size doesn’t matter

September 16, 2014

 

myth_A1

 

“Size doesn’t matter” only counts if you’re a woman comforting a man who has a small penis. It won’t count if a big breasted blonde walks through the door.

 


 

Splitting your vagina open to give birth doesn’t make you smarter than your childless friends. It makes you awash in hormones with a split vagina.

 


 
Poverty does not equal nobility. It just means your grandfather was robbed.

 


 

Wealth does not equal nobility. It just means your grandfather robbed someone. [Probably the poverty people above.]

 


 
Are you a criminal? Probably. Did you run a stop sign? Break the speed limit? Smoke a joint? Hello, “Criminal!”

 


 
Let’s consider what really should be considered criminal. Beating your girlfriend unconscious in an elevator or sexually assaulting a ten year old boy in a college football locker room.

 

screenplay contest despair

September 9, 2014

 

vogue_1950

I’ve got writers flipping out over not placing in the Austin Film Festival screenplay competition.

Seriously?

Just stop it.

 


 

THE PURPOSE OF SCREENPLAY COMPETITIONS IS GET READS AND GET SOLD AND GET THE MOVIE MADE.

 


 

Do you need to win a competition to get a script read, a script sold, or a movie made?

 


 

NO

 


 

my new favorite person

September 8, 2014

like!

September 6, 2014

 

like!

I posted on Facebook the other day that all my websites were crashed.

People came through and “liked” the post.

 


 

My websites are down, my servers are crashed, the school, my business, my book, everything, is offline crashed it could be the end of me.

People LIKED that.

 


 

There’s a weird autistic bordering on pathological [or maybe just pathological] mentality driving “likes.”

“Likes” mean “I was here” more than “I like this” or “I read this” or “I  saw you” or “I heard you.”

Just, “I was here.” Like initials carved in a school desk or graffiti on a bathroom stall wall. “I was here.”

 


What would happen if I posted that a parent or child died?

 


 

“I was here”?

 

 

 

nail polish ii

 

Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away —

I am in a bar with a girlfriend.

We are both on the dance floor when I see a guy dump something in my friend’s drink at our table.

I grab a server, “A guy dumped something in my friend’s drink.”

He is blank.

“Blank Guy, get your manager.”

The manager shows.

“A guy dumped something in my friend’s drink.”

Manager Guy says, “What do you want me to do about it?”
 


 
Think about that. “What do you want me to do about it?”
 


 
I tell him what I think he should do about it.

Club security forces are gathering — and not looking for a man dosing girls’ drinks. They’re looking at me.

Then the guy I am pointing out across the room pours something in another girl’s drink.
 


 
The difference between me getting thrown out and the guy dosing girls’ drinks getting thrown out? Ten seconds.

 


 

This is the world I live in. I know that. I am “the problem” a lot. And I am going to be the problem again now.  Because the press is hyping “nail polish to avoid being raped.” And I am pissed off.

 


 

“Dear girls, here is some pretty pink nail polish, wear it and maybe you will be saved from rape”?

Are you fucking kidding me?

One more message: Be pretty, be demure, be quiet, don’t make waves, just put on this pretty pink nail polish?

Fuck. You.

 


 

I don’t want to put on pretty pink nail polish and be demure.

I want to see people raging through city streets with torches and pitchforks hunting down and killing rapists.

 


 

It is time for this world to understand the problem is not girls and the answer is not nail polish.

The problem is rapists and the solutions at the top of my list are castration and death.

 


 
PS: Dear Rapists: I am armed. And it ain’t with nail polish.

 

Anne Lower Medical Fund

The Anne Lower Medical Fund is a truly worthy cause in support of one of our own. If you have the ability to help, please do. There are also quite a few wonderful services being offered on site and the purchase price, often half price, goes directly to the fund:

:::Anne Lower Medical Fund:::

 

 

Oh yez, hot September classes are right around the corner. You should all go sign up for them right now.

Academy of Film Writing September Classes 2014:  The Sex Scene

Academy of Film Writing September Classes 2014: High Concept Writing

Academy of Film Writing September Classes 2014: The Art of the Pitch

 

 

crucifiction

 

I stopped over on ScriptChat tonight.  It’s a Twitter thing, everyone hits one website [the ScriptChat website] and then chats it up and the site automatically adds a hashtag, #scriptchat to the conversation. Which all plays out on Twitter like Twitter comments.

 

[If you are not on Twitter, that will all be Mars speak to you.  Sorry.  Maybe you should get out more.  Hmm.]

 

Sometimes there are guests.  I have been a guest. This scriptchat there was no topic or guest, but I had a Sunday night off and thought I’d go see what people were talking about.

 

They were talking about “prep work.”

 

Oh sweet Holy Fucking Jesus.  Seriously?  Prep.  Work?

 

Okay, creatives, let me put this plainly and succinctly.  Artists and writers do not do “prep work.” 

 
Busboys and busgirls in restaurants do “prep work.”  Lower level chefs do “prep work.”  8 AM bartenders do “prep work.”  Folding napkins, polishing silverware, slicing up limes?  That’s “prep work.”
 
Screenwriters?
 
Screenwriters don’t do fucking “prep work.”
 

 

this is adorable

August 23, 2014

 

push_up_dan_post_photo

 

The PushUp peeps posted a photo of everyone at PushUp waving to the AFW peeps.  That is adorable and hilarious to me.

Don’t know what I am talking about?  I will assume you have been in a monastery in Tibet under a vow of silence.  Hey, welcome back!  Go check out :::what I am talking about:::

 

morally ambiguous honey badger

where that morally ambiguous honey badger comes from:
that is from redwombatstudio.com

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