Getting a lot of interest in my work lately. Terrific. Great. So where's my deal? If I had nickle for every time I've heard my writing was great ... I could go on that trip to Mexico I've been planning. Swine Flu? Montezuma's Revenge? Sign me up ...
Screened AMERICAN HISTORY X last night, and I'm not sure what I think about it. I liked it when I first saw it when it came out -- but now, I dunno. The story was riviting, and the cast was great, especially Edward Norton -- he's always great -- but it felt a little -- pretentious. I dunno. Have to think about it some more. Really did love the Venice Beach locations, though. Love seeing movies that take place in my hood ...
Onto today's scene from DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED. Now that Carrie Love has been suspended from the force, it's up to Bernie to go it alone against serial killer Sparkle Plenty. However, when he listens to Sparkle's latest 'murder tape,' he discovers something quite horrifying ...
INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - LIPSHITZ’ OFFICE - NIGHT
Bernie sits across from Larry’s desk.
A half-dozen HOMICIDE DETECTIVES
stand around, chatting, drinking coffee.
Lipshitz looks like shit, eyes hollow sockets.
He pulls out a brown bottle.
Pours some into his coffee.
Takes a sip.
My wife was crying last night,
couldn’t get any sleep,
we were up all night --
We gotta get this -- succubus, Bernie.
I’m there like white on rice, Lare.
Thanks for the banality, Bernie.
It’s oddly comforting.
Alright, everybody listen up.
We got another tape.
Actually, it’s a CD.
The killer’s gone digital.
Let’s hear it, I’m getting a chubby already.
Shut the fuck up MacDonald, you prick.
You think this is funny?
No, sir -- I was just trying to lighten the mood.
They say that humour during a time of crisis --
Why don’t you go to the morgue, MacDonald,
get laid, and leave us to the detecting.
Fuck you, Keko --
you’re just pissed off cause your wife
went bearded clam-digging.
(bad Brit accent)
Shall we shag-carpet-munch now,
or should we shag-carpet munch later?
The detectives chuckle.
Now pay attention -- this one’s a doozy.
He goes to a boombox, punches a button.
The sexy coo of Donna Summer’s LOVE TO LOVE YOU BABY
oozes into the room.
Love the gay disco, chief.
Somethin’ you wanna tell us?
Fuck you. It’s my daughter’s --
Okay. Now everybody shut the fuck up.
Lipshitz hits the ‘play’ button.
The Ramones come on, the catchy pop-punk of
I don’t want to be buried, in a pet cemetery,
I don’t want to live my life again --
The music fades, and we hear --
And the night when the wolves cry out,
listen careful, and you can hear me shout --
I don’t I don’t want to be buried, in a pet cemetery --
Thanks for tuning in. It’s time to par-tay, dog-gone it.
Damn, I crack myself up. Gotta watch that.
A shredded corpse is no laughing matter,
isn’t that right, awficer?
Hey, officer Krupke, I feel pretty, oh so pretty --
Broad babbles more than Courtney Love on crank.
Paramount Pictures released PET SEMATARY
in 1988, a solid base hit.
The ten million dollar budget was well spent,
considering that it grossed twenty-five million domestically --
and that’s not counting international and ancillary revenues.
Steven King doesn’t consider it to be a good adaptation
of his novel, since the director went with a semi-comedic tone,
which hurts the scare factor, I must say.
But still, it’s good, clean, sick fun. A personal fave.
Two thumbs up my vag, thas’ fah shure.
Today’s installation is an example of what happens
when a petty little dog turd uses his power over people.
Well, this is the end of the line,
chopping down the family cherry tree, bub.
Buster Hymen time.
Don’t forget -- to spay and neuter your pet.
Then, the sickly sound of a knife making rapid puncture wounds --
A chill runs through the room. Keko leans forward, in shock.
Here’s where it really gets good --
Film is a collaborative art --
but since I’m an orphan, I need parenting, guidance.
A firm, loving hand to -- to stop me before I --
I’ve got my adoption papers.
Can the 42nd Precinct’s golden couple save me
before the end of the third act?
Whaddaya think, Daddy?
I think -- I gotta go find Carrie.
First go take a look at the body. And brace yourself.
Crime scene tech still can’t keep anything done.
on Bernie’s face. Not excited.
Guess I'll hold off on the breakfast burrito.