Swimming in Controversy

Swimming in Controversy
I made a few little corrections to the Amnesia Machine this morning. I laughed pretty hard writing that one. And now I do recall seeing it on TV. They didn't hire swimsuit models for the studio scene, but it was still funny, with the sled and everything. It would have been funnier with swimsuit models because he would have been more believably smitten by them. I'm not sure if I included the electrocution scene in the 2007 post of this script. It's a good scene, but I might have thought it was over the top and left it out.

I should say about women that I'm old enough to appreciate the plainer ones - and to know that they can still make a man very happy. In a stage performance, however, we must rely strictly on visual information for our stimulation. That's all there is to my swimsuit model preference. It's more intellectual than sexual, in this instance.

The British seem to understand about how to present good ribaldry. I think some of them might sympathize with me on this point. They keep the 'page 3 girls' standing by for the racy sketches and let men play the remaining female roles. I'm disappointed that a big wealthy network like NBC doesn't seem to have this resource. They're close enough to Vegas. To be fair, one of the women in that sketch did all right, the one with the long brown hair, who whipped him with the film. Was she a regular cast member, or did I remember that right? Anyway, she looked all right, close to what I was imagining. Not the classmates who followed. The classmates who followed were a real letdown, probably more for me than anyone else. Everyone else just wants to laugh, right? They just want their stars to be funny. They don't care.

I resent how my characters have been hijacked by these TV stars. If you alter my characters, you alter my meaning, and since nobody ever pays me for my writing, no matter how many blockbuster trilogies they're making out of it, my meaning is that much more important to me.

This is really a perverse, ugly crime, and it's time to stop pussyfooting around it, as though it were no more than a cute little faux-pas. You can't build anything more than a flimsy house of cards when you start bullshitting all your top forty bands and hip comedy shows out of one man's Blogger account. And that's a good thing, not a tragedy. And we don't need to feel sorry for spoiled stars when things go wrong for them. They can always commit suicide by getting one of their fans to fuck them to death. Boo-hoo. And the news broadcasts that have been supporting this hideous crime for the last eleven years are a complete joke. I wonder how much else they've been lying about. 		  
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