HUMOR
S
o I’m in Los Angeles, shopping
for slutwear in West Hollywtxxi,
when I see him coming right
toward me in a pair of designer
shades talking on his cell phone: a
toddler in a stroller.
Like the song says, “I love L.A .!”
eyed Sally Struthers to go on the air
Now, there’s an immediate
and say, “For just pennies a day you
assumption among us pale, doughy
can feed Lara Flynn Boyle.” Parents
Northwestemers that people who live
of picky eaters can now say to their
in a warm, sunny climate must he
children: “Finish your food. There
incredibly vapid (as if choosing to live
are starving actresses in Hollywood.”
where it rains 300 days a year demon
strates our superior intelligence). And
ut I wasn’t in L.A. to make fun
with the warm, sunny climate, of
by Marc Acito
of people, although that was
course, comes scantily clad bodies,
definitely a side benefit. I was
which gives one the opportunity to admire the
there for a week of meetings with movie execu
skillful work of ambitious plastic surgeons. I mean,
tives who had read and fallen in love with my
the boohs in L.A. are so firm you could serve
novel.
appetizers on them. And that’s just the men.
One of my meetings was at Art’s Deli in
O f course, no one in L.A. would eat those
Studio City. I could tell Art’s is a popular spot
appetizers because everyone is so skinny. I find
for meetings because it was full of well-
this especially strange since you can get such
groomed, overcaffeinated patrons seated alone
yummy Jewish soul food there. Even the Mexi
and eyeing their watches. At 8:30 a.m. on the
can restaurants serve kreplach, tzimmes and
dot, the phone started to ring and the host
borscht, which sound less like focxJ and more
ess wandered around telling people their
like a full-service law firm.
party would he late because the 405 was a
For instance, I’m in Canter’s Deli waiting
parking lot.
for a Reuben sandwich behind a 60-ish guy
The guy in the booth behind me got really
with his arm around a woman young enough to
cranky about it. “Did he say how late he’d be?”
be his granddaughter, which means, of course,
he huffed, as if his party could predict traffic
it’s his girlfriend.
patterns from the inside of a Lexus. Waiting in
“Y’know-ow,” she says, popping her gum, “I
L.A. is a sign of weakness. The longer you wait,
the less important you are.
never ate sandwiches before I met you.”
From the looks of her, she’s never eaten
Me, I couldn’t care. I’m a writer. It’s my job
much of anything.
to sit around and eavesdrop. Plus, it gives me
I’m thinking of starting a not-for-profit dedi
time to prepare witty bons mots I can insert
cated to bringing the obesity epidemic to L.A.
spontaneously into a conversation.
I’ll call it Feed the Actresses. We’ll hire a teary-
I had also prepared for these meetings by ask
Hello, deli
The Gospel’s goin’ Hollywood
The Gospel
According
to Marc
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Ten unbelievably
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c y b e r o rg a s m s , la p
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February 13
to March 6.2004
and
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Box O ffice 503-239-5919
O nline a t w w w .trlp ro.org
t ic k e t s w e s t 5 0 3 -2 2 4 -8 4 9 9
The a te r! Theatre! 3430 SE Belm ont, Portland, OR 97214
ing advice of my experienced writer friends. And
every one of them had a cautionary tale about
the legendary insipidness of movie executives.
One of them warned me, “Don’t use any
three-syllable words.”
Another told about the time he referenced
Jane Eyre in a pitch, only to he
interrupted when a develop
ment person asked: “Jane
Eyre? What would I have
Still another told me the story about
Dame Maggie Smith being led into a m eet
ing by a bubble-headed assistant who
chirped, “Everybody, this is Dame; Dame,
this is everybody.”
And, of course, there’s the writer with a
screenplay adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s The
Cherry Orchard who received a rejection letter
that read: “Dear Mr. Chekhov: Thank you for
your submission. While we can’t use your cur
rent script, please let us know if you have any
thing else....”
(Sure! There are these three sisters who
want to go to Moscow, see? I’m thinking
Cameron, Julia and J-Lo.)
So you can imagine my surprise and delight
when I discovered that movie executives actu
ally have brains (the producers of Gigli
notwithstanding). I took 12 meetings in five
days, and every person I met was vital, passion
ate and exceedingly intelligent. And I’m not
just saying that because I want them to hire me
(although I should add that they were all
enormously charismatic and charming).
Seriously, these people READ for a
living— not just scripts, but stacks of
books...hard, serious books, many of which
I’m too bubble-headed to comprehend.
So let’s recap: L.A .’s got a warm, sunny
climate, yummy Jewish soul ftxxi and surpris
ingly sharp people.
Like the song says, “Hooray for
Hollywood!”
And that, my friends, is The Gospel
According to Marc. J H
M arc A cito s novel, How I Paid for College,
will be published in September. Write him at
marc@marcacito. com.
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