what the hell? forehead vampire?....

The man at the door's name was Dean, but he was more like a "Deano". Sliding the cellphone away from his flappy little mouth, he made a motion to his balding head and the mysterious pair of nicks and stated almost as soon as he said hello, "Sorry about the appearance. I was on the phone earlier with a call from the UK, and just found out I'd been nominated for the Academy Award equivalent in London England. Well, I just fell over and hit hard on a cabinet and gave myself a pretty good gash here." Right away I had no other thought than that the successes in this man's life had been small to say the least. He proceeded to rush us through his rather standard middle class one story house. As I pasted through a living room that looked like a cheap Florida condo (mind you one that wasn't beach front). A faux leather sectional couch surrounded the entire living room shaded by a multi-bulbed brass reading lamp. In the background against the wall was what had to be a 50+ inch t.v. with some obligatory film playing, maybe one he worked on somewhere in some non-credited copacity that I assure he had increased and exploited in his mind to something pretty impressive for his friends and family. To the right was the real profession, and money work he did, though he was sure not to point it out, still portrait photography for weddings, birthdays, barmitza's (sp.), and the list went on I'm sure. As we started to descend the stairs to the "studio" Dean was eager to get us in I was stricken with a quick fear that maybe we were to be lead to our doom. A horrible Midwestern cult would await to sacrifice us to some Hollywood God, or maybe be sold into some sort of menial slavery in the fields of Springfield and surrounding counties. Maybe this is where all the missing people of the world ended up. Instead, my fears were quickly demenished as the name dropping, and bravodo began. It was evident that my partner was immediately impressed, I was a bit overwhelmed and spinning....

too late now....

We arrived in Springfield over an hour late of the original agreed meeting time. For those who have been to Springfield, the home of both Abe and Obahma, it isn't much to look at. The town is pretty much as flat and laid out on top of the land as cake icing. I'm a skeptic by nature, and couldn't help but think that the plain-jane atmosphere of Illinois would be any good as a "Midwest Hollywood", let alone any locale in the Bible Belt. So, Halice drives us down a to a typical middle-class neighborhood, nothing to write home about or even call about. These are nice homes, stucko, and brick mainly. Of course, with the rate and exactness of the venture so far, it was no surprise that the address of this "producer's" house was not included in the directions. In what can only be called a whim of dumb-luck we guess at the house. The house with the most cars would be the only thing to actract us to an answer. You know a producer would definitely have the most cars, both for himself and all the attention and business that would done on a day to day basis. If we were more attentive upon walking up to the front door was Deano's self-stamped director's/set folding chair placed carefully at a forty-five degree angle on the front stoop. With Halice's blind excitement, the door was opened without barely a doorbell chime. What stood in front of us was a plump, soft man complete with a charicature comb-over, squared off eyeglasses, a cellphone tightly attached to his right ear, and a pair of small cuts on his forehead....

still wanna go pt.2....

My buddy, Halice, is a skiddish and sometimes riddilin prone personality. So it wasn't a surprise he was over an hour late for the trip out. When he did arrive it was evident we weren't going to make the meeting that was in forty-five minutes that was to be at the end of an hour and half drive to Springfield, IL. So after a unplanned stop for gas and convenience store deli sandwiches (lunch of eboli champs all over the world), and a fantastic surprise break for diabetic insulin, we were off. Let me tell you Halice get's some cell phone calls. Business mainly. Money being thrown everywhere, various buildings, realstate, hell probably food franchises as far as I know. The ride was like Dr. Gonzo, and the great Samoan lawyer riding across the Californian desert into the promise land of glitz and fortune. I would like to think I was the Thompson of the two. Half way up a notepad is thrown my way, and talk of what the plans of the television show in works, and the reason for the trip were to be put down on paper and with about a half hour to spare. I can't help but think this isn't possibly how all t.v. shows are planned out, especially kids' shows. So the brainfarts were a whafting through the air, and down upon yellow pages of Mead. We were getting close, and soon the real meat of the story woould show.....

wanna go to the home of Lincoln?

So, through my various ventures and business dealings you hope to have some successes, because the losses are usually a majority. In return you hope for some good stories at least to bide the time and cloak your failures to friends and family. So a business partner of mine (more of an employer, but who wants to be the lacky and admit it) is seriously and determined to turn his career and person into a marketable idea with all the entertainment value, and merchandising that goes along with it. He is a rollie pollie type of guy with good intentions, and a mind that is always in forward motion. Most would really resent such a drive, and just being around his energy can be exhausting, but amusing just the same. I had know about this trip for a week or so, and was not so much looking forward to the outing, but rather a little nervous, and anxiety ridden, hoping to get it over and done with. Even now there's a fizzing and buzzing in my stomach about the whole ordeal. Thoughts of would we really be going at all, or will this accomplish anything, will the meetings with our expectant group be a real pathway to the future, or just lip service. As you'll soon see it became a little of both. For entertainment value I'll call my friend/boss, Halice, this describes him pretty much in form and nature. Halice is an older name, and has a non-threatening gleam about it. Halice is well to do, but with many of that nature is a bit unappreciative of his standing, and a bit reckless with his lifestyle. Maybe comfort can lead to thrill-seeking, not of the "stunt" variety, but rather the little knicks and knacks of life. So I arrived to his office to begin the day-long trek.....

lotto madness, and despair...

So the 254 million dollar powerball winning ticket was picked at a supermarket about twenty-five minutes from my house. There was a feverpitch around town this morning as it was confirmed that the ticket was somewhere in Missouri, and then later in EASTERN Missouri, and finally the supermarket of mention. It's amazing what the lottery does with a winning sum of that much. Everyone begins their ridiculous fantasies, and more over everyone thinks that they are the special chosen one to win. I fall in the same category, but nothing sobers you like not being chosen for something so unbelievable. I think the lottery is alot like life in many ways. Everyone believes they are special, and capible of going beyond their daily lives, but in reality 99% of us are just plain jane, and will never experience true wonder and stardom on any level. Oh, we'll have them in small spurts and spits here and there, but nothing that is so life changing. The lottery and Hollywood really go hand and hand. The haves and have nots. The American Idols, and NBA basketball players, and sports players of all. Many will never know anything more than that of what they have now, and others will fly high, and look down upon us with greed and smugness. So maybe the real trick is to think that if a tremendous change of what we may think would be great great great would change us into something we and our friends and families would not prefer. We'd be soured. Just like I would like to think that many would read my prattle sprayed out on this blog, I know that I'll be lucky to catch the attention of one. So carry on America, and count your pennies and blessings, take stock, and be grateful with what surrounds you, changes of GREATNESS are as rare as one of those flying monkeys from the Wiz of Oz flying into your bedroom to serve you tea and crumpets.

most depressing day of the year....

So, supposedly today, January 22 2007, is the most depressing day of the year. This was posted by MSN.com today. I don't know if I agree, but I won't argue it, which makes my posting fairly pointless today. I will say that there are plenty of other days in the year that prove to be the most depressing to me, some increasingly more than others. My fear is that the depressing days of 2007 have yet to rear their ugly heads yet. I mean the real downers. For me, I hope that this is untrue. I've done enough pondering and depressed over enough anxiety for ten lifetimes. It's a talent. So off we go folks on to the 23rd which I'm will be much better, at least in MSN standards.

nastier, and nastier....

Well, my favorite trio of American Idol bandidos kept it up again last night, and at the expensive of every damn person who wandered in to impress (or as it is umimpress) the judges. Calling some poor boy a "bush baby", which really sounded rather racist. I can only imagine the backlash we'd have today if it were an African American he (Simon) said that to. It's becoming more and more evident that Paula Abdul is a drunk or afflicted with some other type of controlled substance as it were. This I hope gets in the forefront more as the season continues. There is nothing better to me in the world than watching a celebrity, or other rich, public figure destroy themselves in front of the American public. I love the idea that someone who is so financially and so famously well-off can just wipe it all away with dumb moves and brainless decisions. It's even better when one of these fools does themselves in, and we the adoring populace is supposed to morn and really review what a benefit these said persons were to our lives. So in the meantime, continue P, S, & R (my little American Idol royals) badgering and smashing the average guy, and when the curb-kicking of your lifestyle, and bad attitudes finally catches up with you, I'll be there to sing a song as I toast a martini to you. Make it a Stag beer instead, just to keep up with the average American in me.

American Idol 2007, fine just take the wallet...

Really, how much more of this can we as a society take. If it isn't the bad singing (and I'm not just talking about the rejected contestants), it's the slowly self-destructing judging panels. Last night's premiere in Minnesota was just about as unbearable as it gets in t.v. viewing. I'm not saying this in relation to the various singers who tried and were beaten down for either not being good enough, or being (let's face it) dellusional at their own talents or there lack of. I'm talking about the treatment of humans by the television show itself. From the locked door that made failed auditions look even more pathetic to the constant sheer evilness of the judges themselves. Jewel could not have come off any worse. She seems to be a very insecure popstar who is desperately trying to look away at her fading stardom that is rapidly getting ready to go supernova, and with all luck anhilate those next to her (Simon, Paula, and the black guy, I'm talking to you). I think Simon needs a reality check in the form of a hit to his midsection with a fire hydrant or maybe a tubesock full of batteries. I really think this show is headed for a real media storm the day some poor sap who has been a fan of the show since of the beginning gets the courage to bring his/her talentless ass up in front of the cocky trio to sing what he/she thinks is talent worthy. Upon getting shot down, dragged out (maybe told that his/her talent is the perfect sum-up of how bad their hometown's talent actually is), and overall beaten by what are three hyped up bags of blood, guts, and bones, they crawl their way to the hallway to awaiting cameras where they cry, sob, and grovel to a laughing American audience. A few days later this same person is found swinging from their neck in their parents' garage, and the lawsuits begin. The best part would be the pithy comeback Simon the ungrateful Englishman would have to say, expressing that we do no wrong and are essentially above the law. He'd probably continue with the fact the parents should be thanking him for the few seconds of fame the corpse had gained thanks to A.I., maybe go as so far to request more money for print of his name and the title of the show in any legal documents. I really can't wait for this day. More than likely most of America would side with Paula, Randy, and the Englishman in how right they were in their criticisms, and that those whom fall to the same criticisms deserve to go the way of of dodo. Call it is entertainment Darwinism.

Look some facts about the Nintendo Wii....

Based upon what I'm witnessing from my roommate and his buddies, I think some things needs to be clarified about the VIRTUAL gameplay on the Nintendo Wii. If you are playing Wii Sports, and seem to be doing well at your choice sport, you are still NOT an athlete. More than likely you are not really even in that great of shape either. If you seem to be able to hold your own at Wii Sports bowling, you are not a bowler. Good at the baseball mode? Not a baseball player. You won't be taking over for any major league slugger any time soon, just because you do really well on the homerun derby option. The same with the tennis, golf, and boxing. Just because I seem to do fairly well with the sword fighting on Ubisoft's Red Steel doesn't mean that I'm going to be ready anyday now to run out into the streets and take on the first samurai I see. I'd be dead, just like many a gamer would be if they actually had to play a full doubles match of tennis in the real world. I can only hope that once Super Mario Galaxy is released I don't have a run on friends who think they're super-hero/ Italian plumbers. Whooo-hoooo, mama mia.

ice, ice, everywhere ice...

It's starting to remind me of some of the scenes from 'Children of Men' around my town, and only after a day and a half since the ice storm hit Friday night. It amazes me how quickly the breakdown of the human eliment arrives when the electricity goes down. Not to mention everything has that 'grayish' appearance much like the way 'Men's' scenes were filmed. It gets really difficult trying to be the cheerleader of your friends and family telling them how much worse things could be, but without heat I guess it's expected. So while the McDonald's, Taco Bells, and other various fastfood resturants are lined out the door for what I can only imagine is considered a "hot meal', or at least maybe a well needed happy meal just for the sake of its irony, everyone waits for their biggest enemy and hero, the Amerin UE electrician repairman. I can only imagine what these white Midwesterns would be like in a Katrina scenerio. ta.

new venom design for Spidey 3, toy actually...

At the link http://www.action-figure.com/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=20936 at one of my favorite action figure websites, action-figure.com, is the first actual pic of Spidey's arguably most dangerous villian, Venom. It's okay. I think it works for the comic look and is loyal to that degree. Maybe I'm exerting my uber-geekness, but I hope the film on-screen version is a bit more realistic, frightening. I mean really frightening. We, the audience should be as afraid of Venom as Mary Jane is. He should basically turn out to be the Darth Maul of Spiderman movies mixed with a hint of one of the creatures from the Descent. I'm really amazed with these studios allowing toy pics to be released before the actual film images. It just happened recently with the new Transformers movie. The toys always turn out a little more puny in look (as well as size, duh). I think the Transformers really deserves some attention in the world of blogging, but I don't have the strength to start. So until I get my bile really up and out of control I quite for now.

tax time, tax time, coming soon....

President Bush speaks last night about the uncoming influx of 21+ thousand soldiers that are to go to Iraq, and along with men and women goes the money to fund the future years of the war. With no end in site to this mess, the bill to this debockle goes to us the taxpayers. Oh I know what's being said at this point, WOW there's nothing new, a real brainstorm there Man-Child. But, what I have in mind is an alternative to writing out the check. Instead of paying out our money to go god knows where, we each buy a one way ticket to Baghdad. Wait for it. Upon arriving each and every American (taxpaying American) is given a gun and pointed in front of an Iraqi. It doesn't matter what Iraqi, man, woman, child, whatever, it doesn't really matter to our cause considering apparently everyone over there is a potential enemy. This plan essentially making this race of Iraqi people extinct so that we "ego superior" Americans can feel safe and secure to drive our six cylinder SUV's down twelve lanes of highway, and eat saturated fats till our hearts content, all the while knowing that our fat asses and future sons and daughters' fat asses will be able to continue leading our selfish, soulless existences well into the later days of the 21st century. I think most red-blooded Americans (especially the Midwest) would agree. So after shooting your chosen Iraqi, you are sent back (maybe a small layover, but a onflight flick and meal for sure)to the U.S. and given another year until the next tax time, but each of us knowing we did our patriotic duty getting one more possible terrorist out of the way of our "boys". Now this only works if each and every one of us pays for the flight, food(no lodging you fly round-trip, straight through), and pay for used ammo. Pointless as this sounds and as idiotic and horrible as it may come off, I don't think it's any worse than what's coming out of the White House in the past couple years, and with a huge staff to boot. At least I'm thinking outside the box.

best thing of the new year...

So, I'm gonna say it. The greatest thing 10 days into '07 is the a thing that started in last week of '06, the feud between Trump and Rosie. I don't know what it is about this idiotic news bit that gets me so giddy. It may just be the fact that two of the biggest "blowhards" of our times have decided to let their egos duke it out, and as the time goes by, the self-awareness, and mannerisms of both parties has COMPLETELY gone out the window. As of today, apparently the big Wah-Wah herself (Barbara Walters to normal folk) has sided with O'Donnell rather than with Trump, as Trump was sure of what was going to go his way, and not afraid to tell every damn news service from the Atlantic to the Pacific. And I can't wait, I hope it drags on into Feburary with lawsuits, and if we're lucky, fistacuffs to boot.

ta