On Friday, Old Folks usually cleaned the
house, then went to a matinee.
Today he thought he'd go see Cinderella
Man, with Russell Crowe, Renee Zellweger, and Paul Giamatti. Directed by Ron
Howard.
He saw a paperback copy of the book in the Winn-Dixie and remembered
seeing the hardback at Books-A-Million, and not buying it, because he was trying
to conserve money.
The hardback, a sports biography, like Seabiscuit,
was by Jeremy Schaap, Dick Schaap's son, host of the popular Outside the Lines
sports news show. The movie was not based on Schaap's book.
The paperback,
by Marc Cerasini, was a novelization of the movie screenplay written by Cliff Hollingsworth
and Akiva Goldman, motion picture story by Cliff Hollingsworth. Not based on Million
Dollar Baby.
It's not an imitation, it's just in the same genré.
Michael Jackson was born a poor, black child.
Al Sharpton's enemies who remind
us of his involvement in the Tawana Brawley hoax are racists. They're Hitler, if
they're Jews, and involved with organized crime, if they're Italians.
Bob
Woodward is going to make all the money on Deep Throat revealing his identity. Ask
Judy Belushi.
Well, not all the money. The identity of Deep Throat is an
industry, like sports biography, or novelizations of screenplays. Or biographies
of dead rock stars.
It's all the plantation, baby. Just hard to tell who's
the overseer and who's the slave. Who's the poor black child and who's the rich,
above-the-law pedophile. What's original and what's a copy. What's genuine and what's
a fake. A fake. A fake.
Old Folks was supposed to go to Philly Zine Fest
in July, and have his picture taken on the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum,
raising his arms, like Rocky.
Huh?
Brenda and I were watching the Deep Throat coverage on Imus in the Morning,
and I said to her, "Remember in The Magic Christian, when Guy Grand sprinkles
the pound notes on a vat of shit, and the men in bowler hats, with umbrellas, go
in the vat of shit after the money? These guys are losing their dignity over a vat
of shit."
"Follow the money," Brenda said. "Run, don't
walk, after the money. Chase the money."
I just made that conversation
up, sitting here. But it's the kind of thing she could have said.
When you
name characters after real people, sometimes the real people don't like what you
have the characters say.
I don't blame them.
* * *
By the time Deep Throat revealed his identity he had CRS.
Can't
remember shit.
Presenile Dementia (PSD) had grown into full-blown CRS.
Even if they can have some faceless drone ghost-write his book for him, they can't
send him out on tour, because, like George Bush and his memoirs, he can't answer
any of the questions about his life because he doesn't remember the answer. If he
ever knew it in the first place. He draws a blank, and gets a confused chimp expression.
That's why George had better steal all he can, while the stealing's good: he won't
be able to go on tour selling his memoirs, like any other ex-president, because he
can't answer unscripted questions. They baffle and confuse him. He becomes disoriented,
and shows his ass. He hurls feces at the crowd.