Echo

Timeline of Katrina Response

George W. Bush should be tried as a war criminal, as much for what he’s done overseas, as what his carelessness and ineptitude have done to his own people.

(link courtesy of Nerd Island)

I had a whole commercial crew using my place as a location yesterday so that meant about 25 people in my place. But that also meant plenty of people for this Gemini to talk to, and of course, the conversation turned to our idiot president and his moronic responses in the media to Hurricane Katrina.

We had watched Cspan last Friday night when they showed the president touring the area and his press conference. My favorite was when he talked about New Orleans coming back to be a better city because (*smirk* *snicker*) he’d had a lot of fun in that city. “Sometimes too much fun,” he ribs the guy behind him. Um…thousands of people have died and even more are homeless and devastated. The American people are terrified and angry and he’s using a national press conference to make jokes about getting wasted in New Orleans? Good God, this is the president of the United States showing zero empathy or understanding of the grave situation. May I remind you, BILL CLINTON WOULD HAVE NEVER DONE THAT. And Bill Clinton would have flown in from wherever he was to visit the area and comfort the people as soon as he could. Not stay on vacation for 3 more days until his behavior became blatantly negligent.

So last night we’re watching The Daily Show which had some great clips of Bush talking about the Hurricane including the video clip of the aforementioned press conference. [Here’s the clip. Go to “Inarguable Failure”] Everything Bush says is so blase and shallow, it’s like you going up to him and saying, hey, my wife died. She was my world, man…I don’t know what I’m gonna do. And he slaps you on the back and says, “Shit, man, you know…uh…yeah…you’ll find a better girl. As they say back in Houston where I’m from, the limbs of the pussy tree hang heavy.” (*expression credit to Robert*) The man is not only socially inappropriate, but it’s not a joke anymore. This man is dangerous to the American people. People are dying here and overseas because of him, and the rest of the world is losing respect for us quickly at best, and downright hostile to us at worst.

Alan, one of the guys with the shoot put it best: What he’s doing is downright criminal. If we are willing to go through impeachment procedures because Clinton stuck a cigar up a fat chick’s cooter, then why are we not impeaching Bush when he lied about why we went to war (what fucking weapons of mass destruction?) and resulted in the deaths of so many? Because by turning on him it will make us look bad to other countries? But if we admitted a mistake and as a people, impeached the person we hold responsible, wouldn’t it make us look united and place the responsibility on the idiocy of one man and his administration? I feel like politically, that would have been a better strategy, rather than us staying in Iraq now because to pull out would be showing weakness in admitting that we had made a mistake. This needing to stand behind our country campaign they’re umbrella-ing our support under is bullshit. Yes, we need to unite. Yes, we need to stand behind our country. But they’re using this campaign as our need to stand behind our lying, thieving, negligent administration, and the biggest stance we could collectively make would be to admit that we the people made a mistake in electing this slob our leader (for TWO TERMS!) and that we are courageous and responsible enough to make things right.

Why is this man not impeached? I ask myself that every time I turn on the news and watch coverage of Katrina showing people sobbing over the family and homes they’ve lost. I ask myself that every time I read another report that more people (Americans and Iraqis) have been killed overseas. Natural disasters are inevitable and devastating. War is good for the economy. Blah blah blah blah. But overall, these don’t change the fact that Bush is a dangerously inept and bungling “leader” (I use that term loosely and spitefully), and that our country and our relationship with the rest of the world are deteriorating at a frightening speed. We still have years to go before this administration wraps up and we can begin the recovery. Can his supporters and his Republican cronies in Congress really call themselves patriots and sleep at night knowing the devastation he’s bringing upon this country? Shame on all of you.

In other news, here’s a transcript of what the New Orleans mayor had to say. I really like this guy. He’s a fighter and a leader.

And meanwhile in my home state…muuuuutherfucker.

They’ve made a film out of one of my favorite books, Shopgirl, by Steve Martin. The IMDB page says that Jimmy Fallon was supposed to play Jeremy but dropped out, which is a shame because he would have been perfect as Jeremy. Jason Swartzmann is a little too neurotic and dark, but who knows. I’m psyched to see it.

Celine on Larry King

Okay, the subject matter and sentiment I can feel and agree with; she makes some great points. I respect her passion and outrage. I do. I really appreciate that people are being outspoken because we need to be outraged and heard right now and it’s powerful to see that this is affecting people and we’re helping each other out. But that clip was uncomfortably borderline parody. She starts out like she could break into a Celine power ballad at any moment. Then there was, “Let them touch those things for once.” And did she say helicobsters? Like lobsters with helicopter blades?

Wow, Kanye. Even though what you said is probably true, wish you hadn’t sounded like such an idiot.

I know I get a lot of flack for it, but I’ve always liked Stephon.

Ann Rice on New Orleans

A moving and upsetting article in today’s NY Times with an interview with my friend Cheryl, who had to evacuate New Orleans. Please donate money to the Red Cross.

For Survivors: Sorrow, Relief and Questions About Rescues

By MARC SANTORA and DAMIEN CAVE
Published: September 4, 2005

After a week of watching her city descend into chaos and despair – after seeing the unbelievable images of the city’s poorest and most vulnerable citizens struggling to survive – Cheryl Bratt said she could not care less about what she may have left behind and lost.

Like others who have arrived in New York, Ms. Bratt, who left New Orleans hours before Hurricane Katrina hit, is simply struggling to make sense of why she was so fortunate while so many others were not.

“I have been crying for days,” she said yesterday.

Ms. Bratt, 26, arrived in New Orleans four years ago as a Teach for America corps member and decided to stay after falling in love with the city and its people. She also developed strong ties with some of her students, many of them born into poverty.

Since reaching the comfort of her mother’s home in Yorktown Heights in Westchester County, Ms. Bratt said, she has spent her waking hours trolling for information about friends and former students.

States across the country have been stepping up to announce their willingness to take in students and others displaced by the storm, and New York has joined them.
Gov. George E. Pataki announced yesterday that New York would welcome students in all grades and would also offer state-resident tuition rates at the state’s colleges for displaced students.

Outside the public overtures, many New Yorkers are privately welcoming friends and family who have escaped from all parts of the Gulf Coast. But interviews with many evacuees from New Orleans suggest that their relief at being alive is tinged with a mix of guilt and confusion about why so many of their fellow citizens did not receive the help they needed to get out.
Jeffrey Presley, 27, who left New York on Aug. 10 to start law school at Tulane University, managed to flee New Orleans early. And while feeling relieved, he, too, struggled with the glaring disparity between those with the means to escape and those trapped in a living Bruegel painting.

He said that as he and a friend drove out of town, even before the storm hit, they thought about those left behind. On the radio they kept hearing the same message: Evacuate, evacuate, evacuate. It seemed like a command that few could possibly obey.

“We were sitting there and thinking that New Orleans is a city where most of the residents are reliant on public transportation,” Mr. Presley said. “It was a sickening feeling thinking all these people are going to die unless they get them out.”

Mr. Presley, who flew to New York last week after driving to Houston, said he still cannot make sense of the disaster.

“We all feel haunted by the entire situation,” said Mr. Presley, who has already enrolled for classes at Brooklyn Law School and now lives in Williamsburg. “We were able to leave, and we worried about getting out and going to law school, but we’re so much better off than so many other people.”

At Tulane, Kimberly Cernak, 20, used to tutor low-income public school students. She said that during the flooding, poverty – as well as age and infirmity – became a dividing line in New Orleans.

“I’ve been thinking about those kids and their families and wishing there was some way I could know they’re O.K.,” said Ms. Cernak, who came to live with her grandparents in Staten Island and plans to complete her senior year at Columbia University, which is accepting some students displaced by the hurricane.

“It shows you there’s a lot we still need to do as a country to make sure that in times like these everyone can get out,” she said. “No matter how much money you have, no matter how many cars you have.”

Ms. Cernak, who left New Orleans on Aug. 27, said it was difficult to begin the school year thinking about the chaos she left in her wake. “At this point,” she said, “I can’t wait for the flood waters to recede, but I have to finish my academic career.”

She said she had called the local Red Cross in New York City to volunteer, but that she still felt a sense of helplessness. “It has been really frustrating and really overwhelming,” she said.

Tom Thayer, 39, a partner in a French Quarter bar called d.b.a, said he left New Orleans before the storm only because he did not want to be without air-conditioning for a few days. Since the flooding, he has received cellphone text messages from friends who stayed behind. They described defending their homes with guns against looters, an image that continues to keep him awake at night.

“All I have dreamed about was these people being in boats, getting shot at,” he said.

Mr. Thayer, who used to live in New York City and is staying at a friend’s apartment on the Upper West Side, said that many of his employees were struggling musicians. The recovery effort, he said, would probably have been carried out better if the victims had not been poor.
Ms. Bratt agreed. “As a teacher, the motto is supposed to be ‘Leave no child behind,’ ” she said. “We ended up leaving too many children behind.”

She considers herself fortunate to be safe in New York, but Ms. Bratt says she cannot help but cry when she reads the text message sent to her yesterday morning by a former student from New Orleans, Quiana.

A 16-year-old, Quiana is now stranded in Baton Rouge and faces the prospect of leaving her mother to attend school in California, where her grandmother lives.

“All my uncles on my daddy’s side are still there,” Quiana wrote. “And nobody has heard from them.”

This is a letter to the New York Times that my friend Cheryl sent in. She was the director of Teach for America in New Orleans, and was lucky enough to evacuate the city in time last week. Knowing Cheryl who’s very vocal and pro-active, I have a feeling she had plenty more to say about the government’s inefficiency and early incompetency in dealing with New Orleans:

To the Editor:

Re “Despair and Lawlessness Grip New Orleans as Thousands Remain Stranded in Squalor” (front page, Sept. 2):

As a now-former resident of New Orleans, given my evacuation, I am shocked by the destruction of Hurricane Katrina and appalled by our government’s response to the disaster in my city. Despite the years of warnings given by Senator Mary L. Landrieu and others about this possibility, federal spending was continuously cut and threats of this destruction were ignored.

What I’ve read about only in third-world countries – hunger, rape, looting and death – is now happening in my former home, and I feel sick knowing there aren’t enough people or resources to get this chaos under control because our government ignored the broken system for so long.
It is the good will of the millions of Americans who are currently donating money, resources and their own services that will save the people in New Orleans while our government twiddles its thumbs and literally leaves my neighbors behind.

Cheryl Bratt
Yorktown Heights, N.Y.
Sept. 2, 2005

*********

Has anyone heard anything about the government supposedly risking this catastrophe because if the land was deemed uninhabitable after a major catastrophe, they would be able to drill for oil in that area? I know there are always an abundance of conspiracy rumors and when it comes to money, nothing our government does surprises me, but I was wondering if anyone had any credible sources or links.

If anyone is looking for first person live updates of the situation in New Orleans, check out:

http://www.livejournal.com/users/interdictor/2005/09/02/

This is his interview with someone who is currently at the Convention Center. That situation is beyond belief. The whole situation is beyond belief. Please donate funds to the Red Cross.

From The Interdictor (9/1/05)

The Real News

The following is the result of an interview I just conducted via cell phone with a New Orleans citizen stranded at the Convention Center. I don’t know what you’re hearing in the mainstream media or in the press conferences from the city and state officials, but here is the truth:”Bigfoot” is a bar manager and DJ on Bourbon Street, and is a local personality and icon in the city. He is a lifelong resident of the city, born and raised. He rode out the storm itself in the Iberville Projects because he knew he would be above any flood waters. Here is his story as told to me moments ago. I took notes while he talked and then I asked some questions:

Three days ago, police and national guard troops told citizens to head toward the Crescent City Connection Bridge to await transportation out of the area. The citizens trekked over to the Convention Center and waited for the buses which they were told would take them to Houston or Alabama or somewhere else, out of this area.

It’s been 3 days, and the buses have yet to appear.

Although obviously he has no exact count, he estimates more than 10,000 people are packed into and around and outside the convention center still waiting for the buses. They had no food, no water, and no medicine for the last three days, until today, when the National Guard drove over the bridge above them, and tossed out supplies over the side crashing down to the ground below. Much of the supplies were destroyed from the drop. Many people tried to catch the supplies to protect them before they hit the ground. Some offered to walk all the way around up the bridge and bring the supplies down, but any attempt to approach the police or national guard resulted in weapons being aimed at them.

There are many infants and elderly people among them, as well as many people who were injured jumping out of windows to escape flood water and the like — all of them in dire straights. Any attempt to flag down police results in being told to get away at gunpoint. Hour after hour they watch buses pass by filled with people from other areas. Tensions are very high, and there has been at least one murder and several fights. 8 or 9 dead people have been stored in a freezer in the area, and 2 of these dead people are kids.

The people are so desperate that they’re doing anything they can think of to impress the authorities enough to bring some buses. These things include standing in single file lines with the eldery in front, women and children next; sweeping up the area and cleaning the windows and anything else that would show the people are not barbarians.

The buses never stop.

Before the supplies were pitched off the bridge today, people had to break into buildings in the area to try to find food and water for their families. There was not enough. This spurred many families to break into cars to try to escape the city. There was no police response to the auto thefts until the mob reached the rich area — Saulet Condos — once they tried to get cars from there… well then the whole swat teams began showing up with rifles pointed. Snipers got on the roof and told people to get back.

He reports that the conditions are horrendous. Heat, mosquitoes and utter misery. The smell, he says, is “horrific.”

He says it’s the slowest mandatory evacuation ever, and he wants to know why they were told to go to the Convention Center area in the first place; furthermore, he reports that many of them with cell phones have contacts willing to come rescue them, but people are not being allowed through to pick them up.

I’ve completely run out of patience. I’m in dire need of space and time alone, but it seems like these are impossible to get between my job and relationship and mostly, my brother being here for his extended tour of duty. Having my brother can be overwhelming because he requires a lot of attention, and honestly, talks NON-STOP. Having him for 2 1/2 weeks is like having your mind in a speeding hamster wheel locked on max speed for 420 hours with no water breaks or breathers. It’s like I can’t even get any space in my head to formulate a thought, and for a Gemini, this is complete torture. My livelihood requires extended periods of time where I zone out while staring at a blank wall as I think, analyze, compute and categorize every random detail of existence, or in the event of lack of material, my navel. I CAN NOT EVEN EXIST IN MY OWN HEAD.

From pure survivalistic need, I called my mom today to ask if Michael can go home early, even though she had planned to come down tomorrow and we were all supposed to go to Big Bear. She told me that I was mean but that I could book a ticket for him to come home today, but I’m afraid that he’s going to be upset and act up on the plane ride home or while at home. I do know that I can’t spend this long weekend with them. Or anyone. I’ve never been so desperate for time alone.

Last Thursday I took Michael to Houston’s in Santa Monica for a “last night in LA” dinner. Reggie was working the bar so we ate our dinner there, and somehow, a conversation was struck up between a guy sitting next to us. He was very nice and friendly, and what started as a conversation about The Spanish Prisoner turned into talk about LA, writing, etc. (I was particularly amused when I told him I was a writer and he asked me what I was like in high school. “A loner,” I told him. “Did you wear army pants and things like that?” “No, I didn’t dress rebellious [for god’s sake, I had a perm], but I just didn’t ever feel comfortable around people my age.”).

It turns out that he’s the founder of The Writer’s Boot Camp, a screenwriting program whose name I’ve heard of but I didn’t know much about (LA is saturated with screenwriting programs, many of which only serve to capitalize on the ridiculous amounts of money that can be made from all the desperate people in LA who want to be the next big thing). The headquarters is in the legendary Bergamot Station which is known as an oasis for artists, and he invited me to check it out.

I had lunch with him today and not only is he a very articulate, intelligent and nice person, but I was really excited about the program. It’s something that I always wished for but didn’t know existed–a writing program that is just as much educational as it is nurturing of the creative process and a writer’s focus on catharsis for growth. What I liked best was the vibe of the place and the people, and how it felt like a safe community. The program itself consists of 48 total weekly and bi-weekly sessions with about a 10 -hour weekly commitment to creative work. The objective is to teach a whole new concept in discipline and approach, and overall, I think it teaches new writers how to effectively write, and seasoned writers how to be more effecient and focused. It got me excited because I felt like this was a place I had been looking for for a long time and especially lately, with so much going on, I haven’t been as focused or disciplined, and that’s been upsetting. I’m going to sign up for it soon; I’m not sure when exactly, it depends on their schedule and I’ll probably have to do it after this lemonade thing gets off the ground and this short film is in the can.

Exciting. This reminds me of how important it is to remain open to the gentle currents of life and where it takes you. If you trust it, it leads you towards some interesting adventures and journeys through chance encounters.

Weekend Recap

I come from a little bunghole hicktown. Yes, while those of you who are from Fremont may object and say, “What’s with the hometown hate, Shih? What’s with rejecting your roots?” It’s not about hate; it’s just what it is…Fremont is a little bunghole hicktown, complete with an obsession over arts and crafts and do dads and knick knacks.

This weekend Reg and I drove Michael back to Fremont. Michael had spent the last 10 days visiting, and left us with such fine quotes as, “I’m a PARTY animal,” “You can’t go outside without pants. People will think you’re inappropriate” and my favorite, “You have to put it in your mouth and suck on it,” which was declared vehemently over and over while he thrust an Altoid in my face as I giggled uncontrollably.

I had told Reggie that Fremont doesn’t have a whole lot going on and that it’s fairly hickish as, for example, the entrance of my road features a goat farm and a horse stable (the cows have since been relocated). I don’t think he believed me until we turned onto my road behind the pickup sporting a “Cowboy Up” sticker in the back window, and I pointed out the “Goats 4 Sale” sign hanging proudly on a crumbling shed.

The tour of the town took less than an hour, as I showed him: 1. The gym; 2. My high school; 3. The bustling town “center” featuring all the big commercial chains (Barnes & Noble, Jamba Juice, Target, etc) whose arrival meant that lil’ Fremont finally had a place on the map. While driving around town, Reggie said, “Blankets. You guys really like to make blankets.” They’re quilts, I said. It’s our thing, man. He asked me what I usually do when I go home, and I told him that I usually go to the gym in the morning for a couple of hours, then eat lunch, then go to a coffee shop to write, then go to the gym for a couple of hours, then surf the net until it’s time to go home. Outside of heading out to San Francisco, Tahoe or doing something outdoorsy like hiking, there’s really not much going on. I will admit though, that the local community college flea market that comes around 1 weekend a month is usually the highlight of the month. I will also admit that I don’t try very hard to find more interesting things to do when I’m at home. Being at home makes me lethargic.

On Saturday we went to the gym, but I have this severely sprained ankle so I just hobbled around and did some weights. Afterwards, we went to a Chinese restaurant for lunch and then drove around trying to decide what to do. We ended up driving in a huge circle (from Newark down to Milpitas because we thought we would go to visit my cousin, then up towards Pleasanton because we considered going to see a movie at this really nice theater, then turned around and went home when it was deemed no one was really interested in any of these activities). We went home and took a nap, then headed over to Santana Road, which is this upscale area with shopping and restaurants, much like the Grove in LA. We met up with my aunt and her family for dinner at this Italian place, then headed over to the V Bar at the top of the Hotel Valencia (?) for mojitos and a virgin pina colada for Michael. There was a high school reunion going on (Pioneer Class of ’85) so I walked in and tried to convince everyone to crash it with me. No one else was as excited about this adventure as I was so we headed to the outdoor patio instead. I did make Reggie promise he would crash a reunion with me at some future date.

Sunday was my nephew’s 1 month anniversary of his birth, which is a big deal in Chinese culture. I think. I don’t know. They held a banquet at this restaurant, and we got through it okay; many people had heard through the grapevine that I was dating a black guy, so while there were many glances over, everyone was fairly polite and well-behaved, though at the beginning of the meal, my grandmother, who likes Reggie, did ask that he not use his chopsticks with his left hand. We explained to her that he’s left-handed and can’t help it. I asked my mom if it was a sign of bad manners to use chopsticks with the left hand, kind of like it’s rude in some cultures to eat with your left hand because that’s the hand you wipe your ass with. She said, no, you’re grandmother’s just anal.

We were supposed to leave Sunday afternoon but my mom asked if Michael could stay with us for another week, since she planned to come down for Labor Day anyway so he may as well stay. So essentially, we drove him up just to drive him back down with us. We were on our way back to LA when my dad called and was disappointed that we had left already, as he had wanted to have dinner with us. It was a nice gesture since things have been strained between my dad and I this year, so we turned around and had dinner before leaving again.

Only 4 bathroom stops and 1 po-po sighting before we got back into LA just after midnight.

Creepy…

With the show over, I’ve finally been able to find a moment to sit down and reflect a bit. Things seem to always be in constant motion in my life lately, with people always around, that I rarely get that much-needed space to get really quiet inside my head and look out at the universe with a deep enough introspection to feel truly rested.

My brother has been staying with me, and watching the way he processes life and human interaction has always been the greatest learning tool I’ve been blessed with. No one is more optimistic about kindness and the generosity of human beings as a collective, and no one wants to see the best of everyone he meets more than my brother. In fact, he can only see the good in people and can’t understand why you can’t love every person you meet, just because they are a fellow man and we’re all walking this often difficult life together. Being with him always reminds me of how humble we all are within this huge universe, yet how basic and simple the truth of the universe is once you realize its complicated contradictions.

What is the past? It’s my obsession, because how can life be a flowing series of events and incidences and coincidences, if every single moment and micro-moment is a singular and independent reality from which you attempt to relate? I believe that every single moment, I am a different person, a person independent of who I was and who I will be, and it is only through the growth and movement of each of these different people that I become who I am when captured at a specific moment in the future. The Me of 5 years ago seems like a foreign person, a person I no longer keep in touch with, whom I would need time and interaction with to become reacquainted with. The same as the me of 10 years ago, 20 years ago, or even 2 weeks ago. It’s not a matter of if I have accepted or rejected the person I was–opinions and judgments don’t alter absolute realities. It’s a matter of evolving or moving in a direction of your personal growth and looking back upon where you used to stand and recognizing each state of you as being different, or an unfinished state of an infinite process.

I’m happy that no matter what happens in my life, no matter what decisions I make for better or for worse, the unequivocal code in which I live my life is that everything must be done for the sake of growth. That even when I walk down the wrong path, that I walk it so that I will know that this only leads to my experience of life and my experience as a human being, and that by not taking any experience for granted, I will have gained something, if only experience and knowledge and perhaps, material for reflection.

I’ve learned that you can not be weighed under the history of your family or its influence; you can only be compassionate to your fellow comrade in life, particularly if they have weathered the same experiences with you and have offered a collective support. But you can not sacrifice your own life path and growth if others cling to a fear-born status quo or “customs” because they themselves don’t trust that life is a learning experience and that risks with whatever results are still benefits in the long run.

We all learn that life is often not fair because people make the rules and as a whole, human beings are ignorant. They are selfish out of fear and they are cruel out of fear and they do harm to others because they fear that without doing so, there will always be an unknown threat around the corner. Children can be the same way; theirs is a simple mentality, that the world is so big with so many risks and dangers, that they must shut down and play an offensive defense if they are to protect themselves if there is not a system already in place which protects them.

We have to trust that there’s more to this world and that there’s a purpose. We have to trust that gut feeling that being a good person, leading an open, positive life where you strive to better your understanding of the universe and practice patience, tolerance and kindness, leads to something very important down the line even if it seems to mean something ephemeral or nonsignificant within the mundane. We have to lead by example even though it’s so easy to give up on people and reciprocate nasty attitudes, duplicity and full on corruption and cruelty, because we have to trust that we are big enough people to accept the brunt of others’ ignorance, and that by being bigger people and trying to reach out and teach those around us, that we open up others’ outlooks and behaviors so that they can overcome their narrowmindedness and we can all live more connected lives.

But the biggest thing to be aware of is how much people can project their own inner negative feelings out into the world. How, if someone is mad at something or hates something or is unhappy with his or her life, how an ignorant and petty person will attempt to hurt others around them by passive aggressively lashing out. We are all in control of the world that is inside of us. If a person would rather put a dark shadow over others rather than deal with why they have one inside of themselves, or even why they’re ALLOWING themselves to keep dark shadows within themselves, then I feel like that person is selfish, unevolved and overall, a coward for trying to blame the external world and other people for the way they actually make themselves feel. Life is hard enough; but the best a person can do is to support themselves and show kindness to themselves by taking control of their own happiness and seeking out a support system that would provide them with positive regard and comfort. If they need to try to bring other people down because they themselves feel angry or scared or helpless, then they are what the ancient philosophers called, “Assholes.”

So don’t be an asshole, guys. They’re enough of them in this world and they are basically spiritual children. Life and this journey is such an adventure with so much to be learned and experienced, that for us to be busy pissing on other people’s feet in a tiny backyard seems like such a waste of time and opportunity.

This guy serving a life sentence, despite looking like a serial killer in that photo, has some really interesting things to say, as well as links and statistics. I think a lot of people aren’t concerned with what happens in our justice system and law enforcement factions because it doesn’t involve them and it serves a community need, but I also think that our system is incredibly flawed, and by our not being vigilant in keeping the system in check, it becomes overrun by corruption and ulterior motives.

It so often feels that the legal system tries to break everything down in black and white, and it loses the entire purpose of justice and the protection of the community and innocent people.

8/17 Recap

Last night’s show got off to a rocky start when the actors were for one reason or another, off on the rhythm of the skit so they were talking over people’s lines and just overall, had their timing off. They managed to make a recovery and knocked the white trash skit out of the park. When Reggie stands up as Latisha, the angry black woman in spandex shorts and a headband and threatens to bust a cap in his white ass and goes digging for a gat in a tiny Louis Vutton purse, we had to hold the skit until laughter died down. Overall, that was smoothest skit of the night.

The problem with the show is that we don’t audition the comics and just go by the word of Vargus, our talented cast member who’s on the stand-up circuit with these guys, or referrals from other standups. I didn’t think our first comic the night before was that great, but the other ones were decent. Yet tonight, Sheldon, who had been solid the night before, came in with a different act but seemed to get frazzled by the “front row” who was a “tough crowd” and he couldn’t get any laughs from them. Unfortunately, that front row was made up of my family, who didn’t have the best grasp of English but more importantly, he hadn’t won over any of the crowd yet. So he never got into his act from the first night and got so frazzled with the crowd that he didn’t really follow up his great performance from the night before. From now on, I want to audition the comics so I know what kind of material and energy they’re bringing.

The comedy act that we didn’t have on Tuesday but we had on Wed. was a duo called The Dos Spanish Flies. They were like Tenacious D but with a mariachi/Spanish Variety show theme and really dirty, hilarious songs. Amazing performers with the crispest comic timing I’ve ever encountered. They’re playing the Comedy Store this Sunday at 8pm, so if you’re in LA, I highly recommend catching them. One of the guys looked like this guy I used to date, who looks like Jack Black so in a way, they ARE Tenacious D but with a latin theme.

There’s a possibility of another encore performance. Last night was technically a sold out show, but a lot of people who had prepaid for tickets didn’t show up. Regardles, we’re in the middle of transitioning the show so that it’s going to be run by Reggie and I, with it being bigger and better. They’ve always been tied to Tuesdays and been a small show, but this one was a lot bigger and I want it to start running on the weekends in a bigger theater that’s better suited for media as well, so we can also run video skits with the live ones. It would be cool to find a place where we can serve drinks and afterwards, turn it into a little party with a DJ spinning before the show and after the show. I want to give people an event.

The best show related event hands down though, was not my mom in the lobby after the show teaching Ernie Halter Chinese (note: Ernie was our amazing musician with a voice like butter…check out his site for his music), but the effect the show had on Michael.

For those of you guys who were at the show…do you remember in the Ralph’s skit when Vargus’s old lady character watches the girl walk by and goes, “Bitch.” ???

Reggie, Michael and I were all sleeping in the same room last night and sometime in the middle of the night, it’s completely silent and Michael talks in his sleep and goes, “Bitch.”

No wait. The best show-related event was when I drove my mom home after the show and she said, “You have to teach me some of the bad language that you guys were using. I asked Albert [my cousin]…what is a ‘golden shower.’ And he said, ‘It’s when a woman stands over a man and pees on his head. Is that true?”

And I answered, “It is. But sometimes the man will also pee on the woman’s head.”

So now with the show over (or potentially only soon over), I’ve gotta switch gears to the short film. A shitty-ass industry publication, I won’t say which one, accidentally (and non-remorsefully) printed my phone number in my ad looking for actors so now I’ve got actors calling me morning to night. It’s ridiculously annoying, and the publication admitted the mistake but in the process, more or less told me I could eat it because they have so much to do that they really can’t be bothered about mistakes. So certain third rate publications whose employees are arrogant assholes because they think that just cuz they have a monopoly on the industry that they can be arrogant assholes, I have a creme brulee torch and I’m not afraid to use it.

In other news, new tag for the lemonade:

J&R: “We Stole This Shit”

8/16Show Recap

So last night show went well despite some a technical issue in the opening sketch (key music did not play) and the fact that the main actor in a skit forgot his lines and skipped to his lines at the end of the skit, thus cutting out the entire middle. It happened during a skit about tolerance when a white trash guy and his girlfriend interrupt a tolerance symposium wanting to talk about how he’d also been oppressed. The symposium featured an Asian guy, two lesbians, some black people and an Arab woman, and he skipped over choice bits as him telling the Asian guy, “Did you guys ever think to put a railroad here? NO. We gave you the idea and you stole all the credit!”; him telling the black people, “Speaking of railroads, what’s up with your underground railroad? For your information, it ain’t a railroad if it don’t have trains. And furthermore…isn’t an underground railroad called a subway?”; him telling the lesbians, “What have you ever contributed other than softball, really really bad poetry and the female mullet?” Regardless, what worked was that they all recovered and still made the skit look like a complete skit, even though it made me look like I didn’t understand skit arcs.

The best part of the show was just doing it. That was the first time I had directed for stage and I was really proud of the show, the performances of the cast and the overall energy and vibe of everything. I hope people who were in the audience enjoyed themselves. The cast was glowing afterwards because they felt that they had really showed themselves in a good light, and I felt like a little league mom, running around backstage telling everyone how amazing they were.

The worst part of the show, was when the tiny spaghettie strap to my top broke. I’m up in the booth next to the tech station running the video camera, but the only way up and down is by a ladder. So instead of using the steps, I usually get down to the first step and leap the 4 feet down. We’ll I kept running up and down and finally, I must have ripped it because I go running through the lobby and suddenly realize my left boob is damn near hanging out.

And the only reason I realized it, was because one of our actors, Mike (The Sausage Man) takes one look at me and announces, “Why’s everyone’s girlfriends running around with their boobs hanging out?”

Overall, great night. Felt so good about this, felt affirmed in my creative aspirations, and was so proud of everyone that we had such a strong product to show for all of our hard work.