Christmas Eve - with a group of Muslims feverishly playing a shot in curling I laughed really hard.

I thought: Oh, wow. Here is CBC really putting itself out. This could be a real new dawn for Canadian programming.

Well, so much for that.

The show has no edge. Most of the humour is based on weak word-play, and what else there is is built upon the hackneyed notion that Muslims are all seen as terrorists. While I expect that the current worldwide obsession with terrorism was inevitable, it was dealt with in the most unimaginative and, frankly, gut-less of ways. A Muslim talking on the phone in an airport, using the words 'suicide' and 'bomb' in the most innocent ways justifiable is immediately detained. Wahoo! Barrel of laughs. A gag weakened even further, when a Muslim contractor's slogan - "We'll blow the competition away" - is taken out of context in the same fashion. Yawners.

To be fair, I did laugh out loud twice. Though I have since forgotten the jokes - yes, the jokes that stand out in memory are the ones that did so by being bad.

And the acting was at best, un-even. Some of the cast take a naturalistic approach - which seems to behoove the material better than the broad strokes of the majority.

It seems to me that this is a sad opportunity lost.

Remember the first season of 'The Newsroom?' There was a show with bite. 'Little Mosque...' could have taken a page from that show and been a truly socially relevant show with a voice that spoke to issues that remain sharp to the moment, rather than softballing at the dull side of the blade (eww - bad mixed metaphor). That doesn't mean that begin goofy is out - heck, curling Muslims was what captured my attention in the first place. But that's just it! I've never even thought that Muslims in Saskatchewan would fall in line with the rest of the community and do the only thing available to while away the winter months, while the humour exhibited in the pilot episode was tepid at best.

Here is my hope. 'Little Mosque...' recieves plenty of criticism along the lines of what I've just outlined, but also reaches a regular and devoted audience of Muslims who are pleased as punch that they're being represented on TV as something other than bad-guys on '24.' (Irony for those who watch both shows and get the inerent in joke in that sentence.) And hopefully a good number of those same devoted Muslim viewers agree that 'Little Mosque...' could serve itself, the audience, CBC and (God/Allah forbid.) Canada better by having a more socially caustic voice.

I'll keep watching for now. Perhaps the pilot wasn't representative of where the show went in full production. I'll definitely last until I get to see the curling Muslims again. It's a short season, so I might even make it all the way just out of combined respect for a good idea and encouragement to take it to the next level.

Too Much Information - II

Okay, this one isn't so bad as the last. Hardly at all.

Had a play reading last night. Totally crashed a few hours before.
I was just sitting there and suddenly I woke up - zoink!

Several other folk there had done this same cleanse. Good and encouraging feedback.

But holy shit, my head!
It started last night during the reading and has been a constant dull throb ever since.
Typically I'd take this as a sign that I should simply stop. Sounds like common sense to me. Isn't that what pain is for? To tell you when you're doing bad stuff to yourself, or when you are in trouble? If there is any doubt in your head, that is a rhetorical question. That IS what pain is for. That is why evolution came up with it, and judging by the actions of many lower creatures, right down the line, evolution came up with that trick really early. It's a good one. Arguably the most useful one. Can you imagine life without a sense of pain? Not such a cool thing, really. It may sound like a boon, but that's just an illusion. People without a sense of pain? We call them lepers. And I do mean real lepers, not figurative lepers like the guy in accounting who no one ever speaks to at the company Christmas party and if you did you'd soon find out that his idea of social interaction amounts to something called 'ganking' in the Boobracki Highlands of Wow... which I believe is a euphemism for compulsive masturbation to internet porn. Boy, am I off topic.

My head. Throbbing. Bad.

I've been told by the people who have done this before, as well as all the literature I've read, that this will stop, as will the hunger... which I haven't actually had a lot of. In the case of the head throb (and muscle ache - which is taking a back seat to the throb) that it's simply my body purging toxins and once it's done the worst of it, the pain will stop.

I skipped the salt-water flush this morning. I'll do it tomorrow and I'll try to be more diligent from here out, but I slept too late and had to rush to work. So much for the flush. I suspect that so long as I do keep it up regularly from here on out, that missing a single day is hardly going to be the end of the world. Two in a row, probably not a good idea. Hell I may even do it once I get home from work.

And although I'm not really that hungry, I sure am missing food. There were cookies and doritos at the read-through last night. I actually instinctively picked up some doritos - after telling myself in a quite strict tone of voice-in-my-head that I wasn't allowed to have any - and munched a few before I realised I had blown it. A small slip I figure. I'm betting it's pretty common.

Too Much Information - I

You really didn't want to know this.

Seriously. Skip this post.

I began a cleanse today. Well, technically I began two days ago, but those first two days were essentially prep and didn't look terribly different from real life.

On Thursday night I went out with friends. It was a long since planned night out. I had always intended that the cleanse would start after it. (We went to Fogg & Sudds for some beer sampling. My first and last beers were quite nice. The second was lousy. The third was pleasant, but not really my kinda brew.

So, day one was pretty much hang-over detox. The first few hours of the morning were lousy, but the afternoon was fine. I had one last 'full' meal, which was a bit indulgent - a full chicken shawarma plate... mmmm good.
Day two - yesterday began with my last coffee (sigh) and included some chicken soup, celery and eggs - the last solid food for about two weeks.

Last night I shopped for and prepped some of the things I'd need today.

This morning I woke up an hour early and downed a liter of salt water. This is going to happen every day. I will say that it was more palatable than I expected. That's the best I can say for it. Half an hour later I was on the toilet spraying watery-shit like no-one's business.

I've been told that as things go on I'll be finding all manner of disgusting stuff in the bowl. I don't know if I am that curious. I know it's too early to find anything really disturbing, but I couldn't bring myself to look. After two sessions on the pot in an hour I was feeling like I was done and headed off to work, with two liters of what will be my only sustenance until I am done.

I have to drink about 100oz. of this stuff every day. I didn't even taste it last night to see what I was in for. As I write this, I am almost finished my first glass. It's not so bad. Not like I'm going to be serving it at parties though. If you've done the so-called 'Master Cleanse' you know what it is. Squeeezed lemons, real maple syrup and cayenne in water. Frankly ther is more cayenne than I'd like, but it's totally drinkable and far from unpleasant. Far nicer than salt-water.

Twenty-minutes after I got to work I was ready for a follow-up trip to the loo.

Here's where things began to get ugly.

I still didn't look. But hoooo! The smell! Ohmigod! A bit like paint thinner, but with a definite over-tone of shit. That cannot be good for you. I don't know what the smell was, but it simply CAN NOT be good. My optomistic theory is that the last of the salt water soaked into some of the impacted fecal matter in the bowel and when it came out brought it along. Just a theory. But - and here's the most disturbing part - if this is the case, that was merely the upper-most portion of said matter. Perhaps only days - maybe weeks - old. What is it going to be like in a few days as the cleanse loosens up more of it and the saltwater flush washes deeper, more impacted (and hence more dense), longer putrifying matter? Imagine THAT smell. Not looking forward to that.

I don't really know what is in store for me as this continues on, but I'm nothing but curious. Hunger hasn't really hit yet, but I expect that before the day is out I'll be into the beginnings of the worst of it - I'm told it doesn't actually last long.

The Robfather - Why are we expected to give a shit?

2002 - Marquesas

An obnoxious steeplejack from Boston became one of the most fascinating characters on a little South Pacific island. He was nasty and over-played his hand and dodged innumerable bullets before those around him had had enough. It was the season of Survivior where the pawns stood up and fought back and took the game into their own control for the first time, and while he wasn't part of that dramatic move, he gave the show the momentum it needed to get there. It was almost enough entertainment to propel that season past the point where Jesus won a million dollars.

The came Survivor All-Stars - at first I was delighted that Rob was back. But then he allied with one of the least interesting survivor players ever - Amber.
What did Amber have that made her 'All-Star' worthy? Well, she tagged along behind uber-witch Jerri in Australia long enough to make it deep into the jury. And, she was reasonably hot, and hot deserves some attention. But I feel pretty confident that if you were behind the doors where the decisions were made in selecting the cast, you would have heard Mark Burnett say something to the effect of:
"(Big sigh.) Well, too bad Mike Skupin, Brian Hedik, Christy Smith, and Jake Billingsley all said 'no.' I guess we'll have to go with... I dunno - Jon Dalton. Gawd I hate that guy. No forget it, let's add some cheesecake and go with... Hmmm... Erin? Heidi? Sarah? No too blatant. Too much boob. I guess we'll just have to make due with Amber."
And so, the personality-less one latched onto a shit-disturber again. And hot damn if Rob didn't pick up his game - helped immensely by possibly the stupidest move ever made by an otherwise brilliant player, Lex - and he bootstrapped the pair of them into a million dollars.
Well, technically, Amber won the million. But it was Rob who orchestrated it and as they were a couple by the finale (at which he proposed to her) it was all pretty much academic who won.
If there was anyone who wasn't thinking "I wonder if he'll propose at the finale?" they really weren't thinking at all. The fact that they were a couple totally removed all interest out of the finale - though it was nice that Rupert won a million essentially for being the kind of player that everyone thought would win the million if the game was what everyone naively thought it was before Rich Hatch offered up the Apple of Alliance in the original Survivor paradise. But that's another story.

Point being - Rob and Amber were collectively boring. And Rob managed to get a bit ugly. Even within the confines of the game. Ugly. But boring.

Proposing on TV - how calculated was that? It's not like she could say 'no.' (But fuck, would it have been phenomenal television if she did!)

Then they did the Amazing Race. They actually did fairly well - though it would be a stretch to say they came close to winning. And to give credit where credit is due, Rob pulled one of the best moves ever, by refusing to do a challenge that was so hard that it took longer to do it than to accept the penalty... which is to say nothing of the potentially detrimental effects of eating as much meat as would have been necessary to complete the challenge.

Then they got married - on TV. By now... they were getting pretty over exposed for a couple who were largely set apart by their odiousness and uninterestingness respectively.

Then this past week ANOTHER show about them - a series presumably. Morbid curiosity reeled me in ever so briefly.
After a quick run-down of their history (which I've already covered in more detail than the show did) we are told that they are going to Vegas to pursue a career in professional poker playing. Huh?

First we are subjected to a series of 'spontaneous' conversations where Rob tells Amber and she doesn't like it. So he packs his bags and goes and she calls Mummy and Daddy. I had already quit watching by this point - I let it run in the B.G. as I went to the toilet and put my laundry away. Rob had another totally contrived conversation with an acquaintance who knows his shit about poker. Rob explained how his Dad - or Grandfathah - or whoever, used to play poker and showed him the ropes.

HOLY FUCKING BORING!

It wasn't even worth playing as background noise.

And like I said... SO contrived.

I have yet to figure out how poker became a spectator sport in the first place - even with the advances in technology which 'add value' to the experience. And this show subjects us to this rather uninteresting couple with the Alpha-male and the woman who can't effectively stand up for herself as they make the 'spontaneous decision' to pursue a career in professional poker?

I didn't last seven minutes! I can only hope that they lose their shirts (which Amber has already done in a few magazines) and we never have to hear from them again!

This is exactly the sort of broadcast smeg-stain that give Reality TV a bad name.

I know that 'Reality TV' ought to be called 'Contrived Reality TV' - but fuck! At least the Osbornes really allowed us to watch what simply happened in their oddball lives - perhaps played up a bit, but not wholesale manufacture! And the 'reality' in Survivor and it's ilk is how people REALLY react when placed in an extreme situation. This has the virtue of... what exactly?

In the first 2 minutes of the show Rob declared that he can't possibly got back to a 9 to 5 after what he has been through in the past 5 years. One can only hope.

The snooze alarm on these two's fifteen minutes is broken and there is no reason for us to be subjected to them for one commercial break longer.

An Open Letter to Kevin Smith

Kevin, Kevin, Kevin...

I've been inching towards this opinion for quite some time, and - to mix metaphors - the pot has boiled over.

I watched Clerks II last night.

I saw the original when it first screened in Victoria at the Student Union theatre with my buddy Ray. We really loved it.

Last night Ray wasn't able to make it due to the weather - though we chatted on the phone.

So let's take a capsule look at your other films that I've bothered with.

Mallrats - Well, everyone deserves a certain amount of latitude to fail when it comes to a sophmore effort. I thought this film was so dull that I don't even really remember it. Let's see what I can glean from the title. Hmmm... perhaps it's a cross between Dawn of the Dead and Ben? I don't recall any zombie rodents, but Shannen Doherty was in it, which... forget it, the joke it too easy. I assume Jay and Silent Bob were in it too.

Chasing Amy - I know a number of people who speak (relatively) highly of this film. I shut down the moment Joey Lauren Adams opened her mouth. Ask me if I'm surprised her career tanked like Greg Lougainis with a head injury. Was this the film in which Silent Bob quit being silent? It seems to me that his (your) monologue was the highlight of the film... though that doesn't mean I can remember anything about what it was about.

Dogma - Some interesting, if a bit didactic, ideas in this one... too bad it was sullied by a heap load of purile humour. While this was your best outing since the big 'C', it was also about the time I started to feel like you were never going to impress me again. I buried that feeling and extended as much good faith as I could in your direction for as long as I could.

Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back - A few of my oldest frineds assured me that this was top notch. I guess 'oldest' does not necessarily equate to 'reliable.' There were moments. I admit. But I can't even remember what they were striking back against. They went to L.A. right? There were hot chicks... and Mark Hamill - pretty much inexplicably, except for the gratuitous gag-factor. I'm going to riff on Jay & S.B. further down, and much of it hinges on this, so I'm moving on for pace... you do understand the concept of pace don't you?

Jersey Girl - Hey, even you don't speak well of this film from what I can tell. So, why would I watch it? Hmmm... perhaps I should be rethinking that. Okay, tell you what I'll watch Jersey Girl - someday when there is nothing left to do but sepuku or watch Jersey Girl - and then I'll do an addendum to this post.

Let's face it. I'd pretty much given up on "Kevin Smith" before this last film came out. But you had another few tricks up your sleeve.

Clerks II - Hmmm. A sequel to the only film of yours that I actually liked. The only one that spoke to me in any fashion. Intriguing.
No. Forget it. There has been far too much detritus since that I simply don't trust you. Not going. Not watching. Not giving you money. Not enabling you to keep doing what you've been doing.

Then a friend - who has never recommended any of your films to me and who has, with the exception of "The (piece of over-hyped crap - you must be familiar with that concept) Blair Witch Project," had very reliable taste in film by my standards - sent me a link to some of your spoken word/Q&A sessions on YouTube.
Damn, Kevin Smith, you are one clever and entertaining guy. Mind you, I know that the more and more you do that kind of thing the better practiced you get at it and the more you can rely on the stair-case wisdom of the past. But still, you DO still have to have the entertaining and funny thoughts in the first place, right?

I began to become confused without even knowing it. I started saying some really complimentary things about you in public. Then I said one of those complimentary things based on my opinion of your spoken-word to one of those 'old but unreliable' friends.
"Have you seen 'Clerks II?'"
Of course the answer was 'no.'
"You really should. I know you liked the first one and this one is really in the spirit of the first. It really is Kevin Smith at his best."

So I did. I figured "Hey, worst case scenario Rosario Dawson is smoking."

Obviously I didn't "Go" - it has long since left the theatre.
Didn't watch... well that was about to get shit-canned, no way around it. If I'm going to see your movie, I'm going to have to watch it. (In the words of Joss Whedon (more on him in a bit) "Does that make me a man of no convictions? Well, yes it does, but let's move on.")
Not giving you money. I downloaded it. Ha! So there. Several pennies of mine you will never see.
Not enabling you. Well, you won't give money - that's a start. And this diatribe - not that you are truly likely to care - is an effort in that direction. In fact I kind of look at it as I look at the advice I was given over my alcoholic ex-fiancee: Let the world know. Draw the short comings to people's attention. Do not let them get away with it any longer. Make them face the consequences of their problem, so they are forced to deal with it directly. Don't take the well-meaning approach of 'helping them cover it up and evade the repercussions' any longer.

Let's go back to 'The Blair Witch Project' for a moment. I saw it opening night. I was looking forward to it. When it was done I stood up in the packed-to-the-rafters theatre and said "What a piece of crap." I was greeted by gasps and abuse. But how many people stand by that film today as anything but a successful example of hype? (The fellow I mentioned above still does stand by it, but I am pretty certain that that is simply a matter of saving face - he was sitting beside me when I publically declared it to be as cinematically appealing as a pap-smear.) I don't claim to be the cause of people coming to their senses on that front. (And to be fair, I am pretty confident that if I could remember your films that I would like them more than TBWP... which sadly I recall far too well.) But I do think that my staunch position and willingness to declare it added to the come-around.

So... Clerks II.

For starters, the funniest bits were all things that I had already heard you say - in your spoken word performances. LoTR - Three films about walking. Hysterical. Already heard you say it. Pillow-pants the Pussy-troll - same. "There is only one 'Trilogy'..." Yeah... yeah. (I do agree with you BTW - but you've said it publically already. It's feeling worn.) Donkey-show - yeah there was something about that mentioned somewhere which took the edge off of it too. Hey... why doesn't Dante tell the story about how he was commissioned to write the new Superman film with no costume, no flying and a giant spider in the third act? Or am I going to be treated to that in Jersey Girl on the last day of my life?

Rosario Dawson.... has never looked better. Thank you so much for the dancing scene.

Beyond that... Too talky. Too sentimental. Too purile. And what really does it say?

And Jay and Silent Bob...
They worked well in the Original. It was fun when they returned once. It was great when Silent Bob broke the silence with a witty and insightful (it was insightful, right - I have forgotten) monologue. But I can't help but think that that should have been the endgame. Or... maybe... just maybe... you could have made them truly central to a film. Which you practically did in Dogma. (I do remember that.) Oh, but then - a film with them TRULY at the centre! Their names are even in the title! But, by now the gag has run it's course, man.
I suppose it was inescapable to have them in the Clerks sequel. I might even go so far as to say I'd be disappointed if they weren't in it. But at the same time... they're done. DONE! It might have been far more interesting to have them not in it - or appear in a way where they had changed. Let's face it, the 'New and Improved' was cheap and served no function. Sigh.

So, here's the thing, Kevin.

You are a smart and clever guy. You wrote and directed a film which managed to speak to a generation, and you haven't truly progressed beyond it. You championed the fat-comic-geek in all of us. Well done.
But the fact is you aren't actually a very interesting film-maker. I really wish you were.
You are a fan, and admirably so.
But you have failed, Superman. You haven’t used your powers for good. You haven’t even used them for evil for fuck sake! You’ve used them for mediocre. (With flashes of inspiration that keep the huddling masses crawling along after in hopes of another divine lightning strike. Which in turn has encouraged Weinstein to let you keep making him money off the same huddled masses.) I’m not doing it anymore. I’m not.

Mews berates you for not watching Firefly. Do, man! It makes me crazy that Firefly gets cancelled while money gets thrown at the pablum you’re putting on the big screen. What really makes me crazy is that I think you could do just as well, if you just applied yourself.
You claim you love Star Wars, and BSG, and Superman and Green Lantern, and, and, and… But you aren’t doing anything that truly demonstrates that – and come on, you could. You fucking well could.
Whedon is so much like you – though apparently he has a much better refined cinematic eye, but I maintain that it’s just a matter of application. And failing that… perhaps the visuals aren’t your thing. Write books, scripts, stand in front of crowds and make them laugh – make ME laugh. If you can’t pickup your game, then change your game. Do what you do best, focus on it, and do it better. And for god-sakes, quit wasting my time. Actually, that is unfair. You won’t be wasting my time with your films anymore. I really have given up. I’m not going to watch Jersey Girl. I’m not. Perhaps I’ll read the script? But I’m not going to give in to the ‘oh but this one is different’ argument that I’ve heard over and over again from my ‘old friends’ – I am done. I should have been done back when Jay and Silent Bob should have been done. I just didn’t notice it until now.

I hope you notice it. I hope your fans notice it.

Maybe. Just maybe. When we’re fifty you’ll make something that sounds like it will talk to me again. (No, I WON’T come to see Clerks Cubed under any circumstances.) Maybe then I’ll give you a chance again. But only if you continue to impress me with the spoken word stuff, maybe a funny book or two, and a few scripts shot by other people that have more to offer than what they bring to it.

Sorry Kevin. I didn’t really know this was in me until last night. I wish I had figured it out sooner. I’m a bit mad, and quite disappointed. Yes, a lot of that is at myself. But I had to go to the trigger and confront it. And I really DO hope that someday I again think you a worthy film-maker, you are. Hmm… Yoda-speak.

But for now, it is over.
We’re done.

Divorced.

Goodbye.

This is a Car Chase - Not a Laser Battle

This is a Car Chase - Not a Laser Battle
Originally uploaded by Kennedy Goodkey.

Still exploring the possibilities of reopening the ol' blog.
The marriage with Flickr is bound to produce some fruit... oh how un-tech-savvy I feel. Oh how I bemoan those days when I was proud to not be a geek.

Anyhow... this is one of my favourite photos I've ever taken. It is at the time of this posting my 3rd 'most interesting' according to Flickr and the photo with the 5th most views.

This experiment is now finished it's active stage.

Passive stage beginning... now.

A Million and Six! Jesus Chri...

October fifth two thousand fi...!

That's a long time without a post.

I've allowed great distraction and likely will again. My video diary takes most of my blog-worthy thought.

In the past few weeks I've had a number of deep thoughts that I've bemoaned no real outlet for. Stuff that wasn't really personal enough for my video blog. Stuff I wanted to at least go throught the pretense of sharing. Anyhow none occur to me at the moment, but now that I've gone through the ritual of re-opening the blog and addressed the gaping hole in which I HAVEN'T been writing... now that all of that is out of the way and I've confirmed that I still rememeber my password... perhaps I'll remember to get deep...

The P.A. BBQ Incident

“You are a total fucking cunt.”


I don’t use that word often. Cunt, that is. I have mastered the use of fuck and it’s forms.. It isn’t that I find cunt to be offensive, it’s that I figure it’s one of the ‘nasty’ words in our language that still has some power – mostly because there are a significant number of people who DO find it offensive. Using it only on occasion reserves it’s power.

Friday was blisteringly hot. Our office gets sun for about 85% of the day, and is really hard to get a draft through. By evening on hot days it gets pretty unbearable. Friday evening I had a pair of friends who were hosting a barbecue.

It’s approaching the level of mantra right now that I have no social-life. That isn’t entirely true. I do get to points where I simply can’t work any longer – all work and no play. Most days see at least 18 hours of work. There are also occasional things that would be more damaging to not do than to do – in those cases I usually just make a token appearance. But I rarely commit to anything these days. This BBQ was one of those things. But as the afternoon wore on, the office got stupidly hot and sapped my will to keep working, so I ran to the store and bought some salmon and veggies and wrapped it all up in foil and headed for the barbecue for a few hours until the office cooled and I was socially refreshed.

For the most part it was a good time. Except for the incident. But before the incident and after it, all was well.

So, I’m hanging out, having the first segment of ‘good time’ when across the yard I meet eyes with a woman I once worked on a show with. The show itself had been an artistic success, but a bit of a soul-crushing sap upon me at the time. It seriously damaged a friendship that has yet to truly repair; and it was about as much fun as a crocodile blow-job to have to share the stage with the guy who my ex-fiancee was fucking. (At least our characters were supposed to hate each other, so that part was easy.)

Back to this woman - - she was one of the people involved with the show who I really enjoyed working with… although we didn’t really work that much together. I thought she was cool. Feel free to add sarcastic emphasis to ‘thought.’ “Thought…”

The last time I saw her was a few months back at a screening which included my first short film “Godot.” (I am going to go on record as saying that “Godot” is not for everyone. Although the it has been picked up for use in the curriculum of the Atheism program at Cornell University in New York, so it has some appeal – even if primarily philosophical. (As a parenthetical to my parenthetical I should add that I haven’t got a clue how this particular film is relevant to a degree in Atheism.))

Across the yard she says “So, what are you working on these days, Kennedy?”

There is of course only one answer to this question these days. In fact just about any small talk question leads to the same topic – it’s that ubiquitous for me these days.

“What are you doing these days?” = “Working on a movie.”
“How are you doing?” = “Good, but I do practically nothing but work on my movie.”
“What’s new?” = “My movie.”
“How’s that movie going?” = “Great. I’m working on a movie… oh, you know that.”
“How’s your love life?” = “I love my movie. No one else. It’s very intimate and she understands me better than any person ever has.”
“Have you seen [Insert blockbuster]?” = “No. I only have eyes for my movie.”
“What do you say to dinner?” = “Can you drop it off at the office? I’m up to my armpits in this movie.”
“Want to do something tonight?” = “Sure. I think it will be fun if you come over to the office and help do a location schedule for my movie.”
“Feel like some NSA hip-smacking?” = “So long as I can do script revisions on my movie while you do the work.”

You get the idea.

So, we chat about what’s going on with the movie for a bit.

What it’s about, where we’re shooting, who is directing. How ambitious the project is for an indie, but that we’ve been lucky with the talent support and the outrageous media coverage – blah dee blah.

Although it’s not immediately perceptible, things start to go bad from the moment she announces “I’m working at Anagram.”

“Hey, that’s cool.”
“I’m an office P.A.”
“Great!”

I meant it. I really did.

A brief disclaimer: Office P.A.s of the world, if you continue reading you are going to read a number of apparently belittling comments about your job. Do not take this personally – unless you are the woman of whom I am speaking. (If by any chance you are the woman I am speaking of, you know who you are – or at least you damned well should by the end of this. Heck if you haven’t figured it out by now, you’re a total mental midget… which, to your credit, I am fairly confident you are not. Cunt, yes. Mental midget, no.) Office P.A.s in general are important people. Our company has no Office P.A.s – we’re too small to have Office P.A.s in pre-production. But damn do I wish we did. We’d be SO much more productive if we had even one Office P.A. I love Office P.A.s. I don’t love THIS Office P.A.

We talk about how Anagram’s latest film, Fido just got named as the opening film for the TIFF. I think that this is awesome. Fido was filmed in Kelowna. We are shooting in Kelowna. The TIFF will wrap up just as we start shooting. It doesn’t actually amount to much, but it’s kind of cool. She talks about how she’s spent the entire week trying to book additional hotel rooms in Toronto for the festival, but that the whole city is booked. This is a pretty good example of the expectations of Office P.A.s it’s a crappy fucking job… though I expect it beats Assistant Crack-whore. Having done neither job I can’t really speak directly to either.

Conversation drifts back around to the film –
She asks how we’re funded. I tell her that it’s entirely private investment, and that we’ve been really fortunate to have so much donated to us in gift in kind. I talk about the post-audio donation – though I neglect to mention that it’s not like “Joe is doing it in his basement” and that technicians at one of the biggest sound production houses in the city have donated their time… Geminii Winning sound technicians. I willfully avoid boasting about that. (Not now. Then) I comment on how choosing to make a film about a small town and it’s local legends and actually shooting said film in said town has proven to be an accidental masterstroke; how the City (not town, actually) of Kelowna has been SO supportive. I mention that our picture boat has been donated…

“Why do first-timers always think they can do tough stuff like shoot on a boat?”
“……………Excuse me?”
“Why would you do something like that? It’s just stupid.”
“Okay… Umm… You know, we’re not exactly ‘first-timers.’ We’ve got an experienced and well recommended Producer who believes in the project, our DP is a total pro. We’ve all been on sets before, large and small. We are well aware that shooting on a boat is an issue in it’s own right. Yeah, Spielberg took 155 days to shoot Jaws. We don’t have a mechanical shark – or Ogopogo for that matter. Our boat is also our camera platform for all but establishing shots, so we’re not as worried about drift of the boat(s) when we set up the shots. And, frankly, we’re not making a blockbuster, we’ll live with a bit of dis-continuity in the placement of the sun if we have to. As for the inevitable audio issues of shooting on a boat that is motoring… our post-team knows that we’re going to be ADRing those scenes. We KNOW that it’s an issue. We’ve already done a LOT of work towards thinking ahead of those issues. We wouldn’t be making a film of this ilk if we didn’t feel confident of out ability to make it.”
“You haven’t made it yet.”

At this point the conversation had to end. Simple as that. I could not have this conversation any longer. And to be honest I hadn’t even really realized yet that I was pissed off. But I’ll come back to this after the next two parts of the incident.

Now, to be honest I had no idea that she had any experience in film. I definitely know that she has no experience in diplomacy. But I continued to give her the benefit of the doubt. I like to believe the best of people. It can be a fault in it’s own right though.

The day before the incident our 1st A.D., Manjit, had to step down due to financial necessity. Unfortunate, but that’s the way it goes and to be honest we expected that we’d lose someone to that reason before we were done. The search for a replacement had already begun. Next time I was at the condiment table, who happens along…? You guessed it, Miss Nay-Sayer. I figured I’d loft one at her – networking never hurts, even when you have your doubts about someone, you never know who is going to someday rise to heights you never imagined they could. (In our auditions this week I had that lesson grandly demonstrated to me – but that’ll be another entry.)

“So, I don’t suppose you know any First A.D.s…?”
“For free?”
Let’s just say that that conversation was over.

Minutes later I was talking to someone else – because basking in the glow of her obvious contempt was about as much fun as a magma enema. I don’t even recall what prompted me to say so, but something caused me to declare one of my artistic mantras “I only ever try to amuse myself. The rest of you are merely a bonus.”

Guess who was walking past as I said that?

“Yeah, I can tell.” She said, “I saw your movie.”
“You are a total fucking cunt. You know that don’t you?”

She left shortly thereafter and I went back to enjoying myself at the BBQ.

So, let’s do a bit of 'analysis…'

Hey! Cunt!
You are a fucking Office P.A. That’s ‘glorified secretary’ – although ‘glory’ in that sense is rather misleading as it’s one of the lamest fucking jobs in the entire film-industry. Fuck I’d hate to be an Office P.A. Now, let’s see, are YOU making a feature film? No? Then shut the fuck up. Oh, wait a second. I’m doing exactly what you did in the first place. I made the assumption that you aren’t making a feature film… and no, calling for hotel rooms for FIDO doesn’t equate to making a feature film. Hell it only barely qualifies as being involved in a feature film. You made the assumption that I’m a total fucking idiot and that having a really small budget also means that we have none of the issues taken care of. I’ve got news for you. Superman Returns could have been made for ABSOLUTELY NOTHING if everything had been donated. If you were to add up the real-world costs of our in-kind donations, we’d have a pretty significant budget. It seems that when you are a big-hearted, positive, giving person people are really willing to do and give stuff for you for free.
So why would you say something like “You haven’t made it yet” in such a withering manner? How about “Gee. That’s a big challenge.” Or “Have you thought about…[fill in some technical bogeyman that we haven’t considered yet.]” and actually be constructive? I mean really, Cunt, let’s face it there are only two ways this can go. A) We succeed and make this film and next time I see you I get to say “Hey Cunt, enjoy my fucking film?” B) We fail and apart from the small circle of people who are involved or know us personally – NO ONE EVER KNOWS THAT YOU WERE RIGHT. Jeez that’s a big victory for you, congratulations. Fuck you very much.

As to the second bit – “For Free?”
Guess what? We’re all doing this for free. Why? Because we all believe in this project. Because there is more to gain from work than money.
Oh and… we got a new 1st A.D.
For FREE.
Cunt.

And in the third matter…
It actually hardly even bears getting into, but seeing as I’m on a roll…
Let’s take a look at what I said. “I only ever try to amuse myself. The rest of you are merely a bonus.” In other words – WHO GIVES A FUCK WHAT YOU THINK?

Christ. Ya’know just because you were born with a cunt, doesn’t oblige you to act like one. As a matter of fact, in my experience most people born with cunts can’t be bothered to act like one. So what is your problem?
Is it that no-one wants to give you a decent film-industry job?
That you don't have the (non-biological) cajones (and not because of the biological cunt) to go and do it youself, so you're left being an assistant crack-whore... I mean Office P.A.?
Is it that all your own dreams and ambitions have been pounded into dust by your own negative attitude?

I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know that when it comes time to hire an Office P.A. I won’t be hiring you. I think I’ll hire someone with a positive outlook and the ability to field criticism in a constructive manner.

At Provost Pictures we don’t hire cunts. Even for free.