Hair by Brad Pitt (2)

(Let's see how many hits we'll get)

Second draft

(click to enlarge)

Freedom Fries --- introduction

Freedom Fries, yes, how about the Freedom Fries. The term came into being in the spring of 2003, when President Jaques Chirac of France refused to join George W. Bush in his attack on Iraq (the second Gulf War), and Representative Robert W. Ney (R-Ohio), the chairman of the Committee on House Administration, directed the three canteens of the US House of Representatives to rename French fries to "freedom fries."

 US House of Representatives member Robert W. Ney (R-Ohio),
announcing the renaming of French fries to Freedom Fries in 2003. 

When Michael decided to write a script about the aftermath of the Bush years, he used the Freedom Fries reminiscence as a trigger for a change of heart of (or in) the former president---with predictably unpredictable consequences for him and a few other people.

What's your answer? --- a quiz (Jacki)

So you are writing a novel, or a play, about Winston Churchill, say, and somebody just said to him: "Winston, if you were my husband, I'd put poison in your coffee." What's your answer? You possibly know the answer to this one, but that's what this quiz is about. (Answers under the read more link at the bottom)

(1) Thomas Reed vs. Henry Clay: Clay: "I would rather be right than be president." What's Clay's reply?
(2) Lady Astor vs. Winston Churchill: Astor: "Winston, if you were my husband, I'd put poison in your coffee." What's Churchill's reply?
(3) NYM Ed Koch vs Andrew Kirtzman, after the reporter insisted on pressing a point about an inconsistent statement Koch had made. What was Koch's answer?
(4) Groucho Marx vs. a contestant on You Bet Your Life, after the contestant revealed that he was a father of 10. Groucho: "Why so many children." Guest: "Well, Groucho, I love my wife." What was Groucho's next line?
(5) Abraham Lincoln vs. Stephen Douglas, after Douglas called him two-faced during a debate. How did Lincoln react?
(6) Pierre Trudeau vs. Richard Nixon, upon hearing that Nixon had called him an asshole. What did Trudeau say?
(7) Oscar Wilde vs. Lewis Morris; Morris had just been passed over for the Poet Laureateship, and said to Wilde: "There's a conspiracy against me, a conspiracy of silence buut what can one do? What should I do?" What was Wilde's reply?
(8) Miriam Hopkins vs. an anonymous singer, who had just informed her: "You know, dear, I insured my voice for fifty thousand dollars." What did Hopkins say?
(9) James McNeill Whistler vs. Oscar Wilde, after Whistler had made a particularly witty observation.Wilde: "I wish I had said that." What was Whistler's reply?
(10) Senator Fritz Hollings vs. Henry McMastor, when challenged by his Republican opponent during a televised debate to take a drug test. What did Hollings say?
(11) Reverend Edward Everett Hale vs. the U.S. Senate, when asked if he prayed for the Senators. What was Hale's answer?
(12) Edna Ferber vs. Noel Coward, Coward was remarking upon the fact that Ferber was wearing a tailored suit. Coward: "You look almost like a man." What was Ferber's riposte?
(13) Winston Churchill vs. a Member of Parliament, who said: "Mr. Churchill, must you fall asleep while I'm speaking?" What did Churchill say?
(14) Calvin Coolidge vs. some random lady at a White House dinner. Woman: Mr Coolidge, I've made a bet against a fellow who said it was impossible to get more than two words out of you." How did Coolidge reply?

Italian for beginners

The washed-up scriptwriter sends this clip, and asks the question ""fact or fiction?":



And here's the transcript:

—De Falco: "This is De Falco speaking from Livorno. Am I speaking with the commander?"
—Schettino: "Yes. Good evening, Cmdr. De Falco."
—De Falco: "Please tell me your name."
—Schettino: "I'm Cmdr. Schettino, commander"
—De Falco: "Schettino? Listen Schettino. There are people trapped on board. Now you go with your boat under the prow on the starboard side. There is a pilot ladder. You will climb that ladder and go on board. You go on board and then you will tell me how many people there are. Is that clear? I'm recording this conversation, Cmdr. Schettino..."
—Schettino: "Commander, let me tell you one thing..."
—De Falco: "Speak up! Put your hand in front of the microphone and speak more loudly, is that clear?"
—Schettino: "In this moment, the boat is tipping..."
—De Falco: "I understand that, listen, there are people that are coming down the pilot ladder of the prow. You go up that pilot ladder, get on that ship and tell me how many people are still on board. And what they need. Is that clear? You need to tell me if there are children, women or people in need of assistance. And tell me the exact number of each of these categories. Is that clear? Listen Schettino, that you saved yourself from the sea, but I am going to...really do something bad to you...I am going to make you pay for this. Go on board, (expletive)!"
—Schettino: "Commander, please..."
—De Falco: "No, please. You now get up and go on board. They are telling me that on board there are still..."
—Schettino: "I am here with the rescue boats, I am here, I am not going anywhere, I am here..."
—De Falco: "What are you doing, commander?"
—Schettino: "I am here to coordinate the rescue..."
—De Falco: "What are you coordinating there? Go on board! Coordinate the rescue from aboard the ship. Are you refusing?"
—Schettino: "No, I am not refusing."
—De Falco: "Are you refusing to go aboard commander? Can you tell me the reason why you are not going?"
—Schettino: "I am not going because the other lifeboat is stopped."
—De Falco: "You go aboard. It is an order. Don't make any more excuses. You have declared 'abandon ship.' Now I am in charge. You go on board! Is that clear? Do you hear me? Go, and call me when you are aboard. My air rescue crew is there."
—Schettino: "Where are your rescuers?"
—De Falco: "My air rescue is on the prow. Go. There are already bodies, Schettino."
—Schettino: "How many bodies are there?"
—De Falco: "I don't know. I have heard of one. You are the one who has to tell me how many there are. Christ."
—Schettino: "But do you realize it is dark and here we can't see anything..."
—De Falco: "And so what? You want go home, Schettino? It is dark and you want to go home? Get on that prow of the boat using the pilot ladder and tell me what can be done, how many people there are and what their needs are. Now!"
—Schettino: "...I am with my second in command."
—De Falco: "So both of you go up then ... You and your second go on board now. Is that clear?"
—Schettino: "Commander, I want to go on board, but it is simply that the other boat here ... there are other rescuers. It has stopped and is waiting..."
—De Falco: "It has been an hour that you have been telling me the same thing. Now, go on board. Go on board! And then tell me immediately how many people there are there."
—Schettino: "OK, commander"
—De Falco: "Go, immediately!"

Update (Telegraph):

In a pre-planned stunt advertised on Facebook, captain of The Concordia, Francesco Schettino, sailed perilously close to the coast of Giglio so that the ship's head waiter could salute his family on land.

Minutes before the cruise ship hit the rocks, the waiter's sister Patrizia Tievoli had posted on Facebook that: 'In a short period of time the Concordia ship will pass very close. A big greeting to my brother who finally get to have a holiday on landing in Savona.'

Pure speculation (Swiss for beginners)

Philipp Hildebrand, the CEO of the Swiss National Bank,  had traded on the foreign exchange markets a few days before his bank had forced a peg of the Swiss Frank with the EUR that would guarantee an enormous profit to himself personally. No, wrong. It turns out, it was only his wife Kashya  --- nice name, boobs, attractive, a former model perhaps, no, just a former foreign exchange (FOREX) trader, running an art gallery now, Kashya, who knew nothing of her husband's plans to peg the Swiss Frank to the EUR at 1.20, and who, by exchanging enormous amounts of Swiss Franc at the right time, would make an enormous trading profit. Note that we don't use the word "speculation", the word "speculation" has been defenestrated, even here in France it's "trading" now (imagine the French pronunciation), since "speculation" triggers the wrong instincts --- instincts that were already abrogated by Queen Victoria, her of the Victorian age, the woman who famously informed her cabinet that a "wife knows everything her husband knows." So it was only Kashya, and it was only a matter of convenience that she did use her husband's account since the poor thing did not have a trading account in her own name, but it's clear that it was her, and not Hildebrand, who did the trade, since she, as a FOREX trader, knows the future.

Kashya and Philipp Hildebrand, note the plant in the background

And the press of the Free World is eating this up as if it were Yorkshire pudding.

Imagine you're writing a movie script. What's next?

A missing email perchance, that one particular email mysteriously absent from the records that the Swiss National Bank supplied to some thorough investigator who had been instituted to go to the bottom of this and who went there, and could not see anything wrong since the missing email was missing? Or was it somebody else, a highly-payed person (he/she) from a worldwide accountant firm with an interminable name? Like PriceWaterhouseCoopers? Yes, that's it, PwC. PwC, which failed to spot an accounting error of 54.5 billion EUR in the accounts of the Deutsche Hypobank only 6 weeks ago?  The largest accounting error in the history of the planet? That's the ticket if we need somebody to go Santorum.

And now what? Somebody's dropping a glass, it shatters, and Colombo has a heureka moment? Somebody's whispering in the dark? Somebody's impersonating the dog that didn't bark in the dark?

We don't know. What we do know, however, is that the missing email resurfaces, reappears as mysteriously as the account of Hildebrand's trading account itself had resurfaced (which it should not have, since there's the Swiss banking secret, and furthermore, it was sheer coincidence that Hildebrand's wife did trade in her favor on the FOREX market etc etc, it's so unfair).

Queen Victoria

Now, it is now that the script writer reaches the delicate point where he has to go into the finer points of the matter, for which he has the internet here.

You get the gist. Everything is OK. Hildebrand's story is consistent. There's just one minor problem. There was another email, or phone call, or whatever, from Hildebrand, to his bank, to the effect that the last trade was OK (it will never happen again, but the last trade was OK), and that it was OK to "augment" this trade (so as to enlarge the position that led to the profit).

Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, some wit once observed, but that's the best we can do. Hildebrand stepped down yesterday. Life's unfair.

 Relax. Here's a picture from a better Swiss scene:

View of the Valais (Wallis) valley, Switzerland, 2012

Help me, help me (washed-up script writer)

We haven't heard from the washed-up scriptwriter in quite some time. He was washed up in Kazakhstan, and wrote some poems for President Brftzerk, the guy from the rotating golden statue, and then Brftzerk got arrested or something, and Sacha, who was supposed to keep him company, is back in Europe.

Finally, finally, we have some new news from the washed up scriptwriter.

"For obvious reasons," he writes, "I am setting my next script in the realm of financial stability. And here is my first try. A brief soliloquy (we want our soliloquies short these day's, don't we), that I put into the mouth of this Trichet person, you know who I mean, the president of this European Bank:

Reporter:

What is your answer to German people and economists who want the return of the DM? Trichet: You want answers?
Reporter: I think the Germans are entitled.
Trichet: You want answers? (SHOUTING)
Reporter: Germans want the truth! (SHOUTING)
Trichet: *You can’t handle the truth!* (SHOUTING) [pauses]…
Trichet: Son, we live in a world that has prices, and those prices have to be guarded by men with bonds. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Sylvia Wadhwa? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Lehman Brothers, and you curse Ben Bernanke. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Lehman’s collapse, while tragic, probably saved banks. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves banks. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me on that committee, you need me on that committee. We use words like rate, target, expectation. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a profitline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of price stability that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said congratulations and went on your way. Otherwise I suggest you pick up a Greek bond, and suffer a haircut. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to!

And you know what? I didn't make this up. Heres what Trichet really said:

“We have delivered price stability over the first 12 years and 13 years of the euro — impeccably, impeccably!” Trichet said, his voice rising. “I would like very much to hear the ‘congratulations’ for an institution that has delivered price stability in Germany for … almost 13 years at an annual inflation rate of around 1.55%. It was not by chance; it was because we decided very frequently to do things that were not recommended by the various governments. Our independence is inflexible… We are in the worst crisis since World War II. We do our job. It is not an easy job.”

A movie script goes to see the psychiatrist...

...and says: "I have a dream."

(click on the picture for a larger image)

News from Kazakhstan

The washed-up scriptwriter sends this picture...

...and writes: "Found this picture while searching for images of operating rooms that I need as mental models for the next scene in the Freedom Fries novel, where Brüno (you haven't met Brüno, but anyhow) is going to be brainwashed in a serious way with novel equipment invented by Alberrt."

And he continues:

"I've always found writing difficult, and remember my dear father, who tended to complain: 'I'd be a great poet if mother would only let me and stop clanging with the pots in the kitchen.' In fact, I remember him vividly right now, my father, as the students outside in the street are trying to storm the palace of President Breftzerk. Breftzerk called me this morning (remember, I have been appointed court poet), via the secret telephone line that still works, and urgently requested new hymns on his presidency that are to be read from the palace balcony to sway the revolting masses, but I have a writers block.

The Obama identity

Vanity Fair has a preview of a new satirical novel with political content by Edward Klein and John LeBoutillier involving, among other things, Obama's birth certificate.




And while we are at it, here's an excerpt from one of the hopeless scripts of the washed-up scriptwriter who disappeared in the Bay of Cannes together with the Giant Wave:

INT. FISHER LABORATORIES - LAB ROOM - DAY

Lab environment, gear, computers, desks, etc.
ALBERRT behind his desk, in front of a computer screen.

A toy helicopter crosses the room, remotely controlled by SKINHEAD JOE. The copter buzzes around Alberrt’s head, then lands on his desk. Alberrt ignores it.

SKINHEAD JOE
Alberrt, you busy?

ALBERRT
I’m into the computer of the State of Hawaii Department of Health. With System’s Administrator privileges.

CUT TO:
Skinheads POV.

On Alberrt’s screen we perceive Obama’s birth certificate; a popup window asks “Delete Permanently” with alternatives YES, NO, CANCEL, the cursor hovering over the YES.

ALBERRT (CONT’D) (speaking in cadences, when possible)
In 2001, the State of Hawaii Health Department went paperless. Paper documents were discarded. The official record of Obama’s birth is now an offical electronic record, as Janice Okubo, spokeswoman for the Health Department, informs us via the Honolulu Star Bulletin, the leading newspaper of the archipelago. I am holding this document---the only official proof of Obama’s American citizenship---in my hands … under my mouse, actually, the able mouse of a fringe hacker imposing as system’s administrator, and if its cursor clicks YES, the document is gone, and Obama has lost his citizenship.

SKINHEAD JOE
He can’t stay president without it. Go for it man. Just do it, do it, do it (to the gestures of a winning tennis champion)

Alberrt does not react. An angel walks through the room; the moment passes.

SKINHEAD JOE (CONT’D)
What holds you back?

Alberrt clicks NO.

ALBERRT
I think I need a raise. And there is too much corroborative evidence. A copy of the birth certificate resides in the vault of Obama’s Chicago office.

Alberrt’s screen changes to the image of an Obama official displaying the certificate.

ALBERRT (CONT’D)
The copy has no legal value independent of the health records, but provides a straw to which Obama could cling. Next …

Alberrts’s screen image changes to a clip from the Honolulu Advertizer.

ALBERRT (CONT’D)
..the birth was announced on Sunday, August 13, 1961, in the Honolulu Advertizer.
CUT TO:
Skinheads face, Skinhead clearly clueless

ALBERRT (O.S.)(CONT’D)
Sunday, August 13, 1961, was, as you may recall, the birthday of the Berlin Wall---and we don’t believe in coincidence, or do we…

Now the Skinhead understands.
CUT TO:
Alberrt

Alberrts’s screen image changes to a clip from the Honolulu Birth Star Bulletin.

ALBERRT (CONT’D)
And finally there is the entry in the Honolulu Birth Start Bulletin. Through…(points to his head)…through my brain, I have acquired system administrator privileges to all these sites, but there are backups, there is physical stuff, tapes, disks, in vaults, which I cannot access myself. And the Honolulu advertizer still keeps a physical record. Now, this …

Alberrts’s screen image changes to a mugshot of some guy.

ALBERRT (CONT’D)
… is the system administrator of the Honolulu Advertizer. He got recently divorced, and has several violations for drunk-and-driving.

Alberrts’s screen image changes to a mugshot of KHALID SHAIKH MOHAMMED

ALBERRT (CONT’D)
And this (beat) is the system administrator of the Hawaii Health Department. He never got married, for obvious reasons, but is behind on his mortgage payments, apparently spending too much time in the Waikiki Bananas…

Alberrts’s screen image changes to a picture of the WAIKIKI BANANAS

ALBERRT (CONT’D)
… an infamous beach venue for exotic surfers…

Jacky, the African Prince, de Lempicka, steet fighting, and the washed-up scriptwriter

Jacky, the other famous film producer, left the hill and returned to Hollywood, but on the way back she dropped by at Buckingham palace, where the African Prince (remember?) suggested a look at our blog---this was after he suggested to Jacky to change into a checkered kilt, which she gracefully declined.

De Lempicka on our blog, however, meant immediate inspiration.



The picture on this wall is possibly real (as real Jacky is herself---she also owns a large farm and raises sheep in Devonshire), and the more I look at it, the more I think that the Monaco de Lempickas were possibly not.

We hear from Jacky via email, and tell her about the desperate fate of the washed-up scriptwriter. No problem, she is producing action movies herself now (trailer below); she'll have a look at his work.

A sample script is posted at the page Feature script: "Justice" at the top.

Washed-up scriptwriter (reposted)

While we were strolling on the Croisette in Cannes the other day, a man approached us right in front of Hotel Martinez, a huge stack of manuscripts in his hands.

"Allow me to introduce myself", he said. "I am a washed-up scriptwriter, and I have been following your blog for quite some time. I am writing political satires framed as action comedies---think Lethal Weapon meets Dr. Strangelove---but I cannot find an agent, let alone a studio that would produce my work. I am at the end of the rope, I cannot carry on. I need your help."  

The washed-up scripwriter, after he handed his stack to us

Then he handed me his stack of manuscripts and continued:
"Here is my work; do what you need to do to get it into the Krug-lights."
"Get it into the Kruglights"---I was weighing his words---"perhaps you would have more success if you were to use better metaphors."
"It's too late now." he replied. "Promise you'll do what's necessary."  With those words he turned around (pictured), ran up to the jetty of the Martinez hotel (pictured), and jumped into the water (not pictured).

"Cool", I thought. Well, there we are. I sort of promised, and a blogger has to do what a blogger has to do. Here is an excerpt from his first script, titled "Promises and Consequences". Judge yourself (I refrained from any editorial input; agents, directors, whoever is out there, take note):

Vom Eise befreit

Dirk Sch. sent us this charming picture, and it brings to mind the mysterious scriptwriter that we met the other day on the Croisette. You may recall that he handed us a stack of manuscripts before his unfortunate disappearance in the Bay of Cannes.


Hidden in this heap was a single sheet of paper, not attached to any of his hopeless feature scripts ("Lethal Weapon meets Dr. Strangelove"). The sheet was covered with three handwritten lines, and nothing else. Here they are:

It's hardly legible, and it's in German, but here is the Google translation:

"Are freed from ice streams and creeks,
Spring holder, invigorating look,
Springeth in the valley hope luck."

Yes, I know. Perhaps I should not have brought this up. Perhaps it isn't German after all. Plus, it's unfortunate that his "poetic" lines do not really match the beautiful winter theme of Dirk's picture. One starts to understand why the washed-up scriptwriter had to end the way he did.