Monday, November 27, 2006

Where Pigs Feed

Michael Richards.

Mel Gibson.

It's all been talked out and analyzed half to death, really. Problem is, nobody has told you why they really did what they did.

I'm here today to rectify that.

What has been said?

That's what they really believe.

It's who they really are.

They're just dirty racists who've finally gotten caught.

It was in there, just waiting to come out.

Finally! Got one right. Damn right it was in there, you know why?

Because it's in all of us. You see, the rant isn't really about racism. It's about verbal warfare. It's about humiliation and anger.

When a person goes into verbal battle, they are no longer looking for dialogue. They are looking to psychologically wound and damage.

If the combatants know each other well, there will be an entire arsenal available to them. We open up to those we care about and in that trust we expose ourselves and all of our faults. These become weaponry when the conversation ends and the battle begins.

When it begins, we look for the closest weapon at hand, preferably the one that will hurt the most. Then we wail away.

But what about when you don't know someone? What if you get into a verbal battle (one that you should never put yourself in, but hey, there you are) and you look for a weapon. You don't know that person at all, except by what you can see.

The weapon at hand.

If the person has huge ears, you'll call them fuckin' dumbo and tell them to get out of your face.

If the person is rotund, you'll call them a fat fuck and tell them to shove it.

If the person has a big nose, you might go for a stereotype...

If the person is black...

You go for the first thing that you know will hurt.

Whoa, just for a second. I don't condone it. There is no excuse for using racist language, especially as a weapon in verbal warfare. None. I cannot condone what Michael Richards did. He should be apologizing, and all over the place.

Then when it's done, it's done. Maybe he does need some anger management counseling. I can think of a lot of people who could use a little of that.

I would be one of them.

What is bothering me about this whole episode is the hypocritical, self-righteous whinging from the likes of Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, and the other self-appointed spokespeople for the great black community in America.

Michael was a guest on Jesse's radio show. Regarding the interview, Jesse remarked that, "...Richards's rant [was] "hate speech" as well as "sick" and "deep-seated."

Sick and deep seated? Here's what Michael said: the tirade was "fueled by anger, not bigotry."

He is telling the exact truth. You see, nobody is immune from some level of racial prejudice. We all view people in light of their appearance, whatever that may be. A black man is a black man in a white man's eyes, and vice versa. That is the first thing noticed in casual interracial contact. Doubtless somebody will comment here and deny it, but it's so much horsecrap to do so.

If Michael's rant was "sick" and "deep-seated," what does that make Jesse's "Hymietown" comment?

Jesse gave an interview following his with Michael, and commented that Mr. Richards needed to go away somewhere to "get well." Perhaps Jesse could recommend the place he went to to get well after the Hymietown fiasco.

Michael and Mel ought to be taken to task for their comments. Someone needs to simply say to them, publicly and loud, "Dudes, you guys acted like DICKS!"

Then they need to apologize. Then we (collective, all 300 million of every race and kind we) need to get OVER it.

They aren't racists. They are poor fighters and they are weak human beings. How dare any one of these people presume that they would never stoop to such a tirade. Face the humiliation first, then come back and tell me how you fared.

After all, look how Jesse "Hymietown" Jackson fared.

Peace out.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Oh, So Clever

It's not Monday yet, but I can't wait for this particular peeve.

I can't stand writers who pop out of their work to show you how clever they think they are. I don't watch a lot of TV, but I do watch news on NBC, and sometimes Leno. Lately they've shown a commercial for their psychic loophead series "Medium." I won't give you a link, because... well, never mind.

Anyway, in this recent commercial, of which I unsuccessfully tried to find a video clip (just for Paula!), this psycho lady is standing at the scene of Some Awful Event with some dude. If I recall correctly, they're standing over a freshly dead body, made dead by the surrounding coppers, and she says they killed the wrong man.

He says to her, "And we know this because..."

And she answers, "Because of the wonderful things she does."

Hullo! I'm the writer! See me being clever? I'm so clever!

How long do you think that diphead was waiting to use that particular line. He probably wrote that little exchange two and a half years ago while watching the Wizard of Oz with his kids, who live with the now ex-wife three states away.

A writer can be clever, but for crying out loud, the story comes FIRST. They are standing near a freshly dead corspe full of police holes. Moreover, the corpse shouldn't have been ventilated. They've made a horrifying mistake, and taken a life they should not have taken, and what? Now we're making jokes???

Maybe I've read too much into that, but every time I saw that commercial, which must have been a half-dozen, I cringed.

Those writers are going onto my list.

Oh yes, I have a list. It's called the List of People I Will Fire if I Someday Find Myself Accidentally in Charge of Them.

Because you just never know, do you?

You see, cleverness is good, if it serves the story. Watch the following video from one of my all-time favorite movies:

"I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?"

With every word of that scene, you know exactly who wrote it. It's all Tarantino.

But that doesn't matter, because every word of that scene is exactly what Jules would say in that situation. Tarantino is clever, and some might say to a fault, but it works because he writes to the story at hand and to the character on stage, and not to pop out his head and say Hullo!

Screw It

I've been on the road for six of the last twelve days and have hardly written a word on ten of them.

And I remember why I'd rather write scripts than prose.

So my hooligan is going into script format, and my Nano is over. No apologies offered, that's just the way it is. I'm tempted to upload the other 1300 words I've written, but I think I'll just dump the icon instead...

Dang it.

Saturday, November 04, 2006


All right, I'm nanoing. Several days late start, but who cares. My story is about a shiftless hooligan in Liverpool who doesn't have the tough, killer instinct of his peers.

Like it matters...


It's about me, dummy!!!


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