Million Dollar Maybe

You see, I could be making millions of dollars, right now. No, I'm not talking about an e-mail I got from a deposed prince who needs me to help transfer buh-jillions of dollars into this country. I'm talking about using good old fashioned brain-fueled elbow grease. I'm talking talent. A sheer hawking of my adult prodigy wares...to Hollywood.

I have made a deal with the people who run Tinseltown. Through various indirect channels, I have clearly communicated my position. I will not move to LA unless I am offered an ungodly amount of money upfront. Pure and simple. Come across with the dough and I'll be there Monday morning with a latte in my hand. They haven't said "no." Not in so many words. Mostly, they've been silent as they are, I am sure, weighing my proposal.

Is this just the cocky ramblings of a delusional washed-up hack? Nay, I say. Nay! I am an idea man. Hollywood chews up and poops out ideas faster than an alien plant from outer space gnaws through people. I can feed that idea consuming machine, ladies and gentlemen. I have ideas dripping out of my pores. Sparks fly from my computer keyboard and sometimes I have to stop because the smoke from my fingertips gets in my eyes. And it stings! Stings with passion.

Allow me to demonstrate my creative prowess. If I were in LA, I'd open up an idea shack near Chinatown. All the studio executives and film directors would line-up around the block to see me.

Michael Bay - Need an idea for your next picture?

Here's one. Right off the top of my head. TUPPERWARE: THE MOVIE. No, strike that. Make it TUPPER WARS. Rubbery plastic containers from outer space that occasionally need to be burped to keep their freshness in - that is their kryptonite! They land on earth while escaping from the clutches of an evil villain team-up of Al Uminum Foil and Plastique Rap (I'm thinking Robin Williams and Will Smith here, respectively). They are befriended by a beautiful Rachel Ray-type (or Rachel Ray herself if she ever un-porks herself). She is admired from afar by a struggling Wolfgang Puck. He falls in with the evil villains in a bid to gain more fame and fortune to try to impress Ray. A huge battle takes place after the International Food Olympics when Rachel and the Tupperwares try to bring leftovers to a hungry third world country and the bad guys try to stop them. Wolfgang betrays the evil villains because he realizes he is truly in love with the Rachel Ray-esque babe (two words, Angelina Jolie. In an apron. Equals HOT!)and Wolfgang needs to make amends. She forgives him for all the death and destruction. They are awarded medals by the International Food Olympics committee. They then get married and cater their own wedding reception.

NEXT!!!! Ah, Steven Spielberg.

Your next smash hit is called JEWBOT. Nazis have perfected robot technology and their giant super fighting machine falls in love with a Jewish girl. He saves her from the ovens at a concentration camp by smashing through the walls with his fists. Nazis send an even bigger giant super fighting robot to kill him. They have a huge battle in Berlin, destroying most of the city. The good robot deals a death blow to the bad robot who falls on Hitler and kills him dead. The good robot and the Jewish girl free all the Jews, end the war, and get married under a giant chuppah made by hundreds of grateful concentration camp survivors from their own underwear.

NEXT!!! Ah, the Weinstein brothers. Looking for something classy, but with that independent spirit?

I have just the thing for you. It's called MATT ADORE, for only the slightest reason. An artsy grunge musician from Seattle named Matt Adore - that's right, it's a period piece from the early '90's - falls in love with an illegal immigrant (think Salma Hayek, if she ever gets un-pregnant) who is sent back to Mexico (topical, too!). This young Ethan Hawke goes in search for her. He gets a job as a matador (get it?) on the bullfighting circuit to cover his expenses while searching all of Meh-hee-ko for her. He has a buddy, a chubby Jack Black guy, who goes with him for comic relief. One afternoon, during the toughest bullfight of his career, he sees the love of his life selling tamales in the stands. (She takes the job in hopes of seeing him. He's become wildly famous. He is a bullfighting rock and roll star. She almost approaches him before the fight, but he is besieged by lovely senoritas throwing their mexican moccasins at him out of love.) He sees her in the stands tossing tamales for pesos. A fat guy in a sombrero is yelling at her. She turns and sees Ethan. Their eyes lock. The music swells. The Jack Black character comically yells "Loooooooooook ouuuuuuut!" in slow motion. Just then, the bull gourds the matador! Salma jumps over the stands and runs to him. The bull charges her as she tends to him. With his dying breath, he throws her out of the way and gets to his feet. His golden matador outfit all bloodied from the gaping hole in his side. The bull is so impressed by his bravery that he stops, bows down to the matador, and then kills himself out of respect. The bull takes his own life by turning his lethal horns in on himself and puncturing his own gut. The bull collapses. Ethan collapses. Salma Hayek picks him up and carries him out of the stadium as the crowd cheers and throws flowers at them. We think he's dead, but cut to them getting married outdoors, he in his matador outfit with a big gauze bandage over the wound. The Jack Black guy is the best hombre. In the background in a field, we can see a big wedding fiesta is set up and the body of the bull turns over a spit. The newly declared couple kiss. Everyone in the wedding party yells "Ole!" Freeze. Credits roll.

Sniff the air. Smell that? That's the smell of a blockbuster. That's the smell of Star Wars and Indiana Jones running like frightened little girls away the Top Grossing Movies of All Time list.

Throughout history, people have hungered for stories to help them kill time before they die. Entertainment is a drug and I am selling crack, my friends. It might be hard to believe, but I made these three Oscar worthy movies up right on the spot. My oilwell gusher head can be tapped into.

The ball is in your court, Hollywood. You know my name. You have my number. The best time to reach me is in the morning, but, really, anytime is okay.


ROBOWRITERS IS TONIGHT...

...at 6:30pm at The Uptown Writer's Space at Lawrence and Broadway. Stop on in to get feedback on your written scenes or to get inspired or motivated to write.


THE BS NEWS QUIZ OF THE DAY

Yesterday, I asked...

"To keep their officers from committing minor infractions of the law, Thai Police are threatening which punishment?"

29% answered "making door-to-door apologies."
I think that's a great idea, but no. Answer wrong, again, and you'll have to go knock on some doors.

No one went for the very fine deterrents of "singing the Thai National anthem at a sporting event" or "writing things like "I will not litter" five thousand times."
Both would work for me, although the singing would punish too many innocent people.

The correct answer? 71% got it with "wearing 'Hello Kitty' accessories."

According to The New York Times, the Thai police will make any officers who break the law wear a "Hello Kitty" arm band. They tried a plaid arm band, but the officers wore them with a sense of cocky pride missing the point entirely. The pink arm bands are supposed to make them feel a little humiliation for their actions. If it doesn't work, I recommend tutus.Or replacing their nightsticks with little princess-type magic wands.