HEAD BOSS

It’s a piece of shit.

DAN

But-

HEAD BOSS

I SAID… it’s garbage. Rewrite it or take it to Universal, they’ll produce anything these days.

Dan is speechless and powerless. He slowly gets out of his chair and retreats out of the room. When he gets to the door, however, he turns and with an unusual gust of bravery, speakes his mind.

DAN

Mr. Boss, to be frank, this is a straight up detective movie. Film Noir at its most refined. Now I’m not proclaiming it’s a masterpiece or even an Oscar winner, which would be a one reason for your rejection, but sir, how does the man who attaches his name to “The Bumblee Stampede” even remotely thinks this script is anything but worthy. For… for… years I have labored at the keyboard to bring this to you at your very own…. commision! The plot is simple yet compelling, I’ve infused action and wit on an “Iron Man” level, for Christ sake the part was written for Matt Damon and…. and.. the girls ride motorcycles! So may I ask what is wrong with this movie!??

The room is deathly silent. The standing producers are at a loss for words. The Big Boss stands now, seemingly dwarfing Dan with his presence, and throws the script on the floor. It lands on the first page of dialogue and we see that the hero’s name is “SAM EAGLE.” Dan doesn’t get it and the Big Boss explodes.

BIG BOSS

Is this a fucking joke! Some screenwriter’s idea of a making a fool of me?? SAM FUCKING EAGLE??? Get your sorry, no good, ego-ridden, Yale-wasted, puny shit-for-brains asshole out of my office before I make you choke on this.

Dan is gone in a hurry, leaving the script on the floor. The Big Boss picks it up and hands it to another producer.

BIG BOSS

Call Disney and sell it to them. I’d like to see Sam Eagle in this actually.

THE END

VOICE

Hey, watch it!

TOM

Huh?

Tom gets up and picks up the book, examining it.

VOICE

Down here, stupid!

Tom looks down and sees the source of the voice. It is a cockroach. He can scarcely believe it.

TOM

What the hell??

ROACH

Yeah, that’s what I said when I saw your face!

TOM

But you’re a talking cockroach!

ROACH

And you’re ugly.

TOM

I’m ugly?

ROACH

There has to be some reason I don’t see any babes around.

TOM

I happen to be studying for an exam I have… in five hours… crap.

ROACH

You don’t say! What subject?

TOM

Women in the Middle Ages.

ROACH

Oh buddy, you must be desperate! Well, I don’t know nothing about Medieval chicks, but as for the 21st century I got ya covered.

TOM

But… you’re a cockroach!

ROACH

Yeah… about that-

At that moment a flash of light emanates off screen and a full grown man appears. His name is Charlie.

TOM

What the hell is going on!!

CHARLIE

It’s called transfiguration and you can call me Charlie. Now first things first, let’s check out the wardrobe. Come on, stinky!

Charlie exits into the bedroom. Tom remains seated and is in complete shock.

CHARLIE

Hey stinky! Do you mind if I have some friends over? They should be here any minute.

At that moment a doorbell is heard and Tom goes to answer the door. He opens it to only be engulfed by a swarm of roaches and other insects. Tom wakes up on the couch in a panick- he has been dreaming. Just as he recovers he thinks he sees a cockroach on the floor but he’s mistaken. As he begins to start reading again, however, the figure of Charlie slowly rises behind him.

THE END

In light of the recent political scene that is rapidly engulfing our nation for the next year, I find it appropriate to reconnect with our past and look at the Presidents who actually did great things. These men achieved their administrative agendas, stuck to their guns in spite of political backlash, passed executive orders when shit needed to get done, and successfully willed their visions of a strong and unified America into being. If any one of these guys came back they would find a country sorely in need of their leadership.

George Washington

 Of course Washington was the first President, and in being so, had a unique opportunity to do what other presidents wish they could- set precedents. What made Washington remarkable was that he had the chance for everything he could ever dream of, however, he rejected such titles as “Your Majesty” and “Your Excellency” and insisted on being called “Mr. President.” To have someone in office today with such a humble attitude and strong moral fiber, while still being able to push your agenda forward would be miraculous. Shunning the idea of political parties, he wouldn’t be swayed by lobbyists or one side of the aisle over another. He would simply do what he thought neccessary to make American great.

Andrew Jackson

 Now Andrew Jackson is remarkable because he was truly a no BS president. If something needed to get done, it would get done without Congress standing in the way to muck it up. Now thet may sound rather extreme, but sometimes a president needs to step up and issue those executive orders or else nothing is ever going to be accomplished. When South Carolina wanted to break away from the Union in 1832, Jackson stopped that notion real quick. He also got rid of the Federal Bank and put it into the private sector and believed that the States and people could be entrusted with more powers (to an extent) that they had been given credit for. He was a true man of the people who loved nothing more than the United States of America, and our country loved him back just as strongly. Were some of his ideals controversial? Sure. But they were neccessary evils in order to bring prosperity to our land, and shape America into the power it soon became.

Theodore Roosevelt

 Now this is the guy we could use these days. Teddy was a Republican, but unlike the Republican presidents before him, he decided that big business had gotten way out of hand. Businessmen and their companies seemed to weild more power than the actual government all of a sudden! Now, any Republican today would tell you that Washington should lay off of Wall Street and let the engine run itself. But anybody with common sense would say that there has to be a point when enough is enough and the President is in fact leader of the country. Would you believe that Roosevelt was such a Republican? What he was trying to do was move the GOP forward and later became a leader of the Progressive Party. However, he was not about to let people push him around. Teddy’s foreign policy was a major buildup of our military but only to deter, never to draw first blood. Afterall, he won the Nobel Peace Prize for ending a war! And last but not least, he realized the importance of conservation and founded the National Park System which is, perhaps, the greatest treasure we as Americans enjoy today.

Abraham Lincoln

 Oh, you knew Honest Abe was on the list. I like to think of Lincoln as embodying attributes from all the aforementioned presidents- the moral integrity of George, the no BS attitude of Andrew, and the common sense of Theodore. It takes a special kind of person to lead a country through a civil war, and have plans of peace and goodwill towards the rebels. In the wake of his assassination, Lincoln was called the South’s best friend, for those plans that went with him to the graves. As a politician before the White House, he was an elequent speaker with tremendous foresight into what lay ahead, and didn’t wait for the shit to hit the fan before doing somthing about it. The first Republican, who would share little in common with today’s Tea Partiers, he honestly believed that all men were created equal and everybody deserves a world without judgement and hate. It is for this reason, that Abraham Lincoln is our greatest president, and why he is the preeminent model to which our congressmen, governors, and president should look up to.

Now of course, those examples are not exactly elequent pieces of poetry. As a music lover and artist, I will tell you that I am immediately drawn to deep, thought-provoking lyrics, however AC/DC does in fact go much deeper- to the music itself. I don’t believe there is a finer rhythm and blues rock n’ roll band out there. Magazines and VH1 will label them as “hard rock” or “heavy metal,” but the band members themselves will tell you that they only think of themselves as simply rock n’ roll.

And what exactly is the essensce of Rock n’ Roll? For me, it is a calling to challenge the rules a little- to turn up the volume a little too loud, to drive my car a little too fast, to have a little too much fun! Now believe me, when infused with the boogie woogie that is AC/DC, nothing is more infectious, and you see it in the band when they’re onstage. They may be nearing their sixties but it’s still the some rockin’ energy from when they were young and when I saw them live in 2008, I knew I was a part of something special.

This band is fun and there’s a reason they’re the biggest selling band in the history of popular music, because sometimes folks want to get away from the rock operas and poetry and just shake a leg.

PS

Don’t misunderstand me either, AC/DC does have a few songs that are the definition of Blues music, and I can’t not have them inspire me (specifically “Ride On”, “It’s a Long Way to the Top if You Wanna Rock n’ Roll”, and “Aint No Fun (Waitin’ Round to be a Millionare”). I don’t know, something about those songs speaks to the artist in me.

1. Highway to Hell (1979) “Highway to Hell” “Touch Too Much” “Shot Down in Flames” and “If You Want Blood (You’ve Got It)”

2. Back in Black (1980) “You Shook Me All Night Long” “Hells Bells” and “Back in Black”

3. Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap (1976) “Ride On” “Aint No Fun (Waitin’ Round to be a Millionare)” and “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap”

4. Let There Be Rock (1977) “Whole Lotta Rosie” “Bad Boy Boogie” “Hell Aint a Bad Place To Be” and “Let There Be Rock”

5. Black Ice (2008) “Rock n’ Roll Dream” “Big Jack” and “Rock ‘n’ Roll Train”

6. For Those About to Rock We Salute You (1981) “Lets’ Get It Up” “Put the Finger On You” and “For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)”

7. High Voltage (1976) “The Jack” “It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock n’ Roll)” and “TNT”

8. Flick of the Switch (1983) “Nervous Shakedown” “Bedlam in Belgium” and “Flick of the Switch”

9. Ballbreaker (1995) “Hail Caesar” “Boogie Man” and “Ballbreaker”

10. Fly on the Wall (1985) “Shake Your Foundations” “Sink the Pink” and “Don’t Talk to Strangers”

11. Blow Up Your Video (1988) “Heatseeker” “That’s the Way I Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll” and “Blow Up Your Video”

…. And from there I can’t really discern the rest of their albums. Not because they’re not worthy! But because until I haven’t listened to them all (can you believe I haven’t?? Neither can I!) I can’t really order them, can I?

But in case you’re curious the rest are Powerage (1978) The Razor’s Edge (1990)  and Stiff Upper Lip (2000)

Thank you and goodnight!

Style: Non-Fiction

Score (1-5): 4/ 88 B

When my mom was sick me and my brother had a big responsibility. Me and my brother had to take care of her.

I had to ansewer the phone for her because she was in bed. I liked it when my dad or grandma called. I would talk to them and then surrender it to my mom.

Then my mom wanted lunch. We ask what she wanted. “I want a chickin pattie with orange juice please” she told us “Okay” we replied. “Thankyou” she called to us as we darted to the freezer. We took out the bag the directions said cook for one minute and forty-five seconds. Then we pourd a glass of orange juice wich was as yellow as three suns. Then we gave the lunch to her. “Thank you” she said. When I was leaving the room I noticed the t.v. remote was on the floor. I gave it to her.

Taking care of my mom was fun. But I’am glad now that my mom is well. Because whos gonna take care of me and my brother!

Perhaps I exaggerate.

Perhaps I have eleven toes.

The point of the matter is that Chicago has been calling me a long time and I am bound and determined to heed the call.

First and foremost as an actor, Chicago is tops when it comes to theatres in a city. Of course it is not Broadway, but it boasts theatres like Steppenwolf, the Goodman, and the Second City (with dozens of others) that not only export to New York stages all the time but are friendlier to hardworking actors trying to establish themselves. I’m not going to kid myself into thinking I break into such acclaimed companies right off the bat, but I feel like I would have a better shot in Chicago than anywhere else.

Which brings me to my second point, while working as a young actor, I can’t think of a better cultural scene to immerse myself in. You have to understand that I’m a small town kid and have travelled to a major city (NY and London) all but twice in my life. Since I’ve been in college and in Orlando, I’ve been craving so much more. The first things I’m doing when I move there is to see ballgames at both Wrigley and U.S. Cellular Field, find some blues joints, check out all the museums, etc. Also, when it is cooler I can wear suits and not be sweating my balls off!

Even before I wanted to be an actor the city was always in my life. Every single one of my favorite comedies seemed to be set in and around Chicago (Vacation, The Blues Brothers, Ferris Bueller, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Home Alone, Wayne’s World, etc.) One of my biggest early influences as an actor was the Second City and the Saturday Night Live talent it produced (John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Chris Farley, etc). So really, I see it as a matter of time until I came around. Oh, and of course my girlfriend is from there! Done. Case closed.

But really what it comes down to is that I need to fly far away from Central Florida (as much as I love it, and I do!) and I think Chicago, IL is just the city I can see myself landing in.

3.5 Essay done!

The winds of fortune will treat you kind.

With whiskey tears and tobacco blues,

You soldier through the valleys and dunes,

Finding the lost while discovering the new.

Thumb in the air, fingers clenched,

With windswept hair and muscles tensed.

What can you do but soldier on, 

Towards the cities and forgotten farms,

To find a friend or lover in your arms.

Many miles lie ahead for the young and weary soul

Who sticks to his guns and goes after what he knows is right. For his path is not the same as we all might expect. The actor, poet, musician, the rambler, the free birds, the bastards of luck and happenstance; these are the soldiers of fortune that hide in the shadows of perseverance and await the glorious day that God will hand them when their time is due.

But what can we do

but soldier on.

“PRISON GRASS”

by Joshua Braff

The man being interviewed on TV was a killer, but I knew him because of baseball. In ’07 I’d just become the new center-fielder for the Berkeley Baron’s, an amateur team of ex-college level players. The San Quentin game against the prisoners was optional. It sounded like a story to me. Like skydiving or a swim with sharks. I’d play in center-field of course, where all the, “shivs” or man-made weapons were hidden in the grass, my teammates said. The prisoners would be amongst us, next to us, they were even allowed to shake our hands. It was okay, I was coached, they were cool, grateful, not as intimidating as you’d think. They might even thank you. “Thank me?” BUT: If there was to be a hostage situation, namely, a prisoner takes me in his grasp and say, presses a sliver of bathroom-tile into my windpipe, there’s a NO NEGOTIATING WITH PRISONERS RULE. I had no idea what this meant.

The prisoner on the TV was being interviewed for a film about his life in San Quentin. He told the reporter the only positive was being a San Quentin Giant, a uniformed baseball player on weekends. His hair was white now and cropped close but I remember it brown the day we met. I was standing on second base, having just doubled by hitting a ball that bounced twice between the center and left-fielders before hitting the wall. Second base was right at the very center of this infamous yard. And around me were hundreds, six, seven hundred convicted criminals. Convicted of felonies that would make your eyes tear. Many were tattooed, many muscular, the ages varied greatly, the ethnicities too. Asians, Hispanics, American Indians, African Americans, Caucasians and mixed. Everyone stayed in their own groups, the African Americans to the right of third base, the Hispanics further out near left, the white guys behind our dugout. The Indians were over the fence in center, hitting a huge circular drum. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. I heard it when we first walked in and throughout the game, a drone of warning amidst the nearby foghorns of San Francisco Bay.

“What is that?” I asked my teammate.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

“Think of it as a welcome,” he said.

A guard checked our IDs, rummaged through our equipment. He then asked the “first-timers” to raise their hands. I was the only one. My teammates laughed, as the NO NEGOTIATING RULE was explained. If I was taken hostage, an armed guard in a tower above the baseball field would fire his weapon at the offending prisoner’s head and hopefully not kill me in the process. Okay? So consider yourself warned. Now go have fun.

The entrance to the prison is quite beautiful. A fountain in the style of Spanish architecture in the center of a courtyard and a sloping driveway to follow. Around the corner the rumble of male voices grew and the drumming got louder. And then we saw them, a sea of men, a concert with no performance, a rally with no speaker, no freedom, no views. Just walls. Captured people. They saw us, these men in their prison blues. They were lifting weights, walking, running, sitting, standing, drumming, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

My team in our black uniforms were greeted with some catcalls, Newbies, Cuties, Freebies were yelled and then laughter and I heard some whistles. I thought of my blond hair, my ass in these tight pants. I stood there, on second, watching the prisoners on the bench, my hands on my hips, the brim of my helmet hiding my eyes. The cage around home plate had men all over it. They were hanging on it, leaning on it, smoking, giggling, slapping each other on the back. There were so many people watching this game, betting on it, talking about it, picking their favorite players.

To my left I saw him, the second baseman from the documentary. He was smiling, his crows-feet splayed. I said, “Nice shot earlier,” in reference to his home run. He dipped his head in appreciation and said, “Got a flattened-out-curve that hung for days.” His throwing hand lifted and his open palm was on my back. I patted him too, realizing how many prisoners and guards were watching our exchange. And in the swirl of it all, the drumming, the cheering, the dirt at my feet, I felt a oneness with this man, a criminal with no name. I’d never want to know what he’d done to get in San Quentin. It would only ruin the beauty and importance of the moment. We were ballplayers. That was all we were that day.

The TV interviewer wanted to know “What he’d done,” as the camera flashed his mug-shot from the day he entered the prison in 1964. His hair was down to his shoulders and brown, his eyes were dazed, glassed, “Lost behind the drugs,” he told the reporter. I could have changed the channel. But I didn’t. And in hindsight I sort of knew what was coming.

“I stabbed her,” he said and held up another photograph, a worn Polaroid of a girl, a teenager with long dark hair, parted in the middle. “Her name was Lorraine.”

Therefore, because all this was so important to me, I would never even consider starting over with a new game and erasing all that I had worked to achieve. And what would that be exactly? What were my main goals? Well, after defeating the Elite Four it was not to amass all 151 pokemon (as my brother did), but to train the ones I did have to the nearly impossible level of 100!

And after a decade of playing those two games I was able to achieve, what I felt like, was a pretty good team. From my first pokemon Bulbasaur to Mewtwo, I was able to train eighteen different pokemon to level 100.

Now I say, “Rest In Peace,” because like all great things this story came to an abrupt end the other day. Wishing to reflect on my proud childhood, I turned on my Gold version to discover that the game had restarted itself due to age. I had lost all the pokemon that mattered to me, for my Red was still alive and kicking (ironic, eh?) but I had transferred everybody to Gold for what I thought was safekeeping. Guess I was wrong and at least thirteen years of effort was gone forever.

So now I end with the Hall of Fame in memorial to those who reached the 100 Milestone and to the next generation who were currently in training.

Red Version

Total Time 213:54

Total Pokemon 116

Venusaur*

Gyarados*

Mewtwo

Electabuzz

Kabutops

Raichu

Alakazam

Arbok

Pidgeot

Primeape

Dragonite

Aerodactyl

Blastoise

Charizard

Snorlax

Snorlax

Gold Version

Meganium*

Ho-Oh

Charmeleon (Mr. Ferraro)

Noctowl (Great British Ninja)

Golduck (Mr. Gibbs)

Raticate

Elekid

Starmie

“Andrew, if I should not see you again, I wish you to remember and treasure up some things I have already said to you: in this world you will have to make your own way. To do that you must have friends. You can make friends by being honest, and you can keep them by being steadfast. You must keep in mind that friends worth having will in the long run expect as much from you as they give to you. To forget an obligation or be ungrateful for a kindness is a base crime- not merely a fault or a sin, but an actual crime. Men guilty of it sooner or later must suffer the penalty.

In personal conduct be always polite but never obsequious. None will respect you more than you respect yourself. Avoid quarrels as long as you can without yielding to imposition. But sustain your manhood always. Never bring a suit in law for assault and battery or for defamation. The law affords no remedy for such outrages that can satisfy the feelings of a true man. Never wound the feelings of others. Never brook wanton outrage upon your own feelings. If you ever have to vindicate your feelings or defend your honor, do it calmly. If angry at first, wait till your wrath cools before you proceed.”