The Purple Pinup Guru Platform

When purple things are pulsating on your mind, I'm the one whose clock you want to clean. Aiding is Sparky, the Astral Plane Zen Pup Dog from his mountain stronghold on the Northernmost Island of the Happy Ninja Island chain, this blog will also act as a journal to my wacky antics at an entertainment company and the progress of my self published comic book, The Deposit Man which only appears when I damn well feel like it. Real Soon Now.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005


Thought it was going to be a cakewalk on easy street this week- alas such is not the case. I missed out on staying at home and watching the Oscars- although what I've seen and heard was pretty fucking lousy- not the winners or the presenter, Chris Rock, mind you- but the way the rewards were presented for the 'little guys' i.e.; those in sound editing, costume design, art direction and most especially, those in short form animation got their awards handed to them in their BLEECHER SEATS by presenters. Just walked right up to hand 'em their cheap ass tin trophy with a post-it-note stuck on it telling these low life schmucks to go to the back, pick up your goodie bag from Blockbuster Video and don't let the security alarms of the back doors at the KODAK theatre hit you in the ass on the way out. NO GAZPACHO soup for you at SPAGO's tonight, asshole! And the whole telecast clocked in at just under 3 hours I would assume to appease those on the East Coast- but all I got to say is Fuck 'em if the show ran past midnight. Who the fuck are they? the Oscars is a 'Hollywood thing'. Why should a three hour time difference matter anyway? Who the fuck does New York think they are anyway making us start our ceremony to fit in with their prime time? They don't give us the Tonys live- hell, we have to wait three stinking hours later than they do to hear who won. Shit, they stole the Grammys from us, until we had found a good enough size facility at the Staples Center to accommodate everyone who is everyone in the music biz. So why should we extend the same fuckin' courtesy? The majority of the music and film products are manufactured here! Why would another city muscle into our territory and hold the ceremonies that belongs to us Los Angelenos in another city that is inconvenient to travel elsewhere? This mindfuck of a enigma has been baffling me for as long I've been living here.

I couldn't watch them, because I had to trek over to Oliver's house in West LA and fix up the glitches on the new DEPOSIT MAN book. Oliver did a skeleton cut of the book and I wanted to go in and do the director thing of adding in all the necessary cool dialogue that I would think would make it 'a sensational blow your load read'. So from 11 AM to 9:30 PM- we worked non-stop on the remaining 17 pages. Last night, we fixed all the main mistakes on the first half of the book- and still, I noticed there are things wrong on two pages that need repair when we reconvene at Oliver's on Wednesday night. Oliver is working on the cover and back cover tonight and will be downloading the files onto disk the following night, so he can catch a flight to Norway on Friday to see his family. The whole package is due at Brenner Printing on March 15th so I can get the book in time for the San Francisco APE show in April. I hate these fucking rushing to beat the clock sessions. I can not get relaxed enough when it comes time to pound out a book.

I'm too tired to work on scripts tonight. I gotta go home and dump some stuff off of some video tapes so I can make room for tonight's NYPD Blue series finale. People tell me I should invest in a TIVO because I'm so clogged up with video tapes. I have to stuff to watch going back a month due to the OT @ WB and work on the books. Hell, I haven't sat down to watch an episode of the new BATTLESTAR GALACTICA yet.

(Sniff) I'm going to miss my weekly dose of Franz's acerbic acidulous award-winning portrayal of Andy Sipowicz. Here's a toast to twelve magnificent years, Mr. Bochco.



Monday, February 28, 2005

time to die!

Jeez, stop prolonging the agony- either you're on your goddamn deathbed or you're not. Stop farting around and expire already. Remember that guy on your right? Well, you don't want to pull the same shit as he did when he was whoring for attention on the 6 and 11 o'clock news. It's fucking appalling and it's going to tear your reputation to shreds when you waste our time like this- at least your buddy Arafat had a scorching young tight-assed gold digging Middle-Eastern wife to put a grin on his face when they pulled over the sheets. What do you got? Doves? If you keep sticking your finger up under those tails looking for speed bumps, you going wind up catching that goddamn West Nile Virus.

Then again, maybe that's been the problem all along.

dying power drunk and the dead PLO Closet Queen

Bah, I grow weary of this Rosecrucian gobblygook.

And take your goddamn sour puss inquisitor with you, too.

Puppet for the Bush Junta II

Four more years of hell, and the Texas barbecue beanfart fest has barely begun.

~ Coat