Making the Best of the Post Apocalypse

October 23, 20XX

The zombies came for us again last night. Scratching and pleading for brains at the door, they persisted until five in the morning. About that time we heard a truck driving down the access road. I was confused and then elated at the prospect of more living people this far north. She was terrified and angry.

To her, more people meant more feelings.

"I only have room in my heart for you now," she'd said, after all of our folks went missing.

She had never been the same after that. Honestly I hadn't either. I'd made the best of the post apocalypse, but that's not saying much.

The Nuclear Family

With the recent announcement that Disney/ Pixar is going forward with a sequel to "The Incredibles" I thought I'd go ahead and post the sequel I had in mind. Also, if anyone knows Brad Bird and wouldn't mind sending him my way for story suggestions don't hesitate.

"The Incredibles 2: The Nuclear Family" picks up five years after the events in the first film. All a little older and consumed with their own lives, the Incredibles are all headed in different directions. Mr. Incredible owns and operates his own franchise of crossfit gyms with very minimalist workout routines like throwing cars, bridge cable training, and more. He's become a guru to other super heroes looking to get super fit. Elastigirl spends a lot of her time flying her planes and has grown distant from her husband. Violet is a senior in high school and has fallen in with the bad crowd because of her ability to turn invisible and steal test answers from the teachers. Dash is a freshman in high school and is extremely popular because of his speed and good looks. A definite thrill junkie, he spends a lot of time going out at night and fighting crime much to the chagrin of his parents. The news stations refer to him as The Fast. Jack Jack is in Kindergarten and is slowly learning to harness his powers.

Enter The Nuclear Family! Dr. Nicholas Nuclear, a geneticist who discovered how to turn on dormant chromosomes. In a fit of genius (or madness?) Dr. Nuclear altered his entire family to give them powers and improve their lives. His wife, Nancy, unlocked a masterful use of hand eye coordination. Their son high school senior Nick "The Nuke" Nuclear gained the ability to fire plasma from his hands. Nina, their freshman daughter, learned how to change shapes and appearances. And the youngest Nuclear, daughter Noomi, became the smartest six year old... ever.

Who are the Nuclears really? Will the Incredibles' marriage survive? What's up with Dash's new obsession with beating the bad guys, Jack Jack's new abilities, and Violet's new diamond necklace? Where is Frozone?

Yoda

The swamp held many secrets, Yoda among them. He recognized those mysteries from the second his small escape pod landed on the desolate planet of Dagobah. The little creature sat silent on the shore of the swamp. All around him, the natural chaos of animal and plant life danced in a never ceasing pattern. Since arriving on the planet 19 years before, Yoda had fallen in line with the pattern.

His green hands, cracked and bruised, swayed out over the water. Yoda spent most of his days deep in mediation with the Living Force. 

Different is the Living Force, he thought, reminiscing on the vast understanding he'd gained during his years of self imposed exile. Yoda discovered that the Force was deeper than Light and Dark. There was also Living and Dying. Living Force grew, Dying Force destroyed. The Jedi, in all of their wisdom, never fully understood the Force.

Their need for order, as much as the Sith's need for chaos, clouded their judgement. Their reasoning that Midi-Chlorians dictated an individual's connection to the Force was misguided. Their dissociation with love was in error and their desire to protect the galaxy was incorrect. There was no good or bad. No Jedi or Sith.  There was only living and dying. Growth and decay. Beginning and end. Dagobah was full of both. 

Yoda exhaled deeply, traveling further into congress with the binding nature of the Galaxy. Here on Dagobah, the force was so thick around him he could walk upon it as if it were solid ground. He stepped out and shifted his slight frame onto a pocket of energy that bounced gently yet sustained his weight. Now in the late stages of his life, the old Jedi Master relied on the Force for most of his movement.

He let his fingers reach out toward a gathering of rocks and called for them to join him. He sensed the Force leave his hand, surround the rocks, and lift them off the swamp shore. The 900 year old being flicked his wrist and sent the rocks in different directions. He then brought his hands together and floated back to a cross legged position.

Why do you still train, a viperous voice said from his subconscious. Your failure has ruined everything you ever knew.

Yoda shook the thought away. Long had he pondered the arrogance of the Jedi and all of the problems it had caused the Galaxy. Long had he known they should have never established the temple on Coruscant... so far away from the Living Force. These regrets did him no good now.

Suddenly, a loud crash tore him out of his meditation. Yoda's eye shot open, dilating quickly. The Force found his cane and brought it to his hand. Sensing the direction of the crash, he ran across the swamp on bubbles of Force energy until he reached the other side.

Is LeBron too good?

The following question occurred to me today in anticipation of Game 7 of the Eastern Conference finals between the Miami Heat and the Indiana Pacers.

Is LeBron's versatility a problem?

I know that sounds like madness, but when you think about it the question has merit. King James's ability to play every position is amazing and sounds too good to be true. Who wouldn't want a player on their team who could do everything?

But therein lies the true issue. When you have a player as superb as LeBron you can't put him in a position where he has to do everything. Sure LeBron CAN pass, shoot, defend, rebound, block, steal, and move without the ball better than any player who has every played. HOWEVER, he shouldn't have to do all of those things. LeBron, like most great basketball players, is at his best when he allows the game to flow through him rather than having him work against the game. Being a natural distributor, James wants that ball to move around the court and organically find its way into the basket. Now if that organic way happens to be by a monstrous dunk than so be it. James intensely wants to win and at times during this postseason his teammates have appeared tentative, reluctant, and too concerned with what he was doing on the court rather than what they should do.

So if you're a General Manager or President of Basketball Operations, how do you build around a player who can do it all? How do you add teammates to a roster in which you have a superstar who can comfortably play serious minutes at all five positions? Well here's the deal, you don't. This whole situation is unprecedented. The Miami Heat are struggling in these East Conference finals, just like the Cleveland Cavaliers did during James's tenure there. There is no system, no metrics for this. No GM can look back at a team of yesteryear and say "that's how they did it, we'll do the same thing."

What to do then? I think if you have a player like LeBron your only option is roll the dice, hope his teammates respond to his intensity, and hold on for dear life. And if all goes well, you'll be raising the championship banner and kissing the Larry O'Brien Trophy. If all goes wrong, you be praying he doesn't bolt when his contract is up.

I Love this Game

The 2013 Eastern Conference finals is unique for me. Born in Indiana and growing up during the 90s, I was a Indiana Pacer fan. Make no mistake, I've always been a fair weather fan at best, so when in the early 2000s the Blue and Gold starting losing I started losing interest. But before I sold out and started paying more attention to talent over teams, I watched Pacer squad after Pacer squad repeatedly lose to a certain team from Chicago. Guys like Reggie, Rik, and Detlef couldn't get around those guys named Michael, Scottie, and Toni. And now almost 20 years later, it's crazy how cyclical sports can be. The up and coming Pacers of today face a similar behemoth in the Miami Heat. Here's a quick match up breakdown.

Mario Chalmers vs. George Hill - Both guys run their offenses well with Chalmers holding the edge only, because he's been to the promised land once before. Hill is a solid starter, distributes the ball well and has a good stroke from behind the arc.

Dwayne Wade vs. Lance Stephenson - Wade's got knee problems, but is still Dwayne Wade. He finds ways to get to the basket, but finds it tough due to the middle being clogged with bigs. Aside from the fact that he is hurt, this series has shown that Wade should've developed his outside shooting earlier in his career and is staying hurt due to his game being so reliant on slashing and driving. Stephenson is the wild card for the Pacers. He takes risks that make Hoosiers hold their breath. When he's confident he's amazing, when he's scared he's a liability.

LeBron James vs. Paul George - The MATCHUP. Following classic back and forth offensive possessions in which George posterized Chris "Birdman" Anderson with a definitive dunk and James nailed a deep three to end the 3rd quarter, the two prize fighter's fist bumped igniting the series into an instant classic. I guarantee you that fist bump will be used in NBA marketing for years to come, because Paul George is that next superstar who will challenge the throne of King James.

Chris Bosh vs. David West - So far in this series West has owned the Power Forward position. Being of a fan of his since his days as a Hornet, it's great to see him get a new lease with this team. Bosh has struggled, because he isn't a traditional post player and is playing against his nature when facing West. Bosh's role has been mostly limited to spacing the floor for LBJ.

Udonis Haslem vs. Roy Hibbert - Until Game 5, Haslem has been invisible in this series. He hasn't been a force at all while Hibbert is quickly approaching household name status. Dominant in the paint, Roy has done everything Coach Vogel has requested of him. From pulling down boards to knocking down hook shots. This series has started and stopped in the middle and the Pacers have Roy to thank for that.

The benches for both teams have been even, if not underwhelming in this series. The Heat's stable of shooters have been absent while the Pacers really rely on their first unit for scoring. To be the honest it's really been the LeBron show for the Heat and a balanced attack for the Pacers. But I guess when you have the best player in the world on your team you can approach every game the same way. Get LeBron the ball and get out of the way.

So after 5 games the Pacers are down 3-2 and are heading back to Indy to try an even the series one last time. Will Paul George take over the game as everyone hopes he will or will LeBron be LeBron and hold court with a borderline quadruple double performance?

As a fair weather fan, I'm primarily interested in seeing great performances, but also watching the Blue and Gold during this post season has conjured up old feelings. Feelings I haven't felt since the days of JNCO jeans, playing Goldeneye on the N64 until 3 a.m., and a wicked case of acne.

So I guess the better question is who will show up in my living room on Saturday night? The turn coat fan of King James or the middle school kid who spent too much time trying to shoot threes in his driveway like Reggie?

Who are we kidding... Let's go Heat!

Here's how I'd end "The Office"

Distance continues to grow between Pam and Jim, both literally and figuratively, until they both amicably decide to separate. Jim stays in Philly and Pam stays in Scranton.

The documentary shows that neither of them are doing well in their respective situations. Jim is depressed and alone, tired of his new bachelor life. Pam hates Scranton. Her mom helps with the kids, but it just isn't right being at Dunder Mifflin.

So it all comes down to the last episode. Having had enough, they both quit their jobs without notice. Pam drives home, grabs the girls, and heads toward Philly. Jim walks out of Athlead, heading to Scranton. They just want to be together, no matter where.

Pam's SUV is low on gas. She pulls into the gas station, where oddly enough Jim proposed years before. She recognizes the place as tears well up in her eyes. She turns off the car and waits. Waits for Jim. He doesn't come.

She sighs, gets out, fills up, and gets back in the car. She pulls away and is stopped by another car trying to get to the pump. Of course it's Jim.

We return to the same wide shot in which Jim proposed. They talk feverishly, but we don't hear. They hug and kiss. Jim gets in the drivers seat of the SUV, leans between the seats and kisses his girls. Pam gets in the passenger seat.

They drive off, leaving his car and their past behind.

The Florida Fountain

PROLOGUE

Rupert Remington III had never been so sick... and that was saying something. Ever since the blue blooded oil tycoon turned 65 his health had been kept up by machines. Resperators, ventilators, dehydrators. Remington's fortune kept him going, until the morning the machines weren't enough.

“Rupie, sweetie,” Marjorie, his fifth wife, called from the bottom of the marble staircase. “Time for your water aerobics.”

Remington's palatial and well tended estate was considered by most to be the largest privately owned property in Florida. Remington made sure of it. The only problem with owning a place that massive was when something needed to be said, you weren't always able to be heard saying it. You could be alone in the house or just alone in one room and not know the difference. So when Marjorie yelled for Rupert and didn't get a response she wasn't alarmed. She could've called him, but Rupie hated mobiles. So Margie just shrugged, sipped her Mai Tai, and went back to the pool not knowing he was going to need more medical attention than machine's could provide.

CHAPTER ONE

Moon Bird didn’t think of herself as a hippie, though she most certainly was one. Her husband, Bill “Hulbutta” Haney was one too. Bill’s folks were both full blooded Seminole. In fact his dad was well known for spending his formative years as the voice of the Seminole nation. He protected the Everglades with his life saying they meant more to his people than any amount of money or reservation in Oklahoma ever would. He’d refused to leave when the government came. He staged sit ins, held interviews with the press, and did the things you’d expect from a stalwart, empowered leader.

These actions drew the attention of hippies and activists. Enter Shelley Baker, a young idealist from Wichita, Kansas. Shelley packed up her things then moved herself and her 21 years of perspective to Florida to join Bill’s father and the cause for Seminole freedom.

She met Bill at the same time, changed her name to Moon Bird, for reasons beyond anyone's understanding, and became a part of the Haney Tribe. She was tall, blond, and seemingly a bit of a ditz. She also cared more about the Everglades than Bill. To get him motivated, she started calling him Halbutta, because it was the name of a legendary chief of the tribe. Bill didn't care much for the name, but he did care for Shelley. 

He also cared about the Everglades more than Shelley thought he did, but he let her think otherwise, because that's what men do. They downplay everything. Especially anything pertaining to matters of the heart. So Bill suggested a lot of things in passing to Shelley with the hopes she'd pick up on it and do something about it. Their non-profit preservation company, “Everglades Forever” had been his idea, but he planted the seed over dinner one night. Half a bottle of wine later and Shelley “Moon Bird” Baker – Haney had laid out an amazing business plan to save her adopted promised land. 

A plan that only needed an angel investor or a billionaire seeking immortality who would give a billion dollars to anyone who could find him the Fountain of Youth.

CHAPTER TWO

Ted first heard about the Fountain Contest from his mother. He'd worked a double at Electronics Surplus and didn't want to hear about her day. Being 28 and still living at home did have its perks, but having to listen to his 60 year old mom complain about his laziness wasn't one of them. So when he walked in quickly with the plastic bag of five hard shell and five soft shell tacos, he made his way to the fridge for a beer without saying hello to her.

“Teddy you have to come in and watch the news,” she yelled from the living room.

“I don't want to ma,” he said.

“I didn't say you should come in here. I said you have to come in here.”

Ted did the thing he did best. He sighed, slammed the door to the fridge holding a bottle between his knuckles, and moved into the shag carpeted living room. 

His mom laid on the couch in her night gown. The flat screen TV on the wall framed a nightly newscast. The anchor, a blond haired woman, had a huge smile on her face that didn't look at all professional. Next to her was a picture of a super old looking dude.

“What ma?

Without talking she turned up the TV.

“After several calls to confirm the legitimacy of this story, Channel 9 can confirm that Remington's  contest is in fact real and not a scam," said the grinning male newscaster. "For the latest we're going to our very own, Regina Fernandez who is outside the Remington Estate in Sarasota. Regina,what's happening down there.”

“Give me the gist.” Ted said, growing impatient.

She muted the TV and looked at him for the first time.

“This billionaire is dying of cancer and he'll give anyone who finds him the fountain of youth a billion dollars.”

Ted scratched his head covered with brown hair and considered this for one point five seconds.

“Goodnight, Ma.”

Ted turned to leave the living room and to get to the business of eating tacos and killing zombies in his bedroom.

“A billion dollars, Theodore,” she said as he left. “Think what you could do that kind of money. The contest starts on Monday.”

“Can't do it,” he said, not stopping on his way down the hallway. “Got an open shift on Monday.”

He closed his door behind him.

CHAPTER THREE

Sue knew her son couldn't stand many more chemo treatments. Diagnosed with Leukemia, Little Max was a brave boy, but even brave boys have limits. 

In the hospital while he was sleeping, Sue read an article in the newspaper that first made her mad and then gave her hope. Remington's billion could save her son. Little Max had a chance. With a billion dollars, he would have no limits. 

CHAPTER FOUR

Chester Newsome was far richer than anyone else he knew. So when he heard about old man Remington's strange billion dollar contest he wasn't swayed by the money. He was swayed by the thought of the water.

Newsome ran Pure Spring Bottling. A fortune 500, his company sold plastic bottles of H2O all over the world. What if that two parts hydrogen, one part oxygen could make people younger? They'd buy more plastic bottles full of it. They'd buy so much, Chester Newsome would be a house hold name. He'd have a golden pool full of magic water.

Ok, so maybe he was swayed by the money.

CHAPTER FIVE

So they all started the search. There were millions in fact who went looking for the Fountain of Youth. 

The dead beat dude and his mom.

The single mother and her child with Leukemia.

The hippie wife and Seminole husband.

The millionaire bottler looking to be a billionaire bottler.

And more. Many more.

CHAPTER SIX

News outlets followed the pandemonium. Mobile cities sprang up overnight. Fights broke out. It was madness in Florida... more madness than usual.

Until somebody actually found it and then the world stopped.

It turned out the Fountain of Youth. That mysterious cascade of blessed water. That reservoir of revitalization. That wellspring found by Ponce De Leon wasn't buried deep in the everglades. It wasn't hidden in a cave off the coast of Cocoa Beach. It wasn't even in St. Augustine.

It was in Mary Elizabeth Loomis's backyared. A retired schoolteacher from New Jersey, Marjorie had known about the rejuvenating properties of her fountain since relocating from Trenton in 1987. She'd been selling the stuff to octogenereans for years and wasn't about to give it all up without a fight. It turned out that the water didn't make you look younger, but most certainly made you feel it.

Coincidentally, Mary had stockpiled quite the arsenal of firearms and ex-military types to use them. She announced her claim of the fountain to prevent bloodshed, but bloodshed could not be prevented.

On the 5^th day of November, the Fountain War of Minneola began. Everybody showed up too. The U.S. Army demanding the fountain was property of the United States. The Spanish Army declaring they deserved ownership, because one of their most famous explorer's found it first. And of course, there were all of the mercenaries who all collectively laid siege to Mrs. Loomis's cozy retirement home. 

Her forces kept the others in a stand off, until her favorite gardener Luis got shot in the neck by a soldier of fortune from Ecuador named Pablo Rizon. A ex-military contractor, Pablo had been hired by Pure Spring bottling the night before and had only meant to fire a warning shot above Luis's head. 

The paramedics got to Luis in time, but the whole ordeal pissed Mary off something fierce. She ordered her hired hands to focus their fire on Pure Spring and that's when things got really bad. Stray bullets hit the US and Spanish armies and they had no choice, but to open fire on everyone else. 

Mary got clipped in the shoulder. Pablo, the Ecuadorian gun for hire took two to the belly, and the Fountain War was over 21 minutes after it began.

Shortly thereafter, the US army occupied the grounds. The Spanish apologized profusely and called for diplomats from the UN to smooth things over. Pure Spring's publicist got out in front of the bad publicity and claimed the whole thing was a promotional stunt for their new 100% biodegradable plastic canteen hence all of the military presence in a retirement community. Marjorie recovered from her wound. Pablo didn't.

Rupert Remington III died at 11:42 the following morning.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Reaction

Far over the Misty Mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

the pines were roaring on the height

the winds were moaning in the night

the fire was red, it flaming spread

the trees like torches blazed with light

Let me start with saying that I loved "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey". Do I think it's pitch perfect every step of the way? No. Do I care that it's not pitch perfect every step of the way? Also no.

I realized while watching that I'm not a film critic. For years, I wondered if I was a film critic and not a filmmaker. Can you be a critic and a creator? I suppose. But I always secretly feared that I was just a critic. Just someone who complained about really bad movies. Trust me, I've done my share of complaining. I railed against "The Phantom Menace". I gave "Crystal Skull" what for. I whined over "King Kong". 

But somewhere along the way, during my own trials in filmmaking and television production, I realized just how hard it is to do this sort of work. Along the way, I found that it was easier for me to sit back and point out every flaw in a film than it was for me to actually do the hard work of making my own. And that's when I figured it out. 

I hate film criticism. 

I don't want to sit back and examine film. I want to stand up and make it. 

 

The Passengers

FADE IN.

INT. AIRPLANE – DAY

A well to do OLDER MAN in his fifties sits in the aisle seat. The seats next to him are empty. He is balding with a nice white linen shirt and gold watch.

A YOUNGER MAN approaches the older man's row. The younger man wears a gray hooded sweatshirt and jeans. He carries a backpack over one shoulder. He stops next to the older man.

The younger man checks his boarding pass and the seat identifier above the older man's row.

YOUNGER MAN

                Sorry, but I'm 15E.

The older man doesn't look up at him.

OLDER MAN

                15D.

The younger man checks his ticket again.

YOUNGER MAN

                I'm sorry it says 15E.

The older man looks up at him for the first time. He is very stern.

OLDER MAN

                My seat is 15D. I paid extra.

The Couple

FADE IN.

INT. CAR-NIGHT

A HUSBAND and WIFE sit in a running car outside of a white house. Snow falls gently outside. The wife in her early thirties, warms her hands with her mouth and pushes down her winter hat over her ears.

WIFE

            You going to turn the car off?

The husband turns off the car. He fidgets with his gloved hands and scratches his scruffy beard.

WIFE

            You ever shot a gun before?

He shakes his head. She glances into the backseat. A six shot revolver rest on the seat.

HUSBAND

            I don't want to look at it.

WIFE

            You want me to cock it for you?

HUSBAND

            Sure.

She reaches back, grabs the gun, and sitting straight in her seat pulls back the hammer. She hands it to him.

HUSBAND

            Bob put the bullets in there before we left, right?

She nods. The husband looks out the windshield at the white house.

HUSBAND

            And we're sure he's home?

WIFE

            Quit stalling and go kill the guy.

The Adventures of T1M

        

T1M

Tim was a robot, but didn't know it. In fact everyone in New York was a robot, they just didn't know it. If they did they certainly didn't show it. If they knew that New York wasn't the real New York they didn't show that either. So even though Tim was a robot and that should've been an odd fact, it wasn't because everyone was and that made all of them odd. So Tim wasn't odd at all.

What was odd was the relationships Tim had with other robots. He didn't have parents. He didn't know he was supposed to have any. Actually, Tim did have parents. Build Station 1 and Build Station 2. 1 built his body while 2 built his brain. They were rather bad parents, who never sent birthday cards, because if they sent them to Tim they'd have to send ones to their 7 trillion other children. Alas, Tim didn't have any parents. What Tim did have were friends, two of them. Kim and Jim.

Quality Control

8:00 am

Park car. Swipe security card. Put on gloves, mask, suit. Time on line 8:00. Watch the parade.

Yellow. Yellow. Yellow. Goldenrod. Yellow.

Wait, Pete thought. That's not right.

He quickly pulled the off-colored Twonkie from the conveyor belt and added it to his report. 

REASON FOR SCRAP: Discolored snack cake. SOLUTION: Maintenance check on Oven

He sighed and threw it away. To anyone else being a Quality Assurance Technician at a snack food manufacturer would be a dream job. It paid decent. You got free samples. There was no union. Supervisors left you alone for the most part.

But to Pete it was hell. 9 long months of hell. Pete didn't want to watch snack cakes one after another. He wanted to play guitar. He'd always wanted to play guitar. Instead he made excuses.

No time. No money. No venue.

It didn't help that Pete's “office” was small. Secluded with white sterile walls, his room stood apart from the rest of the plant and best of all had no windows and only one door. It was the perfect place for people to come, hide out, and complain about their jobs. Pete inevitably became their sounding board, their psychiatrist, their Quality Control.

When word spread there was a good guy in QA who listened, folks came out of the wood work to see the guru.

There was Ralph from Packaging with his incessant need to talk about his rash. Darlene from Logistics and the tales of her dating just about man in the place. Jim Dean from Maintenance and his drug binges.

No topic was taboo.

Watch out for Gollum, he'll bite off your finger

If you've been sleeping under a rock you probably don't know that "The Hobbit" just started shooting in New Zealand. After much delay with Actor's Unions, Peter Jackson's health, and the notorious battle of intellectual property, Tolkien's first journey into Middle Earth is at last begun production.

I am very excited.

You can tell how excited I am by the fact that I am writing a blog to say how excited I am. I don't write. However, I will write for 'The Hobbit." I remember 12 years ago when a friend of mine looked at tons and tons of production stills from this big budget movie called "Lord of the Rings." I had of course heard of the books, but hadn't read them. I was a Star Wars guy you see. Prick me back then and I would bleed Yoda quotes, statistical analysis on AT-AT design, and midi-chlorians... well maybe not those, I tend to still believe the Force binds us all without explanation.

Anyway, I was impressed by my buddies love of the production, the story, and the world this guy named J.R.R. Tolkien made up. It wasn't until two years later that my mind was completely blown. "Fellowship of the Ring" gave me a feeling. A feeling I hadn't felt since...

Fast forward a few more years and I have now read five of Tolkien's Middle Earth works, including "The Silmarillion". I know that makes me a die hard fan and that's cool. I AM A DIE HARD FAN.

Now it is me who watches Peter Jackson's blog from the set of "The Hobbit". Now it is me who drools over production stills. Now it is me who has plans for a Middle Earth themed tattoo... right across from my Star Wars one.

 Enjoy the first installment of Jackson's blog from the Set.

Ghostbusters 3 Script Leak?

No, not exactly...but this is how I wish it would start.

INT. HAMLISCH ESTATE - NIGHT

A night vision view of a storm outside the window of a dust covered room. A PONY TAILED MAN in his late thirties carries an electronic device that looks like a cordless razor covered in blinking Christmas lights. He turns to the camera.


                           PONY TAIL
           According to my PKE meter, the influx of paranormal
           residue appears to be coming from this room. 

Pony Tail looks at his device. His eyes go wide.

                           PONY TAIL
           This is amazing stuff. I haven't heard of readings this
           high since the Viggo the Carpathian Incident in 1989.
           I've got to tell Timothy.


Pony Tail takes a walkie talkie off of his belt and holds it up to his mouth.


                           PONY TAIL
           Tim, you've got to get down here. Incredible stuff, Tim.
           Tim. Over.


Tim doesn't respond.


                           PONY TAIL
           Tim, where are you?
           Tim? Tim?


Pony Tail looks at the camera man.


                           PONY TAIL
           He always answers.


A LOUD GROAN can be heard from the room above them.


                           PONY TAIL
                           (SHOUTING)
           Tim!


                           VOICE (O.S.)
                            (MUFFLED)
           Help!


Pony Tail looks again at the camera man.


                           PONY TAIL
           Dear god!


He runs out of the room. The cameraman follows him up the stairs. Pony Tail stumbles in the middle of the staircase.


                           PONY TAIL
           We're coming, Tim!


Pony Tail frantically bounds up the rest of the stairs. He runs down the hallway to the room the sound is coming from. Pony Tail stops outside of the room. He holds up his PKE Meter to the cameraman. Every light on the device is glowing. Pony Tail's eyes are wider than ever.


                           PONY TAIL
           Let's do this.


Pony Tail kicks open the door and rushes in. He stops dead in his tracks.


                           PONY TAIL
           Oh my god.


The cameraman gets around Pony Tail and instantly stops on TIM, a bald man in his thirties laying on the ground. He is covered in goop. It appears he has pissed himself.


                           PONY TAIL
           Tim, what happened?


Tim is catatonic. He is shaking and mumbling.


                           PONY TAIL
           What's that smell, Tim?
           Did you... did you mess yourself?


Tim does not respond. He only struggles to point to a closed door on the other side of the room. 


                           PONY TAIL
           Is there something in there?


Tim slowly nods. Pony Tail turns to the camera. He wipes sweat off of his forehead.


                           PONY TAIL
           Finally... proof of the paranormal, this is gonna get 
           so many freakin' hits on our YouTube.


Pony Tail creeps toward the closed door. 


                           PONY TAIL
           Make sure you get this Mort.


The cameraman moves to get a better position to show Pony Tail open the door. Pony Tail reaches the door and looks at the cameraman one last time.


                           PONY TAIL
           Eat your heart out, Ghost Adventures.


Pony Tail grabs the knob and flings the door open. He closes his eyes briefly. There is nothing there. Pony Tail leans his head into the closet.


                           PONY TAIL
           What? Tim, there's nothing in here but old Twinkie boxes.


Pony Tail turns back to Tim.


                           PONY TAIL
           This a joke?


Pony Tail turns back to the closet and is...


SLIMED by SLIMER. The green ball of ectoplasm blasts from the closet, hits Pony Tail in the chest, and knocks him to the ground. Pony Tail screams as Slimer smothers him. The cameraman backs up to get a better view of the sliming. 


Suddenly a WHISTLE from the hallway outside the room stops Slimer. 

In the door way stands, RAY STANTZ, with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Though older and heavier, Ray still wears his proton pack and holds his Neutrona Wand with the same confidence as before, maybe even more.


                             RAY
            Come on, let's go. Don't make me light this up.


Slimer drools, causing tons of ectoplasm to fall onto Pony Tail.


                             RAY
            Get in the trap and we'll just leave these three 
            poor, though misguided, fellas alone. Make it easy.


Ray drops the trap on the ground and kicks it over toward Slimer. Slimer lowers his head and begins to move toward the trap.


                             RAY
            That's it. Good boy. You know the drill...


Slimer stops and slowly spins around with that same old hot-dog eating grin.

                             RAY
            Don't do it. Don't do it.

Slimer smiles wide and flies at the cameraman. The cameraman falls backwards, we see only the ceiling. Ray's head appears in view.


                             RAY
            Stay off of my turf and quit trying to steal   
            my customers. 



                                                        HARD CUT TO:

       


          

California

In two weeks, Audrey and I are celebrating our 5th wedding anniversary by hopping on a plane bound for Anaheim, California. We are going to do what we do best. Adventure. It has been too long for two wanderers such as us. From the very beginning of our relationship we have known it is our lot in life to journey. On one of our first dates I turned to her and in my most pretentious of tones said...
"You're my Gypsy Queen."
Little did I know how true that statement would be. Not a year later, Audrey would fly off to Romania for 4 months. Romania. The home of the Gypsies. Coincidentally, I have Romanian Gypsy heritage. Needless to say, being on the road is in our blood.
We've been all over country in the past five years. Louisiana. Florida. Texas. And now we return to California for the second time. Who knows what we will find there. We may find nothing. We may find good times screaming down Splash Mountain. We may find our calling.

We may find God waiting with a sign when we get off the plane.

The sign may read "Jake and Audrey, Stay for awhile".

The Frozen Wastelands of Late January Football

This Sunday marks the Conference Championships in the NFL. Only four teams remain. In the AFC there are the New York Jets and the Pittsburgh Steelers. In the NFC there are the Chicago Bears and the Green Bay Packers. No matter who wins on Sunday and then goes to the Super Bowl, these games sound like they could've been from 40 years ago. There's no Jaguars, Buccaneers, Texans, or Titans. No Panthers either. There are four teams who all have storied legacy. To the Namath Jets of the 60s, to Bradshaw's Steel Curtain in the 70s all of these teams feel right. That's not to say I deny it when a newer team goes the distance, I just like it when the old school teams are able to march all the way to late January.

So what are my predictions?

NFC

I think Chicago playing at home will be too much for Aaron Rodgers and the Packers. If Cutler plays smart and Hestor keeps giving him good field position they have a good shot at winning. Chicago defense will take care of the rest.

Chicago 24- Green Bay 14. Bears return to the Super Bowl after a four year absence.

AFC

I can't stand either of these teams. Coming from Indiana I'm a Colts fan. The Jets knocked out them out in the Wild Card game so I can't root for New York. I don't like the Steelers attitude. Especially James Harrison, he's a dirty player and I don't like the way he plays the game. Unfortunately, the Steelers do and that is why he is still on their roster. I'd rather see the Jets win because I think the Bears would have a better shot of beating them in Dallas. However, I think the Steelers will contain Sanchez and Rothlisberger will be too big physically for the Jets D to stop.

Pittsburgh 28- Jets 21. Steelers also return to the Super Bowl after a two year absence.


Next week I'll write up a little something something about the Big Game.

              

The Hero's Path

The light cycle felt good under this weight. He never thought he'd care for the fast paced action of the Arena, but after your first victory you couldn't help yourself. After all he was a User and everyone in the stands loved him. They loved his blue lined suit. They loved the way he isolated opponents, turned their momentum against them, and kept winning the matches. They loved that he was different. They loved that he had the power to save them...

With all of the Tron: Legacy soundtrack listening I've been doing over the past few weeks I felt like a short blog might be a good idea. I'm saying now that the music from this movie will outlast the movie itself. The music is breathtaking. It feels like it could've been made in the 1980s and that is exactly how it should sound. The usage of the original Tron theme is pitch perfect as well. Anytime the listener needs to feel a connection to the original material Daft Punk drops a few bars of the old stuff. It's very smart for this music to stay close to home while also going for it's own unique sound.

George Lucas is the Real Scrooge

Ok, everyone who may read this will say I need to lighten up, but I'm not going to. This blog is directed solely at George Lucas. Recently, a youtube video made the rounds showing the main character from Forces Unleashed: 2, Starkiller, break Chewbacca's neck right after he forced Han Solo to shoot him in the back. This is disgusting. For all of you who think that I am mad because "it didn't happen that way" need to shut your mouths and read what I am going so say next.



I don't care that it happened out of canon. I don't even really care that it happened...

Thanks Daft Punk

Something cool happened today. I wrote. Now I understand that a blog devoted to the struggles of a lazy writer shouldn't need to have a blog entry detailing how someone struggled to write. It should be a given. However, this is my blog and I can write about whatever I want... even if it is redundant and a no-brainer.

So one of my biggest struggles as a writer is guilt. I feel guilty when I don't write, I feel guilty when I do write. I feel guilty when feel inspired to write the "wrong thing". Is there any other creative endeavor in the world where guilt plays a role? Do guitarists feel bad when they are inspired to learn how to play a song when they are supposed to be learning to play another? Do painters get all bottled up when they'd rather paint a mountain scene when they are contracted to paint a portrait? Do actors get uptight when they are in a B-movie when they really want to be on Broadway?

I don't know.

All I know is that I have so many ideas in my head (and I'm not saying any of them are good) that most times can't seem to just sit down and put them on paper. When the stars do align and I can focus on one I will then psych myself out of writing, because I should be writing on something else.

"What you want to write right now is nonsense and serves no purpose," says the weirdness in my head.

"But it won't go away," I say back, realizing I'm talking to myself and am therefore a bit insane.

"Fine then, write it... but you won't have any fun."

Usually this last thought efficiently puts the brakes on any writing and I stop.

Today was different.

Today, thanks to the Tron Legacy soundtrack by Daft Punk I was inspired to start up a sci-fi story I've had in my head for years. My brother and I made a sci-fi short film about the same basic characters and subject below
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-6306085763456247119#

What I wrote today is the next step in the story. Part of the reason I never did anything with it is because I felt that maybe I should just leave it alone and move on, but for some reason I really like it so I never did. So I wrote today and it felt good. Even if I don't write on it ever again, at least today was cool.

That's when I blow it...

So it has been over two weeks since I blogged. One of the specific reasons for doing this blog was to force me to consistently write. FAIL!

I could just stop the blog, but that's what I've always done. So instead of stopping I will make a concerted effort to blog twice a week to make up for my lack of November posts.

To quickly sum up my November.

1. Saw Harry Potter 7 Pt. 1... twice. If you haven't seen the movie, watch the first 6 and go see it. It is definitely worth your while. Read a great spoiler free review of the film here.

2. Went to Starbase Indy, a fan run Sci-Fi Convention on Thanksgiving Weekend. Met a look of cool fellow geeks, networked a bit, shot an episode of Born For Geekdom. All in all a great time, one full of nostalgic moments.

That is what I call a quick sum up.

I'll write more soon.

Live long and prosper.