Thursday, October 29, 2009

The Dude has Arrived

Every once in a while something or someone comes along that generates a whirlwind of excitement, almost hysteria.

In the 70s there was the Pet Rock, Fleetwood Mac, and sand art.

There was also the Rubik’s Cube, disco, and avocado green kitchen appliances.

Then there was Madonna, shoulder pads, and synthesizers.

And we cannot forget Patchouli oil, grunge, Morrissey, the catch phrases from “Seinfeld,” and the iPhone.

Over the past year it was Barack Obama, Tina Fey brilliantly playing stupid, silly Sarah Palin on "Saturday Night Live," and Aretha Franklin’s inaugural chapeau.

And now it's Gustavo Dudamel, the new Conductor and Music Director for the Los Angeles Philharmonic. There are billboards all over the city welcoming the maestro to the City of Angels. His absolute charisma and musical brilliance is giving classical music a much needed facelift.

PBS is currently showing his October 8th inaugural concert at Disney Hall featuring the world premiere of John Adams’ “City Noir” and Mahler’s “Symphony No. 1.” Check your local listings and be sure to watch it, and you’ll understand why everyone’s saying “The Dude has Arrived.”

Welcome to Los Angeles, Maestro.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

I Haven't Forgotten

The other evening I was lying in bed thinking...

About the dead lightbulb that I need to replace in my living room lamp.

About the way that I’m petrified of possum, but completely enamored with coyotes.

About the fact that I have this strange gray hair that keeps growing on my earlobe.

About how I cannot live without ice-cream.

About the merry transvestite who used to live across the hall from me.

About how bored I am with reality television.

About my years trapped in suburbia.

About acne.

About my life when I was a Catholic altar boy.

And then I bolted up and realized that Father O’Brien owes me $8.00. That son-of-a-devil stiffed me out of money when I worked a double-whammy funeral and wedding some twenty-eight years ago.

I remember it clearly. The funeral was first, and then the wedding. When it was all over he told me he had $8.00 for me, but would pay me later. Later never came, but days later he suddenly was driving a new Dodge with all the amenities.

So wherever you are, Father O’Brien, know that I haven’t forgotten. And when I get to the Pearly Gates, and I will, I will make sure that you get arrested and sent to purgatory for eight years; one year for each buck you owe me.

And as a gesture of Christian generosity I won’t demand extra years for interest I could’ve earned from the money.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

No Nuts

Not too long ago I had the pleasure of going to the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles to see Estelle Parsons in “August: Osage County,” the Tony Award winning play by Tracy Letts. If you haven’t seen it, you must. She’s brilliant. The play’s beautifully written.

In the lobby of the theatre my friend purchased a small bag of almonds for the outrageous price of $4.00. The teeny tiny bag contained at most twenty almonds. Yes, a rip-off, but when hunger pangs are louder than the Bell of Notre Dame it’s either chocolate bars, marshmallow treats, candy, brownies, or nuts.
If it were me I would have chosen both a brownie and a marshmallow treat and quickly shoved them in my mouth before entering the theatre, but then again, I’m the one with the tendency towards man boobs and my friend is health conscious with a low fat diet regimen and no man boob tendency. (Mother Nature can be cruel.)

So we go into the theatre to await the dimming of the lights and the start of the play...

My friend opens the almonds and eats a few. Suddenly the usher is upon us telling us there are no nuts in the theatre. He said to either go outside to munch or put them away. At the same time two women behind us were loudly opening cellophane wrapped candy and shoving the sugar filled chocolate concoctions into their lipstick mouths. The usher didn’t tell them no candy.

Hmmm... I sensed a little discrimination here. Health food (almonds) vs. unhealthy food (candy). I think the usher had nut issues.

My friend continued to sneak eating the almonds whenever the usher wasn’t looking.

Finally the play started... and all almond eating anxiety quickly disappeared. (Hey, twenty almonds only go so far.)

However, the women behind us continued opening candy throughout the play, with no regard for the irritating noise their wrappers were making or the saliva sloshing sound their lips made smacking the candy between their teeth.

I shushed them a few times, but they were on a sugar high and refused to shush.

At the end of the play as we were leaving I glanced behind me and noticed the candy whores had dropped their empty candy wrappers on the floor for the usher to pick up.

Go figure.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Silver Spaceship Over Colorado

It’s been quite the week for me. I finished co-producing a wonderful short film and immediately took to the bed with flu-like symptoms.

With a raging stomach ache and back ache and uneven equilibrium, visions of me on a gurney with EMT’s trying to revive my life-less body were pounding in my head when I was jolted from near-death by my television showing a silver alien spaceship flying somewhere over the Colorado terrain.

Had I crossed the line into swine insanity?

Had the Martians finally arrived, as they once told me they would?

I then heard the newscaster excitedly announce that a little boy was allegedly in a box on the bottom of the silver device which he said was a flying weather contraption some man in Colorado had built and tethered in his backyard.

My reality antenna suddenly went erect. Even in my delirious state I knew something was not right with this story.

With nothing else to do I followed the newscasts to the landing and the discovery that the little boy was nowhere to be found. People of the world sat at the edge of their seats wondering where the little boy could be, only to be relieved (and somewhat disappointed) that the little rugrat was hiding in the attic above the garage. And then the little boy makes a slip up when he was asked why he hid away saying, “You guys said we did it for the show.”

Let’s face it, the whole thing was staged, a hoax, an attempt by Richard Heene to achieve a celebrity status he didn’t have the talent for when he trolled the streets of Hollywood as an actor wannabe. Hey, if you can’t succeed as an actor then stage a media event to cement a reality television deal. Well I say no deal Heene; you’re a fraud.

Heene and his wife should be ashamed of what they’ve done and what they’ve put their children through. With parents like that there’s definitely therapy in the children’s future.

I think Richard Heene should meet up with Jon Gosselin and form the “Celebrity-Whore Club for Men” where there’s no dignity, no intelligence, no balls, bad behavior, and bloated egos.

I suddenly feel much better.

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

Red to Green

I recently read that the average person will spend two weeks of their lifetime waiting for the traffic light to change.

This got me thinking about the things we could be doing while wasting two weeks of our precious time here on earth waiting to go from red to green.

How about waving hello to the person waiting in the car beside you? Roll down your window and actually say hello. Hey, love comes from the most unexpected places.

How about waving hello to the old couple walking across the street trying desperately to get to the other side before the light changes? It’ll put a smile on their face.

How about turning off the blue tooth and the music and listening to the silence in the car, and relishing your time alone? And if silence is too scary...

How about singing along with the radio full voice? It might be contagious and the person in the car beside you might even join in. Sing out! Sing out loud!

How about saying a silent prayer thanking the Universe for all the good things going on in your life?

And if you’re feeling a little edgy, a little sinister...

How about putting your car in neutral and when someone is crossing the street in front of you revving the engine and scaring them shitless? It’s cruel but fun, and before you know it the light’s green.

How about taking a quick nap, and not waking up until the light turns green and the car behind you blares its horn for you to move? For added fun you can stay put until the light turns yellow and then speeding away leaving the car behind you stuck at another red light.

I can’t wait for my next red light.

Friday, October 02, 2009

Holy Cow, I had an Epiphany!

Last night I was feeling rather sluggish and lazy. I didn’t want to work and I didn’t want to cook dinner. I didn’t want to read and I didn’t want to answer the phone. I didn’t want to listen to music and I didn’t want to take a hike. I didn’t want to be with friends and I didn’t want to be alone.

What did I do?

I poured myself a glass of Malbec and plopped my ass on the couch, turned on the television, and channel surfed. So many channels with so little worth watching.

I stopped briefly on my local Cable Access station to watch my local politicians blab on and on and on and on about nothing at all.

I watched a few Mexican soap operas, but since my Spanish pretty much sucks I found it difficult to keep my attention from wandering to the layer of dust on my windowsill that I was too damn lazy to get up and clean.

Finally after the umpteenth time surfing down the channels I stopped at CNN and watched Larry King interview Jon Gosselin, famous for having his sperm father eight children with a woman named Kate. Halfway through his interview something snapped in my head and I bolted up almost spilling my Malbec... I screamed out “Holy cow, I had an epiphany!”

And here is my epiphany: Jon Gosselin is a pathetic excuse for a man; a deadbeat dad who only thinks of himself; a celebrity whore with an ego as big as his imagined dick; a complete waste of media time; an insult to fatherhood; an embarrassment to the human race.

I immediately turned off the television, and started doing something constructive. I cleaned my windowsill.