1) “Accept no Imitations or Substitutions”
2) “Writer’s Room, by Committee”
3) “Premiere, Audience-Tracking”
4) “The after-math”
5) “Spun-off to Netflix”
Ranting & raving through the night, either a sick twisted misfit pacing outside of a “Radio Shack” or late-night attendee of CLOWN COLLEGE down at the local community center. Many are called, fewer are HIRED…. like a 12-step program of unemployed commiseration with backward-turned chairs and sobering stories of a brutal, “unfloppy” job market. These days you can watch “clowns” all the time– whether a personal v-logger’s YouTube channel or old re-run’s of MTV’S “Jackass”. Pretty much “a non-starter” for most unresourceful boneheads, so it’s said “that some take-up the mantle of screenplay-writing”.
Don’t be “that guy”….. be a lottery scratch-off winner!
Karma, Purgatory, Bureaucracy
“Just another number”.
Be there “no Karma about it” but THE RECENTLY DECEASED will hit that old after-life office with the thud of paperwork.
(Reminds me of the ole’ Social Security office)
Franz Kafka couldn’t have said it better, whether just the victim is mad or “THE SYSTEM”, itself is even crazier. . . . . and remember, that guy in the “Metamorphosis” story did turn into an insect. OR EVEN A BEETLE.
A lot of people “kill time” in the waiting room, bearing the incarnation they took when “struck-down, mortally”. The visual cue—its own kind of karma whether you’re a shrunken-head on the leash of a witch-doctor as it didn’t end well for the big game hunter.
Don’t go smoking in bed, either—or take poison which will turn you into an icky, translucent green like the secretary behind the sliding window.
Perky, pert, and sarcastic—if not despondent in this perfect illustrated example of the mind/body and material/spiritual splits that cleaves the world into an alienated hell.
Ole’ Beetlejuice pops his head in and takes a seat. I’d imagine him probably sticking his hand down the front of his pants like Al Bundy in “Married with Children”. Half-resourceful or maybe just fool-hardy “no one will notice” as he lopes across the parking lot to grab a cooler of beer.
You’d imagine he’d only lose his place in line.
Solely the balance between evidence and lyricism can allow us to achieve simultaneous emotion and lucidity. . . . . but there he hollers at his loss.
In this last week, we’ve lost Chris Cornell—the singer from Soundgarden—and Roger Ailles—the chairman of Fox News. Only out of an episode of “Adult Swim” could these figures every encounter each other.
The moody rock singer leans up on the chair, hang-dog with his hands stretched over his knee while the right-wing chieftain tries to bluster and glad-hand his way out of federal commitment for dinner reservations “elsewhere”.
There’s only a few things certain in this life. . . . . death, taxes, and irate constituents.
End up here and you have to meet your quota of lingering, ghostly “overtime” back on earth. Spook the hell out of the living for a spike of adrenaline and ecto-residue that kicks into your early retirement, building enough parasitically-fueled power to ascend up the spiritual pyramid to eternal bliss.
Sounds like Medicare and Social Security.
You’ll pay though. . . . . they’ll take everything “but the squeal”.
Death. Taxes. Hollywood sequels. . . . .
Welcome to America. You could die laughing. . . . .
Presenting to you—“a plug” for THE FOUNDER, starring Michael Keaton.
You wouldn’t say we have a nose for cross-promotion, would ‘ya? Anyway, it’s the history of McDonald’s fast food—faster than you could put little Beetlejuice toys in a Happy Meal and rock the world with those fast food-chain commemorative cups.
Keep it tasteful—and don’t sell “The Beetle-Burger” with a tall order of fries. We wouldn’t call it “The Big-Muck” but must remain respectful of our tie-in clients.
Beetlejuice would chuckle at the plasticine Ronald McDonald statue “like another clown in the business”, an old familiar from the 1980’s.
Here’s an article about the new movie:
And if your taste if more vegetarian or something, Lydia could sarcastically voice asides for salads and their special McCoffee’s as part of anti-marketing is to pretend to walk away “with attitude” and then gullible people following you, “as if you have the answer”. . . . . or some scorning insight into the deeper nature of modern existence. Hey, it worked for the Seattle grunge-act, Nirvana!
It’s how to put a good face on the constant pitch of advertising tugging on your sleeve, like marketing while pretending not to. I guess we can all feel like “insider’s”.
I’ll super-size that into a Beetlejuice sequel!
The Hamburger Thief