For about a year or so, I was part of a collaborative blog called The Comedy Patio. It was a really nice project that brought together a lot of very funny people who had hung out and riffed on various subjects at The Atlantic's Post/Reposte board before it went to a pay for play model . Our crowning achievement was a roast we held for Bill Maher with various writers taking the roles of people he was piublicly associated with on Politically Incorrect. I played his dogs, Blackie and Odie. As time went on, we got pretty scattered. I would post, but it seemed like no one else was and it was making me feel like an ugly special-ed kid at a middle school dance. Since the contact simply isn't there and I don't know where anybody is, it seems like the best thing to do is preserve my stuff as best as I can and move on. Somewhere in the ether, I hope they're hanging out together and I wish all of them well. Shine on, you crazy diamonds!
from: Your Guide to Plane Drunks
The Bride of Big O Jesus
This is someone who is usually older, female and large. They may or may not have flown before and may or may not have consumed alcohol before. Pre-flight preparation is always nerve-wracking for The Bride. They will mutter, pray and sometimes sing softly to themsleves. There will be a brief crescendo of "Oh, Jesus, oh, Law!"s that will die down once we are airborne. However, after much agonizing over whether to take a drink to soothe her nerves, The Bride will soon be smacking stewardesses on the ass with the bottom of her cup and demanding more vodka. This is punctuated by loud exclamations of "Oh Jesus! Oh, LAW have MERCY! LAW!" every time we hit some turbulence. The net result is a first class section full of spanking new Atheists and a coach class section full of passengers who are smugly thinking what mooks those first class passengers must be to pay that much more money just to watch "When Harry Met Sally".
from: Bad Taste Movie Theater
To: Duncan McBlain
From: Hargus Langerfeld
re: untitled for proposed disaster pic for late 2006
First off, let me say that I want to see more of this and sooner! Right now we still have crying orphans and widows all over the news. Lets get this in the can while the topic is hot but not so soon that it looks like we're money-grubbing ghouls.
Here are some changes that I want to see:
1. The title. It just isn't grabbing my tits. Lose "Tsunami: Tide of Terror" and go for something shorter, catchier and for God's sake, American like "Big Wave".
2. Speaking of making it accessable to the flyover people, lets change the location. Nobody in Wichita is going to give two hoots what happens to a fried conch vendor in Phucket. I'm also having problems with the name Phucket. How is that pronounced? Could it get us an automatic R? Maybe we need to leave it in, only have it be a resort off the Virginia Coast or something.
3. Change the age and casting suggestions for the leading lady. Helen Mirren isn't going to cut it. I can't take her seriously as a seismologist. Make it Brittany Murphy. Here's the deal: if she wears khaki shorts three sizes too big, a Texas A&M jersey, short hair pulled back and glasses, she'll look serious and hot. That's how I picture seismologists.
4. We need a dog or a kitten to wander out on the beach when the water retreats. Then we need Brittany Murphy's orangutan sidekick (see next note) to run out and save the kitten, running just ahead of the wall of water.
5.Replace Jeff Daniels. I don't want to see him assisting Brittany Murphy. Give her a pet orangutan with a cute name. Lucas? Walt? Darwin? Clyde?
6. We need a scene where she eats a Twix bar. I'll explain later.
7. The ending is a real downer, don't you think? Instead, lets have her drive a nuclear warhead out to the beach. As the tide approaches, she puts the truck into gear, jumps out and runs inland as the vehicle rams into the wave and detonates, causing it to become a warm rain falling all over the Virginia Coast.
I'll have more notes after I've actually read the script.
Ciao for now!
copyright 2006 Jas Faulkner