Thursday, January 20, 2022

20th Century Blues

Fire burns.
Ice is cold.
Can't tread water?
You're gonna drown.
What goes up
Likely comes down.

Film at eleven
With breaking news.
Select the network
For the bias it spews.
What's accepted true
Is what you choose.

More and more
There's less agree.
Nature's laws?
Organic decree?
Laughter is pain
Is snark ennui.

Anti-Trumpers.
Anti-vaxers.
Oxycontin's
A sure relaxer.
Wrong or right:
Screw facts, sir.

Some see a crook.
Others a villain.
Some see a moron
Who'll sanction killing.
A sea of idiots
Totally willing.

It's not that
We can't see
Or discern.
We know fire
Is hot, and that
It will burn.

Or do we?

Hard to say
If we have
A shared real.
It's so 20th century
To have
Sense in Common.





Thursday, January 13, 2022

Hollywood Hamlet



Two producers met

With a red-hot director — 

The guy who’d updated 

The story of Robin Hood 

With an all-female cast.


The film 

Had been panned by most

Mainstream reviewers,

Nevertheless had performed

Quite well at the box office.


The producers

Needed to figure out

How the director had

Cast so effectively.


“Well, to be honest,”

The director said, 

My choices were limited. 

You need a name for the lead,

And that was the easiest deal

Once Jessica Chastain said yes.


“She was perfect.”


The director then said 

With a trace of bitterness,

“Little John and Friar Tuck

Were a challenge.”


The senior producer broke in.

“Indeed. More on that later.

We’re doing HAMLET.”


“Why?” the director asked.


“No royalties to the original writer.

Not that we’re cheap,”

The senior producer said.


“Broke,” revealed the junior producer.

“We need a score to finance the

Project of the century.”


“Which is?” asked the director.


“Sharks In Space. 

Working title is STAR JAWS.”


“Big tech budget,” 

The director muttered

With a knowing tone. 

“You’re gonna

Need a bigger rocket.”


The senior producer coughed.

“Let’s focus on Hamlet.

Give us a list of names

If you were going to make this film.”


The director leaned

Back in his plush swivel chair.


He opened his iPad, created a note,

And within a matter of moments,

The producers received a list.


“Okay," the Senior producer said,

"Will you run the audition?”


The director said, 

“Only If i’m doing the film.”


“We can’t pay you unless

The film is a hit.”


“So let’s make a hit,”

The director said.


He went back to his iPad.


Moments later, the producers

Received another note titled


This Is The Real List


The producers, though, did not

Recognize the one name

That was, in fact,

The entire list.


Who is Carol The Mimic?” 

Both producers asked 

At the same time.


The director shrugged

With a huge grin.


The star of your next movie. 

She’s a comic I saw last week

In a small town in Arizona.

During her set she did John Wayne,

Clint Eastwood, Donald Trump, 

Mae West, and Gilda Radnor.

We’re going to see which one of those

Icons will work best as the moody Dane.”


“Who?" The junior producer asked,

Revealing he’d not yet read

The source material.


“Trust me,” the director said.


And so, three days later,

Carol The Mimic joined the director

And the two producers 

In a conference room

At a Marriott in Tempe.


It was agreed that she'd perform

Each of her icons with segments

(or ideas)

From the same speech,

The soliloquy that begins 

“To be or not to be.


“Hey, this is good shit,”

The junior producer said,

Glancing at the supplied text

And

Revealing the obvious.

Again.


Carol the Mimic,

Wearing a cowboy hat and jeans,

Sauntered in laconic, 

Swaying fashion

To the middle of the room,

Leaned back and said,


To be, or not to be, that is the question: 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them

End them?

Wa huh.

Like hell I’ll end them.”


The director and the senior producer laughed.

The junior producer had no point of reference.


Carol the Mimic went behind

A small screen and returned

Wearing a wrinkled suit, 

Holding a large handgun.


To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; 

Aye, there's the rub,

For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. 


I know what you're thinking. 

Is he gonna fire one shot or more’? 

But being that this is a .44 Magnum,

The most powerful handgun in the world, 

And would blow my head clean off, 

I’ve gotta ask one question:

Do I feel lucky?"


"Awesome!" The Junior producer screamed,

Elated he had an inkling.


Carol The Mimic exited and returned,

A few moments later,

Her face now colored orange,

Wearing a white dress shirt

With an enormous red tie.


"A question that probably

Some of you are thinking

Of if you’re totally into that world, 

Which I find to be very interesting. 

So, supposedly we hit the body 

With a tremendous,

Whether it’s ultraviolet 

Or just very powerful light,.

And then supposing 

You brought the light inside the body,

Which you can do either 

Through the skin or in some other way. 

And then I see the disinfectant, 

Where it knocks it out in one minute. 

And is there a way we can do something like that, 

By injection inside or almost a cleaning, 

Because you see it gets in the lungs 

And it does a tremendous 

Number on the lungs.

So, we’ll see, 

But the whole concept of the light, 

The way it kills it in one minute. 

That’s pretty powerful."


A stunned silence.


"She didn't use the source material,"

The Junior producer shouted.


"Who cares?" The senior produced yelled.

"That was terrific."


Carol The Mimic darted off

And returned in a huge dress.


"You only live once.

But if you do it right

Once ought to be enough.

I've got the sling,

If you've got the arrows.

Come up

And see me sometime.

Between two evils,

I always pick the one

I haven't tried before."


Carol The Mimic bowed and

Promised to come back ASAP.

But after several minutes,

It seemed she might not return.


Finally, she appeared,

Wearing a monstrous, wide wig.

She carried a stack of boxes,

All of which left her hands

And crashed to the floor.


"Well, it just goes to show ya:

If it's not one thing,

It's another."


"That's it!" 

The Senior produced cried.

"That's our Hamlet!"


"I got a question,"

The Junior producer said.

"Can she do a Hammerhead?

Or even better, 

A Great White?"