Two days after wrapping "Offspring", I got a phone call from Mike Jittlov asking to join a gaggle of friends filming the last few scenes of his first feature The Wizard of Speed and Time.
Those who've seen Mike's short films: Animato, Turtle Joke, Wizard of Speed and Time (short), Time Traveler plus short films for Disney knew this feature was one of the most eagerly awaited films in fandom.
Some wonderful people in costumes showed up, Mike slipped me some wizardly headgear and while our scene was probably 2 seconds tops and spliced into location footage, it was a lot of fun! Those two seconds are .
Mike adds a few finishing touches to the Wizardly set.
The Wizard himself checks the scene for supreme wizardliness prior to shooting the last scene.
Hands Across America
Despite rusors that someone in new York could put their finger in an electric socket and electrocute thousands of people clear across the country, I couldn't miss this opportunity to partake in another example of America's willingness to participate in something thoroughly ridiculous. The project was Hands Across America; the idea: That millions of Americans would, at a specific time of day hold hands from coast to coast in one big fleshy chain of humanity.
From my digs in Palm Springs, Delineator supporters Amélie Frank and Rosanna Privitera and Patty made the jaunt into the wasteland to participate in this historic event in the most hostile environment we could find.
it may not have been the most inhospitable spot to stop, but time was running short so we pulled under some pal trees and claimed our turf. Considering this idea was thought up for the celebration in 1976 and received no support, this time it looked as though somebody was interested. After all, 10 years before you couldn't fool this many people. There wee a lot of empty spaces here, but strangely, as the 12 noon hour neared, the empty spots filled in and with became the Palm Springs Beer Swilling Bikini Assault Team set themselves into the street waylaying passersby and dragging them kicking and screaming into line.
At noon, radios blared cross the nation that time to grapple your neighbor had come. Looking down the line you could see compliance to the horizon. This also became the time to try a little experiment. Hell, after the first 10 seconds, people were already getting bored. Besides, you could only sing that song so many times. I started to walk forward off the curb, pulling the line on each side of me into the street. Everyone was compliant and reaching the center of the street, I could see hundreds of line-bound compatriots had followed suit. I coudn't help envision a giant game of "crack the whip" resulting in hundreds of deaths somewhere in Arizona.
When everybody decided they'd been had and it was too damn hot, the line disbanded and everyone wandered off to their dreary lives. On the way home, we stopped off at the river for a quick dip.
Skull Island West
June - Who says Hollywood ballyhoo is a thing of the past? Universal Studios, past home to dang near every monster at one time or another made a warm spot for the Eighth Wonder of the World himself. Prior to opening their Kongfrontation attraction, Universal studios had a field day for the media (and gate crashers like me). Those arriving at the studio for the 10am call found little more than a cup of coffee and a bowl of fruit, but soon, when the place was literally crawling with newspersons, a tram pulled up and carried us off to Skull Island West. I was sitting with Dennis Fischer (Bewilderbeast and honcho from Hollywood Reporter), but between us was a short fellow who said his name was (with deliberation) David Spielberg(!). Possible I suppose, but more likely a delusional fanboy.
He rattled on about Cinefantastique, shitty this and shitty that, then took on the other magazines, movie studios, directors, all the while claiming he was reviewing the day's proceedings for The New York Times. All that may be well and good but he became irate when I asked since he was from such a prestigious newspaper, why he would only have a cheap ass, grabshot camera.
After a winding tour of the studio, we arrived at the lower 40 and piled from the trams, past rows of sweet rolls and more fruit. Coming to a clearing everyone paused behind the stanchions. Spielberg crowded in front of me for a better gander as the head patootie approached and noticing the cheap camera made the same comment I did. He then threatened to call the New York Times office to verify Spielberg's claim, stating "I'll have you thrown in jail!" Shortly the big guy returned bookended by security guards upon which Mr. Spielberg suddenly bolted and disappeared into the crowd, never to be seen again.
Eventually, the show began with the USC Marching Band parading about amidst a certain pomp, flags and a few bumps and grinds followed by a impressive assortment of military might. That's right, personnel trucks carrying dozens of army guys brandishing weapons, halftracks and an ambulance. Then, from the distance came the sound of a helicopter and over the horizon it came came an aircraft toting a huge yellow crate. It flew to the center of the field, plopping the crate onto the ground, whereupon a soldier rappelled from the chopper to the top of the crate and released the cables. The chopper flew off while the announcer claimed inside this container was the Mighty Kong himself who would henceforth be on display at Universal. Claiming Kong had been drugged, you could hear roaring coming from inside the box when suddenly, something roused the mighty beast from his stupor and growls poured from his confinement. More fiercely they came, when one of Kong's mighty hands came crashing through the side of the container. The quick thinking soldier atop the box tossed a gas grenade into the container subduing the beast again.
But, true to such things, when a noxious gas doesn't work, a pair of blond vixens were hoisted to Kong's paw to soothe the savage beast. Hell, it always worked for me.
So the show was over, everyone filled their pockets with rolls and fruit and headed for the bar. Ren Faire
My first Renaissance Faire in the mid '70s and was quite fun reveling in all the booze, food and costumes. The people were always fun and there was lots to see and do. My only problem, similar to the conventions was the creative people on the fringes who actually do something, were lovely, lively and full of fun. The closer you get to the hub, the people in charge become boorish and self involved.
Ever get cornered by one of those guys who can't stop talking in some fake ancient blather? All you want to do is have a good time, but when they pull that "Tell me sire, just what is this automobile of which you speak?" thing, I just want to take a hammer and bash his fucking head in.
