Month / May 2005

by DrMabuse

Dalton Trumbo’s Deep Throat


FADE IN:

EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. — DAY

Several ENSLAVED EX-GOVERNMENT WORKERS, all of them in their nineties, are led by ROMAN CENTURIONS into the Washington Monument. The famed landmark is surrounded by crosses, where various elderly men are in the process of being crucified.

Each Centurion has an American flag burned into their bronzed armor and a torn up copy of the Constitution in their back pockets. All wear watches.

One Centurion, CRASSUS, looks suspiciously like a younger version of Laurence Olivier.

[NOTE TO PRODUCER: Talk to the boys behind Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow about doing the rendering for this.]

Crassus leans into ONE of the elderly men, who is named W. MARK FELT.

CRASSUS

Do you prefer oysters or snails?


W. MARK FELT

(with anguish)

Augharghrghrrrrr!


CRASSUS

You didn’t like Emperor Nixon very much, did you?


CLOSEUP

on W. Mark Felt. His face is in anguish, but manages a smile.

CRASSUS

Be a good citizen and tell me that you’re Deep Throat.


Felt spits in Crassus’ face.

W. MARK FELT

I’ll never talk, even if you give me a Vanity Fair profile!


LONG SHOT

The crosses continue down the length of Constitution Avenue.

Crassus cracks his whip. Felt cries out in pain. The other Enslaved Ex-Government Workers continue howling, until one speaks up.

ENSLAVED EX-GOVERNMENT WORKER #1

I am Deep Throat!


ENSLAVED EX-GOVERNMENT WORKER #2

I am Deep Throat!


ENSLAVED EX-GOVERNMENT WORKER #3

I am Deep Throat!


Crassus looks with embarassment upon the scene.

CRASSUS

You think this is the end of Marcus Crassus?


Crassus digs into his face and tears off his Olivier mask, revealing the FRIGHTENING VISAGE OF RICHARD NIXON.

NIXON

Didn’t think I’d come back? Did you? They said I was dead in California. They said I was dead after Watergate. They said I was dead, period!


FELT

Okay! Okay! I’m Deep Throat. Anything you want! Just go away and leave me alone! For Christ’s sake, all I wanted was a Pepsi.


NIXON

Wrong revolutionary, pal. You know all too well that Bob Woodward’s a Diet Coke guy.


FELT

Then let me die gracefully without soda!


by DrMabuse

Taking A Bite Out of the Big Apple

Postings are going to be light and then heavy. But whatever the format and timing, they will be comprehensive on the other side. Either way, my ass is heading to New York to check out this BEA bidness. Count on this site to give you the honest lowdown and to seek out the devoted stragglers.

If you’re in town, I’ll be at the Slipper Room on Thursday night (between 6-8) with several other nice lit bloggers. Please stop by and say hello.

by DrMabuse

Insomnia

by DrMabuse

Sun-Soaked Roundup

  • Sarah is interviewed by Kacey Kowars. Sarah talks about the history of her blog, how she reads and selects content, her new day job, inter alia. The subject of “mean-spiritedness” is also brought up, to which I reply that what I do here isn’t nearly as vicious as 200 proof vodka. I trust most people to read between the lines.
  • So what were some of the other LBC nominees? Were they corporate sellouts? Were they part of the “literary demi-puppet” conspiracy? Au contrarire. Michael Orthofer weighs in on his selection, Christa Wolf’s In the Flesh. I hope to weigh in on my selection (which was second place!) sometime soon too, but there’s some incredible sunshine and a big trip to Nueva York to prep for.
  • The wifi cafe problem is one of the reasons why I’ve remained reluctant to use wi-fi embedded laptops (although this is likely to change to give you folks up-to-the-minute BEA reports). Cafes are social places where you unexpectedly run into friends and acquaintances or get into conversations with strangers about the books they’re reading or the cool tees they’re wearing or the guitars that they’re playing. But I’ve noticed the gloomy misanthropes who stare into their Powerbooks as if expecting some great theological pronouncement taking up tables intended for four people at my own neighborhood cafe and wonder if this is indeed part of the lingering problem Robert Putnam wrote about in his book Bowling Alone. These people, who feel the chronic need to be connected in all ways but the most tangible ones, rarely buy anything, tip or consort with the nice people behind the counter. Frankly, if killing wi-fi access during the weekends will get these deadbeats to understand that (a) a change in locale doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re not a work-every-minute drone, (b) you won’t be rebuked if you don’t answer your email within an hour (at least by the people who matter), and (c) if access is the thing, perhaps broadband at home is more your cup of tea (or hazelnut latte, as the case may be).
  • Tanenhaus Brownie Watch is forthcoming. But cut some slack. It’s a three-day weekend.
  • Jacquelyn Mitchard thought that calls from Oprah were a prank and very nearly didn’t call her back for an OBC selection.< ?li>
  • They’re young! They’re hot! They’re good-looking! And damn, these puppies can write! Wouldn’t a writer make a great catch? Lisa Allardice exposes some of the realities behind pairup glamour. And, yes, J-Franz is name-checked.
  • Hemingway’s Havana estate is endangered.
  • Why does Dracula endure?
  • Diana Abu-Jaber dishes dirt on her food memoir.
  • Decency prevents me from commenting upon this Nick Laird “training” revelation. Return of the Reluctant promises a two-month moratorium on Zadie Smith and Nick Laird news, for reasons similar to Ms. Tangerine Muumuu.