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Archive for the ‘Comedy’ Category

photo_12044_20100201I just had this ready to go in case I won the Oscar tonight in the best original screenplay category, even though I was not nominated:

Well, this sure is a surprise. No, please you don’t have to stand up for this. I am in the bosom of my peers, and right now we are all winners. Of course, all of you are of the highest caliber in your fields. Ben Affleck, you are a double threat. Triple if I note how many babies you have. Ha ha. Just kidding with you there. Jessica Chastain, you have come out of nowhere in the last few years like a hurricane and just blown off our windows and doors and roofs and foundations. You were the moral center behind Zero Dark Thirty and who wouldn’t torture those bastards to get Bin Laden? I would. There are times when a self-righteous meltdown is totally justified both onscreen and off.

Jennifer Lawrence, or if I may, J. Law, I think you’re only 15 or something and here you are beating out Meryl Streep for awards. Scripture says,  “A child shall lead them,” but I think it also says a child will hand their asses to them on Oscar night. (No offense, Isaiah 11:6.)

I’ve been pretty fortunate to have worked on my script for so long when it was in the development stages with somebody who knows Steven Spielberg. This was a labor of love you gave me this Oscar for, and though I sit before you now, gleaming trophy in hand, most of the gleaming I’ve done over the last few years was born of the tanks of sweat coming down my glistening forehead and neck as I struggled over this thing I called “Piece of shit” maybe 1,200 times. The original draft is covered with blood and stomach acid.

When I first broached the idea for the screenplay with my agent (who is not at CAA, by the way), he said that my idea was more than a downer. It was also truly hostile. I had to ride that compliment for three more years alone as I worked through draft after draft and honed the script that you all know now to be a story of a man caught between extremes. My film was about the audacity of the human spirit in a world where everybody is a scorpion capable of fucking his own face. A world where people who called you their best friends and toasted you at your wedding one day could turn around the next and divorce you like an ax-handle turd and tell people you were on lithium for two years in the 90s.

I know that you are all, my peers, on the same page with me tonight when I talk about the kind of integrity I mean. Tommy Lee Jones. Ang Lee. Adele. All of you people of great sensitivity know. You who record human emotions like a photographic plate burns at the kiss of sunlight. You, my peers. Jack Nicholson. Helen Hunt. Daniel Day-Lewis. You who like me also likely know how loathsome it is to even be touched by other people when you have to brush by them in a supermarket. We who have the tender emotions of artists carry them like open wounds and yet must constantly suffer these indignities and miseries and beclown ourselves for people who are not fit to eat after us at Denny’s.

When you tripped after receiving your award, J Law, you said, “Aww shucks, you’re just giving me a standing ovation because I tripped.” When we both know what you wanted to say: “You all want to kill me. I can smell the hate from up here.” Sometimes I feel as an artist that the only safe place I have is up here on this stage with this award, yet tomorrow I will have to walk the streets alone among savages and dogs. Jennifer, you and I are safe up here. But for how long? For … how …  long?

Ben Affleck said when earning his producing award for Argo that you can’t hold grudges when you’re in Hollywood. How right he was. You must not ever show people all the horrible grudges you hold. You must instead hold them in until they make you sick with ague-y tendons and malignant formations in your pancreas. You must turn those grudges instead into fantasy on paper–specifically the fantasy of watching your enemies die in horrendous pain and bloodshed while suffering the beatings, fistings, garrotings and other degradations of Salo. You must put these fantasies on paper, waiting like a crouching tiger until the day you can make them real. Yes, right on the money, Ben Affleck. Believe me, frere, I know exactly how you feel after your Oscar snub, the pain like a fresco of freshly painted coral sticking to the insides of your stomach muscles. Yes, no grudges. Wink!

So yes, Academy, now I thank you. I thank you vile pigs for the validation that can no longer nourish me because it is too late in coming and can only sustain me the way eating pieces of notebook paper sustains an anemic. Yes, Academy, please honor me now and pretend that it is the sum of pain and humiliation and tawdry nights of loveless intercourse with streetwalkers. This is my valediction. Ang Lee says namaste, but I say kiss my boots you worms. All of you bow down and feel the sole of it on your neck and then watch me stick your patronizing Oscar up your effete Range Rover driving asses! I take your love and hand it back to you as abuse! How do you like that? Fuck this award! Fuck it!

Also, I’d like to thank Harvey Weinstein and Sid Sheinberg.

Image: Francesco Marino / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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Secularists have continued to argue that the motto “In God We Trust” on U.S. paper currency violates the First Amendment’s clause prohibiting the establishment of religion. What are some of the other mottoes that have been considered.

–*U pluribus unum

–*Spiritual but not religious

–*Money talks

–*Because we say so

–*Shazam!

–*Boo-yah!

–*Everybody dance, now!

–*Nothing gold can stay

–*Backed by gold … not!

–*Backed by fuck you

–*All law is founded in violence

–*Redeemable for five ski ball tickets

–*Existence precedes essence

–*For use as legal tender and artificial currency deflation by China

–*Your mama

–*Love means never having to say you’re sorry

–*Liberty, fraternity … let’s stop with two

–*You like me, you really really like me

–*I never promised you a rose garden

–*Only the strongest survive

–*Remember the Alamo

–*No regrets

–*Seize the day

–*Fished you in! Get the net!

–*Take me to the place you cry.

–*Put this where your heart used to be.

–*Amen and pass the ammunition.

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What are we telling ourselves every day to stay positive?

–*If I try very hard, I know the pre-diabetic in me can shine through.

–*Don’t be the person who gives in to liquor and drugs. Be the person who sells liquor and drugs to some other dumb ass.

–*It’s not my business what other people think of me and my suspended driver’s license.

–*I should relax and enjoy the things I already have, namely, this bag of aluminum cans.

–*If you stay straight and fly right, you can get from South 98th Street to North 98th Street with no problem. All you need is a city with a decent grid system.

–*My failures make me who I am. What’s important is that the cops don’t find the fingerprints that make me who I am.

–*If you compare yourself with everybody, you’ll always come up short. Try comparing yourself only to those with terminal diseases, and you’ll definitely shine by comparison.

–*Yes I can think myself out of a wet paper bag, thank you very much!

–*Someday I’ll be back on top and I’ll spit on all you losers. … And I say that with only good feelings in my heart.

–*I can beat this Tourette’s cock sucking monkey fucker.

–*It’s not my fault my hedge fund went under, it’s the god damn mark-to-market accounting rules that did me in.

–*If I’m so dumb, how come my subspecies wiped out the Neanderthals?

–*There’s no manual for how to be a human being. … But there are several critical pamphlets that we could read to watch our enormous sodium intake.

–*We’re all the same in God’s eyes. … Actually, scratch that. That’s a real motivation killer.

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Years ago, when I was the associate entertainment editor for the University of Texas college newspaper, The Daily Texan, this incredibly cheerful ex-cheerleader from El Paso would hang about in our office chatting with people late into the night as we waited for final proofs. I lost touch with Gigi for several years until, in a totally chance encounter in Tribeca, I found her working at a film production company that had asked to see one of my screenplays. I was looking for somebody else in this dark, hip office but was startled to instead find my long lost friend. I peered through the dark at a familiar figure, no longer a former cheerleader but a harried film producer, and said with head-slapping incredulity “Gigi?????”

Fast forward a few years, and I’ve watched Gigi with great admiration work tirelessly in the indie film world to get a number of really great projects off the ground, many with her extraordinarily talented husband, actor, director and producer Andrew Bowler. Occasionally we would have lunch and I’d ask Gigi, the seasoned film producer, for tips on how to play around with my own cinematic projects.

A couple of years ago she showed me a screenplay for a short film called “Time Freak,” written by Andrew. I’m not even sure why they showed it to me, unless it was just to hear me validate what they likely knew and say what everybody else likely did: “This is brilliant. Shoot it!”

I should have known that they would not only shoot it, but do it with real style and heart and cool. But they did far more–reached Olympian heights I dare say even they didn’t dream about: They this week found out they had received an Oscar nomination for best live action short film.

I had almost given up on this Oscars, especially after they started nominating 10 films for best picture. But this year, I’ll be doing it backward, and watching the middle of the show, not the end, rooting for my friend Gigi, who is still, though an older and much wiser ex-cheerleader, one of the coolest, nicest people you’ll meet.

The couple filmed their reaction to the news that they would, forever after and henceforward, be styled “Oscar nominated Gigi Causey and Andrew Bowler.” Here is the video, a suspenseful film with a highly satisfying conclusion.

Also, enjoy the “Time Freak” trailer. The entire film should be coming to the Web shortly, says Gigi.

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Live Blogging The Emmys*

–*It’s nice to see Charlie Sheen presenting something other than blood in the urine.

–*Let’s face it. John Hamm should be nominated in both best actor and best actress categories, because nobody on “Mad Men” gets near as many lines as he does.

–*The audience laughs and laughs at a musical number starring the Lonely Island and Michael Bolton and Akon, hoping that the laughter turns soon into some understanding about what the musical piece is about.

–*Let’s have a montage of every drama on TV right now to remind them what they aren’t watching when the Jersey Shore is on.

–*Scott Caan is a douche. But that’s OK, it makes him a casting slam dunk.

–*The Emmys celebrates scripted television, serialized Saturday Evening Post fiction, CB radio, betamax video, DDT and kitschy knickknacks from the 50s.

–*A new category: most self-righteous dialogue on a show featuring a female lawyer.

–*A new category: most coy penis jokes on a show featuring female doctors.

–*A new category: the most disgusting and also highly unlikely forensics scenario that can be conceived by a murderer or the writer of a CBS crime show. CBS will be the clear winner.

–*The new Charlie’s Angels ask, “Would the world be a worse place if we recycled ideas?”

–*Oh, yeah. “Friday Night Lights” keeps winning everything.

–*This is Jane Lynch’s time. Unfortunately, it’s also Snooki’s time and Michele Bachmann’s time. So, really, this is not a very good time.

–*”Women’s Bathroom Spy Cam” is really lowering the bar on TV dramas this year.

–*The nominees for best stock market crash are, October 1987, September 2001, September 2008, February 2011 and August 2011. There are no winners.

–*The producers of the TV show “Glee” admit that the show is now only 60% glee.

–*Gloria Steinem called the new Playboy Club show sexist. That’s not fair. It’s way more stupid than sexist.

–*The “In Memorium” segment reminds who died, but also allows us to finally put some names to faces … “Oh! That guy died?”

–*JWoww insists that the success of Jersey Shore is really hanging on her shoulders.

–*Jane Lynch coyly suggests that the cast of “Entourage” are Lesbians.

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My wife Stephanie, producer and star of the our Web series The Retributioners, recently penned an article for Digital Chick TV (DigitalchickTV.com) about the joys and horrors of making a Web show from scratch in our living room.

Digital Chick TV is run by another ce-Webrity, the amazing Daryn Strauss, the writer/director/producer of Downsized. Check out both our shows.

Stephanie would also probably like it if I showed off this head shot of her. I like to show her off, and besides, we can probably depreciate the photo expenses for accounting purposes.

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After a mysterious car accident led to press speculation about golf star Tiger Woods’ possible marital infidelities, there are now reports that he and his wife Elin Nordegren have renegotiated several aspects of their prenuptial agreement, which now reportedly includes $80 million extra for Nordegren if she stays with her husband for two more years and $5 million if she does not leave him immediately. What are some of the other new clauses in the prenup?

–*Nordegren is to be paid an extra million for every new bimbo who emerges in South Beach or the Hamptons claiming to have had sex with her husband.

–*That number is to rise to $1.5 million if the woman in question is a Playboy model

–*It will be $1.7 million if the photos of the Playboy model have been retouched

–*It will be $2 million if the woman Tiger slept with gets her own reality TV special

–*It will be $2.2 million if the reality TV show special involves Flavor Flav, Danny Bonaduce or Scott Baio or features vomiting.

–*Woods must pay the $3.99 per minute of phone sex out of his own pocket.

–*Nordegren does not have to make Tiger dinner, watch TV with Tiger or clap during the Masters if Tiger wins.

–*Nordegren gets $100,000 per sexual encounter with Tiger, plus a facial at Bliss Spa.

–*Nordegren does not have to address Tiger in English.

–*Nordegren does not have to continue to love him.

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