Tell Me-Tell Me, How To Be, A Million-aire-air

I've seen the future, I can't afford it
Tell me the truth sir, someone just bought it
Say Mr. Whispers! Here come the click of dice
Roulette and blackjacks - gonna build us a paradise
Larger than life and twice as ugly
If we have to live there, you'll have to drug me

Maybe these luxuries can only compensate
For all the cards you were dealt at the hands of fate
So tell me
Tell me! tell me! How to be a millionaire
Tell me! tell me! how to be a millionaire!

"How To Be A Millionaire" - ABC

This is my favorite ABC song and every so many years, the Brits school us on funk. Like Heatwave, Soul II Soul and...and...and...hey, they're due about now.

I'm not getting into why I missed the scattering of my Grandmother's ashes today, other than to say the fates conspired against me. I bring her up because the one moment I stopped mourning last week, I had realized that she won't get to share in my success when I make it. I say "when I make it" not to be cocky, but as a postive affirmation and to eliminate any doubt.

I know that it ate at Scorsese, that he didn't get to win the Oscar while his parents will still alive and he even hinted about it in a post-Academy Awards interview. Don't follow this tangent, Write Procrastinator went thataway!


Since the San Francisco Bay Area went from near-drought conditions to becoming Seattle South, I've been weighing my desire to become a millionaire. Why a "millionaire?" Because I want to stay in San Francisco and the condos in even the worst part of town start at $550,000 for a studio. Our apartment has pushed the limits of my rent-controlled patience, with rain water dripping through the front windows and the cast of Jackass downstairs playing beer pong...as well as cage matches, and God knows what else causes the thuds and booms. Can clog dancing and cock-fighting (or any undesired combination thereof) be far behind?

Taxi? Follow that Procrastinator!

So, the reasons why I'm ready to be a millionaire:

A) I love to travel

B) I promised the Missus I'd give her a tour of Italy

C) I've never been west of Hawaii

D) I've never been east of Italy

E) Good Lord, I want one of these!

F) I want my own fucking bathroom!

G) I want three cars. Not Ferraris or Bentleys, but I want three cars.

H) I want a house in San Francisco, as well as condos in L.A. and the NYC.

The reasons I'm not ready:

A) I don't work hard enough to be one. That means lots of queries to agents, publishers and production companies.

B) I need to focus on projects all the way to completion and then, rewrite them objectively and quickly.

C) I need to put in more hours on my writing.

D) I need to be focused, period.

E) I want to remain anonymous. As in, no press junkets, interviews and I want to eat my dinner in peace without autograph seekers or people pitching me. I also don't want to change my phone number and address with every other nut.

D) I need to put more hours into my craft.

E) I'm not afraid of failure, I'm afraid of limited success.

F) I bloghop and lurk too much

Who wants to be millionaire?

I do! - I don't! - I do!

Who wants to be millionaire?

I do! - I don't!

I've seen the future and I can't afford it

R.M.B.A.S. Oscars Eye Eye

I've gotten five hits from people looking for which song of the Pogues that Cadillac used. It's "The Sunnyside of The Street." Pogue mahone means "kiss my ass" in Gaelic and that's what I say to Cadillac. I'm glad that they are using a Pogues song because I can't get sick of song I may have heard only once in my life. Now, Led Zeppelin's "Rock And Roll?" Thanks to hearing it over a hundred times over a year and a half, I can barely tolerate it. Every time I hear the opening drums, it's a Pavlovian experiment gone wrong, complete with facial tics in synch to John Bonham hitting the cymbals.

I’m going to write this in real time and as unedited as possible on Microsoft Word, so when I import it over, there might be some weird symbols or signs on the ends of the sentences. Those are Word-related. Please realize that I already knew the outcome by the time I posted this, these thoughts and ramblings are in chronological order.

First, go ahead Academy, make me wrong.

Ellen had a killer opening monologue, but she needs to give back the tuxedo from 1982, to that creepy kid that sat behind me in history.

The cynic in me says that he won’t get it and there is a faction of voters that plain just don’t like such a talented man. They’d write in Michael Bay, if it would keep him from getting Best Director.

Whoa, who stole Nicholson’s hair? “Wait until they get a load of me,” indeed.

I don’t know if Vegas covers their action, but I’m pretty sure there is an odds house in England that will take the money off the desperate gamblers that will drop at least two large on who will win Best Art Direction.

No, Helen Mirren will be coming home with me.

As soon as they rolled out the “Flags Of Our Fathers/Letters From Iwo Jima” clip before all the other nominee clips, we knew what time it was and Marty knew what time it was. “No Vaseline, no reach-around, no kiss before or after, and let us know when you are down to your last two years of life, so that we can give you the Lifetime Achievement Award."

The Hollywood Sound Effects choir omitted one very important sound effect, the knives plunging into Scorsese’s back.

To all the tradespeople who create the sound, special effects, sets, costumes, and lighting: The Academy wants you to keep creating the magic, but you get to thank your mom and it’s on your way. Don’t make them have ten seat-fillers sit on you.

I haven’t seen his performance nor would it be necessary. You knew that Eddie Murphy wasn’t going to win and Eddie knew he wasn’t going to win. The Will Ferrel, Jack Black and John C. Reilly skit wasn’t an omen or a clue, but reality. Congratulations to Alan Arkin, it was a great performance.

All the screenwriters know, that Ellen’s are made of brass. Damn, if every screenwriter from Halifax to Hollywood didn’t wish that it was their script that Ellen put in Marty’s hands.

Let’s see: Baby James, Melissa “no Christmas Cards from Lou Diamond Phillips” Etheridge, ‘kay...

“Cars” didn’t win? Hmmm, the screwin’ is on like “Deliverance” gone wrong. “Whoo-wee, you sure got a purty little movie, Marty!”

A tribute to screenwriters? What? There are writers for movies? The movies don’t write themselves? You mean the actors don’t just improvise the entire movie?

Did that ignorant hussy of an announcer just say that “Infernal Affairs” was a Japanese film? Infernal gwai-lo!

You’re not listening, Helen is coming home with me. She’s likes her men all bitter and cynical. And most of all, she loves a man who know his take-out...or take-away, as they say in England.

It’s now official, Ellen is the greatest non-Billy Crystal Oscar host ever. Having Spielberg take your picture and giving him instructions in photo composition? Priceless.

I’m sorry Helen, I’m leaving you for Catherine Deneuve. Catherine? Age is nothing but a number, come see about me.

Who’s that idiot just jumped for joy and landed on Guillermo Del Toro? Doesn’t he know that he’ll have Hellboy to pay?

I was happy for whoever was going to win Best Supporting Actress and they all would’ve made for good stories. Most of all, I’m glad that girls and women in this world can have a role model in Jennifer Hudson. Moreover, it reaffirms what I've always said about "American (M)idol," Simon doesn't know shit.

Good for you Davis Guggenheim, now find do a documentary about how Scorsese gets robbed more often than all of liquor stores in the world, combined. By the way, you knew damn well that they weren’t going to cut Gore off in mid-speech.

...now there’s Celine. Okay, this is what I’m getting at, I don’t know the music nominations this year, but if 316 Mafia won for a song about the hardships of being a pimp, why not T.I. for “What You Know?” What, did the Academy get bored with rap all of a sudden?

It’s beautiful that “Little Miss Sunshine” won the Best Original Screenplay and here’s to hoping that more independent films win in the B.O.S. category, or are at least taken as seriously as their multi-million dollar counterparts.

When you don’t quite enjoy the “Dreamgirls” numbers, cleavage comes to the rescue.

Dang, Melissa Etheridge is wearing the tuxedo I got married in. By the way, from Rosecrans Avenue to Roosevelt Field, there are a whole bunch of people screaming “we wuz robbed!”

After harping on the so-called tribute to Noir last year, I realize that the pointless and seemingly ill-conceived montage, is actually a signal for everyone at home, to go to the bathroom.

Thelma Schoonmaker wins! The greatest editor of our time has just won for Best Editing, could Scorsese’s drought be over?

Ellen’s losing momentum, but she’s still pretty funny.

See Phillip Seymour Hoffman? He and I have the same hairstylist...it's called sleep on your hair while it’s wet. You can’t be it for the "mystery effect."

On second thought, Helen, forget I said anything about Catherine, and come see about me.

Is that a Pogues song that Cadillac is using? If so, GM? Pogue mahone! If that is Flogging Molly or another Gaelic band, never mind.

“Somebody dropped their rolling papers.” That was gold!

“Win, Forrest, win!” Sorry, ahem. To put such a human face on someone who was inhuman, is quite an accomplishment. A huge congratulations to Mr. Whitaker.

Say what you want about George Lucas, but he’s a good sport getting up their on the stage and being the straight man, to a joke that has been gnawing on him for years.

Ha-hah! Jesus, I’m gonna have a heart attack! Oh my God! Oh my God! Yes, that was me waking up the dead down in Colma (some twelve miles away) with my victory yell! “Could you double check the envelope?” Fucking brilliant Marty, fucking brilliant! Few get a chance at redemption and Academy has finally redeem itself by righting a decades-long wrong.

Not only that, they didn’t step on his speech! Well Leo, you got to work with the true “King of The World!”

I’m sorry, the Best Picture is anti-climatic...wait a minute! Excuse me, “The Departed” won! Justice has been served and this is truly a wondrous day in America!

P.S. I saw John standing next to Queen Latifah and his hair was perfect, a-woooo!

R.M.B.A.S. Of The Oscars

“For those of you keeping score at home, I just want to make something very clear: Martin Scorsese, zero Oscars. Three 6 Mafia, one.”

Thank you Mr. Stewart for kicking off my favorite rant of all time and one that I’m certain to be spouting off every late winter for the rest of my life until I’m withering away in some rest home. Some of you who know me or read me online will know it by heart and it will be the very one where the Missus will decide that she has heard it 4,001 times too many and will “adjust” my pillow until I cannot rant any more...

Do they teach “Ordinary People” in film school? Does “Ordinary People” even play in light rotational repeats on TV? Can you watch “Ordinary People” on any channel other than American Movie Classics?

The answer to all of the above is a resounding “no.” Yet “Ordinary People” beat out “Raging Bull” for best picture and that, is all you need to know about the Oscars.


Now, in the same chronological order as this household viewed the show...

The Missus said, “wow, is that Al Franken?” I said “no Honey, that’s Phillip Seymour Hoffman.” She was glancing at the nineteen-inch screen from about seventeen feet away. So I moved back a few feet and squinted to approximate the same perspective and sure enough, from a distance, he looked just like Al Franken.

Dolly Parton or marionette? You decide...

That tribute to Noir was anything but a tribute. I imagine that it didn’t manage to win over any new fans and it was so all over the place, that it couldn’t have impressed any diehards or borderline fans. They should’ve done a gag reel like the former HBO show “Dream On” or that out of context, gay cowboy pastiche...

Speaking of gay, I’ve always heard that The Oscars are the Super Bowl for gay people. Well, no, that characterization is technically only half-correct. For it to truly be a Super Bowl, you have to get even more drunk five minutes after the Lombardi Trophy is awarded (or Best Picture in this case), get into fights, throw garbage cans, break windows, and overturn cars and/or set them on fire. I’m surprised I have to explain this, riot it up, gay people! Riot-it-up!

I think the reason Jon Stewart got better as the show went along had nothing to do with his comfort level, but everything to do with the fact that the Valium that the Academy surreptitiously slipped him, was starting to wear off...

Snap at your wife when she asks you if the Three 6 Mafia’s song was on the “Crash” soundtrack and you will watch the Oscars, alone...

Seriously, that wasn’t Dolly Parton. That was the creation by the same puppeteer that made those stuffed penguins for the winners of The Best Documentary category...

You’ve heard of “Buns of Steel?” Watch your tone with my Missus or she will show you “Shoulders of Ice.” Let me explain my half of my snap. All I said in a tone that was a little too loud was “they said twice that it was from the ‘Hustle And Flow’ soundtrack” and the livingroom turned into the Yukon in February...

Congratulations Josh, on being nominated!

No, that wasn’t Dolly Parton, that was a Craig (no relation to Katie) Schwartz creation...

The Missus has a real future as a screenwriter’s agent as she wouldn’t even return my phone calls, even though she was just in the next room...

Craig Schwartz was John Cusack’s character in “Being John Malkovich.”

Actually, the Missus did come into the room just in time to see Josh on TV. We wanted to see him win so that he could become the ultimate Bad Cog in the Hollywood machinery...

...so to bring this back full circle. For all of you that think that “Brokeback” wuz robbed? Check back in a decade or two, when time will ultimately decide which film was truly the Best Picture of The Year.