What Kind Of Day Has It Been?

Well, how about that.

Just look at the fuckin' state we're in right now, would you?   I'm telling you, man, it has been one helluva banner fucking week for Big Daddy Leon and EZ. Two completed entries into a contest (their third, by the way), put on as an offer of help to the denizens of this place raise themselves out of obscurity.  The slings and fucking arrows of insane writers and governmental bureaucracies on a damn-near daily basis.  All of that on top of the day-to-day bullshit that we all have to endure.  And cap it off with this runaround shit from Gadberry.  Yeah, that's what these guys have had to deal with for this last week.  You tell me slick, you think you can handle that?  'Cause I'll bet you all the money in my pockets against all the money in your pockets that most of us would've tossed in the towel and kicked back with cold one.  Fuck it.  So, here we go;

I'm from a tiny-ass hole in a former penal colony.  I'm nobody.  I'm nothing.  I'm a terrible fucking writer, but I'm a worse human being.  I've fucked up in every single way imaginable, with the exception of murder (although there are some who would even accuse me of that, hippie fucks that they are).  I'd love it if that were hyperbole, but it isn't.  It's the God's-honest truth.  If I thought it'd do any good at all, I'd have long ago cranked up the car and closed the garage door tightly, but all that would serve to do is make it easier on me. You see, lucky fuck that I am, I have a small but dedicated group of folks back home who are pulling for me to make something out of myself.  A bunch of beautiful human beings who believe, like good Christians, that every soul is worth saving, even if they aren't all worth buying. Thus, that I'm alive to be here is thanks to them.  That I'm here, well that's thanks to two people; Ezequiel and Marco.

About a year ago, I read the now famous piece that Harry Knowles published over at Ain't It Cool News, and I just had to come see what was up.  I got all up in Sublim and we know what happened there.  But a funny thing happened.  I "met" Marco and dug the cat's "Fuck you, I'm doing it anyway" mentality.  Then I met Ezequiel.  And what I found out is that these cats are genuinely good people who want to help.  They want to help.   Marinate in that shit for a second.  These guys couldn't pick me out of a lineup and they want to help me.  Some of you out there have read my shit and seen exactly how deficient I am.  And these cats with talent to spare are putting up their time and energy and business capital to give me some sort of shot in this rough trade.  Are you out of your fucking mind?  Never happens, right?  You best fuckin' believe it.  And tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to go take a shot at following in Ezequiel's footsteps.  I'm lining up to spoon down all I can pick up about this nutty fucking business, and it's all on a word from Ezequiel.  Whom I met by joining Marco's site.  Is that a straight enough line for you?

Now, I know there are those of you out there who see the above as some sort of Def-Con four ass kissing.  All I can say to those folks is, "That's why you're flipping fuckin' burgers, baby."  You all have the same odds as I do of getting anywhere in this fucked-up movie business, hell most of you have way fuckin' better odds.  But many of you seem bent on pissing away the hands that are stuck out to you on this site.  John Meredith tells me I need to work on relationships.  Okay, pal riddle me this one; why in the good fuck are you not in my shoes right now?  Why aren't you here doing the thing, baby?  Seems to me you've got the relationships in place to do it.  So why haven't you pulled the trigger?  Brad, you chose to do a feature instead of helping EZ.  It never occurred to you to offer up your assistance in return for his?  I don't see your feature film on display, haven't heard about it other than what you say.  Yeah, I know things fall apart all the time in this business.  Think maybe EZ could've helped you keep it together?  Maybe even get across the finish line.  Maybe he's got some advice about how to proceed with Hitman or Blid Eye.  How about the rest of you?  Where are your scripts and films?  Where's the vigorous debate about the relative merits or lack thereof on somebody's work?  Where's the mud and the fuckin' blood, baby?  We all owe Marco better than we've been doing.  All of us.   And look, the bottom line is really simple mathematics; at some point the trouble of running this monkey farm will outweigh the payoff.  And on that day, we will have all lost something huge.  Don't make the mistake of taking this shit for granted.  'Cause when Marco and EZ are done, kiddies, you will most certainly not hear from those cats again.  That is, until you're sitting your rotund ass in a theater and their names come up on the screen.  And when you lean over to tell your "life partner" that you knew those guys, they're gonna look right back at you and say, "Wow!  That's neat!  How come the fuck you're sitting here in Wendy's uniform?"  That's gonna be a tough one for you to answer, baby.

As for me, I'm scared out of my fucking mind.  Mostly because I want really badly not to let Ezequiel and Marco down.  I asked for their help, and I'm going to try my very fucking best not to make them regret giving it to me.  And I'll tell you, these guys are good folk.  All you have to do is ask and follow through.  Doesn't seem that hard to me.  After all, I'm nobody, I'm nothing.  But tomorrow, I'm gonna get a shot at doing what I've wanted to do my whole life.  What the fuck have you done lately?

Change it, baby.  That's all you gotta do.

'Nuff Sugar