A Story, An Audition and a Rant

Wachiwi and Mai

I shared this story with a dear friend a little while back and thought I might share it with the three of you who actually read this blog. It's an old Shoshone story:

There was a lovely and delicate coyote named Wachiwi. She was spirited and fleet of foot. Her eyes flashed in the sun and she spent much of the day dancing along the plains, enjoying the splendor of God's creations. All of nature held her in the highest esteem because of her exquisite grace and humble kindness to all creatures.

Also on the plains lived another coyote named Mai. He was big and clumsy and often mocked because while chasing chickens he would frequently trip over his own feet and fall. Although he was always hungry, he would stop scrounging for food whenever he noticed Wachiwi dance among the blades of grass. His veneration towards her was unshakeable.

One day Wachiwi was dancing in the sun, alone in a field, when suddenly a stampede of buffalo came barreling over the ridge. The incensed beasts paid her no attention as they raced closer and closer, moments away from trampling the poor Wachiwi. Mai was lazily laying in the sun admiring Wachiwi's dance when the buffalo first arrived. Without thinking, he raced to her side, barely able to stay on his feet as he ran faster than he had ever before. But he was too late. At the moment he arrived by her side, the buffalo were upon them. Completely surrounded, there was nowhere for them to run.

Mai did the only thing he could do ... stand steady and strong, brave and confident with his teeth flashing. He pulled Wachiwi in close so that her back pressed against his chest and there was nowhere for her to fall. Together they stood as one among the onslaught of buffalo, Wachiwi supported by the size and generosity of the clumsy Mai. Mai snarling and snapping at the beasts as they drew near. The buffalo, now with a larger target to avoid, raced by their sides, always stepping slightly to one side or another to avoid the large, drooly, snarling obstacle in their path.

As quick as they had come, the buffalo were gone. A frightened and shaken Wachiwi asked her admirer Mai what she could ever do to repay him for his selfless act. He rolled in the grass and made himself comfortable before replying, "Finish your dance?"

Wachiwi continued her dance as Mai admired her, without a second thought to his growling stomach.

Casting About

So we had auditions for Weasel Erotica the other day. It was a long day with two three-hour sessions. We saw a lot of folks and some really great auditions. It was also a reminder of how much nicer it is to be on the other side of the table.

Auditions are nerve-wracking for actors. I hate 'em. We saw a handful of folks who were nervous auditioning for us. In the back of my head I'm thinking, "Calm down. It's not like we're anything special." Then again, to them, we might be.

Mel's in the process of getting the show cast and, judging by the talent we saw the other day, I think we're gonna be in pretty good shape. I'm very excited to get back to work with Mo, Mel and "the real king" Tony King. There's a touch of the jitters knowing that we're venturing into the great unknown again, but I'm feeling confident that we're gonna be in great shape and that we'll have a ton of fun.

A big word of thanks to everybody that came out. It was the first audition session I had been to in ages where we didn't have one single wacko. That's probably because Mel was doing the casting and not me. I always wind up calling in at least one severely disturbed person ... Mel just brought in talent.

Bonds & The Babe

Okay, so if you're a baseball fan and you have any kind of forum to speak your mind, then you've probably weighed in on the whole "Barry Bonds is about to pass Babe Ruth" issue. Bonds is just one homer away from tying Babe for second on the all time home run list. 714. A magic number.

Then again, Bonds is baseball royalty. His godfather is "Say Hey" Willie Mays, perhaps the greatest all-around player the game has ever known. Reggie Jackson is a distant cousin. Barry's daddy Bobby was a pretty darn impressive major leaguer himself. And Barry has always possessed one of the sweetest swings I've ever seen.

The issue, of course, is about Bonds' alleged use of steroids. Alleged. That's a funny word.

Normally a ball player, especially a power hitter, has something of a growth spurt in his mid-to-late-twenties. Bond's was always a tall, powerful guy. He was the first guy to ever hit 400 home runs and steal 400 bases in 1998. In 2003 he became the only guy to hit 500 home runs and steal 500 bases. The guy always was exceptional. But why did he get so huge in his mid-thirties?

The Babe didn't need performance-enhancing drugs to hit 714 home runs. In fact, legend has it that Babe consumed more than his fair-share of "less-than-performance-enhancing" food and fluid. The Babe called a shot. The Babe was a major league pitcher first. The Babe will always have a better career ERA. Take that Bonds!

Should as asterisk be placed by Bonds name? I say, "yes." But not because of all the hoopla about steroids. Because he's a Major League a$$hole. He's a 24 and 1 player, a poor teammate. He's the most selfish athlete I've ever witnessed. So, go ahead Barry, hit number 714. Try to stay healthy enough to catch Hank Aaron's 755. Just know, in my mind, there will be an asterisk ... because unlike the mythological figure of Babe Ruth, or the true class act that is Henry Aaron, you're an embarrassment to the greatest game ever played.

Look Ma, I’m a Writer!

Writing. What a pain in the a$$! Everybody who manages to put pen to paper and create something that is remotely interesting is to be commended. I’m discovering this more and more as I work on Majestic Dementia. It’s bloody hard work. Sometimes rewarding, oftentimes aggravating work.

On the other hand, I can’t help but be offended by anybody who refers to themselves as a "writer." Unless your primary source of income is being derived from writing, whether creative or not, then you really have no business calling yourself a "writer," as if that tag demonstrates some kind of mental or intellectual superiority. We’re all writers. Hell, I wrote a check today to pay the power bill ... that’s writing isn’t it?

I think I might have even less respect for "writers" than I do "actors."

Writing is just spilling out thoughts onto paper, or in this day and age, a computer screen. Teenage girls with their notes they pass back and forth in class and their diary or journal are just as much writers as Hemingway. Sure, their work may not resonate with the public like Hemingway, but they are certainly not writing any less. I bet if you ask a thirteen year old girl if her diary is important that she’ll respond in the affirmative. It’s important to her at least. But that damn sure doesn’t mean that it’s important to anybody else.

What I am writing, whether it’s for this blog or my scripts, may or may not be important to anybody other than me. That’s not the point. The point is that I feel a need to get these thoughts, these stories, these ideas out. Period. If somebody gets some joy out of my mindless rambing, then great. If not, that’s great too. I’m not trying to change the world here.

So, to my "writer" friends (you know who you are, you’re the one’s constantly writing about being a writer), get over it. You’re no more a writer than I am ... and thanks for reading my blog. Now, go write in yours. Try just being a dude who writes and not a writer of importance. Screw importance! Especially self-importance.

Getting Called on My BS

Thank God there are talented folks out there who can call me on my BS. Sticking with the topic of my "work-in-progress, one-man show," if it wasn’t for some talented people calling me on my BS, this show would turn out to be complete and utter crap. Thank God for intelligent people who can notice when I’m being pretentious, for directors who can point out when I’m giving a performance and not letting the reality of this story take place, for people who are already showing an interest in the thing.

I have to call out Cheryl King here. What a great help she has been so far. I started taking a class with this talented lady a few weeks ago and in that short time I have seen this show grow from being a vague idea rolling around the back of my head to something with real substance, truth and potential. I’ve literally done hundreds of plays (literally, not figuratively), worked on numerous television and film projects, have written skits, sketches and plays ... and there is nothing that I have been as excited about as Majestic Dementia. If this thing turns out to be anything worth seeing, much thanks and acknowledgment will have to go to her. I have found more truth, more honor and more comfort in the short time working with her than I had imagined this little grain of an idea would ever generate. On top of that, and much more importantly, she has been an inspiration ... I just can’t freakin’ wait ‘til next week’s class!

The actor with no training is getting training ... who woulda thunk it?

Let’s Go Mets!

Has anybody noticed that my New York Mets are off to the hottest start in franchise history? Has anybody noticed we’re six games up on Atlanta at the first of May? Has anybody noticed that Paul LoDuca may be the most talented and well-rounded catcher in all of baseball? Has anyone noticed that Kaz Matsui can actually play second base? Has anyone noticed that Julio Franco is the Greek god Apollo in a baseball uniform? Or that Tom Glavine can still pitch with the best of them? Or Carlos Delgado’s eleven homers? Or Jose Reyes’ four triples?

You have? Good for you. If not, head to Shea. I’ll see you there soon.

I love this time of year. The season is still young, any number of things can happen, it’s cool in the evening and not oppressively hot yet. And the NY Mets are on top of the NL East standings. All may not be right with the world, but we’re getting closer. Heading to Shea to catch our game with the Braves, and even with Zambrano slated to pitch, I’m feeling good about it. Those of you who know me know that I have been to Shea many times and only witnessed one win. One. And it was against Roger Clemens on a cold, cold, extra-innings night. So, I have reason to have a few nerves when heading out to Shea to watch us take on our rivals ... but for the first time in three years, I’m feeling I won’t be the jinx. Zambrano might be, but I won’t!

Hippos in the News

Recent reports have been published indicating that the common hippopotamus is now a member of the Endangered Species list. Here's the Associated Press report:

Polar bears, hippos, freshwater fish threatened with extinction, conservation group says
May 1, 2006
GENEVA (AP):

Polar bears, hippos and freshwater fish are among more than 16,000 species of animal, bird, fish and plant threatened with global extinction, the World Conservation Union said Tuesday.

According to the Swiss-based conservation group, known by its acronym IUCN, the number of species classified as in serious danger of extinction rose from about 15,500 in its previous Red List report, published in 2004.

These include one in three amphibians, a quarter of the world's coniferous trees and mammals and one in eight birds, according to a preview of the 2006 Red List. The full report is published later this week.

"Biodiversity loss is increasing, not slowing down," said IUCN Director General Achim Steiner.

"The implications of this trend for the productivity and resilience of ecosystems and the lives and livelihoods of billions of people who depend on them are far-reaching."

The Red List classifies about 40,000 different species according to their risk of extinction and provides a searchable online database of the results. The total number of species on the planet is unknown, with 15 million being the most widely accepted estimate. Up to 1.8 million are known today.

People are the main reason for most species' decline, mainly through habitat destruction, according to IUCN.

Polar bears are threatened by global warming and melting ice caps, because they are conditioned for the icy environment and depend on Arctic ice floes for hunting seas. They are predicted to suffer a 30 percent population decline in the next 45 years.

The hippopotamus population in war-ravaged Congo, meanwhile, has plummeted by 95 percent, mainly due to unregulated hunting for meat and ivory in their teeth.

"Regional conflicts and political instability in some African countries have created hardship for many of the region's inhabitants and the impact on wildlife has been equally devastating," said IUCN Chief Scientist Jeffrey McNeely.

Freshwater fish have suffered some of the most dramatic population declines because of human activities that damage their habitat, like forest clearance, pollution and water extraction. Around the Mediterranean, more than half of the 252 endemic species are threatened with extinction.

Seven species, including two relatives of carp, are already extinct, IUCN said.

"Reversing this trend is possible, as numerous conservation success stories have proven," Steiner said. "Biodiversity cannot be saved by environmentalists alone – it must become the responsibility of everyone with the power and resources to act."

Amen to that! The hippopotamus is endangered!?!?! What the hell are we doing to our world when hippos are endangered? I'll be posting more info on how you can help the Hippopotamus population soon! However, on a brighter note, here's a fun little story from earlier this year:

The Tortoise & The Hippo

A baby hippopotamus, swept into the Indian Ocean by the Tsunami, is finally coming out of his shell thanks to the love of a 120-year-old tortoise.

Owen, a 300kg, one-year-old hippo, was swept down the Sabaki River , into the ocean and then back to shore when the giant waves struck the Kenyan coast. The dehydrated hippo was found by wildlife rangers and taken to the Haller Park animal facility in the port city of Mombasa .

Pining for his lost mother, Owen quickly befriended a giant male Aldabran tortoise named Mzee - Swahili for "old man".

"When we released Owen into the enclosure, he lumbered to the tortoise which has a dark grey colour similar to grown up hippos," Sabine Baer, rehabilitation and ecosystems manager at the park, told Reuters on Thursday. Haller Park ecologist Paula Kahumbu said the pair were now inseparable.

After it was swept and lost its mother, the hippo was traumatised. It had to look for something to be a surrogate mother. Fortunately, it landed on the tortoise and established a strong bond. They swim, eat and sleep together, the ecologist added. The hippo follows the tortoise exactly the way it follows its mother. If somebody approaches the tortoise, the hippo becomes aggressive, as if protecting its biological mother," Kahumbu added.

"The hippo was left at a very tender age. Hippos are social animals that like to stay with their mothers for four years."She said the hippo's chances of survival in another herd were very slim, predicting that a dominant male would have killed him.Officials are hopeful Owen will befriend a female hippo called Cleo, also a resident at the park.