For all of us obsessive Rosemary’s Baby fans, especially those who remember the most obscure and incidental details of the film, it seems that both Luther and Nobody Loves An Albatross were ACTUAL Broadway productions — though, disappointingly, no Guy Woodhouse shows up in the production rosters (and, yes, I’m being facetious). But, true to the movie dialogue, Albert Finney did indeed have a starring role in Luther. Though, according to IBDB, Finney had no understudy, which could mean that the site doesn’t have that information or he really didn’t have an understudy. I’m not sure why I even doubted the authenticity of these plays, considering the posters for them in the Woodhouse apartment. Surely, the possibility of them being forgeries was there, and I wasn’t alive to actually remember such productions, but lo and behold, they’re quite real. Now, if I could just get to the bottom of this tannis root thing. “All Of Them Witches” as well (and I mean the purported book, not the movie that came years later).

Also, having somewhat to do with fitting the “movies” category here (though, absolutely nothing to do with Rosemary, or her awesomely quirky neighbors), I came up with an idea for a documentary I’ll probably not get around to producing. But, it’s a reasonably solid and relatively controversial idea and, if you’ve got the talent and the means, jump on it. What is it? Well…

I was spending time with friends all this weekend, and I relayed this doc idea to at least one of them outside one of the local watering holes, a doc that would springboard off the highly-popular Girls Gone Wild series of videos, and maybe even follow some of that money as well. Now, here’s the premise… it’s a safe bet that an obscene number of the college bims in these vids are fairly snockered or under the influence of some other allure, like desperately wanting their 15 minutes of fame to quell some lack of confidence or identity. Hell, some of them might just be plain old stupid. And let’s not forget the still-circulating cool cred attached to girls making out with other girls in bar scenes all over the U.S. of A. (Isn’t Middle America bored with this… YET?!) But, add enough Vodka and Red Bulls into the mix, and, BOOM, you’ve got instant bi-curiosity on tap. (I wouldn’t even be surprised if the GGW crew and Smirnoff have a bit of an under-the-table deal in all of this, either.) Regardless, when Spring Break is over, these young ladies return to their studies or their job at the DQ or whatever but, at the end of it, they go back to normal life, or at least suspecting that all will be normal. Of course, what happens in Fort Lauderdale doesn’t necessarily stay there… it now goes to a replication house, pressed onto millions of DVDs, and shipped worldwide to frat boys and horny businessmen of all stripes. Then, the REAL exposure begins…

Basically, that small town girl becomes grist for the gossip mill, rumors fly, attitudes change, family in turmoil, harassment begins, sexually pushy men approach, jobs lost, scholarships out the window, community up in arms… all because little Kaitlyn or Ashley had a few too many Fuzzy Navels and wound up in girl-on-girl-on-dildo action in a motel room with cameraguys shooting the whole to-do. (If you haven’t seen GGW — and it’s all over the Internet — it’s a whole lot more than just boob flashing, I can assure you.) Whether Schadenfreude or pathos, THAT story is the genesis of a documentary I would definitely watch… and so would a lot of YOU. Imagine all of the potential “good video” that could come not only from the poor little gals themselves residing in numerous but not exactly sexually-progressive towns and suburbs, but also from an assortment of angry (or even PROUD) parents, irate church groups, attempts at blackmail (if it hasn’t gotten completely out of the bag at that point), catty female enemies, idiot jock “dudes,” and the list goes on. All it needs is a good title (I’m thinking “Girls Gone Defiled,” but it just doesn’t have enough punch), being at the right moments with cameras on, as well as some decent production, and it’s a go.

The real zinger here is that you KNOW some of these barflies-in-training would definitely sign the release form to be in it — if only to get some more attention (this time, with their shirts on). Masochism never seems to go out of style for some. With that, here might be some of the motives these jaded ladies might cop for being in a doc like this…

•• “I was used, and I don’t want other young girls to be used, so they need to see this. Sign me up!”
•• “This might forward my career in the modeling industry. Let’s do it!”
•• “I’m screwed up, and this might help me get over my issues. Count me in!”
•• “If my family and neighbors see me as the victim I am, they might forgive me. Yeah, I’ll do it!”

(Insert your own equally delusional justification here.)

Then again, I suppose it would depend on the producer’s spin on the concept, and which direction it headed in the editing room. Could be an insightful look into dangerously misspent youth, or simply a downwardly-spiraling freak show. No way for the participants to know for sure until it’s out, really. Though, I’m guessing the Springer crowd would bite the line quite unquestioningly.

Of course, if you use the idea and you neither credit me nor send a bit of a kickback my way, I will come at you with strong litigation. And, whether or not I won, I’d still garner a heap of good publicity along the way. It’s a win/win situation, ladies and gentlemen. At least for me.

•••••• Bookmark It ••••••

Hide Sites

Sitting along the center side-facing seats of my outbound bus today were a few Asian teenage boys. I couldn’t make out much of what they were saying, but I swore that I heard in the same sentence of a largely-English conversation (spoken poorly and with thick accent), “Hong Kong Phooey” and “morphine” — each word more than once, and always together! At this moment in my journey, I thought back to that Lewis Black joke about “If it wasn’t for my horse, I would have never finished that year in college” and the words obliquely given to me by these chatty lads were likewise jammed in my head, devoid of context, and driving me nuts! All I could do was run it through my brain in hopeless deconstruction mode: “What the hell does a ’70s Saturday morning cartoon superhero dog have to do with narcotics? Is this what the kids call morphine now? And who the hell does morphine anymore?” Thanks to semi-literated Asian teens, Hanna-Barbera and an opium derivative for today’s “What The Heck?” moment… though, I don’t think this plot will end up on TV Land.

Usually when I’m on the bus, I can typically locate The Starer right away. That is, every Burlington city bus ride I’m on with more than a few people means that someone is staring at me… a lot. To drag “science” into this: the law of averages states that you put enough people on a CCTA bus that I’m also on and one person is likely to figure out my not-so-secret identity. It’s a scientific fact, Jack. But, I’m not bothered by it at all, and I even expect it at this point in our 40K pop. town, especially in public. The fact that I notice is mostly because it’s way too obvious. Of course, there is also the uncommon but not too rare occurrence when one or more people notice The Starer staring at me. Believe me, fair citizens… when others around you notice you are staring at someone and start discussing it with each other, you’re probably staring too much. Still, when does that ever stop folks? So if you (the reader) and I are locally chummy and we’re on a bus ride together, try to spot The Starer on your own, just for laughs. Think “Where’s Waldo?” without the challenge.

Occasionally, I’ll bus to meet with one of my clients at the same time for days on end. And it’s during these intermittent patterns that I start spotting the regulars on a given route’s run. A recent regular is this slightly chubby young man who also happens to have Down’s Syndrome. Funny thing about tards (besides them actually being tards) is that I think they’re starting to socially evolve. I mean, it only seems a couple decades back when tards looked like tards — that is, they all tended to dress uniformly in bad outdated clothing (and definitely NOT for some hipster-retro plea for attention), “Roman” haircuts, and definitely no facial hair. This guy actually had a beard and was wearing some fairly Vermont-esque winter wear a la hippie/ski dude. Even his hairdo was fairly recent. So, I’m thinking that I might have previously missed something and that this is tard evolution. (I’d be the first to admit that I don’t exactly have my thumb on the pulse of the mentally challenged in modern times.) I’m not sure how I even feel about this. At least, he had a Scooby Doo backpack on, which brought him a few steps back to the comfortably traditional tard level. Still, I don’t know. What happens if they figure out that the world laughs at them, co-opt into the system somehow as revenge, and take over the planet! Sure, you can say that it’s just a beard here and a hipster haircut there, but just like Aibo could lead to SkyNet, this whole trend could empower them to consider full tard revolution. So, if you see one on the bus, smile politely and don’t stare.

And, lastly, I really hate not being able to see clearly out the bus window (especially in winter) because there is one of those full-bus advertisement murals obscuring the outside of all the windows. Is that a bum or a bench? A mailman or a mailbox? And what the hell is that cart on Church Street selling, anyway? I just want to see out the freaking window, CCTA! Is that so much to ask in light of your occasionally bad drivers, often late buses, GREEN interior lights (and who at CCTA thought these were a good idea?) and now a city-enforced smoking BAN at the main (outdoor!) bus stop? Was the last of these a means of getting rid of the Middle Eastern looking homeless(?)/ chain smoking/ mentally disturbed guy who paced the bus stop hundreds of times a day, every day, smoking pack after pack, for no discernible reason? Did he creep the tourists out THAT much that it required a city ordinance? I wish it was really that. If so, let’s take it to its logical conclusion and do something about the belligerent wacko on crutches who randomly screams at people downtown. Through all of these years, hasn’t this curmudgeon merited a “No Yelling On Church Street” ordinance or something? You know… for the tourists, who, by and large, matter more than Burlingtonians — as is often evidenced. Oh, as if I’m saying something no one in this town knows.

So, when on the bus these days, and having no luck with the whole window debacle (and it IS a debacle at this point), I’m forced to turn my attention to the other passengers and then make complete sport of them on my blog. Hey, I paid my $1.25 and I want some entertainment, damnit. I’m completely entitled to some Schadenfreude while using public transit. That, and it’s a pretty long ride sometimes.

•••••• Bookmark It ••••••

Hide Sites