The B List A Hole

If you live in L.A., you've been a victim of it.  Laws should be scribed by men and women of vast intelligence to help curb the insufferable brutality of such an inhospitable end-product. The polar opposites of coddling and enabling must be employed whenever possible to fend off the notion that such an act is not only acceptable, but encouraged. Dogs and cats should join forces --  like the Afghans did against the Russians, or Canada Proper has done against Quebec -- to assist in the policing and ultimate prosecution of such offenders.  If you're an Angelino, the regulations will have arrived at too late a time. You may be already actively seeking some form of mental counsel to help with the pain brought forth by the encounter... and encounter you might not soon forget, though you desperately desire to.

It's not a crime, per se. But, in a sense, it very well should be.

It's the "B List A Hole", and he or she is coming to a cafe table, bus bench, or park path near you.

It's not lost on me that, in this day of age, if a struggling actor lands a small role on a sitcom, television drama, or indie flick, he or she has every right to be elated. With the economy the way it is, every dollar counts, and every role -- no matter how infinitesimal -- may ultimately spawn a major career.  They've reached a milestone, and sharing their prideful happiness with the rest of us is fine.

Just don't pretend you're anything more than what you are.

A role is a role, as a graphics or illustration job is just that... a job!  If I'm particularly proud of my work, I'll share some non-sensitive aspects of it with my friends.  But, I've NEVER cackled like a rooster at sunrise about how I'm the second-coming of Bill Watterson or David Carson or Ken Sugimori. I've never donned a black mock turtleneck and mock window-shopped for a BMW M3. I've got great months, good months, bad months, and shit months. I'm as humble as possible, for I know this is true -- there are going to be times when things aren't so hot, and somebody is going to waddle up next to me and spit out that timeless classic "So.... are you working hard or hardly working?".  They find it humorous, and it was -- in 1972!  Either be humble about your success, or risk shoving a dump truck full of humble pie down your gullet 6 months from then when life has taken a 180.

But Mr. and Ms. B List A Hole don't care. The switch to their spotlight is in the "on" position, burning a 10 million candlepower blast of blinding heat right in our face.  Where jeans and a tee were once acceptable, now they must dress for success, as well as the inevitable papparazzi.  The local coffee dive is now simple an "office".  Their Honda Civic has been upgraded to an Acura, which is just another way of saying they bought a Honda with leather and a Star Trek badge. You cannot hold a conversation with them for more than a minute without them hard-selling their amazing ride aboard the Tinseltown Express, and holding the story and subsequent derivatives of it long after the interest had passed.

You want to be happy for them -- you vividly remember their struggles -- but at the same instant you can't help but wonder exactly how much money they're making, and how much success they're achieving, playing a secondary character in a third-rate sitcom on a fourth-rate cable channel that only masochists dare watch. Yet, 849 other actors DID cattle-call this role, and departed with their proverbial tail between their legs. I suppose the old saying "flaunt it while you got it" applies.  

After all, who knows how much longer the Time Warner Cable 101 Leased Access channel will survive.

SUMMER FLICKS NIX SCRIPX 4 TIX & KIXS

At a barbeque the other day, a friend found time to bake up one of his (now) famous flourless chocolate cakes. I not a monstrous fan of anything pretending it's something it's not (i.e., a BMW X5 is not a real SUV, and Paris Hilton is not hot, despite adamant claims by both). Cake, by its very nature, is SUPPOSED to have flour in it.  Yet, Erik's edible Frankenstein monster was, in the end, quite tasty and well received by the masses.

If only summer blockbusters were the same.

The concept of a scriptless film is old hat (the silent slapstick flicks, the Rooney/Garland "Let's put on a show" musicals, anything with Stallone), but you'd think with a $200 million budget somebody up in the wheel house might drop some jack on a real script?  I know --  it's a stretch, considering when screenwriters are brought on to create said script for noted big budget flick, they are immediately handed the Cliff Notes on what needs to be included within those pages... by the marketing department!

a) Hero needs to say "Let's do this" at least five times.
b) Best friend of hero must be killed, but say "It's now or never" before getting offed.
c) Heroine must say "You'll never get away with this" to antagonist, while looking defiant.
d) If a child is involved, so must a family dog (preferably a golden retriever).
e) Main characters must say one or all of the following: "What is this place?",  "This is crazy!", "Lock and load!",  "Who would've thought it can ever be like this", and "It's either us, or them!"
f) 120 minute film = 60 minute script... post-production will fill in the rest.
g) At least ONCE in the film, hero must shoot two assault rifles simultaneously.
h) Rules for the taboo romance: either she has to be hero's best friend's girl, has to be commander's daughter, has to be part of enemy regime, or impossibly sexy brainiac scientist/computer geek opposed to the hero's dumb-as-a-toothpick warrior jock.
i) If a Michael Bay film, include the following: child on a bike holding American Flag, command center with the world's biggest flat screen monitor, lots of blank areas in the script he can write shit in.

There are other rules, but you get the picture (pardon the pun).  I was perusing Amazon, and could find no manual on exactly HOW to write a feature film specifically for its trailer, but the inherent road to failure is clear: penning a script for a summer blockbuster isn't about writing a film... it's about creating marketing content.

A thought: Suppose I lived my day similar to the notes above. You know, treated it as if a marketing department were waiting with bated breath for the conclusion of my day so they may construct a trailer based upon it.

You know what?  Maybe not a bad idea.

a) Wake up to helicopters and the sound of chaos.
b) While grabbing some coffee, make out with a hot girl I've never met.
c) Fist fight with her asshole boyfriend, wrecking the coffeeshop in the process.
c) Jail.

Ummmmmm........

"How to Spot a..." Part One

Back from vacation, just in time for an important PSA.

New Tactic Marketing

I'm sure it's tough to be a "creative whatever" these days, which is certainly the case for your typical cartoonist/illustrator. With access to inexpensive (read: cheap crap) internet option, coupled with no money to go around, it's all about that proverbial "bang for your buck" for potential clientele. So, when said client does come your way, more often than not it's a shoestring gig that would barely pay your cell phone bill, but you take it since money is green (which is always a good thing) -- as opposed to pizza and beer that can make you green (which is a good thing... if you're a masochist).

And, with an unstable income comes a tight budget, especially for advertising your services.  Gone are the days of 10,000 postcard mass-mailers. Gone are the days of expensive websites designed to thrill a would-be wallet. Gone are the days of costly print advertising.  These days, it's all about creative, cheap-o guerilla marketing.

Personally, I'm going the way of podcasting. Others hit up more "traditional" methods of underground marketing.  Stickers are one way -- you can't discard what you can't remove, right?  But stickers cost money, which leads me to a new tactic I recently wandered across: Tagging.

It's actually quite genius. if you're unafraid of getting busted by the fuzz. Turning your mug and number into an illegal form of street art (if you DON'T know what "tagging" is, which means you're over 75 and shouldn't be reading blogs anyway, let alone knowing how to operate a computer) is brilliant.  Tools of the trade are simple and easily acquired: A can of Krylon black, a bike or bus pass (of which you probably already own), and time (if you're unemployed, not a problem).  The idea here is to tag, not bomb (which is another form of tagging to my geriatric readers), so it remains legible enough for it to be easily read on the six o'clock news.

The news?

Yup... simply put, that art is going EVERYWHERE! In every part of the city. On every clean wall. On the side of every Metro bus, and perhaps a school bus or two.  You shall soon be the scourge of the law. This will make you... an outlaw!  The media LOVES outlaws, and that means exposure.  Of course, with so much exposure, a producer or two might decide to cash in on the buzz and cast you in a summer blockbuster before you're dumped into the pokey for an extended stay. But, of course, this will make you even more famous (or infamous, if you're 75... why the %$#@ are you reading this blog??!!).

Yeah, the side effect is jail time, but your wish had been granted. You finally made it. You're a star. And hey, don't you worry about that prison sentence. If Paris Hilton can skate, so can you.

Mr. and Mrs. Slash

The industry can be a tough grind, sometimes depending less upon your creative artistic talent and far too heavily on your creative bulls**t talent to keep your bills properly paid and current.  Far too often the talents of an individual lay scorched upon the white hot coals of basic living, the person dropping back into a defensive position, letting off of that proverbial throttle to assume a more dependable and sustainable (which might mean permanent) money-making environment. I've seen it more times than I'd wish.

Yet, this is hardly the case for Mr. and Mrs. Slash -- those particular souls who have an undying knack for  fitting their creative talent within any job position they acquire.  Actors do this best, in my opinion, since their skill sets best match the needs of the greatest swath of potential employment opportunities which allow flexible hours.  After that come the technicians, followed most likely by the writers who, already well adapted to working all day and writing all night (or the opposite), are borderline slashers since they don't necessarily NEED to be anywhere in particular to be a slasher (coffee shops do not count as "somewhere").

But what about the directors?  Accustomed to the role of top dog, comfortable with bossing...er, "guiding" an army of talent to the creation of product, content with his or her salient nature -- where are THEIR fallback job opportunities in this tight economy?

Salesman? Nope. They'll most likely drop several F-bombs on their first "stupid" talentless hack of a customer and get canned before the closing tick.

Youth Sports Instructor? How many "takes" before the kid gets the kick juuuusssssttt right, hitting his blocking mark perfectly, with the correct body language and emotion, feeling the excitement of the fictitious stadium packed full of rabid fans hanging on this kick,  hungry for  championship which has eluded them for a generation, ready on an instant to herald you either as a worshipped hero to be celebrated or a hated poser to be unceremoniously run out of town?!

Barista? Hope you have a few hours to kill, because that "latte art" just ain't matching his vision.

Traffic Safety Officer?  Don the white gloves. Hit an intersection. Control traffic.... until Mr. Mosher in his leveraged Ferrari (with highly leveraged bimbo riding shotgun) who remembers our director from an interview begins to honk and laugh at our struggling artist.  Truth be told: Those white gloves won't stay white for long.

Directing porn flicks for cheap sex, drugs, and a few bucks on the side.

Ummmmmm....?.......!!!

Well how about that! A perfect match!