Your license is in order?

Dear Nature;
Let me first say that I'm a huge fan, I really enjoy and appreciate what you're doing with that whole Life thing. It's terrific, kids love it, you're set financially, you know? Of course you do, I'm sorry for stating the obvious but I am a really huge fan.

On to business I guess, specifically the deer situation here in Southern California. Now, I understand you've got a lot on your plate in the Gulf of Mexico and the Plains and various and sundry watersheds that are being depleted and degraded but I really do need a moment of your time to address the deer situation. To summarize I guess I'll say this: there are too many people here in Southern California and not enough deer. Rather, there are not enough deer willing to be shot. By me.

I sat in a blind for twelve hours yesterday because there were fresh tracks and droppings and a cistern. There should have been deer. There were even acorns on the ground! Now if this wasn't you telling me, "Put a ground blind here and arrow a burger," what were you trying to tell me? Please don't pawn this off on one of your underlings, like Fate or Timing or any of those bozos (especially Luck, does he even come into the office any longer?). I think we need to have a face to face meeting and get to the heart of this problem. It's been two years since I picked up a bow and aside from accidentally shooting my dog I haven't shot a thing yet.

As an aside, maybe at a later date we can deal with the elk situation that occurred in Arizona. We'll just table that until we sort out the deer problem.

Scheduling wise I'm free until Saturday when I'm back out in you for quail. Other than that just let me know when you have some time. Deer season ends on November 7th, please keep that in mind.

Sincerely,
Captain

ps- Good luck with that off shore drilling thing. Good lord people are dumb.

Tense situations, kid. You get into five or six of 'em a day, it don't mean shit anymore. I mean, I've seen men stabbed, didn't mean shit to me. I've seen guns, guns too, they don't mean shit. But that's when you gotta watch yourself.

Thoughts after spending a lot of time working and reading the paper:
1. The GOP needs to be tried for treason, found guilty, and made to live in rural Arkansas sans money or a working phone.

2. The "Mama Grizzlies" of the GOP are fetid swamps of self-loathing wretches and should all be forced to live on an island together sans a working phone, cameras, or any other way to get anyone else's attention. I give them a week before they're eating each other alive.

3. The average rock fan today is dumber than the music they listen to.

4. If Paladino wins in New York I don't think LA should still have an inferiority complex about NYC. The guy is an imbecile and a bigot and probably mobbed up.

5. Meg Whitman stapled someone else's hair on to her own head to hide the Darth Vader creases and cables.

6. The Dems should fire their PR people as they've failed to hit on anything good that has happened. The GAO was the only entity to honestly acknowledge anything the Dems have done. Weird and depressing.

7. The death and "ignominy of defeat" of the Tea Party is coming up quick. No one really likes a lunatic when it comes down to getting the potholes fixed and the trains to run on time.

8. Jerry Brown? Again? There isn't anyone else? So depressing.

9. Mayor Villarigosa is an embarrassment and has led the City of Angels down a sinkhole for far too long. Why is it that no one has thrown a pie in his face yet?

10. The more people I meet in the film business the more I want to go do something else. Like, sell shoes in Fresno or flip burgers in Tupelo.

Peace out, bitches!

Any man who packs a big bore Sharps carbine could come in mighty handy, if we're attacked by buffalo... or elephants.

I sat at the bar, alone, waiting for my friends to arrive when she sat down next to me and proceeded to ruin my night. I wasn't looking for anything from anyone at that point as me pals had yet to arrive but she was. She was looking hard for trouble or fucking or some wretchedly stupid and drunk combination of the two. Fuck me, can't a guy get a goddamn drink in peace?

It started off the same way it always does. I'm alone and happy and some woman comes along and sees a situation that she can ruin. In mid swig of the ol' PBR she sat down and bumped into me which resulted in the first lame thing she did: she made me spill my beer. I attempted to ignore the obvious bump-and-ramble but she persisted in her entreaties by talking to me.

"Hey, sorry about that. I already had a drink at my friends house."

I sighed, looked at her sideways, and said, "Fascinating."

What some would call an uncomfortable silence, but I would call heaven, ensued. Sadly enough it quickly came to a torturous end when she asked me if I'd been here before. What? Who the fuck says shit like that? First of all, it's 2010 and that question is from, at the latest, the 80s so knock it off! Second, I'm sitting in the corner with a PBR and an empty shot glass and I'm not dressed up. I clearly don't care and am not looking to impress anyone.

"I'm waiting for someone," said to no one in particular but with the obvious intent of actually meaning "Fuck off."

"My boyfriend decided to leave me today. I've been drinking since lunch. Everyone has been really nice."

Fuck me. Really? This is happening right now? Who the hell did I piss off today?

"Ah, yes. Well, that'll probably stop soon."

"What?"

"Nothing. Listen, um, I'm waiting for someone and they usually sit where you were sitting so...," I wave Al over and since he's a mensch he gets both of us another round: PBR with a shot of Cazadores and she's drinking an appletini because my life sucks. Thanks Al, now she thinks I ordered us drinks. Remind me to tip you with a swift kick to the nuts.

"Thanks. See, it's easy to be nice, right?"

I pass on answering or explaining anything and decide to retreat into my fantasy world where I'm a Viking and no one is bothering me. Again, there's a wonderful silence for a few moments that is eventually shattered.

"So what's your name?"

"Marlowe."

"Marlowe? Is that your first name?"

"Phillip is my first name."

"Phillip Marlowe? What a nice name."

"What? Really? Jeez, OK, listen, I need to go."

"I'll be here. I'll watch your drink."

I make my way through the throng of rockabilly, punker, and emo kids and make it to the bathroom. Silence. Pissing. Ah, all is right in the world except what? Oh yes, my drink is being guarded by a drunk with a deep desire for conversation and a long night.

"Ha! I kind of missed you," she says, a lisp already developing and a dangerous smile contorting her face.

I'm not happy now, in fact I'm seriously annoyed. All I wanted was a drink with my friends in my favorite bar but now... She started pulling out a vial of what I assumed was blow and waggled it at me, trying to look sexy. This needed to stop.

So I left. I listened to classical music on the way home. I walked into my house, petted my dog, and kissed my hot wife.

You thought this was going somewhere, didn't you?

Peace out, bitches!

This is another fine mess you've gotten me into!

Victorville is not for the faint of heart or those with any whiff of urbane sophistication. It is far too hot for how dull it is. If a place is going to be this hot it must be exotic, interesting, alive, in short, all things Victorville is most certainly not. I am here for two days pursuing the all mighty if slightly worthless dollar, par for the course.

We are shooting a promo for the American version of Top Gear. This is apparently a big deal although you wouldn't know it from the utter lack of organization thus far on display. Everything is being handled at the last minute and with an oddly distinct lack of professionalism as if those involved were trying to show off how little they know about the process of filmmaking. Ah, the Digital Age! Buy a computer and a Red or a 5D and you to can start parading around as if you were the reincarnation of Cecil B. DeMille, minus an iota of talent or common sense.

At least it will be over soon.

At some point I will get out of this fireplace of a room.

At last, I will be in Arizona hunting elk for an all too brief time.

Peace out, bitches!

The video arcade is down the street. Here we just sell small rectangular objects. They're called books. They require a little effort on your part, and make no bee-bee-bee-bee-beeps. On your way please.

I tried to write a post and for some reason it got deleted. I hate Blogger so much lately. I'm going to go read a book.

Excuse me, but are you Paul Sheldon?

Fucking Bourdain! Somehow he's made me want to go to freakin' Maine! There's a restaurant called Primo that looks phenomenal and a fucked up fish house owned by a lunatic that also looks amazing. Dammit! I ain't got time for this shit! Or money! I hate Bourdain!

Now where can I go find some fucking good seafood 'round here?

Peace out, bitches!

A man fights for what he believes in, Fernando!

I am back from London and my house needs help. I was initially annoyed by this but I've come to realize that being annoyed will not clean the floors or the refrigerator or the couch or the dishes. I will and I might as well make the best of the situation. Laundry? Trash and recycling? Clothes to go to Goodwill? Dog to wash? Turtle tank to clean? Bills, bills, bills? I am the one who will take care of all of these things and to be honest, I'm happy. Happy that I have a place to keep clean and people to clean up after. The alternative isn't very fun. It would, however, be nice if I could get the women of the house to jump on to the Positive Attitude Cleaning Train but that seems to be a long term project. As it is, it's just Ghost and The Darkness this week so we're trending towards an immaculate house here, people!

God speed you black bastards! Enjoy the 4th and contemplate this on the tree of woe: Are all the men and women of the Armed Forces truly fighting for your freedom if at the end of the day you're getting less from your government and one third, if not half, of the planet hates us? Perhaps they, and us, are getting played for suckers by the powers that be?

Peace out, bitches!