​It’s raining here. At least it has been. And we are expecting a few more inches through Monday. We may as well enjoy it as it will most likely be the last of the rain this year.  Ah, the pleasures of world-wide climate catastrophe.
 
As I write this, an investigation of the accidental shooting of a Director and Cinematographer on the set of a movie continues. Apparently, there was a live round in the chamber. How does this even happen? As far as I understand it, three people were to check the weapon before it ever gets into the actor’s hand.  Just read that there were some nonunion issues. This is important stuff, people. Hire Union and hopefully, this will lead to more stringent safeguards on the set of lower budget motion pictures.
 
As you can now very well see, this will be another of those annoying collections of random words, miraculously transformed into some sort of readable blog post. Or maybe not, that is up to you to decide. As I type it, I am listening to Han Zimmer’s soundtrack to No Time to Die. I like it and the musical nods to one of my favorite Bond films, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Anyway, good stuff. Check it out. 
 
A couple of notable viewings worth sharing. Apple TVs The Foundation is as visually stunning as it is confusing. However, the documentary The Velvet Underground is highly recommended as well as the current season of Ted Lasso which never disappoints. I have also just started Dopesick and so far, so great!  And before we close, one last shout out to Only Murders in the Building. The teaming of Martin and Short is, as always brilliant but it is the addition of Selena Gomez that elevates this original story to new heights. 
 
Okay, I need to find some random video to post here so I will see you all next week.

Back in 1977, I was performing in Summer Stock with a group of talented individuals recruited from around the country. One of these I happened date briefly. She was a talented actress of from LA who had just graduated from ACT. Subsequently, we went our separate ways; me to a life of performing in nightclubs with an occasional writing gig and her becoming a serious and celebrated New York Stage and Screen Actor. Several decades later, I came across an article announcing that Vice Presidential candidate and intellectual heavyweight, Sarah Palin, was being groomed in the acts of poise in diction in preparation for the first debate by this very same actress I knew from 1977.
 
I thought that was as close as I would ever get to the new Amerikkka.
 
Cut to this week and the second, Wednesday, October 13 at roughly noon I receive a text from a LA friend regarding a producer who had optioned a screenplay of mine back in the day. Unmentioned in their IMDB page, the Producer is not only supporter of Donald Trump, Q-Anon, Conspiracy theories but is also an extreme anti-vaxxer who thought nothing will speak to the masses more than advertising a future event with a swastika made up of hypodermic needles. 
 
This is the incident I wish to address.
 
This producer is now residing in Texas and has just scored two points for both fascism and anti science. Of course, her response to the controversy was to be expected.
 
“I regret that the symbol caused hurt, which was clearly not my intent,' said Vivano-Langlais in the statement.
'However, I stand on my principles, regardless of the cancel culture authoritarians.”

 Just what are Viviano’s principles? Well, we know she is a Trump supporter., so obviously she is in support of rape, misogyny, third world authoritarianism, racism, and the spreading disinformation. Trump awakened a hidden sickness in this country, one that we will be dealing with for quite sometime. 
Well, better her than an uncle at Thanksgiving dinner. However, it is a painful reminder that our careers are going to cross paths with all sorts of people. Even ones that wish to overthrow our Republic. 

A lot has been said about setting your schedule to write and sticking to it. Experts are keen to remind us that it is best to have a set time of the day, a place, and to write for whatever amount of time you can afford. I believe there is something to all this. Hemingway was a morning guy (first light) and got it done so that he could get to drinking by lunch. Vonnegut also got up early, wrote till eight am, and then had his breakfast, returning shortly after so that he could get to the swimming pool by 10. Whatever you decide is best for you, do it and stick to it!  Occasionally things happen, so forgive yourself and move on.
 
If you set a goal for yourself with a word count, go easy on yourself. I always say 1000, but 500 to 750 words are more realistic. If nothing comes, don’t panic. I am a great believer in Morning Pages (courtesy of Julia Cameron). It is a string of consciousness type of writing which is purging your guts out on the page. I recently returned to the practice, and I’m glad I did. These pages are not to be reread but only to act as a literary cleanse of your creative colon.  Try it, and you’ll be surprised at how many ideas can come from this little exercise. And, if you are mucked up, try reading The Artist’s Way by Cameron. I’ve been through it several times, and it never ceases to help.
 
And finally, if you are still stuck, try walking. And while you are taking your stroll, live in the moment. Enjoy it, and try not think about your project. That will come naturally. Just get outside and do it. 
 
And read, not be confused with watching television. It would help if you had a book open on your bed stand right now. Please read it. Every time you feel the desire to kill your emotions with the television, open your book. This holds doubly true for smartphones. Give it a rest. Schedule some time away from it. Practice a musical instrument, read some poetry or Shakespeare. Leave the Bejeweled Blitz for a long car trip.
 
Okay, there you have it. Now stop reading this and go write.   

Everyone is talking about it. They simply can’t help themselves. A beloved fictional and film icon has up and left us; killed off by unscrupulous producers in his prime. 

Sherlock Holmes – died at Reichenbach Falls
Spock died of radiation poisoning.
Batman’s back was broken, and Superman's dead…kind of.
Kirk was murdered in cold blood and Hercule Poirot died from heart complications
 
Yeah, just recently and you are most likely upset. Well, beloved characters in fiction and media die.

SHIT HAPPENS.

And believe me, I understand the universal disdain for spoilers. Movie taddlers need to be punished in much the same way that gangsters punish stoolies. But as for all this noise about the killing off of a beloved fictional character, get over it!
 
Hey, we have to die, why not them? I am sixty-seven and death is relatively around the corner for me. And all of us don’t have the option that our fictional counterparts have. Our cells can’t be regenerated by a Genesis Planet. We can not exist in an alternate timeline nor can we reappear when the angry public rises up and demands that more stories are published. The wonderful thing about death in fiction, is the creator can always change his/him/they/them/their mind. So, everyone take a deep breath, relax. 
 
In some instances it can even be a combination of things. Spock died to rejuvenate a franchise and because the actor wanted to put the character eternally to rest. Only Christ and money are the only ones that can really bring back the dead.
 
So, please, relax. Enjoy. In a couple of years, it will be as if this never happened. It may turn out to be all a dream.  Perhaps an alternate timeline. 

​Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr were players.

John Lennon sniffed heroin.

Sportscaster Marv Albert is into BDSM

Donald Trump sold his soul to the devil, was a Russian asset and sold out an entire country for 30 pieces of silver.


My wife says that if you do not want to learn anything bad about a person, stay away from the Internet. Sometimes you don’t have to. Sometimes it’s in the news and all you have to do is open a paper, unlock your phone or check your computer. Sometimes, someone you admire passes away and, because you think they are a genius and really miss them, you start digging around. In 99.9999 percent of the cases, my wife is right. You find something you would rather not know.

I am a great admirer of Norm McDonald; a brilliant everyman who, in most cases, called it exactly as he saw it. And, in most cases, he happened to be one hundred percent correct. O.J. Simpson is just one example. The relentless pounding he gave the murderer was hilarious. It was worth turning in to Saturday Night Live just to see what he would have to say. My favorite comment, Norm holding a copy of the New York Post that reads: Another Juror Axed. “O.J. Strikes again,” McDonald commented wryly. And so it went, week after week. Lorne Michaels called him the one of the best performers on the segment. And he was right.

I could go on and on and on. Most recently, YouTube posted his corona virus routine. The epidemic was in full swing, and he was performing at one of the Imrovs. He was nothing short of brilliant. His last performance on Letterman is legendary and his I predict his stand-up specials will be a true reflection of what humor is and was. God, I miss him.

So, I will choose to ignore that he was a misogynistic dinosaur who took pride in refusing to bend with the changing times. Still, I think it is possible to love the art and hate the artist. Sometimes it is just a matter of when to draw the line. Go back deep enough in any of our lives and you will find something we said that does not meet today’s standards.

Part of growing as a person is admitting your mistakes. Again, it is just a question of what, if anything, is too heinous to be forgiven. Right now, the jury is still out. In the meantime, I will continue to listen to my wife.

RIP

​Confession Time: I love musical theatre. I’ve performed in a few, Godspell, Anything Goes, Hair, Two Gentlemen of Verona, and 1776, twice. I have written two, I Lost Me at the Movies (workshopped only) and Wild Space A Go-Go, both co-written with Kurt Misar and the latter featuring lyrics by Brad Beaver. And, I have seen countless, both on film, television and the most preferred, live. So, while not an expert, I know the difference between good and evil, excellent, and phenomenal. Like the rest of you, I delight in being surprised, loving the discovery of something that has the potential of blowing me away. Come from Away, the new musical by married team Irene Sankoff and David Hein, is all that and much, much more.
 
 Currently streaming on Apple TV Plus, and featuring the talents of an incredible ensemble cast, this Canadian musical tells the tale of a Newfoundland community that opened their doors and their hearts to the 7000 plus anxiety plagued and weary travelers whose airplanes were grounded on their rocky shores soon after the vicious attacks of 9/11.
 
This is musical theatre at its best, able to uplift, entertain, and gently remind us that there is still an abundance of good in the world. In this case, it just happens to be Canadian. 
 
I mentioned the ensemble before, but it bears repeating, they are collectively and diversely exceptional. Playing multiple parts with deftly, dancing and singing exceptionally and most rewarding of all, proving once and for all that you do not need to be a specific “type” to make it on Broadway.
 
There are just too many highlights for me to mention, but if you held a gun to my head, I would have to say the song and dance number, In the Bar/Heave Away, was the most fun while Prayer, 38 Planes and the Dover Fault moved me.  I cannot stress this enough, this musical is worth watching for so many reasons. Chief among them, celebrating the best of us and reminding us gently to what we are capable of.
 
It just opened up back on Broadway, the national tour will be restarting shortly, and you can always see it as I did on Apple TV Plus. Just see it.  
 

​I think there’s one genre of writing that remains harder than any other. I am referring, of course, to the sitcom. There’s a reason that a situation comedy writer’s room contains more bodies than an Osmond Family Thanksgiving. Each chair at the table’s occupied with a writer who specializes. Some excel with a story. Others are comedians adept at adding spot-on jokes that can punch up any script. And, there’s the head-writer, wrangling all these talents and making sure that he delivers a fully realized script each week.
 
Above him, the showrunner. Usually, the creator (or creators) overseeing it all and attempting to make sure that it does not come as a three-episode only train-wreck. I imagine it is the most stressful, aggravating, and exasperating job in all show business. And I say all that, realizing fully that it is one job that I would like to try on for size.
 
I have written three pilots in my long career. The first, Lucky 7, was an original idea by comedian Dave Anderson and me that concerned two hapless roommates who somehow inherit a down-and-out casino. It featured a close-up magician, who housed an endless community of dead and dying doves under his tuxedo, a gangster who was always attempting to buy the place, and the world’s oldest Keno runner. We knew nothing about sitcoms but went ahead and wrote it anyway. It was a lot of fun but never went anywhere. I’ll call that the Intro to Sitcom 101.
 
The second was a comedy pilot script titled Timber. The bottom-line pitch, Barney Miller in a Ranger Station. It featured a PTSD LA Cop who’s forced to take the job to get away from the mean streets of Burbank. Trouble is, any loud, unexpected noises set the poor guy off, hopefully into fits of improv hilarity. Amongst his fellow Forest Service employees, a low-level gangster sequestered away in witness protection, a clueless supervisor, and a long-suffering female partner. The script was written by me, Jerry Lambert, and Tom McComb and made it to a table read that featured the talents of the great Jerry Lambert and a couple of well-known others. Again, we went remarkably far for people who not only had no representation but did not always know exactly what the hell we were doing.
 
There have been other attempts that were never shown to anyone until…
 
CUT TO:
 
Tuesday, August 24, 2021.
 
What can I tell you? Not much. But this is a company that has experience producing television and desperately needs content. I sent them a story bible and an outline of the first ten episodes. The fact that they immediately responded to the idea and asked to see the pilot script is excellent. And, just maybe, it brings me one step closer to my dream.  
 
I guess the lesson here is this. You want to do something, keep trying. 

​Once in a great while, you happen upon something, resulting in an unexpected and delightful surprise. And who’d have thought that I would find it buried deep in the comedy section of a Netflix queue? Not wishing to keep any of you in suspense any longer, I will let you know I refer to the Sony Pictures Animation feature Mitchells vs. The Machines.
 
Written and directed by Mike Rianda and Jeff Rowe, co-written by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, this is one comedy gem that does not deserve the obscurity that sometimes comes with a pandemic teamed with the streaming option. The characterizations of a dysfunctional family are spot-on. The comedy gags are robust and plentiful, and the message, which is more powerful than one might expect for a family film, is timely without being overwhelming. 
 
Clocking in at a lengthy 114 minutes (a tad longer than most animated comedies), Mitchells vs the Machines never loses its footing or pacing as it careens from one plot point to the next. The story, in a nutshell, concerns the desire of a father to get to know his filmmaking daughter with a cross-country road trip across the country to film school. Along the way, a jealous smartphone AI (sound familiar?) seeks revenge against all humanity for being replaced at a product announcement for a better and flashier version. Society is on the verge of distinction, and it is up to one family, the Mitchells, to stop the machines from disposing of the whole human race.
 
The look of the piece is the perfect blend of computer animation, live photos and old-fashioned hand drawn which makes it distinctly unique from the start and a visual treat from start to finish. It is a job extremely well done by the entire animation staff from top to bottom.
 
The vocal performances from everyone, Danny McBride and Maya Rudolph, down the line to John Legend and Conan O’ Brien, are all top-notch.  This is an excellent way for adults and kids to spend two hours of their entertainment week without the guilty feeling that you get from binging on the creative cotton candy of so-called other “tent-pole” films.  
 
To put it quite simply, Mitchells vs the Machines is as good as it gets. Go see it!

​I grew up on the mean streets of N.E. Portland with only two options of getting out. The choice was either pushing drugs or signing an N.D.A. My formative years were hard, my life tempered by the lawlessness and violence surrounding me. Time was running out for this streetwise rapscallion, and soon it would be too late.

Oh, you think I meant N.B.A. Nope. I'm afraid this player has got no game. I'm talking N.D.A. (Non-Disclosure Agreement). Recently I signed with an unspecified company for an unknown amount. Geez, J.P., could you be just a little more specific. Not really. This is what an N.D.A. is all about.

I can tell you this; I enjoy announcing my small creative victories on social media. Does that make me a social media whore? Yes. But we can talk about my seamy proclivities later. When I asked the company if I could announce I was working with them, they were pretty firm in their response. I will give you a hint. It was one harsh sentence, started with the word "no" and did not have "may" in it, as in, "no, you may not."

So, let's discuss the wonderful world of N.D.A.

According to Wikipedia,

A non-disclosure agreement (N.D.A.), also known as a confidentiality agreement (C.A.), confidential disclosure agreement (C.D.A.), proprietary information agreement (P.I.A.) or secrecy agreement (S.A.) or 'non-disparagement agreement' is a legal contract or part of a contract between at least two parties that outlines confidential material, knowledge, or information that the parties wish to share for specific purposes, but want to restrict access to. ​Doctor-patient confidentiality (physician-patient privilege), attorney-client privilege, priest-penitent privilege , and bank–client confidentiality agreements are examples of N.D.A.s, which are often not enshrined in a written contract between the parties.


I can't shake the feeling that I would've been much better off if I had signed several N.D.A.s throughout my lifetime. In this, or any, business, sometimes saying nothing at all is better than the alternative. Ask anyone who knows me; I am almost too willing to talk. I would have made a lousy prisoner of war. I'd have spilled it all: name, rank, serial number, personal debt to income ratio. In business, T.M.I. is a hell of a reason for N.D.A. For blabbermouths like me, suing someone for violating an N.D.A. can be one hell of an incentive.

I have signed an N.D.A. once before, and no, it wasn't for either Scott, Harvey, or even Kevin. I will just say it was necessary and easy. And, as far as the current one, it’s an N.D.A., I can’t tell you jack!

And now, since I could not find a video even remotely close to our subject matter, I bring you this.

"I thought you were good, Paul, but you're not good. You're just another lying ol' dirty birdie."
 
Well, summer is nearly over, and from one lying ol' dirty birdy to another, I hope you got a heck of a lot of creative things done. I say that because we may be going back into lock-down. Hospitals' beds are filling up, incubators are flying off the shelves, and the rumors of third shot boosters are as commonplace as Q Anon conspiracy theories regarding a stolen election. Oh, and most of the west is in extreme fire season. I swear it’s like being in a Roland Emmerick movie.
 
So, tell me something uplifting, J.P. 
 
Okay, here goes—fun fact for the day. If you have a piece of material out for consideration, and you send a status email, if it has been decided that it's a pass, you'll receive your call or email between 4:45 pm and 6:00 pm. If you do not send a status email, you will hear considerably earlier in the day. Why do I say this? What prove do I have for this wild assumption? I don't have any proof besides checking the timestamps on all my emails (which I do). Let's call it more of a pattern. 
 
Probably not as uplifting as you like, so that I will try again. Do something creative long enough and often enough, and you will get better. Will I be better sufficient to sell something for a lot of money? No. Be grateful for small victories. 
 
As a rule, people like to work with considerate people, listen, work hard, contribute, treat others well, don't throw staplers, and are considered fun to be around. Does that guarantee you a job? No. However, if you do get or have a job, they may very well remember you in the future.
 
Never sell yourself short. Oh, and never let them see you sweat and don't draw upon and inside straight and when playing Blackjack, hit on nine and below and stay on 11. 
 
As a side note, I got a gig, so my blogs will most likely tend to be shorter for a while. Be prepared as it may go on for a few months. I would tell you more, but I signed an NDA (More on that next week).  So, even though some of the blogs may be shorter, I will still painstakingly choose the very best YouTube videos. After all, I may be a lying, dirty birdy, but I am not a monster.