Executive Troll Logic

Brian Frons, the Machiavellian head of ABC Daytime was quoted by AP as he tried to explain the network's decision to simultaneously cancel All My Children and One Life to Live, "If you have a show in severe decline, you're trying to catch a falling knife." After that comment Frons flippantly quipped that he "...pre-entered the witness protection program prior to today's events." The demise of the two venerable soaps was actually a year in the making, Frons said to insiders. "A year ago, we started to look at our projections where the ratings for the soaps would go," he said. When those projections came in pretty discouraging, the network began to aggressively develop replacement shows, 15 of them. Four of the 15 were picked up to pilot: The Chew, The Revolution and two others, a talk show and a dating show. Originally, the idea was to cancel only one daytime drama, Frons said. But "the way the ratings developed and the pilots turned out, the ratings developed negatively and pilots developed positively, so we decided to make a bigger shift."

Really Brian? Are you kidding me? You are the head of Daytime programming on ABC and for the past 9 years you couldn't bring in new producers, writers and directors? You couldn't shoot the shows digitally and cut some corners by allowing the producers and writers to edit? Why weren't the ABC soaps EVER promoted in primetime? Why did you refrain from pulling together a top notch group of marketing and public relations teams that would have put soap stars on late night talk shows, on the covers of mainstream publications and the internet? Give us all a break Brian and spare us from your absurd corporate troll logic. It's nothing more than the same old rhetoric.

The truth of the matter is, Brian Frons was never cut out to be in charge of soap operas. He didn't understand them nor did he ever lift a finger to "cross-promote" and re-envision the shows. I'm willing to bet he rarely even sat down and watched a soap opera.

As it stands, All My Children will go off the air in September, replaced by The Chew, a live one-hour show about food and nutrition, featuring two cast members from Iron Chef America and nutrition expert Daphne Oz, Dr. Mehmet Oz's daughter. Frons described it as a cross between The View and a cooking show. One Life to Live lasts until January. Its replacement is The Revolution, made by the producers behind The Biggest Loser, and will be a health and lifestyle show featuring fashion expert Tim Gunn. Each week the show will focus on the weight loss transformation of one woman.

So to clarify Brian Frons' decision, he is willing to toss away at least 5 million viewers without so much as blinking an eye or looking back. In my opinion, this is an extremely risky decision, not to mention rash and delusional. I have said this many times before and I will say it again, the face of entertainment is rapidly changing as the "digital convergence" is upon us. It's leveling off the playing field and making dinosaurs out of the networks and studios.Once an audience becomes "interactive", where THEY have a say in what occurs... they will NEVER return to being "reactive"... And the power is perpetually shifting toward the audience. Never EVER underestimate that audience as they can make or break you.

No Joy In Soapland

There is no joy in Soapland today. Two more of the once highly revered daytime serials have been cancelled. All My Children and One Life to Live, as I am certain everyone has heard, have both finally been unplugged from the life support systems... and if you listen closely enough you may just hear the dismal sound of the heart monitor flatlining in the distance. It goes without saying that daytime soap operas are a dying breed. Like Westerns before it, soaps are an undeniable American invention, and yet they are fast losing the power they once had to entertain audiences. I have said this before and I will say it again, "If you no longer relate to or understand your audience... if you are no longer a part of your audience, the audience will inevitably disconnect and move on."

This has little to do with the fact that Americans no longer find continual storytelling interesting forms of entertainment. Indeed, most of primetime television has adopted continual storytelling as part of their narrative arcs. Ever since the CBS primetime soap Dallas became a ratings smash during the eighties, televisions series have used narrative arcs as forms of storytelling, borrowing directly from a genre that has used continual storytelling with far greater efficiency. Now, shows like Grey's Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, Breaking Bad and many others are using this storytelling form with greater depth. But there IS a major difference: the writers understand the audience. They "get" the fact that viewers are much smarter and far more savvy than network execs like ABC's Brian Frons (a man who should have been fired 8 years ago) does.

Soap opera stories are now so predictable and telegraphed that they insult the intelligence of the audience. I'm not making any great revelations here. Everyone in the soap industry is fully aware of its problems, but they refuse to let go of the past as much as they refuse to hire new producers, directors (who actually... wait for it... DIRECT). The soap genre has been comprised of an incestuous group of executives, producers and writers that are NEVER fired... they are merely recycled.

Producers and writers with a reputation for unraveling and practically killing shows, simply move to another soap opera. Trust me, this DOES NOT happen in primetime or film. If a writer joins a primetime show and the ratings dip... the writer is fired and more than often, they move to a lower rung. If a film producer and director puts a major studio into the red with a huge flop... the producer and the director are fired. Writers such as Irna Phillips, the dean of all soaps, Agnes Nixon, Harding LeMay, Douglas Marland, Henry Slesar and others once had enormous control over storyline directions. And while many of these writers were still beholden to network executive dictations, they were still given freedom to determine storyline and casting decisions.

That all changed during the late 1970s when executive producer Gloria Monty singlehandedly saved the ABC serial General Hospital from cancellation by modernizing story pacing and by bringing cinematic conventions to daytime. Afterwards, the executive producer became the "visionary" of daytime. Though writers continued to exercise some control over storylines during the 1980s, by the '90s and '00s that medium became largely the visions of executive producers as the same writers were shuffled from one soap to the next, creating a schizophrenic identity for each soap from which none has ever quite recovered. In the case of ABC soaps, each show is now under the micromanagement control of the head of daytime, again, Brian Frons, whose vision for the shows blurs out any distinction in favor of bland homogeneity with pretty people.  

Decisions regarding storylines, casting, production, etc. are now determined by whether they'll appeal to younger demographics under the misguided notion that younger viewers are only interested in watching stories and characters that vainly reflect their own realities. This means that older, veteran characters much beloved by longtime fans are now being shoved to the backburner or written off entirely to make way for younger actors, many of whom were cast for their good looks and not for their acting skills. These various decisions have dumbed down the medium and earned it the stereotypical reputation that non-soap viewers have regarded it over the years.

Bad writing and wildly implausible storylines now rule the day as executive producers attempt their desperate bids to goose up anemic ratings. Their efforts end up resulting in what online fans are now speculating is the self-fulfilling prophesies of the networks to do away with soap operas entirely.

But the Powers That Be's over-reliance on out-dated focus polls, the archaic Nielsen Ratings... and the misguided conventional wisdom of what they "believe" that fans want, in the long run, is what's destroying the creativity of the medium. Now soaps are merely written in a paint-by-numbers fashion, with the same stories being repeated over and over again to increasing fan dissatisfaction. In the end, it is the vision and control of the executive suits and producers who are to blame for the genre's sad state of affairs.

The one show that took a major risk which "could have" paid off in the long run was the now defunct Guiding Light. By introducing the viewers to Olivia and Natalia, two women who eventually fall in love, GL brought a much more "diverse" audience to the table. Actress Crystal Chappell gave us some incredibly heartbreaking performances in a deeply affecting, topical and brilliant storyline. But, as we all know, Procter and Gamble was far too conservative to allow some fascinating "reality" to wash over its viewers. It was a mistake of epic proportions as the storyline was reaching audiences as far away as Bangkok and New Zealand via the internet.

Television executive Tim Brooks was recently quoted as saying, “We are seeing the end of a genre..." I for one am convinced his statement rings all too true for what once was a groundbreaking part of the television landscape. As I said in one of my previous notes: I can't find much optimism about the near future of Daytime Soap Operas. If you take a moment and listen to the lyrics of Mr. Mister's, "Broken Wings" (Bo & Hope's adventure song) perhaps the Powers That Be will somehow "get it"... that the broken wings are the perfect metaphor for daytime soaps... and someone needs to wake up [AS IN RIGHT NOW], "Take these broken wings and learn to fly again..." but that, my fellow soap opera friends... would require nothing short of a divine intervention.. a miracle. I am in no way discouraging anyone from writing letters to ABC, shutting down the email systems and all of the faxes. Brian Frons, who I have had the absolute displeasure of talking with... is not an executive that connects with the audience. He sees this as "good business practice" and refuses to believe that perhaps the audience is much more "in touch" with the REAL world and what they want than he is

Take These Broken Wings

Okay “Days of Our Lives” Fans… the year was 1985. Bo and Hope were daytime’s biggest phenom. The song “‘Take These Broken Wings” by Mr. Mister was pushing to the top of the charts. No cable competition. No Internet. It was indeed a simpler time. I was in my mid 20s at The University of Pittsburgh where EVERYONE was glued to the televisions in the dorms at 1:00 p.m. I also worked at The Beaver Valley Power Station for my Mom’s massive company, where all of the construction crews were “hooked” on Bo and Hope. There was a “spark” that ignited and we all watched as Bo and Hope rocked Daytime Television to its very core. This wasn’t “Luke and Laura” and it wasn’t just “hype”… this was something more and it couldn’t be defined by chemistry or anything else.

Bo and Hope were defining a new generation of Daytime Soap viewers. Bo (Peter Reckell) was the very first “anti-hero” to hit the daytime screen with a powerful vengeance. His long hair and scruffy beard made him stand out from the characters we had been accustomed to seeing. He dressed a bit like Kurt Cobain and wore snakeskin boots with ripped layered sweat shirts topped off with camouflage pants and a motorcycle that made us all want to beat the system and head out on the open road… while Bob Seager’s “Roll Me Away” taunted us to abandon the expectations of those poor saps who would never dare to step out of the lines.

Now you have to understand that in 1985, Yuppies had been calling all of the shots, driving the “safe status cars” and looking down their collective noses at anyone who dared to embrace “freedom”. The “suits” were everywhere. Hope, well… she was the girl who loved to cross the tracks onto the proverbial “wrong side”, where blue collar and having a beer were foreign to this somewhat spoiled “princess” who instantly saw her freedom and passion for life in Bo. Bo was a Bohemian Renaissance man who wasn’t interested in following the rules, he made his own… but the core of the character was based in the values he had been raised to respect.

There was this indefinable magic and everyone felt it as this “super couple” took us all on the road to adventure, romance and everything in between. I can remember watching the couple’s very first scenes and thinking, “This is going to become a world-wide sensation”. And sure enough, with the inclusion of Francis Reed [Alice Horton, Hope's Gram] as a hip Grandma who was routing for Bo and Hope as much as the rest of us were… it all took off and we just kept coming back for more. God it really was a simpler time. And yet it was all being strategically put together in a way that my generation knew… soap operas were now hitting “cool” for the rest of us.

As Bo and Hope struggled to escape all of the perils that seemed to show up at every turn, we were being treated to location shoots in New Orleans, Miami and New York and a breaking of the “mold” which our parents had accepted over the years… stories consisted of having coffee at each others kitchens and gossiping.

Fast forward… it is 2011 and whether anyone cares to admit it or not Bo and Hope may have grown older… but the magic has never really left, it’s just being kept in a box. It’s sad that the scope of Daytime Television has turned its back on taking risks, speeding up the storytelling process and giving its viewers something to cheer about… something to route for, care about and keep returning for more. Maybe I’ve become a tad bit cynical as I have watched its agonizing demise. The producers and writers are such an incestuous group that RARELY, if ever, do they bring in anyone with a new and bolder vision that might just soar.

I can’t find much optimism about the near future of Daytime Soap Operas. It’s going to take much more than bringing old characters back and hiring new producers and writers to write as brilliantly as they do for some of the prime-time shows… it’s going to take nothing short of a divine intervention to save all of these shows from inevitable extinction. The actors and actresses are NOT the problem. And we all know it.

If you take a moment and listen to the lyrics of Mr. Mister’s, “Broken Wings” perhaps the powers that be will somehow “get it”… that the broken wings are the perfect metaphor for daytime soaps… and someone needs to wake up [AS IN RIGHT NOW], “Take these broken wings and learn to fly again…”

Insidious— Chilling and Inventive

James Wan’s latest film, ‘Insidious’ managed to shock, scare and amuse the SXSW film festival audience during a midnight screening at Alamo South Lamar theater. The story of a family, who begin to experience paranormal activity in their new home, may seem like your typical horror film setup, but if anything ‘Insidious’ is a refreshing take on the ghost thriller genre, reminiscent of movies like Poltergeist, and the work of cult horror king Sam Raimi. The creepy visuals also call to mind the work of Guillermo del Toro. Together those inspirations create an entertaining film experience unlike anything currently out there. Josh (Patrick Wilson), a school teacher, his wife Renai (Rose Byrne), find themselves dealing with the unexpected coma of their son, Dalton.

They soon learn that their son is not in a coma but rather, his spirit has traveled through the astral plane, leaving his body as a shell to be invaded by wandering entities. The film deviates from the religious concept of ‘Hell’, instead referring to the dark realm as ‘The Further’, and using the idea of astral planes for the out of body experience.

With this, you get a film that doesn’t play to what audiences would expect most of the time, but something different, and yet familiar; a film that is not so much about exorcism, or holy water, but dreamscapes in the vein of Friday the 13th. Going in to the movie with little knowledge about the film definitely added to the thrills. During the screening I attended, there was a guy sitting next to me, who would literally flail his arms each time there was as a scare in the film. The visual, and audio impact are pretty effective, and the payoff is worth the suspense, even the most macho movie-goer would jump in their seat.

Though the family dynamic between the husband and wife characters Josh and Renai is mostly flat, and may not be the most convincing with dialogue that is mostly predictable, the film still stays on course to entertain the audience with a number of supporting characters, and visuals. ‘Insidious’ is a little bit of everything that horror filmmakers James Wan, and Leigh Whannell took inspiration from. They succeed in making a unique film that provides the goods, surely to be a favorite for anyone looking for a few chills, and thrills.

Rubber— A Tire That Kills People.

When Robert, an inanimate tire, discovers his destructive telepathic powers, he soon sets his sights on a desert town; in particular, a mysterious woman becomes his obsession. Quentin Dupieux’s Rubber is definitely one of the most quirky and ridiculous films you’ve never seen. It sets out from the very beginning to make sure the audience knows that they have never seen a film quite like Rubber. Why is this film beyond explanation? No reason. And that is exactly what Rubber is— an ode to the ‘no reason’ of cinema. In a strange prologue where one of the characters is speaking directly to the audience he explains the intent of the entire film— “no reason.” The film revolves around a tire have buried and forgotten in the middle of the desert.

The tire, for some unknown reason, wakes up and we follow is discovery of consciousness as well as discovery of his powers. Psychokinetic powers like being able to make things explode. Things like people’s heads. That’s right. A psychokinetic murderous tire that rolls about the desert making people's heads explode. This tire has a name as well. As we said, his name is Robert.

As the film rolls on (did you like that?), we start to disconnect from ‘tire’ and connect with ‘Robert.’ He becomes a sentient being— rubber or not— and the audience gets pulled in to who he is and how he feels. Yes, how the tire feels. In the film there is a group of people watching from the desert with binoculars. Watching the same thing we are watching on the screen except they are watching it live. Giving commentary as we go and basically echoing what the film audience should be feeling at that time by speaking directly to the audience almost. This meta factor of the film adds a strange layered effect to the story that makes the movie feel like a movie within a movie. Ultimately, it all doesn’t really make any sense, but for a good reason— the absence of reason.

Rubber would have made an incredible short and would have been a cult hit regardless who was reviewing it, but it definitely took a considerable risk by releasing as a feature length film. If the film doesn’t get its hooks in you from the start, you will quickly grow tired of the novelty and start wondering where in the hell it is going and how much longer is it going to take. For those seeking the genuinely absurd, Rubber will deliver on every note.

If you prefer your films, as well as what you do and how you spend your time in life, to have reason, then Rubber probably isn’t for you. Outside of those reservations however, Rubber is a completely ridiculous and fun ride where the filmmaker is basically pointing a finger at himself, as well as the entire history of filmmaking, and laughing by celebrating the asininity and pointlessness of the world of cinema. The police deputy in the film, played by Thomas F. Duffy, asks the audience in his prologue, “Why can’t we see the air around us?” No reason. Why is the president killed by someone he’s never even met in JFK?” No reason. “Why is E.T. gray?” No reason. Rubber sets out to make you realize and appreciate the “no reason” factor of cinema.

By the end you are asking yourself, “Why am I enjoying this?” or even better, “Why am I even watching this?” And the answer is most definitely— no reason... and THAT is what makes this film so cool. You just enjoy the "ride"... or the "roll" if you want to be technical about it.

Saying Goodbye to Tom Youtes

Written originally on Sunday, January 16th, 2011 at 7:31 a.m.

As I sit here, reflecting on the year which passed, 2010... I cannot help but think about a very old friend who passed away in 2010 without my knowledge. As life moves so fast— we barely blink before we inevitably stop to realize that perhaps we simply "lost touch" with a number of people... for a number of reasons some of which are simply the result of the evolution we all face from decade to decade. I was in my early 20s when my mother's trucking company was in full swing. I was still going to college when I took a job at The Beaver Valley Power Station Unit II Phase. It was a union job and I was inducted into The Teamsters Union with very little fan fare. To me, it was a card that stated I was qualified to drive a pick-up truck filled with those huge water coolers you see on the sidelines at football games filled with Gatorade.

You see, the plant was still being built and they hadn't installed a water system so it was our job to see that everyone had drinking water. I drove and the two guys who rode next to me carried the water from the truck to each location. It wasn't exactly quantum physics and we usually finished up our entire route before our lunch break. John Fattore and Tom Youtes became my partners in a quest to avoid boredom at all costs and find amusement at every turn. We read the Pittsburgh Post Gazette, Bloom County was our favorite strip... and we ALL (every single person employed there), did the Crossword Puzzle of the day. Boring stuff right? Wrong.

You see, Tom, John and I were Masters at the art of finding a plethora of ways to keep ourselves partially sane and randomly amused. I brought in sketch pads and writing paper to "capture" the fascinating in what others might not have noticed. I also brought a small television set that plugged into the truck lighter outlet and every afternoon the three of us would watch Days of Our Lives and come up with our own scenarios which would have made Salem far more entertaining than it ever was. It was the early 80's and we were all finding our way into adulthood as we created as much anarchy and mischief as humanly possible. We found so many ways to escape the job site and party at the small taverns in the nearby town of Midland, PA. We were the misfits, the outlaws... the water crew that no one was ever able to locate or capture. We'd spike the water with lemonade and vodka during the holidays...

We played poker with the electricians and convinced the carpenters to build us whatever we needed in return for playing their numbers and taking their bets to the "bookies" who we would give cases of the whiskey (meant for the engineers and top plant executives) that we would find no matter where they hid it. We ran football pools and card games. We even had our own kitchen hidden away where we'd cook Italian pasta, sausage and drink home made wine. We never really saw it as work even though we were being paid rather well to show up.

We shared holidays together, got each other through tough times... When Tom's wife had a miscarriage and lost his daughter Sonya, he was devastated. John and I took up a collection to help with the funeral expenses. It was a time in our lives like no other. My college friends welcomed "The Water Crew" and we spent time going to both college and pro football games together. The Beaver Valley Power Station Unit II Phase was our playground and we rode the wave until I finished up college and moved on. But Tom and John and I still hung out together, going to college parties, football games, pro wrestling shows and partying with guys like hulk Hogan and Roddy Piper who we found at the bars near the old Pittsburgh Airport after the shows.

But as time went on, we saw less and less of each other. I ran into Tom in early 1992 and we went to his favorite bar, shared drinks and laughed about all of the shenanigans we were actually able to get away with on the job site. It was so good to see him. He was married again and he looked so happy. He also mentioned his dog, a black lab who went everywhere with Tom, had passed away and that he missed him terribly. We talked until the bar closed and as we left I hugged him very tightly and we both promised to get together again at some point. I had no idea that I would never see Tom again.

When I heard (via another dear friend) that Tom had died, I thought about all of the things I didn't say. But then I realized that even though I hadn't said everything I wanted to say to Tom... it was okay. People lose touch... and more than often it isn't because we don't care, it just happens. One of Tom's favorite films was "The Big Chill"; it's still one of mine. For those of you who haven't heard of it, the storyline is: "A group of seven former college friends gather for a weekend reunion at a posh South Carolina winter house after the funeral of one of their friends."  The storyline of The Big Chill is strong, and one that is easy to relate to as an adult. Who doesn't wonder if their lives have gone in different directions than we originally intended? Who doesn't see the irony in choices we have made throughout our lives? I know that I do.

I miss Tom. I will always miss Tom. But I also feel so very fortunate to have known him at a time in my life when we all felt immortal... Everything has an end, we all know that. Death is a natural end. It is something that we all know is going to happen, there is really no way around it. It is a part of the entire cycle.

Thomas R. "Youdiee" Youtes, Jr., 50, of Monaca, passed away Monday, September 6th, 2010, due to a recurring bout with cancer. Born on June 27th, 1960, in Aliquippa, he was a son of Thomas R. Sr. and Doris J. Youtes. Tom was a construction worker and a member of the Laborers Union Number 833. He was also a member of the American Legion Post Number 580. Tom was preceded in death by a seven-month-old daughter, Sonya Vonne Youtes. Surviving are his wife, Laurene Muzic Youtes; his parents, Tom and Doris; a son, Bryan Youtes in Florida; a daughter, Jestynne Youtes of Ellwood City; a stepdaughter, Johnna (Todd) Haller of New Brighton; a granddaughter, Taelor of Ellwood City, and two sisters; Suzanne (Bobby) Hunt of Monaca and Kristin (Jack) Hurley of Monaca.

An Ode to Frank "Chops" Lalama

Written on Friday, October 1st, 2010 at 2:06 p.m.

Yesterday I silently said good bye to a friend in a room filled with so many people that the air was struggling to fill my lungs. He passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. He had something I realized... and it dawned on me yesterday as I drove to the bar [Papa Duke's] he frequented so often. So I was reminiscing... and then it came. Like a hand from God. This one was easy... as it happened with me around dozens of times. Chops was FAMOUS for his loud howls, bird caws and backward breathing laughter. It was his status symbol and it was contagious. He lived life like no other. He had no list... no agenda, no motives. He gave so much to so many without expectation and not one single person who ever met him could escape his generosity. His heart was pure.

Chops and I were never the best of friends. Our conversations were usually sports-related. But there was never a time when I wasn't greeted with a hearty welcome and a confident smile. He was larger than life... and I observed him as I would anyone with such a voracious appetite for the things that make life worth living. Without knowing, he taught me to appreciate the simple things— the significance of a damn good field goal kicker, a frosty mug of Guinness, the mathematical logistics of the "point spread" in any sport. And when he celebrated his 40th birthday, I was the one who drove like an insane person to make sure that he had a birthday cake fit for a king. Mostly, Chops (unknowingly) taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty. I wish we could have been closer... but things like work and time and family obligations tend to snuff out the candles of what should have been.

As you grow older, you'll find the only things you regret are the things you didn't do... because in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years. Frank "Chops" Lalama, 40, of Center Township, died on Thursday, September 30th, 2010, in Heritage Valley Hospital in Beaver, Pennsylvania.... but oh how he truly lived.

The NyQuil Zone

For the past several days I have been dealing with a very nasty cold. The congestion, sinus pressure, coughing and sore throat have been very difficult to deal with. Then again, according to my entire family and my dog— I have been very difficult to deal with. I blame it on all of the cold medication I have been taking, especially the NyQuil. While I was on a NyQuil induced mind-numbing, psychedelic experience, I began to wonder what else NyQuil might be used to create. Since I was essentially in some sort of cosmic lucid haze and had nothing better to do, I put on my really cool mad scientist outfit... or maybe it was just my old white bath robe with some Playtex rubber gloves and safety goggles and did some experimenting.

As a result of my experimentation, I have developed 5 unknown uses for NyQuil that I would like to share with all of you:

Nyquil works very well as a de-icer, for the very first time in a week there has been no ice or snow on my back porch. Much to my surprise and curiosity, NyQuil is actually rather flammable. It was a great help in getting that wet firewood turned into a raging inferno in no time. Of course, the volunteer fireman was not at all amused by my brilliant discovery. In fact he appeared to be not only stunned but irritated enough that I thought about sharing some Nyquil with him

Since I was home and had nothing really better to do, I thought I would take some time and do the laundry. Would you believe NyQuil was a fantastic stain remover? That pesky paint stain on my red Snuggie is now history! While in my garage wandering aimlessly and trying to think of other things to do with NyQuil— I happened to see some sort of strange black bug crawling around. Once I tried it... you guessed it— NyQuil is a very fast acting strange bug killer!

I also found out that if you mix the Red and Green NyQuil flavors together and drink the entire concoction— Neo from the Matrix movies will join you on your NyQuil-induced joyride into a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call The Twilight Zone. Rod Serling usually doesn't appear until after you've downed an entire shot of Patrón Reposado with limes.

@charliesheen— Winning On His Own Terms

Winning! That’s what Charlie Sheen is all about, and you can either love him or hate him for it— and that’s where his magic lies. Doesn’t hurt that he’s got tiger blood and Adonis DNA either. Despite what every media outlet, news­paper, and soccer mom is disgusted about— all they will allow themselves to see is the surface level, the literal inter­pre­ta­tion of his words and actions… causing them to make a right­eous judge­ment of a man with “addic­tions”, rather than the epic­ness of his wisdom and when he finally said, “ENOUGH! I AM MY OWN CURE!” It's amazing how liberating that can be.

Then there’s the other people who just find it all hilar­ious; and as funny as the things Charlie Sheen says are, there is serious enlight­en­ment and insight behind the “lulz”. He is blunt and offen­sive to the average American because he goes against their grain— their boring, average, dull, sleep of a life— and that’s not even mentioning the crazy porn stars, drugs, and partying. Sure he may have had alcohol/drug issues in his past, sure he might be an arro­gant bastard, and sure he might not even be from this terres­trial realm— but that’s no reason to condemn him for living HIS life on HIS OWN terms… it should actu­ally be the cause for his celebration.

Most people “float by” on phoney public relations… they tell us EXACTLY what we want to hear. And that works for most people. Those who refuse to “walk on the edge of life” for a moment and tell others how they REALLY feel. Let’s face it, most people barely get a “taste” of what matters, let alone the opportunity to throw caution to the wind and empty out the pit of seething anger we hold in because we convince ourselves that we NEED our jobs or that our families and friends would never understand the way we REALLY feel. So we “do the dance”… we turn in our dreams for the human hamster wheel and we fall into line… like the rest of the worker bees.

I mean, let’s just imagine it for a moment, shall we? We all have the same amount of money as Charlie Sheen. We’ve all been born into a thriving Hollywood pedigree and we’re being handed schwag by the tons, an entourage of people as willing to follow us as we plunge into the abyss of what we have never seen or tried… and then we are given credit cards with no limits… cash by the bundles. At some point in every person’s life there is that moment when he/she craves that “power”… the ability to say to your annoying brother-in-law, “F$#K OFF!” The opportunity to buy the restaurant [where the smart-ass waiter treated you like garbage]… and as opposed to just firing his rude-ass… you give him a week’s worth of his own behavior until he finally submits… and quits.

Charlie Sheen’s inter­views have ALL gone viral, along with his catch phrases and slew of new internet memes: because they’re winning, duh. Now initially, as I was watching them myself, I totally was like “this guy is crazy… but damn he’s funny”. Then a few minutes in, he started saying things that were really powerful, like— “can’t is the cancer of happen” —whoa… hang on a minute… that’s actually brilliant. So maybe there’s some­thing to learn hidden inside all of this madness and mayhem…

If you haven’t seen the inter­views, I HIGHLY recom­mend you watch them all, completely. Not only are they the ulti­mate dose of Charlie-Sheen-drug-brilliant-humor, there is a lot to learn from this Vatican Assassin. Can’t is the cancer of happen— Just like Yoda in Star Wars “do or do not, there is no try” and Nike’s slogan “just do it”, Charlie “gets” that a lack of action and fear is a sort of “cancer” to getting things done. Stop all of the the excuses, believe in your­self, and take action. RIGHT NOW.

Ignore the fools, trolls, and clowns— Haters will hate all day while they sip the Hater-aide. These people crit­i­cize your action and progress since they don’t have the balls to do it them­selves. Ignore them and take advice from those that care. “Sleep rhymes with sheep”— Funny isn’t it? Charlie knows most people are just spir­i­tu­ally and worldly asleep, like Neo was in The Matrix. Stop being an obedient sheep that behaves and does only what it’s told… blindly. Wake up and start living… ON YOUR OWN TERMS!

Step up and change it right now. Look your father in the eye and say. “You’re wrong, I’m different, I’m better. Watch me.” Become free from the opin­ions of others and your­self— STOP caring about what other people think about you. Say awesome things— let your humor and wisdom always shine through and light up the lives of those around you. Dare to be a total freakin’ rock­star from Mars! Always look for some­thing to learn in every situation. Be special— because you are! The media, school systems, corpo­ra­tions, and govern­ment want everyone to be average and elim­i­nate indi­vid­u­ality. This is absurd. Stand out, be your­self, and express your creativity. Stop being like the masses and just be YOU! And last but certainly not least… wherever you are, enjoy the view!

The Leave it to Beaver Culture Myth

They have come to symbolize the stereotypical 1950’s– 1960s family and American life to the point where many people today believe these representations of family life were factual, if not somewhat idealistic, views of the 1960s. Shows such as The Donna Reed Show, Father Knows Best, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and Leave It To Beaver all espoused upon the ideal, middle class family…not quite perfect but whose faults were minor and non-threatening to the individual and society. These themes were carried on into the 1960s with shows like The Dick Van Dyke Show and even into the 1970’s with The Brady Bunch. Even though some aspects rang true, the reality was different for a majority of Americans. It’s interesting to wonder what effect these shows had upon those, especially females, who lives were not reflected, and never would be, in the mythical family life portrayed every week.

The setting was almost always the same; a neat and tidy small town, suburban setting, near enough to a city that supplied the father his white collar profession. Mother were seen as happy to stay at home, cleaning and cooking all day (often clad in dresses and pearls) with no career ambitions beyond volunteering for some local group. Father worked at a nondescript profession, the white collar ‘salt mines’ and never talked about work beyond a few vague replies to the “how was your day” comment from his wife. Children were well adjusted and well behaved, unlike the more realistic though ignored angst ridden young adults, though probably not to the extent that was seen in films such as Rebel Without A Cause or novels like The Catcher In The Rye.

But what did those true middle class Americans think of these images? They may have been humorous for many women, but the reality was often different. Women were in the workplace and in careers, though many were regulated to the traditional roles. They usually worked out of necessity and not for fun money for themselves. For instance, my father was a white collar worker in a research lab, yet my mother was always working. She had a full time job until she had children, and then worked part time on night and weekends while my father cooked, cleaned, and took care of four small children. This was the norm for nearly all families in the 1960’s neighborhood I grew up in, and seemed to be that way for nearly everyone.

Beyond the mass consumerism aimed at Americans, especially the new teen demographic, television emerged as an entertainment device with sometimes an unexpected impact. The growing power of the new entertainment segment would have a perceptual influence upon Americans. It also became a device that could manipulate though its entertainment. If your weren’t part of the Leave It To Beaver world, were you viewed as doing something wrong or not working hard enough? Or did people simply realize that it was a fictionalized take on life, done purely for entertainment reasons. It’s also odd, given this promoting of woman in television land as nothing more than secondary apolitical beings that some many women stepped to the front to take action on so many social and cultural issues. I wonder what people like Betty Friedan, Rosa Parks, Mamie Till, Diane Nash, or even Jackie Kennedy thought of the completely sterilized suburbia of television.

While television created the ideal middle class myth, it also had unexpected influences. The McCarthy Red Scare hearings revealed to Americans the transparency of Washington power politics and the fear mongering that it employed, often for personal advancement. The nightly news broadcasts of such events as the Childrens March in Selma, complete with fire hoses and attack dogs, brought the Civil Rights movement home to all Americans (Could anyone imagine Theodore Cleaver or Ricky Nelson being involved in such a protest…or any type of protest). The altering of presidential politics in the 1960 election with the Kennedy/Nixon debates, where substance began to take a backseat to style. The impact of the daily televised war footage in the later 1960’s split a nation into opposing sides, the anti-war verse the silent majority. If television was meant to be a conforming device, it failed in several areas.

My Latest Existential Thoughts

Yesterday, I called up a friend and talked for three hours about how nothing really matters, about life being absurd, everything goes to hell anyway, about there being no matter, about everything being pre-determined, about pain (and particularly my back aches) being the cause of philosophical progress, and about how our actions don't really matter because we're insignificant compared to the size of the universe, about how everything that humans do is because it is a "surrogate activity" designed to fill in a void caused by a lack of meaning, about how marriage is an institution designed to keep people docile (ref. Gore Vidal's essay "Sex is Politics"), about how happiness can be achieved only if I could have complete control over the entire universe (ref. Leonard Cohen's "The Future"), or about how so many people in the world are starving and immersed in the fear of becoming homeless.
The first thing you need to do is become a seeker and understand the reason for living. When I use the word seeker, I mean a person who understands that the outer world is not everything; life is more than just the outer world. Whenever you feel that life is just more than what you experience through the senses you become a seeker. You start seeking the truth. Again and again, life reminds you of the truth, that life is beyond your control; especially when some near and dear ones die, or there is some accident, or you lose your job. Then, you are completely shaken, and don't know how to handle it. Either you fall into a depression or you suffer. You have to then start seeking... especially when you feel that your life is no longer in your control. The seeking should be a deep understanding, not just an emotional reaction. When understanding is added to the seeking, you will see that you will be transformed. The truth is, life itself is a psychodrama. If you understand clearly that you are playing this drama again and again and again, you will realize that being a human is nothing great. If you do the job of the body, the shell, the human, you will realize that it's just another job. It is purely your choice. It is just a matter of who chooses to play what role. But if you can escape the world of human EGO, the ID... you will be free.

It's all about transcendence. We dream, we fantasize, we get intoxicated with food and drink and physical contact, only to escape our own company if only for just a moment. Without those moments of ecstatic bliss of expansion which free us temporarily from our lives of quiet desperation, we may as well die. What is it that does it for you that lets your spirit soar high in the skies of purity? Can you remain flying in those skies, or does gravity pull you down unceremoniously? When we enter the space of deep frustration that human existence brings, and enter the vacuous emptiness that escapism through sensory excitement leaves in its wake, a new space opens. A space of bliss eternal, ever renewing, ever nurturing. A space of bliss which is not polluted, corrupted, by insiduous thoughts, or feelings, or actions. A space of bliss which has always been ours. In that space we realize, we are home... or in a number of cases [see above]... homeless.

The Misunderstood Vampire

The vampire is one of the oldest, most resilient archetypes in modern media. It has existed in a variety of forms in nearly every culture around the world. Historically, vampire lore has reflected the values and social structures of the culture it has existed in. In the twentieth century, the United States became the focal point of the vampire genre. As the archetype became integrated into American culture, modern vampire media changed. Several cultural elements were responsible for these alterations. The American people's relationship with religion and spirituality were important elements of the changes. Also, the American fascination with a variety of scientific theories in the fields of evolutionary, medical and psychological science, were other forces that shaped vampire media in the modern era. Modern concepts of gender and sexuality also contributed to the dynamic alteration that occurred within vampire media in the last twenty-five years.

Okay... so I watched every last one of the Buffy The Vampire DVDs.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer, which spoke so eloquently to a media-literate savvy, self-aware audience, was witty, sardonic, complex and stylishly self-conscious. It worked on so many levels. It was a take on the horror genre, a soap opera about teenage and young adult angst, a bang-kapow action drama with plenty of fast-and-furious martial arts, and an exploration of modern and traditional storytelling. The scripts were more than just a bit inventive and the plots were always unpredictable, filled with a ton of sharp twists and even sharper turns. Buy the entire boxed DVD set. You'll inevitably thank me.

Nocturnal Holiday Musings

It’s 4:50 a.m... I’ve been listening to a rather languishing a.m. station that’s tuned in somewhat faintly within the corridors of my dysphonic somnambulist soul. Frank Sinatra is softly crooning a perpetually romantic rendition of ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’. Director Frank Capra’s timelessly poignant character, George Bailey consistently occupies that virtuously relevant portion of my often disillusioned holiday heart. But make no mistake about it... I sincerely admire George Bailey. I can’t help it. He reminds us all each and every hectic holiday season that we are so much more than a piece of irrelevant carpet lint on the vastly eternal rug of life.

Clarence, the wacky yet lovable “angel first class” shares his child-like interpretation of the individual significance we each take for granted on a daily basis. As resident ‘Peanuts’ Zen-like philosopher Linus explains to Charlie Brown the religious and spiritual connotation of Christmas, I must confess, I feel compelled to carry a trusty blanket and find peaceful solace in all of my nocturnal wisdom. Linus of course, personifies the immovable force of absolute faith in all that is truly “hopeful”. Whether you are religious or not, you can’t help but feel a bit comforted by Linus’ frank understanding of the human tendency to become “caught up” in the whole process of materialism and status. As Linus so eloquently explains, the holidays are supposed to, apart from all of those witty yet immensely commercialized standards, generate a distinctly humble sense of “goodwill” and “compassion” amongst all mankind.

From my own life experience, this of course, all somehow tends to dissipate during what I call the “Holiday Deadline Crunch Week”... Of course, I have often pondered the real meaning behind the necessity of shopping relentlessly for the appropriate gift. I’ve often discovered over the years, I have no accurate way to gauge the word “appropriate” when it comes to gift selection. It’s almost like blindly throwing an aerodynamically correct paper airplane into a hurricane.

So instead of cluttering my psyche with the vast selection of never quite appropriate gifts, I choose to contemplate concepts of a more consequential nature. I pause quietly to reflect upon my own Christmas past. I envision my family and friends and I must admit I begin to think perhaps the ultimate purpose of the holiday season does really come from within... that the meaningful gifts we essentially give one another each and every year can’t ever be discovered at Wal Mart... that the Grinch couldn’t steal Christmas from the kindly Whos in Whoville... because the sentiment exists in a deeper place we tend to forget during the mundane rituals we so incessantly complain about.

The indisputable passion of the holiday season allows us all the rare opportunity to embrace those closest to us with love. That a likely explanation for the evolution of life on the planet is that it was deemed necessary that there should be at least one species on the planet with an awareness of its underlying reason for existence. And just what might be the reason why this form of life has come to exist, to have this wondrous thing called “self-awareness?” I myself argue that it is because there is the need for at least one species to be able to articulate its reason for being.

Reflecting on the wake, my purposeful passage through the last forty-something years of this sojoum “around the great pond” has left on the shore, it occurs to me that it has been to reach a point where it was possible to recognize that this thing called “life”... has been different as the result of my having been here. It is the realization that just as I can list a litany of experiences that have shaped the choices I have made. It also occurs to me that not only have I been placed on this earth to make a difference, but more specifically, to have placed a “positive” spin on this existence.

As John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens while we are making plans.” I was far too focused on the destination to realize that it is the journey that is of substance. But how does one come to truly appreciate the journey, to realize the importance of the present moment? How do we learn to look back, but not stare into the past? How do we come to recognize that all events, even the chaotic and traumatic, are part of all that is not so much “good nor bad,” but simply meaningful? I then glance back over my shoulder and note the opportunity to learn at the knee of a grandfather whose enduring wisdom was never accurately reflected in his academic credentials or public accomplishment, but who found meaning in the little things he could do for others.

Whether it is the films of Frank Capra, inspired by the depths of misery during the great depression and W.W.II or the incredible mosaics of St. Isaac’s in St. Petersburg produced by the masters who worked for next to nothing in Czarist Russia more than a century ago, this thing called life, for me, is different because somehow and in some way, individuals followed their hearts and listened to the passion that welled up from deep inside and could not be contained by the reason and logic that the world tends to use as a deterrent to hold back one’s passion and creativity. We all posses the ability to give flight to the human spirit. Just as we have had to leam how to look for the “gift inside of the problem,” so do those with whom we share this planet need the opportunity to learn this miniscule bit of wisdom; we tend to do best what we do most... to dare to dream or show compassion.

That being said... I have been so blessed.

I have had the unique opportunity to cross the paths of some unbelievably remarkable people in my 44 brief years on this plane... relatives, teachers, friends, actors, artists, students, clients and more than a few strangers who have touched my soul and never even knew how deeply, shaping my life in countless and wondrous ways. I have come to enjoy this life, but most importantly it has presented me with the opportunity to realize that I have had and continue to have the opportunity to accomplish the very reason that I have been placed on this earth... to leave this place, this plane of existence, in just a little bit better shape for my having tried
to make a difference. And to all of you whom I hold so dear... I wish you peace, love... and a silent good night.

Copyright © 2005 Bridget Petrella Media Relations

Quantum "Flux" Physics

I was listening to my favorite talk radio show on the planet... or in this particular dimension of universe... COAST TO COAST AM With George Noory... As usual, George was in "rare" form. You see, in "George's World" ANY TOPIC is one step away from the "paranormal"-- and I LOVE that about him. It is not only extraordinarily entertaining, it is also thought-provoking as all roads lead to "mystery and conspiracy"...

This particular show happened to be the re-broadcast of a show which aired in August of 2004. The show was centered on an Internet Legend... or as some non-believers might call it "The Greatest Internet Hoax Ever Perpetrated" somewhere around the year 2000-- [no one is actually 100% certain as to the exact date or year] a man only known as "John Titor" began posting on various Quantum Physics Web Forums across the Internet.

Now I personally make it a point to NOT post on these forums as my thoughts on Quantum Physics are constantly "evolving" depending on what "mood" I happen to be in... and I have on several occasions proven with "deadly accuracy" Einstein's Theory of Relativity while chatting with the sort of people who inspire one to consider "gnawing off one's arm" during the conversation.

So... as "legend has it" John Titor claimed to be a genuine time traveler from the year 2036. Yes folks, I said it. He said he was a "time traveler". But far be it for me to pass judgment on this man's perception as I have been told many a "tale" by many a weary traveler... claiming to be everything from a bona fide "Angel" to an "Agent of Truth"... so I rarely dispute anyone's "reality.

The reason I mention John Titor is because quite frankly, this has to be one of the most fascinating tales I have heard in a LONG time. Not only does his story seem somewhat "plausible", but he was brilliant enough to "cover his bases" using various Physics theories, one being that all time is occurring simultaneously in immeasurable parallel dimensions within varying degrees of one another-- a Many Worlds, Many Universes Theory which is an ACTUAL Physics theory... look it up. You'll indeed find it. So if any of his "prognostications" turn out to be "wrong"... Mr. Titor says that this is the direct result of his visit here, which alters in varying degrees in a "domino-lik"e effect all of the other infinite parallel universes in such a manner that perhaps his predictions will occur, only in one of those OTHER dimensions... not necessarily ours.

Before you write all of this off as being "Conspiratory Gibberish" and "Internet Folklore"... I give you one of my favorite quotes from one of my all-time favorite films, "Heaven Can Wait" with Warren Beaty and Julie Christie [the 1978 classic]... "The likelihood of one person being correct increases in direct proportion to the intensity with which others are trying to prove him wrong."

It will be 2006 in just a few short months... November is almost gone... as is 2005 and John Titor, after having posted his last words in March of 2001 has vanished. All however, that remains is a CONTINUING DEBATE as to whether or not he was actually telling the truth. Countless radio show discussions, web sites, web forums, books, e-books, 1 documentary and a potential feature film later and John Titor is STILL A HOT TOPIC OF DISCUSSION. The Public Relations genius alone is exceptional.

Does it matter if he was telling the truth? No, not really. Which brings me to my point... everyone has the capacity to evoke thought, discussion and timelessness. We are a world filled with more possibilities than we know what to do with. It all comes down to "perception"... and not only did John Titor {or whoever he was} KNOW this... he lived it.

A few John Titor links for all of you "Curious Onlookers"... interested in a good story... or a REALLY good tall tale {smiling}.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Titor

http://www.johntitor.com/

http://timetravelportal.com/viewtopic.php?t=550

Copyright © 2005 Bridget Petrella Media Relations

The Logic of Absurdity

One of my favorite writers, Douglas Adams once said, "There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened."

I sit back and I ponder a brief justification for the ontological necessity of modern man's existential dilemma... I can think of several people in my life that don’t fit into this simplistic mold. The world in itself is not reasonable, that is all that can truly be said. But what is absurd is the confrontation of this irrational and the wild longing for clarity whose call echoes in the human heart. The absurd depends as much on humans as it does on the world. For the moment it is all that links them both together. So long as the mind keeps silent in the motionless world of its hopes, everything is reflected and arranged in the unity of nostalgia. But with its first move this world cracks and tumbles: an infinite number of shimmering fragments is offered to the understanding. We must despair of ever reconstructing the familiar, calm surface which would give us a peace of this heart we seek.

The absurdity isn’t the universe or we humans. It’s this combination that produces the absurd. If anything has been made abundantly clear in the 20th century, it is that the universe is irrational i.e. it doesn’t follow any rules. Reason and rationality are built on the premise of following rules— the rules of logic. The universe does no such thing, hence the "logic" of absurdity.

The universe does what it wants, when it wants. Science, the application of reason upon nature, has been exposed in this century as, not an all-pervading truth, but as a game of prediction. On the surface, contemporary scientific theory can predict what the universe will do to such an extent that science seems like the truth. But make no mistake about it... quantum theory in this past century has shown that the universe does some very unpredictable things when in very small quantities and at very high speeds. This is a very important point and one that I for one don’t deny. The use of "logic" on the universe is absurd.

Copyright © 2005 Bridget Petrella Media Relations

Compliment Me, Don't Complete Me

"You complete me" from the five-star movie Jerry Maguire is the most overrated love quote I know. As an avid romantic comedy fan, I live for the moment, about an hour and a half after the cinema lights dim, when the lead, after a formulaic series of mistakes and misunderstandings, realizes the "true meaning of love" and launches into a heartfelt confession, thus emptying the contents of his profound wisdom onto the carpet in a living room filled with jaded divorcees. My eyes clouded with tears as a regretful Jerry Maguire finally approached his wife Dorothy Boyd who was on the brink of leaving him.

While the scene is stirring, poignant and funny, there is a fundamentally wrong assumption that we are "incomplete beings" with half-lives wandering the earth aimlessly... until we find a partner. What a pile of rubbish. Think about this-- isn't it only when one can function well wholly as an individual, yet choose to love another to the fullest extent of one's capacity that we witness love at its most glorifying? There is nothing noteworthy about being with someone because you need him or her to actually "validate" your existence, to drink champagne on special occasions or to support your crippled lonely life. I prefer a line in the 1997 Oscar-winning film "As Good As It Gets" where Jack Nicholson was motivated to take better care of his health after knowing Helen Hunt and her selflessness.

He says it with the most perfect dead pan face, "You make me want to be a better man." I love this line for its simplicity-- no fanfare, no histrionics, no long drawn out speech. I love it for its indication that in all your imperfect ways, you have been an inspiration to someone else in this wacky, unpredictable universe. I love it that, even should the relationship end, you have changed each other for the better instead of the two of you crumpling into a heap of jigsaw puzzle pieces... onto a carpet... in a living room filled with desperate housewives. "You make me want to be a better person," will probably go down in my own spiritual thought process, as the second-best compliment anyone can ever pay to another person. The best compliment would be "You made me become a better person." Because then you would have not merely inspired a desire in someone... but a positive action as well.

Copyright © 2005 Bridget Petrella Media Relations

I Query, Therefore I Baffle

Okay, so a screenwriter actually sent me the following query:

Logline: A woman realizes that a little statue can cure any ailment. But after healing many people, she discovers that when the statue heals you, someone— somewhere in the world— gets your disease.

No synopsis yet. [thankfully]

Logline: A prison guard ghost returns to oust a flamboyant warden and his entire dimwitted gang.

Synopsis: A dark comedy which operates on several important levels. This unique screenplay takes on the America scandalous prison culture while exposing, with outrageous satirical humor, a hidden society which is rife with corruption and the abuse of power.

We are introduced to BEAR, a mystical Native American Shape Shifter and his Spirit Animal Army. With help from Great Stone Mother, Bear and his loyal followers set out to reclaim a sacred Paiute burial ground where an imposing prison now stands.

Enter JAMES "CUFFS" CALLAHAN, the story’s pivotal character. Cuffs is a former prison Corrections Officer who returns from the dead with his K-9 companion IKE to the high desert of southern Nevada to take on and expose a corrupt warden and his flunky cohorts.

We meet Cuffs when he is alive, working as a conscientious and caring Corrections Officer at the prison. When Cuffs discovers that the prisoners are being fed food labeled "Unfit for Human Consumption" He confronts the arrogant Warden Robert Shivetz. Outraged by Cuffs' insolent behavior, Shivetz fires him.

Depressed and drowning in alcohol, Cuffs takes his own life with a gun. However, Bear captures Cuffs spirit and decides to shape shift into a psychiatrist. He helps Cuffs open up, tell the truth, and take responsibility for his senseless act. Cuffs returns to the prison as a ghost bent on revenge. Bear is also at the prison, posing as a convict. Together, Cuffs and Bear join forces from the spirit and ghost worlds to standup for humanity against the misuse of power behind prison walls.

For example, Bear is able at will to shape shift and summon his faithful Spirit Animal Army to aid him and Cuffs inside the prison.

As the story unfolds, we meet a number of fascinating characters including Senator Clancy, the voice of reason; Sgt. Otis Newcomb, a dimwitted brute, the vivacious Lt. Sandy Adams, and Trooper Bob, among others.

Cuffs has a crush on Sandy. She becomes attracted to him as well, but unfortunately, it's just not meant to be. Cuffs, a ghost, and Sandy is a human— never the twain shall meet.

The story ends on a positive, upbeat note. Bear and his Spirit Animal Army are able to restore respect and dignity to their Paiute sacred burial ground. Clancy advances to become Vice President of The United States and later, by a twist of fate, assumes the Presidency. Cuffs join President Clancy as his aide-de-camp with Bear and his loyal Spirit Animal Army in tow.

Cuffs then emerges as a scathing dark comedy which not only exposes the corrupt conduct of authority figures but also challenges our imagination, leaving hope in spirit and heart for a better day.


I only wish I were kidding. Dear God, it's 'Dave' meets 'The Dead Zone' meets 'Ghost' meets 'The Shawshank Redemption'…

Copyright © 2005 Bridget Petrella Media Relations

Between Charlie Brown, Linus and Lucy

How are humans unique? Humans are not the biggest, the strongest, the fastest, the most versatile, or the most intricate creatures in the world, but there is something distinctively special about us. Some think it's our brain. Others say it's our voices. Still others think it's our ability to manufacture practically anything. Some argue it's our invention and the use of time... which was created by humans to give some sort of measure to what has passed. Some think it's our ability to laugh and smile. Others think it's our opposable finger, the thumb. Many think it's our recording of history that sets us apart... Still others think it's our souls.

Years ago, philosopher-psychologist Erwin Strauss wrote a fascinating article that did little more than describe and reflect upon the upright posture of humans and what this ability to stand on our own two feet means to our existence. Wisdom. Humor. Vision. Compassion. Fear. Hatred. Folly. Greed. Deceit. Blindness. Anger. Absurdity. Violence. Love. Communication. Irony. Error. Knowledge-- human possibilities all. As a writer, I personally love these themes. They are indeed a part of being human, having a "human experience" as an eternal soul... which is where I seek my voice. The questions I've posed could provide fodder for a conversation over coffee-- or, I might add-- what Charles Schulz might have had in mind, for many a clever comic strip. I mention Schulz because he epitomized for me the model of seeking to make peoples' hearts wise, their collective minds sound, and their wills righteous-- and always with a wry smile and a bit of wisdom. I guess that means I find my voice somewhere between Charlie Brown, Linus and Lucy.

Copyright © 2005 Bridget Petrella Media Relations

Wit vs. Humor

What is humor and how does it differ from wit? According to Webster's Dictionary of the English Language, Unabridged Edition, humor is "the recognition and expression of incongruities or peculiarities in a situation or character...it illustrates some fundamental absurdity in human nature or conduct." Humor often involves someone or something being observed, there's frequently a visual or nonverbal component, and it is silly or playful. Now take a breath. The discourse gets worse before it gets better. Wit, in contrast, is "the quick apprehension and ingenuous and apt expression of the connections or analogous properties between things seemingly unlike." Mark Twain has an elegant, living explanation, "Wit is the sudden marriage of ideas which before their union were not perceived to have any relation." And while focusing on the differences between humor and wit, let's not overlook their relationship to creativity. Psychological studies have shown that subjects who watched funny television clips or The Three Stooges {with Curly, not Shemp} before subsequent problem-solving tasks were far more creative than comparably matched subjects who spent time exercising before problem-solving task.

Wit, more than humor, originates in the observer; wit is highly verbal, clever and artful. I believe it was the late comic actor, Bert Lahr, who distinguished between the two, "saying funny things [wit] and saying things in a funny way" [non-verbal humor]. Wit, also, has more of a cutting-edge quality to it than humor. I personally envision it all this way-- letting the air out of a balloon depicts humor. Pricking an inflated balloon is wit. As Shakespeare once noted, "Brevity is the soul of wit."

Copyright © 2005 Bridget Petrella Media Relations

Reflections of An Artist at Large

I displayed an artistic talent at an early age. I first experimented in dirty diapers and mashed potatoes. As I grew older, I moved up to crayons on drywall and markers on flesh. This met with harsh reviews from the critics ("No! Not on the walls!", You do NOT color your sister") and many hours of painting in my room, or on my room, depending on how you saw it. I saw it as a way to give my Jackson Five poster a "Salvador Dali" feel to it, Mom and Dad saw it as my journey into "non-conformity"... Unshaken by these minor setbacks, I continued my artistic development venturing into coloring books. At this stage I began to dabble in art theory.

Dad: "Very nice, Bridget. But bunnies aren't orange and fire trucks aren't purple."

Me: "Bunnies don't wear jackets and fire trucks don't have faces either!"

Contempt for Dad. More painting on room or in room. Who'd have thought I'd need a lawyer at this age? Upon entering grade school, I took up pencil. I would draw everything from horses to trees to houses to cars. You name it, I'd draw it. I'd even draw cartoon characters, like Snoopy, Magilla Gorilla, Popeye and Underdog, while watching television. This continued through, middle school into high school, where I discovered drafting. At the time, I thought this was the coolest thing, drawing odd-shaped objects from every angle. I began to ponder becoming an architect. I wanted to learn exciting, inspiring concepts and design important buildings! Hey, I just might become the next Frank LLoyd Wright. My high school drafting teacher, Mr. Harper, saw this plan quite differently than I did... He was rather "linear" by nature...

Mr. Harper: "Miss Petrella, you have a very exciting, inspiring concept for a motel... with a bright brass fire pole and a Star Trek Captain's bridge design that, as far as I can tell, has never been attempted by mortal men. You were to supposed to design a two-bedroom house."

Okay, so maybe architecture wasn't exactly my "thing". Besides, there were too many little annoyances like building codes and those nagging laws of physics. I still wanted to do something deep within the art world, so, I headed to The Art Institute of Pittsburgh and The University of Pittsburgh. As an "art school student of doom"-- I spent the next 5 years commuting past cows, cornfields, and barns while religiously studying illustration, watercolor, cartooning, graphic design, painting, markers, watercolors, oils. I knew this is where my talent could be nurtured and brought to the forefront. That is, until the COLOSSAL portfolio review... just before my last semester.

Professor: "Bridget, do you see this cow?"

Me: "Yes."

Professor: "Well, with the exception of your 'study on Norwegian dogs with braided nose hairs'-- it is indeed a bit of a plunge into madness, however, it isn't EXACTLY the 'marketing madness' we were hoping for with this assignment. Tell me, what does an Indonesian cow with no karma on a retreat in Nepal have to do with dairy farmers selling milk?"

Hmmm. What was he trying to say? Okay, just another insignificant speed bump on my journey. I simply turned it all into surrealist cartoon sketches, quickly done the night before, snagged my degree, graduated with honors and began to explore this world of marketing and public relations a bit more closely. It certainly wasn't "spiritual"...

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