Thursday, May 31, 2007


Hey, I'm going to the F.B.I. next Tuesday, for a Writers Guild wankfest. And I can pick up the new Marilyn Manson album afterwards, because I only follow bands I discovered in the 90s.

I'm busy trying to make another shitty deadline, so here's an old video of Marilyn Manson being a shy gentleman...


Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Writing for Other People

I've got two pages of executive notes and roughly 66 hours to crank out the latest draft of my script.

Then, sometime next week, I find out whether I get to live free or die hard.

Writing for other people is starting to wear on me. I know I dedicated my life to this as a child, but I need a break.

I need to pay bills and I need a break...

Nobody likes us...

[UPDATE: 07/04/07]

(Broadway Video yanked the Kids in the Hall clip on YOU TUBE! Hey, I'm fine with intellectual property, but put it up yourself so the world has access to it, BV! Coz those DVD box sets aren't gonna sell themselves!)

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Off the Lot

Both my sister and my mother called me up—ON THE PHONE—to tell me about this show they saw on television about young filmmakers trying to break through. Both excited about the find. Excited to tell me about this show that I might not have heard of.

And because I'm not a COMPLETE asshole (yet), I humored them and thanked them for bringing it to my attention.

I completely hate the show, though. I barely made it through the first and second episodes, and I'm FF-ing through the 2-hour third episode. And it's all completely atrocious. It feels like a show that would have been fresh about 5 or 7 years ago. A frothy, shitty, santorumy mix of "Project Greenlight", "The Apprentice" and "American Idol".

But don't take my word for it. Variety, The Hollywood Reporter and The Washington Post break it down rather eloquently. (Shales is great—I love his dig at Brett Ratner.)

It's comforting to know that it's not just film-school prejudices that make the show unwatchable.

Watching someone sing a condensed version of a pop song is one thing, but short films are difficult to sit through. That's the killer. It might be a little better if—like American Idol—they were forced to do covers. Assigned scenes from well-known movies, so at least the audience wouldn't have to deal with shitty original concepts.

And I don't know what it is, but aspiring filmmakers are very hard to feel for. I hate myself already, I'm supposed to feel something for THESE fucks?!

Monday, May 28, 2007

Your Friends & Neighbors

The other day, I heard the sound of screaming through my apartment wall.

It was a woman's voice. Wailing. A weepy rage. There was only her voice, so I assumed she was talking on the phone.

I put my ear to the wall and caught a snippet:


But the screaming ended abruptly before I could glean any more details...

A couple lives in this apartment. I've seen the man clearly, walking in or walking out—we've said hello to each other, that's about it. I've never clearly seen the woman. When the building suffered a fire sometime last year and we all had our doors open, I saw some movement in their apartment, beyond their ajar door, but I didn't see her clearly.

Another time, the couple was coming in after me. I said hello to the man as he entered the hallway, and I think I heard the woman coming up after him but I didn't stick around to see her. But she's always been there, as far as I could tell. And they've seemed normal enough. I think I've heard the guy speak Portuguese, and I think I've heard them watching The World Cup.

The guy has always struck me as fairly innocuous-looking. A cross between Elvis Costello and that Verizon "Can-You-Hear-Me-Now?" guy. And aside from some World Cup hoots and hollerin, I've never heard anything resembling a rough argument or an act of violence.

Until the screaming.

This morning, I heard that same wailing voice. This time, it no longer seemed she was talking to someone on the phone. It seemed she was just screaming at the air. But she got more specific...


Oh. My. Effing. Christ.

I fucking despise our Russian super. I'm pretty sure he set the building on fire last year, he's creepy as all get out, and he's near impossible to deal with for the smallest things. I got no fucking idea what's going on next door, but I'm pretty sure I'd like to get a new apartment as soon as I can afford one...

Friday, May 25, 2007

Tintin in the Land of Misanthropy

Billions of blue blistering barnacles!

A Tintin entry on Misanthropy Central?!

(This is for YOU, Nicko—don't take shit from nobody, you got that?)

Yes, Spielberg and Jackson are cooking up a trilogy of movies... and I have read several of Tintin's rascally adventures... but really, this was just an excuse to make the animated-GIF above. (I call it "NIN-TIN", thankyouverymuch!)

The New Yorker just published an article revisiting the history of the comic book series, but as you all know, I prefer to have all MY information fresh-filtered through Wikipedia. (It all sounds plausible enough to me!)

Tintin embodies a very specific sort of nostalgia. Wes Anderson movies remind me of the feel of Tintin, somehow.

His movies are whimsical. Lightly fanciful. I had mixed feelings about "The Life Aquatic" when I first saw it, but it's grown on me. Yeah, it loses steam/direction/purpose around the 3/4 mark, but there's so much that's good it's easy for me to overlook on repeat viewings.

Wes Anderson movies feel like a precocious little child envisioning what a serious adult story would be. I think he'd be a great choice to write+direct one of them Tintin movies. They need his childlike wonder.

I just hope they don't endeavor to modernize and sanitize the stories too much. They can't keep any of the charmingly racist elements of some of those old books, but I sincerely hope that Captain Haddock remains a drunk in the Spielberg/Jackson series. Disney let Depp do it with "Jack Sparrow"—they've even got drunk Captain Jack surrogates prancing around the Disney theme parks! I think the public's ready for a lovably alcoholic cartoon character...
Turned in my new draft Thursday afternoon. Managed to really eff up my sleep cycle the past week getting-R-done, but I pulled it off.

Well... we'll see if I pulled it off next week...

"Uh... hey Malice? It's Joey Paramount. Read the new draft over the weekend and I've just got one question... ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS?!?"

Well, hey, I put everything into this. I did as much as I could do in the timeframe I had to work with. I could fine-tune the script for ages. Sometimes you've just got to let it go.

Also—to clarify: the executive I've been working with has been talking up the script to his boss. (I name-dropped the wrong "Brad" before. So crucify me, why don't you?)

"I believe in you, Malice," said the Gay Horse.

"Yeah, tanks, Gay Horse," said Malice. "Means a lot comin from you, it really fuckin does."

Memorial Day Shuffled 5:
1. "Glorified G", Pearl Jam
2. "Musicology", Prince
3. "Stand Together", Beastie Boys
4. "Wild Honey", U2
5. "Headache", Liz Phair
I-Really-Need-Some-New-Music Bonus:
"She's a Dog", The Geraldine Fibbers

TGIF Laugh Corner:
ANTHRAX Guitarist Trying to Play "Guitar Hero" Version of His Own Song!

"This is harder than really playing..."

Thursday, May 24, 2007

All is Lost

First off, I'd like to thank the producers of LOST for the season finale they delivered Wednesday night. Arguably, the twist was apparent from the first shot, but that was part of the fun. In fact, I pressed play on the DVR, saw the first shot, started to laugh. Before a line of dialogue was uttered, I paused it so I could get some work out of the way before devoting my entire attention to this 2-hour episode.

I know some of you gave up on the show a while ago, but it's been creeping back into my good graces for the past half-season. And it's completely won me back with this season finale. This finale was a reminder of how great the show can be, how superior the writing can be, particularly next to the corpses of the HEROES and 24 finales.

Enough on that.
I forced myself to watch "ON THE LOT", the new reality-competition from the Brundelfly union of Steven Spielberg and Mark Burnett. Yeah, I went to film school and a show like this is all the more excruciating having been through film school.

Apparently 50 filmmakers made the initial cut (out of 12,000?!). I can't speak for how fair the selection process was, but regardless -- quite a feat to have made it into that group.

The first challenge they force upon the filmmakers? Deliver a pitch. Based on a logline that's been randomly assigned to them.

Delivering a pitch is fucking tough. Made tougher with the pressure of it being a reality show.

Predictably, many of them choked. It was a veritable choke-bath. The challenge was clearly designed for maximum choking.

What got me was this one South Asian kid who was just in tears after he choked:

"This is the only good thing that's come along in (a while)..."

I know that feeling. I've been having that feeling for over a year now.

Getting a break that's been a long time coming. Not wanting to blow it. Because they seem so few and far between.

For all the good that's come my way, I'm still anxious that I'm just going to choke at some critical juncture. It fucking blows. It's an awful goddamn feeling. I'd like it to go away.

I've finished the new draft of my script. 109 pages. With a few last minute tweaks, I might be able to scale it back to 108. Either way, it's <110, which is fine.

Paramount should be calling sometime later today. I should have a chance to read it a few more times before I submit it within 48 hours or so. I think I've got it. But I'm too sleep-deprived to say for sure. I've enough time to wring my hands over it, at least...

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Jack Bauer Sucks


What a terrific headline. And now that the season's mercifully run its course, I'm glad the producers admit it was an utter mess...
Executive producer Howard Gordon: "But it's reinvigorated our determination to reinvent the show. This year could be seen to be the last iteration of it in its current state."

He declined to say what the changes would be.

My prediction? Two words: Jami Gertz.

Not to be outdone, the finale of HEROES was an exercise in anticlimax. I read the inexplicable praise for that show and I wonder, Why am I trying so hard? My take on HEROES: brilliant premise, cringe-worthy writing and very poor character development. I'll leave it at that.

But I've got to keep my eye on everything. I can't dismiss popular entertainments... gotta keep my finger on the pulse, track what the hoople-heads are being fed...

The good news, TV-fans? THE SHIELD still rules them all. Gardocki PWNS.


Goddamn, Exposition is one hellacious Bitch Queen.

I've been pulling my hair out trying to fix this one MASSIVE scene of exposition in my script. It's threatening my page count target (under 110 pages), and it's just a lot of information to negotiate in a dramatic manner. Seven motherfucking characters in a room. Explaining it all, like Clarissa.

At least one of them never speaks...

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Negative Reinforcement

For one reason or another, I've found solace in watching documentaries on The Science Channel. I watched one recently that dealt with the history of Tetris. From Alexey Pajitnov's development of the game, through to the wild legal battle that erupted over the rights to distribute the game worldwide, complicated by Cold War tensions.

All for the equivalent of videogame crack.

Several people in the documentary point out an aspect of TETRIS that I never realized before...
Although many praise the videogame for focusing on BUILDING rather than DESTROYING, the game is actually all about negative reinforcement.

All your successes immediately disappear from the screen...

What you're looking at... what you're constantly being forced to deal with... are all your fucking failures...

Which is, of course, the story of my life.

(Come on now, we ALL saw that coming...)
P.S. If you haven't noticed, I've been going a wee bit animated-gif-construction crazy up in here because it's one of the few programs I've got that Vista DOESN'T have fatal compatibility problems with! I swear, VISTA may be the final straw for me...

Monday, May 21, 2007

Mean Green Mother

Remember back in grade school, in the dog days leading up to summer break, when the teachers stopped teaching and just plugged in a video for you to watch, to kill time?

In the spirit of that, here's the original ending to Frank Oz's cult classic production of "Little Shop of Horrors"...

(I was watching "60 Minutes" and Anderson Cooper was squawking something about "skid row", and I just felt compelled to revisit this precious little gem. SO SUE ME.)

Sunday, May 20, 2007

This is Joker

[Heather Ledger as "The Joker", courtesy of viral marketing]

Not unlike football, screenwriting is a game of inches... only it's far slower and less interesting to watch...

I could spend the better part of a night combing through the equivalent of three inches on a sheet of paper. Inches are valuable real estate in a screenplay. If I can kill a widow or shave an orphan, the inches really add up. And I can spend those saved inches on the ugly bit of exposition that I need to cram in... somewhere...

To make things more annoying, I'm simultaneously (though with far less urgency) trying to write the book for a new musical. I've got a lot to do by Thursday.

Man, I could really go for some Strawberry Quick right about now... maybe when I'm done...

Horror is a strange genre. It's so popular, yet the movies never garner much critical respect. I love the genre while admitting that there aren't really that many horror movies that I truly love. I'm fascinated by the films that provoke strong reactions out of people... but I'm so desensitized, it's hard for me to get scared by a movie...

What's best about horror, though, is it makes a great entrance... for new talent... if you can pull it off...

Saturday, May 19, 2007

I Wanna Be the One to Walk in the Sun

Friday night call from the west coast. A window of opportunity for us if we can get our new draft complete in 7 days or less.

"So... do you think you can just write faster...?"

Yes, I can!

It's oh so close. I say that for my own sake. As a reminder. As a mantra.

Trim some dialogue. Cram in a few more cheap scares. Then Bob's your auntie.

Finish addressing the major notes this rainy weekend, spend a few days polishing.

Keep repeating to self:

"It's just a fuckin horror script..."

Friday, May 18, 2007

Top Secret

I don't know about the rest of you motherfuckers, but I for one am addicted to positive thinking.

Okay, that may not be entirely genuine.

Magical thinking is a weird thing to endorse. The mystical if-then statement. IF you don't step on any cracks on the sidewalk, THEN your parents won't die in an accident today.

It doesn't work. These mental games you play with the universe. Things happen or don't happen, and it may be comforting to imagine you have some degree of control over where the pieces fall... but you don't. Not with your most positive outlook. Sorry, Oprah.

Scientology, on the other hand, totally works. No doubt about it, bub.

"Hallelujah!" ejaculated the Gay Horse.

Thetan Shuffled 5:
1. "Buick Mackane", Guns N' Roses
2. "If things were perfect", Moby
3. "Welcome to Paradise", Green Day
4. "Yeah!", Zwan
5. "Rollercoaster", Sleater-Kinney
E-Meter Bonus:
"Nothing Left 2", Orbital

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Shit Happens

A friend had this book—a book dedicated to photos of shit. From all over the animal kingdom. Exquisitely shot. Photographed as lovingly as modern fetishistic food photography...

All under the artistic direction of Oliviero Toscani, the photographer behind the increasingly controversial "United Colors of Benetton" ad campaign we all grew up on...
Anyway, my friend had this book at his apartment—the sort of coffee table book that dares you to crack it open—and NOBODY could flip through this book without starting to get sick. Not even the guy who bought the book. I managed to get through the whole thing, choking and dry-heaving...

Which I found fascinating. Because they were just pictures. There was no smell involved. You didn't see the waste BEING PRODUCED. You just saw the final product. Against a sanitary white backdrop, Richard Avedon style. If the book were called "Chocolate Truffles", you could probably breeze through it without incident...

Oh, that must be toffee or peanut butter... that one must have melted... are those caked with coconut shavings...?

But there was no way around it. These were full on photographs of shit. The stuff you're programmed to avoid at all cost. The stuff you NEVER want to look at for long. And seeing the vivid imagery just triggered violent retching. Some primal, averse reaction. The brain reaching deep and telling your body, "This is unacceptable."

I got no idea why I was reminded of this recently. I will try to refrain from having a "shit-themed" week up in here. I know how divisive some of my themes can be...

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Teenage Anthem

On a hot & humid day, the East Village to the Upper West Side is a shitty, masochistic walk. A lot of trouble to go through to save a swipe of a MetroCard, brothers and sisters... but what would I be without an appetite for pain?

Meeting with Par went off really well this morn. Some fine-tuning laid out for me to hammer, but nothing insurmountable. The pacing of beats. Some trims. Some additions. I was surprised at how much of it the executive liked.

Some sequences I thought he was going to rip into, he loved.

Some bits I thought he'd eat up, he spit out—but such is the process.

He read the script on his flight to NY on Monday: got excited enough about it to start talking it up to his boss... that's the next stage.

Anyway, it's a great relief the script is nearly there. I'll be rewriting this script a lot, but this first time through is the biggest hurdle. But I've got to make A LOT OF PEOPLE like this script before it gets made.

I hate trying to be both optimistic and pragmatic with my expectations. I'll just say I'm cautiously positive here.

In Writers Guild news, I just got an invitation from the F.B.I.!

An "informative and interactive discussion with FBI special agents and public affairs staff about the FBI..."

A free workshop they've set up in conjunction with the WGAE... to assist in the accurate portrayal of the FBI in Film & TV?

Could be fun... unless it's a trap.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

I Hate "New York"

New York magazine is crap. This is not an endorsement for it.

But I admit to being amused by their "New York Diet" series, where they get celebs to discuss their NYC eating habits over a stretch of time.

Because if you know me, there is nothing I like better than to pore over the molecular routines of people with more friends than me...

David Cross
Andrew W.K.
Michael Showalter
Leonard Lopate?! (You can eat shit for all I care...!)

And then, there is Novelist Gary Shteyngart and his pretty Asian girlfriend...

I don't wanna go on a rant here—I know a lot of Asian girls prefer to date white guys because they like fulfilling stereotypes and hate their fathers—I get it. We ALL get it. But could they be a little more selective?

I mean, really. Don't date Asian guys. I'm cool with that. Clearly, we're all a bunch of ticking time-bombs. Why risk it—am I right, ladies?

But do your standards for white men have to be so pitiably low? You're doling out some absurd handicap points to a lot of cracker-ass dorks.

They don't deserve it. And you deserve better.

(Except for those of you who don't—you know who you fucking are.)

There, I said it. You made me say it.


And for those who care...

... the latest draft of my script was very well-received. "A huge leap forward", says The Man.

The exec's flying to NYC and I'm meeting with him Wednesday morn, to go through fine-tuning.

And then what happens...?

I dust off my shit-list and start striking off names...



Click here for the reason never to have children...

Monday, May 14, 2007

Postage Due

41 cents.

United States Postal Service. Effective Monday. May 14th. 2007.

So basically, for the first time since I've lived in my current apartment, my rent's probably going to be late because they changed the fucking postage rate right around my rent time.

So, did everybody know about this postage thing except for me?

Here's a new Misanthropy Central rule, readers. If you know they're about to the raise the postage rates and you DON'T see an entry about it here in the week leading up to it, TELL ME.

Because everything's got to go wrong all at once, my XBOX 360 randomly fried about two days ago—the same time that my friend's XBOX died. I suspect the terrorists. I haven't even tried calling the XBOX repair hotline yet because of the horror stories I've heard. They've got the terrorists manning the repair hotline, too. And I just don't want to deal with the terrorists right now. Maybe in a day or two.

For now, I just want to see people dead.

What, not enough for you on a mid-May Monday...?

I also get to wait for the studio reaction to my latest script draft, which I had to turn in on Friday.

Is that ever going to be easy...??

I keep waiting to get a phone call where the executive says, "Um... clearly, we've made a terrible error in judgment with you... You said you edit PowerPoint slideshows for a living, right? I hope you didn't quit that job. Because, um, you shouldn't have. Oh, and did you know they raised the postage rates today?"

I took my mom to see WAITRESS for Mother's Day, because I couldn't bear to watch the Jane Fonda movie. They were giving out free pies at the screening, in honor of the holiday, which was sweet.

The afternoon show was predictably cram-packed with old people. I love how annoyed the old people get with the number of previews they show before the feature. Another green preview-screen pops up and you can hear the cacophony of annoyed old-person murmurs... "Can we start the movie alread-dayyy???"

I'm glad the critics are being nice to Adrienne Shelly's final film, but it was killing my soul. It felt like an overlong film-school thesis-film. Treacle pie. I wanted to watch it on fast forward. My mom completely adored it, though, so what do I give a shit?

Jesus, I hate Mondays...

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Character Piece

I've got mixed feelings about ensemble character pieces. Movies that are more about studying characters than about story. Story's difficult! The mechanics of plot are a pain in the ass. But it's part of storytelling. The ultimate goal is to tell a compelling story populated with compelling characters.

The mantra/pitch for the script I've been working on has been "The Breakfast Club Massacre"—and I've been trying to strike the right balance between "Breakfast" and "Massacre", so I recently revisited THE BREAKFAST CLUB, for inspiration.
An iconic movie from the childhood/adolescent years of my generation -- children of the 80s. I'm not certain how many times I've seen it over the years, but I've seen it a lot. And yet, I found it jarring watching it again. I was surprised at how little happens, in terms of plot. It's much more like a stage play than what would seem appropriate as a movie.

But the basic thrust is, 5 kids from disparate social cliques are forced to spend a Saturday together in detention. Really, 5 kids and 2 adults (a principal and a janitor). They all start out as archetypes/stereotypes. Then, through the course of the film, they all reveal themselves to be a little more than they seemed. That is the entirety of it. There are two or three dance sequences and a few improbable scenarios, but mostly it's just characters talking and opening up.

Which is sort of refreshing and disarming. The simplicity of it. It's a bit goofy and a thin gauze of nostalgia allows you to forgive it for how it's dated. I remember when I started seeing commercials for it back in the day, I thought it looked like some corny ass shit. But it started getting good reviews. A surprisingly thoughtful teenage dramedy. And it was some corny ass shit. But you just didn't see modern teenage characters this nuanced before this.

Another thing that's lovely about BREAKFAST CLUB is that it was a completely modern story, and yet it's matured into a period piece. A perfect pop-culture time capsule of the mid-/late-80s.

Which is sort of a long, circuitous way of taking a look at DIGGERS. A movie from Katherine Dieckmann, the director of "Stand"—the R.E.M. video, not the Stephen King miniseries. Written and co-starring Ken Marino from "The State". A rumination on the lives of a group of Long Island clam diggers in the late 70s. A period piece, though the period is delicately colored. A character piece, featuring an ensemble of charismatic character actors.

I like Ken Marino. His scenes with Sarah Paulson feel the most organic, and they've got a really good "Long Island married couple" chemistry—without becoming broad and grotesque, as you might expect from someone who gained popularity in a comedy troupe. And I respect that this was a personal story for him, as the writer. The movie as a whole feels like one of those special projects that everyone involved cared about deeply...

So, what's wrong with it, Malice? Stop pussyfooting around it!

It's just a bit too quiet, okay? The Independent Movie World is lousy with ensemble character dramedies! I need a stronger hook to wake me up. It is a sweet film with good intentions. If it were a girl, I'd want to go steady with her. But a movie is a poor excuse for a girlfriend. And "Diggers" never quite lets you get to third base.

It's not a piece of undercooked garbage like "Spider-Man 3". And I feel bad speaking critical of it because it's a small movie and blah blah blah...

But I watch a lot of shit. I've always watched a lot of shit, but it feels more like my responsibility to watch a lot of shit now, just to see what other people are doing. And this actor-centric shit really doesn't do a lot for me...

BREAKFAST CLUB is actor-centric. Some of that movie feels like John Hughes stuck those actors in that library set and just had them improv around. But I think BC represents a special confluence of talent that renders a piece of pop-candy that is greater than the sum of its parts.

But more importantly, BC is small and focused.

"Diggers" wanders. I might've missed a line somewhere, but it took me a while to realize that Paul Rudd and Maura Tierney were supposed to be brother/sister. I had trouble finding any one character that I really cared about.

There's some good talent on display, but it seems here that the sum is less than the parts. A tepid movie that never quite cooks. A movie that might gain a following on IFC or the Sundance Channel. The type of movie that might play best when you catch it at 3 in the morning, on a night when you just can't sleep...

Saturday, May 12, 2007


Don't worry baby, it's gonna be all right
Uncertainty can be a guiding light...

Seen any good documentaries lately?

A warning to Misanthropy Central readers who might be more sensitive:


(However, if you wanna see some ass...!)

Friday, May 11, 2007

Goodnight, Mr. Walters! (Grumble)

Thank God that it's Friday—am I right, America??

(America grumbles.)

I feel really, really positive about the latest draft of my script. Of course, I felt positive about the first draft I churned out, so how can you really trust me?

But for reals, yo. This draft is mad better. I think I managed to cram a lot into it.

A friend directed me to this interesting article about the new pop-perception of the Angry Asian Man, in the wake of the VT-kill-spree. It's a thoughtfully written article and it articulates some things that I'm too indolent to articulate on my own. (That's what links are for, kids!)

Some of these Militant Asian Guys really make my skin crawl. The article opens with a passing mention of Kenneth Eng, an idiot-militant Asian-American writer who published a dumb-as-dirt article in AsianWeek that was titled
"Why I Hate Blacks". The obvious controversy that ensued afforded him an interview on Fox News—where it's immediately clear that he's just a sad, frightened, shitty sci-fi writing weasel who's trying to puff himself up by writing provocative puff-pieces that he can't even explain.

The interviewer keeps asking him, "Why are you so angry?" But if you watch it, it's clear he's not angry! He's scared witless: to be on live television, to have to answer to any criticism without his keyboard as a shield. He keeps wanting to talk about DRAGONS, for chrissake! He seems wholly unprepared to answer for the moronic, attention-seeking article he penned. A bullied kid who's trying to brainlessly bully back, and just looks more pathetic for it...

He wrote an article about his experience in college called, "DISCRIMINATION AGAINST ASIANS AT NYU". (You have to scroll down to find it; I had to copy and paste the text into Word to read it because the website is so poorly formatted.) I find it all the more disheartening that he went to the same school I went to; I knew some of the admin people he mentions. The article is a lengthy, laborious account of how he was unjustly persecuted for his unapologetically racist worldviews:
I tried to take this article to the Village Voice in New York. The editor shouted at me: “That is hyperbole! I don’t believe you.” He had no logical reasons. He just didn’t want to believe it was true. That is why no one ever hears about these incidents. White people only hear what they want to hear. I also took it to the New York Times and Daily News and received no responses.
I've known people like this guy. Variations on this guy. I've dealt with them over the years. Race martyrs. Fighting racism with racism. Some more extreme than others. They talk a lot of smack about wanting to change things, but they'll never change things, because they defeat themselves. They marginalize themselves. Even if they have some valid points buried beneath the outrageous statements, their whole message get shitcanned because they've got no sense of basic social etiquette.

They are born to lose, and they THRIVE on losing. Losing is easy and losing proves their point: that there is a big fat racist conspiracy out to get them.

[ [ [ UPDATE ] ] ]
Thanks to Bozo for bringing Kenny Eng's latest shitstorm to my attention. To Eng's credit, he sounds just as batshit and delusional as Seung-Hui Cho does in his self-produced videos and shitty playscripts. Of course, the fact that Eng is just out to exploit the Virginia Tech tragedy, in the vain hope of getting published, makes him even more of a grotesque parasite. Feeding off the rot of society.

I'm angry as they come. Angry about a lot of things. Fucking furious. But there are ways to channel that anger so that you don't end up becoming a shitty stereotype yourself.

"You said it, Malice!" exclaimed the Gay Horse.

Angry Asian Shuffled 5:
1. "Honestly", Zwan
2. "Lived in Splendour: Died in Chaos", Pop Will Eat Itself
3. "The Dark of the Matinee", Franz Ferdinand
4. "All My Life", Foo Fighters
5. "Eye", Smashing Pumpkins
Dead Horse Bonus:
"Thieves in the Temple", Prince

Thursday, May 10, 2007



Apologies for the dearth of words, fright fiends. I finally finished the second draft of my horror script today.

It was a dramatic revision and I had to wrestle with it a bit longer than I'd hoped or planned.

But I feel good about it. (Not having read it yet.)

I printed out a copy and it used up PRECISELY the amount of paper that was left in my printer. Which I will consider a good omen. I was afraid this draft would run long, but it's actually 2 pages shorter than my first draft. I'd like to shave a bit more off of it before I turn it in, but I'm glad the length isn't out of control.

I really should try cranking out a script that isn't horror/fantasy. I've gravitated toward those genres because you can just make shit up -- and I despise research -- but certain stories require you to do MORE research. Hey, even half-assed "internet research" is a pain in the ass. I'm fed up with looking at Victorian architecture... look, I get it already!

So anyway, here's hoping that I don't have to do TOO MANY repairs on this draft before sending it westward. And, of course, the ultimate hope that it's good enough, smart enough, and scary enough to get made...


Oh, and kids: Drink yer friggin Ovaltine, kay?

Wednesday, May 09, 2007


Okay, -- give me yet another word for "run"...

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Virtua Bully

I'm a bit busy, so here's an article about female bloggers getting sexually harassed online. The anonymity of the internet means that everyone gets to play the bully, with no repercussions.

The internet is the battlefield of cowards.

Brings out the worst in humanity. Discuss among yourselves.

Monday, May 07, 2007

Don't Fear the Reaper

Alas, Misanthropy Central's favorite topic is Misanthropy Central...

This weekend, a friend reminded me how BLEAK this website used to be. How it's all sunshine and flowers now, compared to how it used to be. So, I decided to take a little stroll through the archives. Seems October-November 2005 was not one of my cheerier periods...

Most of these entries are like tissues -- use once and destroy. Some entries I put real thought into, but there are many I just publish for the sake of publishing something. (Like the entry you're reading.)

I guess in October 2005, I was directing a small play I didn't care about, I was in the last stages of marriage counseling, and I was looking for a new place to live...

It was a black time, who could fault the entries for being black?

Some of these entries would still be valid today, to be honest.

I love reading this old shit, remembering where I was at back then. I find the most morbid entries to be FUCKING HILARIOUS now! Coz I've lived through it and I've got distance. And, of course, I've got the power of the Holy Spirit in me now, hallelujah...!

Not that I'm peaches and fuckin cream now. Far from it. But the world certainly holds more promise now than it did throughout most of 2005.

Sunday night, NBC aired a doc about Saturday Night Live in the '90s. I thought it might be all fluffer nutter, but it was actually pretty interesting. Interspersed interviews with surviving cast members, discussing real issues like the controversial firing of Norm MacDonald.

It struck me that the 1990s were my high school through college years. That period of time before you get completely jaded about the world... when you're still sorta idealistic and can give two shits about stuff...

Anyway, the man wants more cowbell, I'd say your best bet is to give him more cowbell...

(I never realized that was a such a popular sketch.)

Zombies. Wanna see some zombies?

Saturday, May 05, 2007

Death of a Spider-Man

It gives me no pleasure to lead the backlash parade. I hesitate blogging about this because I don't want to dissuade anybody from seeing this thing. It's still going to make ungodly heaps of money—but I know that not all my friends will go to see all the big summer blockbusters, and I want them to see this. So that I might have an adequate support group.

It wasn't just the hype machine. Creatively, "Spider-Man 3" was the same team behind the first two movies. I guess that's why I thought it was a foregone conclusion that this one would be—to borrow a page from George Tenet—a "slam dunk". But unfortunately, it appears that the team was composed of humans who managed to fail. Perhaps important comic book movie franchises shouldn't be trusted with fallible humans...

Relax, I'm not going to go all SPOILER-crazy here. I could go through a list of everything that went wrong, but it'd be a futile exercise. And you can find a million other reviews on the internet that'll give you a fairly accurate coroner's report.

But I tell you, when I get suckered, I get suckered good...

I was so high on hype for this motherfucking Spider-Man movie, I dropped by a GAMESTOP on the way to the movie theater Friday morning and picked up the "Spider-Man 3" videogame for both the Wii and the PS3...!

Over a hundred bucks, I spend on this perfect media storm, opening day:

I see the movie and it sucks...

I go home to play both videogames—and they both suck, too...!

Sony bent me over a table and violated me this weekend.

(I ran to Gamestop today to see if I could return the games—I couldn't return the PS3 version, but they let me return the Wii version for full store credit. So I regained some shred of dignity. Not a lot.)

Guess I was asking for it, eh, Sony? Was it the lipstick?

Friday, May 04, 2007

The Most Popular Guy at School

SPIDERED-MAN THE THIRD opens in select (all) theaters today!

Everybody ready for disappointment? I sure am!

Hey, it's hard to get these Hollywood scripts perfect... What are you gonna do? BLOG about it...? (Ooh, I'm so scared!)

Speaking of the Hollywood...

I'm no fan of Ashton Kutcher -- he comes across as loud, abrasive, and about half as funny as he thinks he is. That said, I've got to say that PUNK'D is a brilliant show.

No, he didn't invent the "hidden-camera" prank show...

Allen Funt started it on radio in the 1940s, with "Candid Microphone". That, of course, became the long-running television show "Candid Camera". (They mostly pranked regular citizens, occasionally going after the odd celebrity -- take that, Ann Jillian!) TV's Bloopers & Practical Jokes fluffed up their blooper recycling with a few celebrity pranks in the 80s. Thereafter, the hidden camera show is a veritable tv genre...

[My other modern hidden camera show favorite is "Scare Tactics", which employs practical effects to scare the living shit out of ordinary people.]

But what makes PUNK'D such potent zeitgeist pop-corn is that it focuses on the celebrities. Not just any old celebrities, but Ashton Kutcher's FRIENDSTER network. To watch the show is to watch friends pull pranks on friends. It invites the audience to be a young Hollywood insider. All hidden camera shows cash in on a certain level of audience voyeurism, but PUNK'D incorporates celebrity into the allure. A home-movie aesthetic completes the effect. "You'll never be friends with this person in real life, but this is what it would be like if you were."

The reason paparazzi can earn a living is that the public has an insatiable appetite for candid tabloid photos. Why? Because tabloids humanize celebrities. They strip away the glamor. Expose them in unflattering lights. Without makeup. With extra pounds. Nip-slipped. (My favorite!) Cheating on their spouse or just shopping for canned peaches at the local Cluck'n'Fuck. You see these pictures and it allows you to say, "Hey lookit, Martha -- they's like regular people!"

And that's the bigger appeal of PUNK'D. You can watch someone like Justin Timberlake or Elijah Wood get completely humbled. You get to see how they react in a crisis. In a situation that they may never have to deal with in their uniquely charmed world. And their gut reaction isn't always so flattering. (Which explains why some celebs, like ALIAS's Michael Vartan, choose not to sign the waivers after they get pranked.)

The world's obsession with celebrity is nothing new, of course. In the end, it's high school economics: supply and demand. There's an endless demand. PUNK'D was a fascinating response to it. R to the I to the P.

Oh, and here's an article about email addiction that I won't bother transitioning to. It's Friday. Go see "Spider-Man 3" before all the assholes at the office spoil it for you. Yes, I am talking to you.

"Thank God It's Friday!" said the Gay Horse.

Spider-Man 3, Shuffled 5:
1. "Soul Love", David Bowie
2. "Rape Me", Nirvana
3. "Tear", Red Hot Chili Peppers
4. "Lyric", Zwan
5. "Nobody Does it Better", Radiohead
"When Doves Cry", Prince & the Revolution

Thursday, May 03, 2007

Flux Capacity

I'm at the very end of my latest draft. I'm just a chase sequence and a few false endings away...!

It's in a good place. In a day or two, I'll print it out and read it through and figure out everything that sucks balls. But I know there's some strong material here. Hopefully some work that will set me apart, in the Hollywood game.

If I ever strike out westward, I'd need to get myself a slick ride. I could really change things...

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Lemon in Zest


Wait... let me back up...

First time I saw Charlotte Gainsbourg was in The Cement Garden, a 1993 movie dripping with melancholy and incest. Sort of moving, actually.

The next time I see her, it's in Michel Gondry's 2006 crypto-cardboard-dreamscape, The Science of Sleep.

I didn't realize she had any musical aspirations, wasn't aware of her papi's musical legacy, and MOST CERTAINLY wasn't aware of this 1984 French pop taboo nugget called "LEMON INCEST"...

... featuring a 12-year-old Charlotte and her 56-year-old father,
frolicking on a mattress,
both tortured with sexual frustration...!

Wow. Those French really don't give a shit, do they...?

Perhaps it's lost in translation...

Not to deviate from the subject of incest, but


White Chicks & Gang Signs.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Dick Laurent is Dead

Did you hear? David Lynch is going to end school violence! Check it out at noon today...

Not to be outdone, David Cronenberg is revealing his cure for cancer at 1pm.

And at around 2pm, Tim Story is going to try to stop sucking.

I keed! I keed, Tim! Keep making your shitty comic book movies, I dare you!

I am in writing hell this week. And probably for the rest of my life, but this week it's bad.

It's May already. What have we done to deserve this? God have mercy on our dirty little hearts...