You do have a leash, as a writer. You're holding a dog. The great excitement is to see what happens if you let the whole thing go. And the dog or the character really runs about, bites everyone in sight, jumps up trees, falls into lakes, gets wet, and you let that happen. That's the excitement of writing plays.--Harold Pinter Before I let it fly (maybe, probably, next week) I have to clean up the blog templates, work on headers, get legal advice (kidding). I have to finalize plans to meet up with Ralliers for Sanity (not kidding). I...uh. I'll stop there. Back later.
OK, I'm back. For a minute. I have to post my vote. Have you voted if you're eligible? Oh dude,* if you don't & start complaining on 3 November about Teabaggery...I will so not be there/here for you. (*Pops out of my mouth with a disturbing naturalness.)
Some fun: Mad Men Yourself. Here's my beta-version with a little shout-down to naysayers about political satire rallies. (That newspaper in the hand is rolled up for a teeny light swat.) First they want to call the election before it's held (shrieking curses) & now all manner of pontification about Jon Stewart & Stephen Colbert. What do these nincompoops (no, not S&C, I'll fix grammar later) not understand about political satire?
You know what? Tough. Here I go: I've lived here for um, a long time. The media-punditiocy w/knickers-a-twist? They weren't invited, those sniffy twits. And now, in the name of a bit of sympathy (only a bit)...
Once upon a time, a youngish editor stood outside her office door. She railed to her boss about the "media." Her boss kept trying to interrupt. They were both talented interrupters--they had to be. Finally the boss pointed at the younger woman who said What, what? Boss: "I'm pointing at your press pass."
Oh. Gulp. Slink away in manner of humiliated Snoopy.
(Tim Walker photograph via one million sites & counting; silly me via AMC)
