Monday, February 27, 2017

a note fit for a postcard.

Vandulbraughten was a friggin Nazi.  He escaped into America somehow during the height of the fighting, turning coat when his country needed him most.  For shame, I say!  Loathsome creature!  Even now I remember the News Of The World footage of Hitler smacking his desk, while yelling NEIN NEIN NEIN NEIN!

Chaquita.  The muses gazes also.  What more can be said that is delicate, providential, and evidential of such a prim flower?

Crash Moody.  That was I.  That was me.  Such style, such grace.  What a man!  An example among men.  But a mouse, in a cage, building a small city out of horded cheese!  A junkyard surround for a kingdom of forgotten treasures!

Tittywick(of the Chestershire Tittywicks).  Will flee his demons, because he grows weary of good fortune and a prosperous home.  If only he could be put on an explorer's ship, as perhaps sent to the hell of the arctic.

Bern'rd.  The old grave digger lurks and drinks, still.  Though he has been fired and barred from hassling visitors to the graveyard.

Bob Beckel says he should have died a long time ago.  I have no opinion, except that I appreciate him nowadays, and if he were not alive, I would miss him. 

However:  I thought he died a year ago.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Women's Prison Apocalypse(some scenes I wrote)

Women's Prison.

Some women tanning on the yard, trying to keep up the appearance by rolling up their jumper sleeves and pants legs.

(o.s.)Warden: "On what wings dare he aspire?  What dread hand dare seize the fire?"

A bus comes in.  It stops and convicts are herded out at their new home for a few years.  There are three.  It's obvious which one we focus on.  The most beautiful.  The audience must instantly take a liking.  That much is key to the film.

Outside Warden's office door.  A squirting noise from inside.  Through the magic of programmed perspective, we are transported inside to see his hands lathering in soap.  Soap flies this way and that.  He's really wringing his hands vigorously.

A gleeting of soap lands in a fishbowl and begins to mingle and stretch out in the clear waters.  Fortunately, there is no fish in there.  We don't torture animals here.  Only women.

From outside the Warden's office window, overlooking the yard:

Warden: "That big one.  Her bigness vexes me."

Chief Screw: "She's a mole for us.  Her name is Pam.  Like the buttery cooking spray."

Warden: "Must have soaked in it.  Tell them to find us another Timmy.  Let's go down there."

Outside:  The warden and a group of guards approaches the hapless Pam.  The warden draws a side-arm pistol and fires without aiming.  The bullet goes wide, way over Pam's head.

The Warden closes in and aims, this time, then carefully shoots in the three-point position, like a marksman.

The bullet sails high over Pam's head.

Now the rage has grown nuclear within the warden.  He runs at her, pulling the trigger, but the now empty gun is just clicking over and over.

Pam cringes, and as he gets right up on top of her, she goes to her knees and puts her arms over her head protectively.

The Warden hits her with the butt of the gun several times before the other screws stop him and him get him out of there.

Pam is left in confused silence, hurting.  She starts crying.


Mouse, the runt of our group is having surgery.  Docs and nurses all around.

The engorged, enraged Warden runs in yelling "LIVE!  LIVE!".  He climbs on the table with her, and his head hits the lights, making them spin crazily.  The scene becomes chaos.  He falls onto the floor.

The lights fall onto the outstretched young woman, and its like a bomb of blood going off, saturating the room.

Insert shot of her glasses on table, covered in blood, blood streaking down lenses.

Monday, February 20, 2017

Stellar Women's Prison Revolt(or Be More Like Shannon)

The prom queen, the toy/mouse, the genius and the heavy.

The shower scenes.  Altman-esque over-lapping dialogue.  Cooter talk, I says.

And there will be shower scenes.  This is I aver.

Scenes of the heavy, like a mommy gorilla, picking ticks from the hair of her charges.  Maternal, characterizing, baby.

Me likee the characterization.

"a dead bee makes no honey" scrawled on the wall behind her-the letters bleeding juice.

The emotionally-charged content of subjugation!  Maybe even a dream sequence with a women's lib song from the 1970's.

How does a women's prison inmate get pregnant?  Ixnay on the pregnant-way, I says.  Carry the bun from the outside.  Abortion sequence?  Maybe.  A coat hanger and the heavy.  A coat hanger for the heavy.

"See them love!"

Get Sid Haig and his straw hat into the time machine.

Of course, I'm the warden.  I get the plum role of the whole piece, being the pharaoh of the entire production.

Kinda goes without saying, that last.