Two years ago I was in Miami working on a car commercial. We're on top of a camera car shooting off mounts and hand held and a Technocrane. It was a shit ton of work. The director was a fashionable little idiot who, in a previous life, got stuffed into lockers on a regular basis back in jolly ol' England. I think the English would have described him as "a right cunt." Every few minutes, in between shots, he would start talking about something with the DP (my friend and the reason I was in Miami) and the producer. Every subject he brought up seemed to be something he had an opinion on but knew nothing about. Literally. Nothing. It was an odd serious of demonstrably incorrect statements. The DP and producer didn't correct him or try to really keep the conversations going and I'm not sure if this was due to their ignorance of said subjects or their boredom with the director.
I know now that what I did probably wasn't politically intelligent but hey, I did it. Cry two tears in a bucket, fuck it. I began to engage the director and ever so gently correct him. Apparently this got on his nerves as promptly after lunch when I corrected him on the dates of the American Civil War he looked at me with his hamster face and blurted out, "It must be hard knowing everything." I smiled, looked off into the distance and fiddled with the remote focus unit for the Technocrane. It was hot and sticky humid but occasionally a salty breeze would blow off of the Atlantic. None of that helped the situation. I never said anything after that until we got to the wrap party. Even then I avoided the director or just grinned like the Cheshire cat and nodded when he spoke, eventually disappearing in a cloud of blue-white Camel smoke. It was all so annoyingly awkward and easily resolvable with a brick.
I'm in Miami right now. I got in around 2pm and by 2:01pm I realized I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday back in Los Angeles. As soon as I got to the hotel I wandered around until I ended up at a nice little eatery, sat at the bar, ordered a glass of wine and some food, and who walks up but Hamster Face the Director. The world is a very small and cruel place indeed. After a few minutes of civilized bullshitting a la Hollywood he drops the line I think he'd been rehearsing the whole time. To whit, "So, how's knowing everything been working out for you?" He's grinning now, staring at me with hot little hamster eyes set too close together in his hot little hamster face. I realize that what's about to come out of my mouth is most assuredly not politically intelligent but I'm not working for this idiot right now. I am, I think, the picture of calm as I sip my wine, ruminate and come back with, "It would be easier if I didn't work with so many people who were so sensitive about knowing nothing." I am smiling again, trying to look normal and polite and not at all like I'm laughing like a maniac in my head.
He retreated after that.
I ate my calamari and my arugula and drank my wine.
Work starts tomorrow out here in humid Miami where there once lived a happy Hamster Face Director. I get to go back to my awesome wife and daughter and dog and new house on Saturday. Everything until then is just civilized Hollywood bullshit.
Peace out, bitches!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
"It doesn't take a genius to see that the world has problems." "No, but it takes a room full of morons to think they're small enough for you to handle."
I have been gone for awhile. Not physically. Just digitally. I'm sort of thinking about trying to put together a committee to explore the possibility of beginning to plan on coming back. Maybe.
I love it when comedians do the old, "So what's in the news?" bit. I was thinking about that today while perusing the headlines. Obama and the Dems have shown their true colors: a stripe down the back that's a mix of yellow and green. That he's the first black president of these here United States is laudable. That he's a lackluster soon to be one term surrender monkey is par for the course. I feel that as a country we are collectively engaged in a delusion that serves only the interests of our corporate overlords. Think that's ridiculous? Count the logos on the clothes you're wearing right now. Walk outside and notice how few things aren't branded. Contemplate this: name one country we've tried to democratize or liberate or otherwise save from themselves that some huge multinational didn't already have a stake in. If you're honest with yourself you'll come up with zero. Unplug from the Matrix and eat the fucking gruel already, America! These fuckers are going to bleed you dry and recycle your ass for the next group of suckers coming down the road.
It's okay, though. It'll all be fine. The oceans will collapse, the mountains will collapse, the whole ecosystem that most people are too stupid to realize they're a part of will collapse. We'll be running around like the hairless apes we are, panicked and paralyzed with fear. I hope I live long enough to see it because I swear I will find the nearest Republican or Libertarian or Democrat and slap him silly while saying, "I told you so!" That or I'll find a banker or hedge fund manager and choke him while saying, "I told you so!"
As always, Peace out, bitches!
I love it when comedians do the old, "So what's in the news?" bit. I was thinking about that today while perusing the headlines. Obama and the Dems have shown their true colors: a stripe down the back that's a mix of yellow and green. That he's the first black president of these here United States is laudable. That he's a lackluster soon to be one term surrender monkey is par for the course. I feel that as a country we are collectively engaged in a delusion that serves only the interests of our corporate overlords. Think that's ridiculous? Count the logos on the clothes you're wearing right now. Walk outside and notice how few things aren't branded. Contemplate this: name one country we've tried to democratize or liberate or otherwise save from themselves that some huge multinational didn't already have a stake in. If you're honest with yourself you'll come up with zero. Unplug from the Matrix and eat the fucking gruel already, America! These fuckers are going to bleed you dry and recycle your ass for the next group of suckers coming down the road.
It's okay, though. It'll all be fine. The oceans will collapse, the mountains will collapse, the whole ecosystem that most people are too stupid to realize they're a part of will collapse. We'll be running around like the hairless apes we are, panicked and paralyzed with fear. I hope I live long enough to see it because I swear I will find the nearest Republican or Libertarian or Democrat and slap him silly while saying, "I told you so!" That or I'll find a banker or hedge fund manager and choke him while saying, "I told you so!"
As always, Peace out, bitches!
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Gentlemen, you can't fight in here! This is the War Room.
I have not posted in a bit so here's a bit of photo bullshit. If you have any questions please let me know. I'll answer questions as honestly as possible.
Peace out, bitches!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
When it was all over, I walked up. We didn't find one of 'em, not one stinkin' dink body. The smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole hill.
Not one stinking duck body. The whole pond!
I got up early. I drove in the dark and the mud. I listened to redneck jackasses talk about "socialism" and "them faggots in Frisco." I put up with it all because I was number 4 on the lottery line and I was going to get a good blind. I had come through last night and poured over the blind listings and had ranked them in order of how they'd been shooting. It took half an hour and I did it and they all stared while I did it. I had my list.
I got the second blind on my list and I was happy! Finally, I was in the right place at the right time with the right tools and I was going to kill ducks!
First came the walk through the dark with all my gear on my back. Half the time I skated across mud on a trail I'd never been on with no real idea where I was headed. By the time I made it to my blind I only had about thirty minutes to get everything set up: dekes in some semblance of natural order, pit blind cleaned out and brushed up, gear stored away, wet dog dried off somewhat, gun loaded, camo on, lights out. Barely made it all happen.
It was so overcast that ducks would appear out of nowhere. Half the time I didn't even shoot as they were whistling past me before I knew what was happening. The few shots I took I missed which I chalked up to the quickness and utter unpredictability of the shooting. I would later look back at this part of the hunt as the "salad days."
Cut to a few hours later. I'm out about eight or nine rounds but feeling good. Then the sun pops out straight into my eyes. A quick look at the compass and hey, what do you know, I picked the fucking blind that faces the sun all day. Behind me, an active road. In front of me, the pond and the sun. I rearrange the dekes off to the side in the hopes that I can get some shots not into the sun. I do. I miss them. All of them. Including the drake, wings cupped and landing gear deployed, who is inches above the closest deke. I had just dropped Ghost out of the blind so he could pee and as I look up I see the drake. He sees me and starts backpedalling. Silly duck! I can't shoot anymore! I fire twice and miss twice and have to fight the urge to throw the gun in the drink. I curse out loud instead. Several more ducks fly out of the marsh, I'd hurt their feelings I guess.
It all spirals out of control from there. More ducks come at me in increasingly easier patterns which I miss in the most spectacular fashion. My cussing grows loud enough that even I realize I'm being too loud. Around me, other hunters are dropping ducks at a steady clip. I am throwing $1 shells into the sky with no idea why or how or what. Had I simply dumped the whole box into the marsh I'd have accomplished the same thing minus the torrent of curses and the unnecessary discharge of a firearm.
I walked the mile back to the car at one point. I had lunch and decided that Ghost was a jinx so I left him in the car. I swapped out chokes. I made an altar to no deity in particular and burned it after a nondenominational prayer. I made a fake vodoo doll of a duck and stabbed it and then brushed my gun with it. None of this helped but it did keep at bay any of the local douche bags who thought they might want to have a word with me about my "Reading Is Sexy" sticker.
I walked a mile again. If you're keeping count it ends up I walked four miles for no good reason. I guess that's the point of all of this: there was no point. I drove up to the Red part of the state to shoot ducks and I failed to shoot any ducks. There were ducks though, lots and lots of beautiful mallards and pintails and even some gadwalls. It would have nice to shoot a gadwall, they hardly ever travel down to LA. Anyway, I walked back and climbed down into the pit and waited. I missed some more lay-ups and thought briefly about crying. I gave myself a time out instead, for an hour.
It didn't help.
My last three rounds were fired almost vertically at a passing group of mallards. I missed all three shots, shouted "Fuck you!" to the ducks and threw my gun into the drink.
Then I fished it out, got my decoys, and dragged my sorry ass back to my sorry ass hotel in sorry ass Willows, CA. Fuck yeah.
Now pass me that bottle of tequila, will you? My throat is parched and I'm in a foul mood.
Peace out, bitches! (except for every fucking duck in the Sacramento NWR. Y'all can fuckin' kiss my ass!)
I got up early. I drove in the dark and the mud. I listened to redneck jackasses talk about "socialism" and "them faggots in Frisco." I put up with it all because I was number 4 on the lottery line and I was going to get a good blind. I had come through last night and poured over the blind listings and had ranked them in order of how they'd been shooting. It took half an hour and I did it and they all stared while I did it. I had my list.
I got the second blind on my list and I was happy! Finally, I was in the right place at the right time with the right tools and I was going to kill ducks!
First came the walk through the dark with all my gear on my back. Half the time I skated across mud on a trail I'd never been on with no real idea where I was headed. By the time I made it to my blind I only had about thirty minutes to get everything set up: dekes in some semblance of natural order, pit blind cleaned out and brushed up, gear stored away, wet dog dried off somewhat, gun loaded, camo on, lights out. Barely made it all happen.
It was so overcast that ducks would appear out of nowhere. Half the time I didn't even shoot as they were whistling past me before I knew what was happening. The few shots I took I missed which I chalked up to the quickness and utter unpredictability of the shooting. I would later look back at this part of the hunt as the "salad days."
Cut to a few hours later. I'm out about eight or nine rounds but feeling good. Then the sun pops out straight into my eyes. A quick look at the compass and hey, what do you know, I picked the fucking blind that faces the sun all day. Behind me, an active road. In front of me, the pond and the sun. I rearrange the dekes off to the side in the hopes that I can get some shots not into the sun. I do. I miss them. All of them. Including the drake, wings cupped and landing gear deployed, who is inches above the closest deke. I had just dropped Ghost out of the blind so he could pee and as I look up I see the drake. He sees me and starts backpedalling. Silly duck! I can't shoot anymore! I fire twice and miss twice and have to fight the urge to throw the gun in the drink. I curse out loud instead. Several more ducks fly out of the marsh, I'd hurt their feelings I guess.
It all spirals out of control from there. More ducks come at me in increasingly easier patterns which I miss in the most spectacular fashion. My cussing grows loud enough that even I realize I'm being too loud. Around me, other hunters are dropping ducks at a steady clip. I am throwing $1 shells into the sky with no idea why or how or what. Had I simply dumped the whole box into the marsh I'd have accomplished the same thing minus the torrent of curses and the unnecessary discharge of a firearm.
I walked the mile back to the car at one point. I had lunch and decided that Ghost was a jinx so I left him in the car. I swapped out chokes. I made an altar to no deity in particular and burned it after a nondenominational prayer. I made a fake vodoo doll of a duck and stabbed it and then brushed my gun with it. None of this helped but it did keep at bay any of the local douche bags who thought they might want to have a word with me about my "Reading Is Sexy" sticker.
I walked a mile again. If you're keeping count it ends up I walked four miles for no good reason. I guess that's the point of all of this: there was no point. I drove up to the Red part of the state to shoot ducks and I failed to shoot any ducks. There were ducks though, lots and lots of beautiful mallards and pintails and even some gadwalls. It would have nice to shoot a gadwall, they hardly ever travel down to LA. Anyway, I walked back and climbed down into the pit and waited. I missed some more lay-ups and thought briefly about crying. I gave myself a time out instead, for an hour.
It didn't help.
My last three rounds were fired almost vertically at a passing group of mallards. I missed all three shots, shouted "Fuck you!" to the ducks and threw my gun into the drink.
Then I fished it out, got my decoys, and dragged my sorry ass back to my sorry ass hotel in sorry ass Willows, CA. Fuck yeah.
Now pass me that bottle of tequila, will you? My throat is parched and I'm in a foul mood.
Peace out, bitches! (except for every fucking duck in the Sacramento NWR. Y'all can fuckin' kiss my ass!)
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
No sir. Not embarrassing, because no one's ever going to find out they're down here. 'Cause you're gonna spot 'em and you're gonna air 'em out!
I have driven for eight hours through traffic accidents, wind advisories, rain, and crank addled truckers. I'm two clicks past the Do Long bridge and there are most certainly "gooks on the wire" as the young man from the Bronx once uttered. Geese everywhere you look. Water water everywhere and oh yes, I'd love a drop or three to drink. Ducks. Flights of ducks and then someone says "plate" or "plate of dead ducks" and the whole sorry hallucination starts all over again.
There are more ducks here then I know what to do with and I am going to try to kill as many of them as I can. I must get on tonight. I must get a winning lottery number tonight. I must be allowed to fulfill my destiny! (Extra hot sausage if you know where that comes from.) It is raining something ugly and I was advised not to go to the white trash bar in town. I don't know that there is a correlation between these facts but I thought it safest to mention them both in the same breath. Just in case.
Willows, CA: a one horse town if ever I've seen one. And I have. Par for the course I'll dine on Mexican food as they are generally the only people who can cook when you're in the middle of nowhere California. Sacramento seems far away and exotic. San Francisco doesn't actually exist here. It's like saying you ride a unicorn. It occurs to me my name might not be very popular here. It also occurs to me I'm armed to the teeth. Hear on the radio: "Why do people think freedom of religion means we have to accept these other religions? We can't! We're Catholic!" Note to self: never get out of the boat. Absolutely goddamn right.
It's time. It's time to go out and win that fucking lottery and get a goddamned good blind.
Peace out, bitches!
There are more ducks here then I know what to do with and I am going to try to kill as many of them as I can. I must get on tonight. I must get a winning lottery number tonight. I must be allowed to fulfill my destiny! (Extra hot sausage if you know where that comes from.) It is raining something ugly and I was advised not to go to the white trash bar in town. I don't know that there is a correlation between these facts but I thought it safest to mention them both in the same breath. Just in case.
Willows, CA: a one horse town if ever I've seen one. And I have. Par for the course I'll dine on Mexican food as they are generally the only people who can cook when you're in the middle of nowhere California. Sacramento seems far away and exotic. San Francisco doesn't actually exist here. It's like saying you ride a unicorn. It occurs to me my name might not be very popular here. It also occurs to me I'm armed to the teeth. Hear on the radio: "Why do people think freedom of religion means we have to accept these other religions? We can't! We're Catholic!" Note to self: never get out of the boat. Absolutely goddamn right.
It's time. It's time to go out and win that fucking lottery and get a goddamned good blind.
Peace out, bitches!
Friday, October 22, 2010
Ralph, that is not the sufi way.
I am losing my mind. Or maybe the world really is at an all time level of stupid.
Case in point: Juan Williams vs. NPR. Mr. Williams is annoying pseudo-intellectual who was caught saying he was afraid of people who look Muslim. His defense? He's a civil rights "pioneer" and so he can't be accused of racism and besides, he was trying to argue a point against Bill O'Reilly on O'Reilly's show. Uh, what?
O'Reilly is a loud mouthed jack ass who's "arguments" consist primarily of him shouting over his guests. Fair and balanced? Yeah, right, this is Fox after all where fair and balanced means we get loud, old, crazy white guys to yell at effete center/left moderates. It's a fucking sham, a dog and pony show for the intellectually bankrupt retards that make up Fox's viewing audience. For Willliams to go on that show as anything other than a paid performer is a lie. He knew what he was getting into, everyone who goes on that damn show knows what's up so his defense is bullshit. He's a coward and a bigot and yes, you can be those things and still fight for civil rights. You're a hypocrite but you can do it.
Case in point, redux: Catherine O'Donnell. Why is she in the news? Who thinks this imbecile can run anything? What the fuck is going on around here that a fucking inept, brainless, God squad dipshit is making news? Who the fuck votes for people like this? What. The. Fuck.
In short, I need to find a way not to feel like killing off a large chunk of the American electorate for the crime of being criminally stupid and letting this country slide further into the hands of corporate America, xenophobia, ignorant nationalism, and moral bankruptcy.
I don't know how I'm going to do it but dammit, if the sufi way works I'll go that route.
Peace out, bitches!
Case in point: Juan Williams vs. NPR. Mr. Williams is annoying pseudo-intellectual who was caught saying he was afraid of people who look Muslim. His defense? He's a civil rights "pioneer" and so he can't be accused of racism and besides, he was trying to argue a point against Bill O'Reilly on O'Reilly's show. Uh, what?
O'Reilly is a loud mouthed jack ass who's "arguments" consist primarily of him shouting over his guests. Fair and balanced? Yeah, right, this is Fox after all where fair and balanced means we get loud, old, crazy white guys to yell at effete center/left moderates. It's a fucking sham, a dog and pony show for the intellectually bankrupt retards that make up Fox's viewing audience. For Willliams to go on that show as anything other than a paid performer is a lie. He knew what he was getting into, everyone who goes on that damn show knows what's up so his defense is bullshit. He's a coward and a bigot and yes, you can be those things and still fight for civil rights. You're a hypocrite but you can do it.
Case in point, redux: Catherine O'Donnell. Why is she in the news? Who thinks this imbecile can run anything? What the fuck is going on around here that a fucking inept, brainless, God squad dipshit is making news? Who the fuck votes for people like this? What. The. Fuck.
In short, I need to find a way not to feel like killing off a large chunk of the American electorate for the crime of being criminally stupid and letting this country slide further into the hands of corporate America, xenophobia, ignorant nationalism, and moral bankruptcy.
I don't know how I'm going to do it but dammit, if the sufi way works I'll go that route.
Peace out, bitches!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
You better get your ass off your shoulders and make that money.
Financial realization:
Pure bred hunting dog- $1,000
Metal pole with hook on the end- $12
Difference- $988
Thanks to my Dad allowing my dog to come dangerously close to freezing and drowning at the same time I have now replaced the dog with the pole when duck hunting. Somewhere in all of this is an important lesson about life, finances, hunting, and my Dad. Damned if I know what that lesson is but I now realize I need to get my ass off this couch and take my dog to a psychiatrist. That little bastard needs to get to work!
Peace out, bitches!
Pure bred hunting dog- $1,000
Metal pole with hook on the end- $12
Difference- $988
Thanks to my Dad allowing my dog to come dangerously close to freezing and drowning at the same time I have now replaced the dog with the pole when duck hunting. Somewhere in all of this is an important lesson about life, finances, hunting, and my Dad. Damned if I know what that lesson is but I now realize I need to get my ass off this couch and take my dog to a psychiatrist. That little bastard needs to get to work!
Peace out, bitches!
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