INT. LOST PRODUCTION OFFICE — DAY
DAMON runs ALL THE WAY THE FUCK INTO THE OFFICE, passing SIX FUCKING WRITERS. He carries a latte — A FUCKING VENTI LATTE, MOTHERFUCKERS! Teach that FUCKING BARISTA a lesson!
CARLTON holds up his hand. Holy. Fucking. Shit. It’s the BIG FUCKING HAND of a FUCKING BIGSHOT TV WRITER!
Emphasis is important.
We need more fucking.
More fucking Flann O’Brien.
Jack fucks the dead fucking skull of Flann
Fucking O’Brien?
Damon spills his latte onto the boardroom table. Holy. Fuck!
Fuck. Where’s Brian when you need him?
The writers cower underneath the table. BENT and BROKEN! This is a REALLY INTERESTING standoff and suddenly —
Christ, do I need to straighten out another fucking
mess from Season 3?
ON CARLTON. Yeah. Oh yeah. Fucking camera tight on FUCKING Carlton! GET AS CLOSE AS YOU CAN ON HIS FACE OR I’LL CANCEL YOUR LUCRATIVE SENFUCKINSATIONAL CONTRACT, YOU DIRECTOR CUNT!
What? The? Fuck? Writer!
(seriously fucking backpedaling)
Have the intern look up Faraday on Wikipedia again.
Maybe there’s some bullshit science we can throw
in. Keep the fucking websites guessing.
But oh no! YOU FUCKING DIDN’T BRIAN!
And then Damon’s got this like BIG FUCKING LOOK OF HATRED — like he’s going to FUCK Brian. Up. The. Ass.
Hey, comic boy. You want to pull some Bryan Fuller shit
on me?
No, man. I was only —
Because I’ll write a script with more fucks than
a callgirl’s monthly ledger.
Fuck you.
No, fuck you!
And the other writers are like totally RUNNING THE FUCK AWAY as Carlton and Damon are TOTALLY FUCKING BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF EACH OTHER!
- BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Oh yeah baby! That FUCKING sound. Instantly recognizable as a fucking emphasis. We’re IN THE SHIT here, folks. Make up some kickass camera moves, MOTHERFUCKERS.
And if Brian has some FUCKING IDEAS on where to go from here, well then YOU KNOW HIS FUCKING PHONE NUMBER!
Fuck YOU!
(Tip: Bookshelves of Doom)
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (
I’ve often wondered why Americans think that “have sex” is an obscene insult, while most of the rest of the world uses words referring to “hell” and “damnation” or accusations of questionable ancestry.
:-S
Look how weird and strange it gets if you replace “F***” with the synonym “Make love to”:
—————-
CARLTON
Emphasis is important.
DAMON
We need more lovemaking.
CARLTON
More lovemaking Flann O’Brien.
DAMON
Jack makes love to the dead lovemaking skull of Flann Lovemaking O’Brien?