Movie Scene

Ramblings Post #152
He is responsible for more bad movies and television than quite possibly any other character in literary history. And by that I mean more actors, directors and producers have tried to capture his magic and failed than any other. He started a craze, engendered an idea, and has been in more films than Godzilla...maybe. I read the books, watched the movies, and pray that there is never a television series. Not even on HBO.



I've been planning a movie, actual film in camera movie, for years now. Only life, work, money, and that pesky law school have kept me from stumbling onto to stardom. [Indulge me, geez!] This will of course lead to another movie, then another, and finally the big time. And one of the things I want to do when I get there, is to shoot one of the greatest scenes of all time. Well, at least to me.

The scene is the pre-credits sequence in a movie I conceived ages ago roughly titled Supply Man, with a its lead character a low level grunt in one of the cliched no name super secret spy agency who is charge of finding things for actual spies.

[Open Scene]
Our erstwhile hero would be playing cards in a club somewhere, considering his cards and toying with his chips. An older man would make an off screen comment regarding his slow style of play, and the camera would pan over to a grizzled Sean Connery.

The next player would counsel patience, and the camera would slide over to Roger Moore.

You would cut back to the hero, still looking at his chips who then make a half-assed comment trying to appear casual.

Timothy Dalton, from the other side of the table would question him as to the meaning of the hero's statement. He would look a little agitated.

Pierce Brosnan would say something that sounds as though it's in the hero's defense, then crack a joke at our hero's expense.

The last card player, who returns from getting a drink would be Daniel Craig, who would complain that we were still playing the same damn hand. At this point the hero would fold, and gather up his meager funds.

As the hero leaves, a new guy - George Lazenby - would enter, stop the hero and ask how the game is going. The hero would make a comment about how he realizes he's out of his league, wish the new fellow luck, and then the opening credits would roll.

The chances of me, or really anyone, actually shooting this scene are just the other side of impossible, as Sean Connery said he'd never shoot another movie again and I'm not even sure George Lazenby or Roger Moore is alive. But it's still a great scene, the kind that since nobody's name is ever mentioned, the appearance of Connery would shock, and then Moore, would have some waiting to see if they popped back up again. Maybe at the very end.

The question would be...would anyone even understand why George Lazenby gets a seat? And if Woody Allen stumbled in and asked "what?", would anyone even get it?

Barkeep, a drink for my dreams.

I'm Juice, Baby!

Ramblings Post #34
You never know what you can do until you try. And then like an idiot, there are things you probably shouldn't be trying. Skydiving comes to mind. The idea of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane just doesn't strike me as too bright. Other bright ideas that would show either I'm a sad old man or have just come to my senses spring to mind, but I won't go there. In any case, I'm giving something new a whirl, and if it don't work...well, at least I tried.

It's a Monday and I'm juice.

Okay, this sounds absolutely crazy when you consider how much shit I gave Thomas that summer for going off food for forty days, but for the next five days, I'm juicing. No solid food, only the V8 juice for my vitamins, and smoothies and soup. I'll have tea and water to fend off hunger. Like most things, I'm fairly certain that after the third day it will all be cool. Before that, I'm gonna be hungry!

Mental note: In the future prior to any endeavor such as this...do not have the big fat yeast rolls.

But I digress. I need to do something, and while this isn't the answer (you can't apply temporary fixes to an ongoing problem) this is the kickstart to getting my healthy rolling. I've been down this road before: the walking in the morning, the cutting of the carbs, the adding the salads, etc and so on, and I need to get my head turned back to healthy.

I'm feeling some aches and pains I shouldn't feel. At least at my age I think.

Side Note: In the middle of my Sales Law class, a philosophy lesson broke, as we struggled for 15 minutes trying to figure out what was the difference between a fact and an opinion.

I had the Acai Berry this morning, water for a snack (doesn't that sound weird) and the smoothie for lunch. Tonight it's tomato soup. And CranGrape juice for a snack. I may cheat and have some Kool-aid. And this is the plan until Friday. Have I lost my mind? Just so you know, the Acai Berry V8 is not bad.

Looking back, that Steak and Eggs with Schmoopy on Saturday at the Flying Biscuit sure was good. And then I messed around and didn't eat again that day. Okay, I'm still trying to keep the house clean since my mom cleaned up a week ago, so I'm cooking as little as possible. But last night, knowing this was juice coming I baked a potato, broiled a steak and had those damn yeast rolls. One of my running partners invited me to her house for salmon and baked sweet potato, and I damn 'shole should have went over there, but I homework to read so I buckled down and did what I had to do and let the food cook in the background. And the yeast rolls got done first.

I should have put some butter on them.

I need to stop thinking about them! So I stop at Publix on the way home, because thinking of all the walking and stuff made me remember that Publix carries the Arden's Garden juices, which if you've never had are great for health. Pure fruit, not even any water. So I go and grab a few, mixing it up for variety and decide to see, just out of curiosity if they just happen to have them Crunchy Cheez Doodles I love...the week I'm not eating.

Damned if they don't. First time in three months. I'm not eating and they got it. I bought three bags.

They're in the pantry now just waiting on Saturday baby! You ain't know? I almost asked to speak to Publix management to get them cuss out the Wise Potato chip man on my behalf.

But anyway...soup is ready, I got stuff to read for Thursday class. So...Barkeep....a banana mango smoothie and a B12 shot.

All Quiet on the Education Front

Ramblings Post #26
This started as one of those moments, one of those instances that you could see coming but couldn't, it was in legal parlance, foreseeable. And then I ran with it, or so I thought. Honestly, I need a drink. And some trim. And not in that order.

Is this is #26 because although them last two ain't numbered, ramblings is what they were.

Part 1 - 5:45pm

This part is being written 15 minutes before the Contracts Exam. To get my mind off the test, before I have a freaking heart attack. This professor is Dr. Diabolical, and I'm kinda scared of what he's gonna come up with.

It's open book. Well, open outline. Hell, it's open everything but professional study guides. Which means he's got the honest right to pull out everything and a chicken sandwich, since we were supposed to have written down everything. I started my outline at spring break, then realized I was taking crappy notes, then again at the beginning of the month..and went at it today tong and hammer. And everybody answers the question "are you ready?" the same way, with a grunt and halfway smile of feigned courage.

The word part doesn't phase me...it's the math. Yeah, math in law. Who knew? Damages calculations.

And a special side note on a completely different topic, my doctor shouldn't call with blood work results in less than 48 hours, because promptness made me think I'd caught the latent swine flu.

This kinda like reality TV, where I'm in the little interview thing talking about what you're seeing. This is so not cool.


Part 2 - 11:48pm

The test is over and the tension in my gut has me reliving high school football games from 20 years ago. Back then I had what you call a nervous stomach, in that I would get tense before a game. Afterward, as I relaxed after finding out I hadn't broken anything, or conversely at that time - broken anyone else either, I would have a, er, gastric reaction.

This is a "blast" from the past. Pun.

I've only eaten the once today, a midday breakfast kinda like the astronauts. I didn't stop on the way home and now I'm contemplating cooking. At midnight.

The test by the way was a repeat of the previous, in that I either actually did know the material, or over prepared, or am currently in a state where I believe I knew what I was doing and will be rudely awakened around grade time. My nemesis, the math problem was cool, then not cool when I saw what looked like a typing error, then real uncool when when my check sum didn't come out right. Then extra uncool when it starting eating up time for the problems I did know. (Yeah, it's all timed out)

Why after the test I was in the parking lot re-running the numbers on my calculator, still not getting it. I would feel a lot worse, except I showed all my work which should count for something, and when I got out of the room three or four other folks were expressing the same consternation I was. So I'm not alone. I think one even admitted he read the question wrong.

The rest of the test I was real cool with, since it was application of principles. Here's hoping I was able to express myself properly. Weirdly, I feel good about this one as well.

(that having been said, I hope I didn't just jinx myself)

Part 3 - 2:00am

Revisiting that phone call earlier. The one from the doc. Everything came out sweet except my Cholesterol, which the doctor says is too high. I could have told him that walking in.

That and since last fall I've gained 30 pounds. I understand it's grad school, but I've apparently doubled up on the freshman 15, and all while I could have sworn I was losing weight. Unless my pants have stretched out shape. This only reinforces the personal mandate to get thine ass to the gym. I had started on morning push ups and I'll have to get back to that, but I cannot live at this weight. I'm a little too vain.

As a single man looking for a woman, it seems a gut, no matter how lovable, is not really a selling point. Not that I have a gut...well, much of a gut. Okay I don't have a potbelly if that's what you want, but I could lose more than a few pounds. Let it be known, you want truth, look at yourself naked in a mirror. It doesn't get much more honest than that. And honestly, I took a look and I got a lot of work to do. I don't like what I see so how can really expect anyone else too? School has me slacking.

Oh, and Thomas is back on his fast. 60 days this time I believe. And yeah, not eating for 60 days will knock the weight off, but I ain't the one.

Also, at midnight, I made a steak sandwich and cut up fresh potatoes for homemade french fries. So tomorrow, er...later today, I'll check out what constitutes an low cholesterol diet.

Barkeep...isn't alcohol low in carbs? Um..cholesterol?

The First of the Slow Weekends

Mental Rehab Post #36
There are days I think maybe God really likes me. There are other days I'm almost certain that God has a wicked sense of humor. And then there are days I think God went to the bathroom during the commercial break that was sometime in 1700s and is just now walking back in having stopped to make popcorn. I mean, if God can let me imagine it, how wrong could it be?

When I was in college, one Saturday morning I had a conversation with my father that I swear was a dream. My roommates remember me answering the phone however, which lead to a rather comical scene a few minutes later. You see my father had an odd penchant for calling at 7am on Saturday mornings when all good college students are up and ready to chase the day, don't you know. Up until my roommate asked me what my dad wanted, I had regarded the whole episode as a very weird dream. A very vivid hallucination.

I bring that up for no reason at all.

So Saturday I realized that law school really is hazing, but the lawyers write the terminology so they're covered. After reading through cases and laying out the simple parts - well, not simple, the parts of the memo I understand - I moved onto the slightly more difficult parts and realized I had been tricked and bamboozled. The whole basic structure we'd been taught so far doesn't quite match this set of facts. It takes too long to explain here, but what it means is what I know of how to do this is just shy of useless.

So Saturday was spent cursing the heavens. And cleaning my house. I got out a contractor's size garbage bag ( larger than a lawn bag) and got to work. Cleaned up the kitchen, cleaned up the living room, cleaned up dining and room and threw out countless old issues of the Wall Street Journal. Washed clothes, put up my scent diffuser, washed dishes, cleaned out the fridge, swept and swiffered. Cleaned some more, and cleaned up.

Man my house was dirty.

That kick on Friday showed maybe I was a little lower emotionally than I thought. Not a good situation.

Sunday morning, (because describing the continuing cleaning and reading through cases would be boring), I continued with cleaning and read through even more cases. I re-arranged and folded clothing, I tried to figure out transitions and logic, I swept, dusted and washed, and looked for legal standing on due process throughout the ninth circuit. And around four in the afternoon I finally said fuck it, I was going to ride over to my RP's house for a fish fry and chill out for a couple of hours, then get back at it.

And lo and behold, the car won't start. Dead Battery. How's about that for timing?

Spanky shows up and checks out the house, then marvels at my cable TV for few hours. She's mad because apparently, in a shocker, every contractor doesn't have your renovations done in seven days like on Extreme Home Makeover. Golly gosh darn the luck. So she watches the house, and also car (okay she watched my TV with a keen ear for my car), while Tom and I went down Walmart to buy a battery. I mean really, where else was I going to get a car battery at 9pm on a Sunday? God bless America.

I hit my man off with a few bucks for gas, and finally eat dinner at midnight, when I realize I haven't eaten all day.

Now, see if you can spot what's missing from this weekend.

Barkeep. Let me get a glass of the Pinch. Bit of branch water.

Musing's Fall Comment Drive

This would be a Post. Right Here. Posting.
I listen to the classics on WABE in my local area, and right now they're in the middle of their fall pledge drive, raising money to keep public radio public. And no, I have yet to donate. According to their numbers it takes about three to five years before a listener donates, so i got at least another year. Okay...maybe I'll donate. But in any case, it gave me the idea for this!

Welcome to the middle of our Fall Comment Drive. The writer of this blog in conjunction with the fevered recesses of his mind and the occasional help of frustration and Maker's Mark (fine whiskey) work hard to bring you the reader a compelling and interesting read. We cover a broad range of topics from stuff that doesn't matter to stuff that doesn't matter even less, all with sultry wit and dashing style. Salsa.

And it's not cheap.

I know you're thinking: what is he talking about. The internet is free. Or at least the part he's on. And if this fool thinks we're going to pay for this... Hey, hey, calm down. Not that. But here at the virtual bar we've got a virtual tab that has be calculated by the same virtual computers needed to mathematically figure why people play Second Life, as opposed to actually living the First Life. So...what is the old whiskey soaked, but reasonably good looking, old man sniffling on about?

My ego needs stroking something fierce!

I said my EGO! E - G - O. Minds all in the gutter, but then that's why I like you.

Feel free to comment, leave a note, get a word in, drop a line, ask questions, correct me, make a speech, get your point across, put in your two cents in, be wrong, start an argument, make a false assumption, lie, conspire to make me a better human being, attempt a verbal coup, lay it all on the line, tell me off, but jeez, just say something... dammit.

So, you come and read the fine stylings and occasional rant, and decide to contribute a comment or at least a snide remark, what do you get?

For a comment you'll get not the tote bag, not the coffee mug, not the key ring with the craftily designed extractor of caps which enclose liquids (i.e., bottle opener), not the nine piece dish set or the my musical double CD - the one of me singing West Indian Celtic Folk tunes on disc 1, and me breaking to causation and economic theory of Congolese monkeys on disc 2. No, you'll receive the grand prize, and since I don't actually have any of the afore mentioned stuff, what is really the only prize: A really good feeling for having said something.

And it will feel great. Well good anyway. Okay. It's not a bad feeling. Think of it as finger exercise.

The staff here at the Musings, and by staff I mean Me, the venerable and always funny Myself, and cool and collected and add another adjective here, Aye, would like to thank you for checking in, and ask that you do your part to support this fine bit of foolishness we've thrown up and nobody has been smart enough to take down yet. Your comment and $1 wouldn't buy a cup of coffee, but a comment might just help out a guy writing because he likes it and who probably keep on writing in any case keep on writing for reasons other than the reasons he's already got to keep doing what he's already doing and continuing writing (breathe) but said comment would be greatly appreciated.

Operators are standing by....



Barkeep...a round of drinks on my tab. Of course I'm good for it.

When I grow up....

As you may or may not have guessed, among other things I'm an aspiring writer. Well, technically everyone you know is an aspiring writer (including you) because everyone has a story to tell. One they think is exciting, other people want to know and think Tom Cruise would be a great lead in the movie version. Or in my case Denzel Washington, in a pinch Sam Jackson.

But as a active writer, you tend to read a lot. Well, most of us do, Stephen King I understand writes a book every forty five minutes or so, so maybe he can only squeeze in a read during bathroom breaks, but most writers I know are avid readers. A good book and a snack and you might not hear from me for hours. I have read a some novels in a single sitting.

When you think about it, writing is the hardest possible medium to work in. True you have blank page, no actors to corral or studio to placate, but for your intended audience to get it...they will have to do everything. They have to envision the it all with only your guidance, filling in the voices, the looks and vibe all from imagination. To build an following of readers takes skill and a good story. So it makes me wonder why despite the success of sticking to the story as written (see Harry Potter), Hollywood persists in rewriting established works to fit the screen and not the other way around. (Writing that makes me realize that's going to be a whole other post.)

I'm going to take a moment, for the readers out there, to introduce a few of my favorite authors. Guys I read, how I feel about them and why I think picking up a book by them might not be your worst option. So here goes...

Carl Hiaasen
I just like him. He's a Florida writer, which means he writes about things that can only happen in Florida. As a one time resident of the state, I realize that there is something inherently wrong with the whole place, it just seems to breed a mindset that is three degrees off kilter. But then that's what makes for interesting reading, and Hiaasen has way of showcasing those odd characters.

Clive Cussler
I once described Cussler as the greatest hack ever to put word to printed page. His characters are cut whole cloth either hero or villain, cardboard in construction and design, melodramatic and easily predictable. That said I must own ten or twelve novels by him. You don't read a Cussler novel to see if the hero wins, you read it to see how he wins. A few of the books read like he works from a template...but it sure is fun reading.

Dan Jenkins
The vast majority of the works of Dan Jenkins in novel form swirl around the goings on of the people of Fort Worth, Texas. That would be because he's from there, so it's understandable, and that's what gives the work it's charm. His books read like either soap operas for men or little stories of stupidity that happen involve people he knows. He's an old white man writer, so occasionally the work is ...insensitive...but it's still a good read.

Donald Westlake
There is something about a Westlake book. I mostly only read the Dortmunder series from Westlake, in my opinion his best character, a criminal planner whose exploits more often than not leave them only the greater experience rather than the loot. I've heard some say Elmore Leonard is a great criminal fiction writer, but then I don't think those folks have ever read Donald Westlake.

Phil Foligo
I started reading Phil through comic books, but that isn't the right medium for him. His latest offering, the online graphic novel Girl Genius, is a magnum opus of a work, well into what must be it's 25th chapter and I swear nothing has happened yet. Yet still worth a read. Amazing. When he does put pen to paper it's almost like he's created a whole other world, and is rushing to get it all out before the next bit of thought strikes him.

Ross Thomas
A good Ross Thomas novel is two things, well written and eerily hewn to the truth of how things happen. There are few explosions, nothing world shattering, and usually not a whole lot of money at stake. But the stories are the kind you can believe actually happened somewhere, and that you weren't supposed to know. Mr. Thomas died quite a few years back, but I ever find a book of his that I don't have, I'd put down food in order to get it.

Terry Pratchett
Think Harry Potter, only good. And funny. Pratchett's best series, Discworld, is at 30 books and counting. His characters memorable, his stories satiric and full of bits of language you'll read more than once they're so oddly funny. I wait for a new Pratchett book like a kid waiting for Christmas.

So pick one up...

Barkeep....a nice tall glass of koolaid. You gotta lunch meat sandwich back there?

Old joke...smart thinking.

A man from the city had moved the country and figured he needed a farm animal. So from one his neighbors up the way he bought an old mule.

"That'll be $100 young fella, bring him by tomorrow." The Old Timer said.

On the way home, the Old Timer stopped off and bought some supplies, spent some money dranking and drove up to his house to find the mule dead in his yard. He called the man from the city to tell him the bad news.

"Your new mule died. Sorry"

"Well, just gimme my money back, no harm."

"Can't do that, already spent it."

"Well then, okay. Hey, can you drop the mule off in the morning anyway?"

"But the mule is dead, son."

"So you said, but just drop him off in the morning."

So the next morning, the farmer loaded up the dead mule and dropped off at the city fella's place. A few weeks went by and the farmer was passing and decided to stop in and see what the guy had done with what he bought.

"Hey man, I'm curious, what did you do with that dead mule?"

"Oh, that. I held a raffle to win him. Sold about 500 tickets at $2 apiece."

The Old Timer was shocked. "Didn't somebody complain you was raffling off a dead mule?"

"Yeah, the guy who won didn't like it."

"So what did you do?"

"I gave him back his $2."