tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71971126533662377452024-02-19T10:03:37.076-05:00MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURESTales sometimes tall, but always true, of Allan Cole's years in Hollywood with his late partner, Chris Bunch. How a naked lady almost became our first agent. How we survived Galactica 1980, with only the loss of half our brain cells. How Bunch & Cole became the ultimate fix-it boys. How an alleged Mafia don was very, very good to us. The guy who cornered the market on movie rocks. Why they don't make million dollar movies. And many more.Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-68070103245072293632014-03-10T14:18:00.002-04:002014-03-21T13:44:35.522-04:00LINKS TO THE MISADVENTURES<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1">NEW AUDIOBOOKS!!! </a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/c2b5Rq">STEN #8 - EMPIRE'S END (CD or MP3)</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/A-Daughter-of-Liberty-Audiobook/B00G00JYDS/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1382633139&sr=1-1">A DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Sci-Fi-Fantasy/Sten-and-the-Star-Wanderers-Audiobook/B00GGXMNXW/ref=sr_1_15?qid=1383838194&sr=1-15">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Mysteries-Thrillers/MacGregor-In-Dying-Good-Audiobook/B00GS0TVPQ/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1385562624&sr=1-1">MACGREGOR IN: DYING GOOD </a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/Tales-of-the-Blue-Meanie-Audiobook/B00GNDG22S/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1386612277&sr=1-1">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Health-Fitness/The-Sten-Cookbook-Audiobook/B00HUEAX06/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1389828424&sr=1-1">THE STEN COOKBOOK</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/search/ref=a_pd_Bios-M_tseft?advsearchKeywords=THE+STEN+COOKBOOK&filterby=field-keywords&x=0&y=0">A COP'S LIFE</a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/Sbk4QH">THE ALEX KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</a></div>
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<u><a href="http://is.gd/oovdEe">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER</a></u></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESpX38kU97w&feature=youtu.be">HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHUCK NORRIS!</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESpX38kU97w&feature=youtu.be">A SPECIAL AUDIOBOOK PRESENTATION</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESpX38kU97w&feature=youtu.be">FROM MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</a></div>
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<b><br /></b><b>MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES ran weekly for 77 episodes. By the time it ended it had drawn well over 200,000 visitors. Many readers urged me to turn the blog into a book, which I did. Scroll down to the end for links to the audiobook, trade paperback, or to download the e-book version. The audiobook, with narrator Colin Hussey, will debut soon. Meanwhile, if you'd like to dip into the episodes, here is a complete list - with links - from The Fade In to the Fade Out:</b><br />
<b><br /></b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2014/03/fade-in-bunch-and-cole.html">1. FADE IN BUNCH AND COLE</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-blonde-all-over-lady-and-lion.html">2. THE BLONDE ALL OVER LADY & THE LION</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2014/03/jack-klugman-and-ko-kids.html">3. JACK KLUGMAN AND THE KO KIDS</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2014/03/jack-klugman-ko-kids-part-two.html">4. JACK KLUGMAN AND THE KO KIDS - PART TWO</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2014/03/whats-story-boys.html">5. WHAT'S THE STORY BOYS?</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2014/03/how-to-steal-million-dollars.html">6. HOW TO STEAL A MILLION DOLLARS</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/07/shark-that-ate-bunch-cole.html">7. THE SHARK THAT ATE BUNCH & COLE</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/07/sten-fast-turnaround-caper.html">8. STEN: THE FAST TURNAROUND CAPER</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/07/buck-rogers-is-fatty.html">9. BUCK ROGERS IS A FATTY! ARDALA DEFINITELY ISN'T!</a><br />
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<a href="http://seek2.drivehound.com/lp4search.php?i=ThEBCwERCFcYT0dHGl0XCzYUD0NGCRMXRlpFRkQCaUtkGl9XQ1IECwlWVg1aDQlcAkkbX1NMcRlaZUVEB11VV2gXUQ1OX1RAVG9NBgxFUQ1JBg9SFUwbQV5IElJCVAwIA0dYVhEaGUZeWUAUDxEKFhFDCD4CP0pEBk9YVFJRTBhBFm0CCVFCXUZaTB5PFxkUR1YEQF8RWhZZE19vTHEaU1BXXwcaBl5AOB1GXAUOBUpIXUUUGREWCwERCFMeWlEHVBkBAwEUD0JACRMXVwJM&g=53bbe32b-ce3c-5168-64e1-d212485d8556&h=eyJoIjoid3d3LndlYm1lZGlhLnVzIiwiaSI6IjY0LjcxLjE0Ni4xMjMifQ==">10. THE GALACTICA 1980 FIASCO</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/08/summoned-to-black-tower.html">11. SUMMONED TO THE BLACK TOWER</a><br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_827368327"><br /></a><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/08/curse-of-black-tower.html">12. THE CURSE OF THE BLACK TOWER</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/08/unsinkable-dolly-brown.html">13. THE UNSINKABLE DOLLY BROWN</a><br />
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<b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/08/fade-in-lorne-greene.html">14: FADE IN: LORNE GREENE</a></b><br />
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<b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/09/meatballs-in-space-larson-futterman.html">15. MEATBALLS IN SPACE: THE LARSON-FUTTERMAN WARS</a></b><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/09/we-burn-schoolship.html">16. WE BURN THE SCHOOLSHIP</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/09/we-burn-schoolship.html">17. WE BURN THE SCHOOLSHIP: PART DEUX</a><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/09/lorne-greene-rides-to-rescue.html">18. LORNE GREENE RIDES TO THE RESCUE</a><br />
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<b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/09/die-schoolship-die-die-or-how-vince.html">19. DIE SCHOOLSHIP! DIE, DIE! OR, HOW VINCE EDWARDS SCREWED THE POOCH</a></b><br />
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<b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/10/boxman-cometh.html">20. THE BOXMAN COMETH</a></b><br />
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<b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/10/tom-selleck-and-ugliest-dog-in-hawaii.html">21. TOM SELLECK MEETS THE UGLIEST DOG IN HAWAII</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/10/it-aint-easy-bein-green-just-ask.html">22. IT AIN'T EASY BEIN' GREEN - JUST ASK THE INCREDIBLE HULK</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/10/showdown-at-incredible-hulk.html">23. SHOWDOWN AT THE INCREDIBLE HULK</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/11/lou-ferrigno-and-harley-hulkout.html">24. LOU FERRIGNO AND THE HARLEY HULKOUT</a><br />
<b><br /></b><a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/11/hulk-at-sea-manny-dodges-bullet-again.html">25. THE HULK AT SEA - MANNY DODGES THE BULLET - AGAIN!</a><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/11/skydiving-hulk-or-what-hell-to-do-if.html">26. SKYDIVING HULK: OR, WHAT THE HELL TO DO IF LOU WON'T JUMP</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/12/bring-me-head-of-hulk.html">27. BRING ME THE HEAD OF THE HULK</a></b><br />
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<b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2011/12/irwin-allens-recipe-for-disaster.html">28. IRWIN ALLEN'S RECIPE FOR DISASTER</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/01/code-dead-beach-ball-cometh.html">29. CODE DEAD: THE BEACH BALL COMETH</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/01/of-beach-balls-and-flying-fickle.html">30. OF BEACH BALL BLUES AND FLYING FICKLE FINGERS OF FATE</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/01/towering-toupee-throws-up.html">31. THE TOWERING TOUPEE THROWS UP</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/01/hawks-take-care-of-their-own.html">32. THE HAWKS TAKE CARE OF THEIR OWN</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/02/follow-bouncing-beach-ball.html">33. FOLLOW THE BOUNCING BEACH BALL</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/02/follow-bouncing-beach-ball-part-two-and.html">34. BOUNCING BEACH BALL PART # 2</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/02/lorne-greene-never-shouts-got-that.html">35. LORNE GREENE NEVER SHOUTS - GOT THAT?</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/02/julie-adams-lady-even-movie-monsters.html">36. JULIE ADAMS: THE LADY EVEN MONSTERS FELL FOR</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/03/andy-warhols-fire-extinguisher.html">37. ANDY WARHOL'S FIRE EXTINGUISHER</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/03/why-clint-eastwood-owes-us-big-time.html">38. WHY CLINT EASTWOOD OWES US BIG TIME</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/03/toupees-roasting-on-open-fire.html">39. TOUPEES ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE</a></b><br />
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<b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/03/sten-vs-santa-ana-winds.html">40. STEN VS. THE SANTA ANA WINDS</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/03/alex-kilgour-in-hollywood.html">41. ALEX KILGOUR IN HOLLYWOOD</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2010/07/we-save-flipper-from-tuna-can.html">42. WE SAVE FLIPPER FROM A TUNA CAN</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/04/it-costs-money-for-good-garbage.html">43. IT COSTS MONEY FOR GOOD GARBAGE</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/04/movie-rock-mogul-of-mgm.html">44. THE MOVIE ROCK MOGUL OF MGM</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/04/towtruck-boogie-and-eatanter.html">45. TOWTRUCK BOOGIE AND THE EATANTER</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/05/lets-hear-it-for-s-word.html">46. LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE 'S' WORD</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/05/how-we-stopped-worrying-and-learned-to.html">47. HOW WE STOPPED WORRYING AND LEARNED TO LOVE THE MOB</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/05/fbi-only-rings-once.html">48. THE FBI ONLY RINGS ONCE</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/05/chris-and-diana-ross-step-out.html">49. CHRIS AND DIANA ROSS STEP OUT</a></b><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/06/stan-lee-and-mulholland-road-racing.html">50. STAN LEE AND THE MULHOLLAND ROAD RACING ASSOCIATION. </a><br />
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<b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/07/neighbors-are-scaring-our-werewolf.html">51. THE NEIGHBORS ARE SCARING OUR WEREWOLF</a></b><br />
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<b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/07/silver-bullet-sanction.html">52. THE SILVER BULLET SANCTION</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/07/two-american-werewolves-in-brighton.html">53. TWO AMERICAN WEREWOLVES IN BRIGHTON</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/07/killing-people-is-fun.html">54. WEREWOLF PARADISE</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/08/chuck-connors-kisses-ring.html">55. CHUCK CONNORS KISSES THE RING</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/08/screwed-by-mouse-or-michael-eisner-and.html">56. SCREWED BY THE MOUSE, OR MICHAEL EISNER AND THE SEVEN PI$$ING DWARFS</a></b><br />
<b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1144890860"><br /></a></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/08/joe-piscopo-and-beach-police.html">57. JOE PISCOPO AND THE BEACH POLICE</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/08/bad-boy-bobby-blake-and-that-old-son-of.html">58. BAD BOY BOBBY BLAKE</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/08/bad-boy-bobby-blake-part-deux.html">59. BAD BOY BOBBY BLAKE: PART DEUX</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/09/chris-bunch-versus-steven-seagal.html">60. CHRIS BUNCH VS STEVEN SEAGAL</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/09/dumb-it-down-boys.html">61. DUMB IT DOWN, BOYS</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/09/we-meet-billy-friedkin-and-dea.html">62. WE MEET BILL FRIEDKIN AND THE DEA</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/09/dancing-with-naked-lady-while-watched.html">63. DANCING WITH A NAKED LADY WHILE WATCHED BY GUYS WITH GUNS</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/10/tracking-carlos-lehder-to-his-lair.html">64. TRACKING CARLOS LEHDER TO HIS LAIR</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-real-stars-of-hollywood.html">65. THE REAL STARS OF HOLLYWOOD</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/10/how-many-hollywood-agents-does-it-take.html">66. HOW MANY HOLLYWOOD AGENTS DOES IT TAKE TO SCREW A WRITER?</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/10/how-rock-hudson-sort-of-helped-us-agent.html">67. HOW ROCK HUDSON (SORT OF) HELPED US GET AN AGENT</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/11/hollywood-screwup-how-we-got-perfectly.html">68. HOLLYWOOD SCREW-UP: WE LAND A PERFECTLY GOOD AGENT THEN BLOW THE DEAL</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-she-devil-who-scared-hell-out-of.html">69. THE SHE-DEVIL WHO SCARED HELL OUT OF THE HIGHLANDER</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/11/highlander-two-its-just-free-day-in-la.html">70. HIGHLANDER TWO: IT'S JUST A FREE DAY IN LA</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/11/highlander-three-off-with-their-heads.html">71. HIGHLANDER THREE: OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/11/chuck-norris-never-blinks-never.html">72. CHUCK NORRIS NEVER BLINKS. NEVER!</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-big-ripoff-hollywood-style.html">73. THE BIG RIPOFF - HOLLYWOOD STYLE</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/12/hooray-for-hollywood.html">74. HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD</a></b><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/12/hooray-for-hollywood.html"><b>75. A HOLLYWOOD CHRISTMAS</b></a><br />
<b><br /></b><b><a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2012/12/sten-in-hollywood-penultimate.html">76. STEN IN HOLLYWOOD: THE PENULTIMATE MISADVENTURE</a></b><br />
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<a href="http://allangcole.blogspot.com/2013/01/epilogue-last-misadventure.html"><b>77. EPILOGUE: THE LAST MISADVENTURE</b></a><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!</span></b></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;">Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1296516992&sr=1-1allancoleswor-20">In The U.S.</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349572&sr=1-1">In Canada</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349709&sr=1-1">In The U.K.</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.de/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books-intl-de&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349811&sr=1-1">In Germany</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.fr/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349925&sr=1-1-catcorr">In France</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.es/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350004&sr=1-1-catcorr">In Spain</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.it/Lucky-In-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350095&sr=1-1">In Italy</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.jp/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350193&sr=1-1">In Japan</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists-ebook/dp/B00260GUME/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=digital-text&qid=1249688260&sr=1-1&tag=533633855-20allancoleswor-20">Here's the U.S. Kindle edition</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lucky-in-cyprus-allan-lucky-cole/1018271031?ean=2940012592163&itm=1&usri=2940012592163">Here's the Nook Book edition</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:</span></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:</span></div>
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A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan</div>
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After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.</div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/gvUVpe">CLICK HERE FOR THE KINDLE EDITION</a><br />
<a href="http://is.gd/oovdEe">CLICK HERE FOR THE NEW AUDIOBOOK</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">NEW STEN SHORT STORY!!!!</a></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;"><b>BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. </b></span><b style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;">They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. </b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">CLICK HERE TO GET THE E-BOOK</a></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://new%20audiobooks%21%21%21%20%20my%20hollywood%20misadventures%20a%20daughter%20of%20liberty%20sten%20and%20the%20star%20wanderers/">CLICK HERE TO GET THE AUDIO </a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</span><br />
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Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In the depths of the Sixties</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. </span><span class="apple-style-span"></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tales-Blue-Meanie-Allan-Cole-ebook/dp/B00260GTB6/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386612534&sr=1-1&keywords=TALES+OF+THE+BLUE+MEANIE">CLICK HERE TO BUY THE PAPERBACK & KINDLE</a></div>
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<b><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size: large;">THE STEN BOOKSTORE:</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/">All eight U.S. editions, both in paperback and Kindle... The three massive U.K. omnibus editions, including Kindle... The Audiobooks ... Alex Kilgour's Jokebook, The Sten Cookbook, Empire Day 2013... And much, much more. </a></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!</span></div>
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Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four episodes. Here are the links: </div>
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vZkVGeTZtbElTdjg/edit?pli=1">Part One </a>... <a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vaFh4OFRjdEROUmM/edit">Part Two </a> ... <a href="http://depositfiles.com/files/lnqi3yag6?redirect">Part Three </a> ... <a href="https://www.box.com/s/py0r23ei188izm95t3jb">Part Four</a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-46154155145533457832014-03-09T16:56:00.001-04:002014-03-09T16:58:54.340-04:00How To Steal A Million Dollars<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1">NEW AUDIOBOOKS!!! </a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/c2b5Rq">STEN #8 - EMPIRE'S END (CD or MP3)</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1">MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/A-Daughter-of-Liberty-Audiobook/B00G00JYDS/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1382633139&sr=1-1">A DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Sci-Fi-Fantasy/Sten-and-the-Star-Wanderers-Audiobook/B00GGXMNXW/ref=sr_1_15?qid=1383838194&sr=1-15">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Mysteries-Thrillers/MacGregor-In-Dying-Good-Audiobook/B00GS0TVPQ/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1385562624&sr=1-1">MACGREGOR IN: DYING GOOD </a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/search/ref=a_pd_Bios-M_tseft?advsearchKeywords=THE+STEN+COOKBOOK&filterby=field-keywords&x=0&y=0">A COP'S LIFE</a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/Sbk4QH">THE ALEX KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</a></div>
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<u><a href="http://is.gd/oovdEe">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER</a></u></div>
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<a href="http://acoleaudiobooks.blogspot.com/">CLICK HERE TO WIN </a><a href="http://acoleaudiobooks.blogspot.com/">A FREE AUDIOBOOK.</a></div>
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*****</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Land Of The Big Con</td></tr>
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Chris said, "I flat don't get it."<br />
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"What's not to get?" This from Al Godfrey, our new mentor and
exec-producer of Quincy M.E., starring Jack Klugman.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "Okay, stop me if I get it wrong anywhere along the
line. Klugman orders Peter Thompson - the guy you replaced - to buy a script
from us. Right?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Godfrey nodded. "You boys are two lucky sons of bitches."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Yeah, yeah," Chris said. "But, what happens next is
that old Peter informs us that Klugman's been wanting to do something about
Pedophiles and how they bury themselves in the community to stalk our kids."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Godfrey said, "I'm with you so far. Still don't see anything to be
confused about."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "Well, hang fucking tight because it gets a little
scary from here on in… We tell Peter, no problem. When do you want the story?
And how long should it be?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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I break in, getting steamed just listening to Chris' recital. "And
Peter tells us - 'Not to worry, boys. I have the story. You just do the research
and when you're ready call me."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Never mind that," Chris said. "He didn't have a fucking
story. He lied to us. We had to come up with one on the fly. Then we go home,
write the story. Get your notes and Peter's notes. Then write the script.
Script's approved. Checks mailed to agent. Agent clips them for ten percent and
sends them on."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Godfrey nodded. "That's how it works."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Christ snorted. "Well, riddle me this, Mr. Godfrey, sir. How come
if we did all the damned work - with no help from Peter - that when the check
showed up from fucking Universal Studios that we got screwed for two thousand
dollars? And it turns out that the two grand went into the pockets of - guess
who - Peter Thompson."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Godfrey shrugged. "Easy," he said. "That was Peter 's
share. He <i>had </i>the story, remember?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris was exasperated. So was I, but I kept my mouth shut. This was a
learning opportunity if ever saw one. A lesson, as it happens, that cost us two
thousand dollars so I didn't want to miss a word.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My partner persisted. He said, "It's not Peter 's story. He didn't
write - or think up a word of it."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Godfrey said, "Of course, it's his story." He jabbed a finger
at the stationary on his desk, headed MCA-Universal - Business Affairs. "Says
right here it's his story. Credit he generously shared with you and Allan. And,
pal, if fucking Business Affairs says so, it's So. Just ask them."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris made a noise of heart-felt disgust. "Peter 's the freaking
head of production for the largest studio in the whole freaking world. What's
he need two grand of our measly script money for?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Godfrey said, "I'd like to say it isn't the money. But in This
Town money is always a major part of the story. Guys like me and Peter live way
over our heads. We have to drive the nicest cars. Live in the nicest houses.
Send our kids to the best private schools. Wine and dine and fuck the sexiest and
most expensive starlets… You know. Keep up appearances."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Yeah, but two grand?" Chris said in a dismissive tone. "What's
two grand to him?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Despite his protest, however, my partner's outrage was starting to
wane. Beating your head against the wall called Studio Business Affairs can be
weary work.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "You mentioned that money wasn't Peter 's only motive. "What
other reasons are there?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Godfrey leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. He said, "In
a word - Credit. And the bottom line is that Peter was more after the Above The
Line Story Credit than the money." (Above The Line on the End Reel are the
names of the producers, directors, writers, actors and other "creative"
personnel. The Below The Line credits are everybody else, from makeup to the guys
who provide the portable Johns on location.) <o:p></o:p></div>
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We gave our new mentor blank stares.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "Credit? He's got fucking credit." He jabbed a
finger at the Business Affairs document. "Says right there he was fucking
Executive Producer." <o:p></o:p></div>
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Godfrey sighed - such innocents. "In this business," he said,
"there is nothing lower than a writer. But if a non-writer wants to go
places in the world of the Suits he'd better have some writing credits to go
along with his masters degree in pencil pushing and pissing on the peons."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Peter claims he has a degree from the London School of Economics,"
I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Godfrey chuckled. "Yeah, and if you fucking believe that you'll
probably believe that he was classmates with Mick Jagger."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"He's too old," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Godfrey raised a cautionary finger. "Never tell an old fart he's
too old," he said. "It will be the end of your career."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Gotcha, boss," I said. Amused, because Godfrey himself had
claimed he was about our age, when he was clearly ten years or more older.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I steered back to the point. "Are you saying that Peter wants his
bosses to think that he's actually a writer, who got interested in production"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Fuck no," Godfrey said. "But if he can flash a few
credits to The Guys With The Big Telephones, it'll show that he has a creative
streak. But not so much of one that he's gonna go sideways on them. Develop a
case of integrity. Or fucking honesty."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Honesty?" I said. "Heaven forefend."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Godfrey cocked an eye at me. He said, "If you ever use the word 'forefend'
in a script you write for me you can look for it the next day at the County
Dump."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Just then we were joined by the new Quincy story editors - Chris Trumbo
and Jeff Freilich. Drinks were made, smokes fired up and we all settled back to
get to know one another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It turned out that Chris Trumbo was the son of the legendary
blacklisted screeenwriter Dalton Trumbo (Spartacus, Exodus to name just two
- while Freilich - a medical school
dropout - hailed from the shores of Roger Corman, king of the down and dirty
drive-in movie makers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"It was one hell of an education,' Freilich said - speaking not of
the medical school part, but of working for Roger Corman. "You only had a
few thousand bucks to make whatever flick Roger assigned you. Which meant you
really had to use your imagination and cheat like hell to shoot the movie. The
real beauty was that if you stuck to the few basics Roger required - 'I want
Women In Chains Meets Dracula - you could say or do pretty much anything you
wanted."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Sounds like old Black Mask Magazine," my partner opined. "Stick
to the basic formula and you had a free hand. That's where the best writers in
the detective story business, like Raymond Chandler, got their start."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
While they were all talking, I was thinking about the cheapo movies
that Corman and his ilk made, some of which were (accidentally) good. Most
turned a large profit and even the worst never lost a dime on the drive-in,
neighborhood movie circuit. (Today, it's DVD rentals and Streaming Video.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Meanwhile, the studios regularly lost their silk shirts on Big Bucks
Productions, and had to count on one or two bonanza films every year or so to
pay the bills. These days they call them 'Tent Pole' pictures and they consist
of endless sequels of mindless movies aimed at teenage boys, who consume so
much popcorn and drink so much Coke that they keep the zillion dollar
entertainment business afloat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I asked Jeff, "What if Corman gave you a million dollars. What
could you do with that?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Freilich laughed. "Shit, with a million dollars I could have re-made
Ben Hur, complete with the chariot race. Of course, we'd have to shoot it in
Italy, or southern Spain, but hell, their prop masters probably have dozens of old
movie chariots on hand. And there's plenty of period footage we could buy for the
price of a pizza."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
At the time, studio movies averaged ten million bucks or so, which shows
you how long ago this was. Currently, film budgets are hammering on the gates
of $500 million. Stars like Johnny Depp ring up paydays of $50 million or more.
(The most recent Pirates Of The Caribbean.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I turned to Godfrey, "So tell me Al, if you can make a million
dollar movie - one that's guaranteed to turn a profit - why don't the studios
make ten, one million dollar movies that will all make a bundle… instead of one
ten million dollar movie that's probably going to lose money?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Godfrey gave me a pitying look - oh, you poor putz. Then he proclaimed,
"Allan, the reason the studios make Ten Million Dollar Movies, instead of
One Million Dollar Movies, is that you can't fucking steal a million dollars
from a million dollar movie."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
That was our first real money lesson in Hollywood and it pretty much
explained everything you needed to know about the business - including how
Peter Thompson ended up with some of our money in his pockets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"It's like points on the project," Godfrey said. "You
are never going to see any, because the points are based on gross profits and
no studio in Hollywood will ever make a movie that shows an actual gross profit
that points can be levied against."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Godfrey told us that recently he'd been offered two points on a
multi-million dollar project and he'd said, "I'll swap those two points
for a flat ten thousand dollars cash."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The deal maker looked at him, hurt in his eyes. "Come on, Godfrey,"
he said. "Play fair."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As the conversation moved on, Chris sat there silently for a time.
Which was quite unlike him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Finally, he piped up: "You know, if Cole and I had known that
Hollywood was like the plumber's, or the electrician's union, and that all you
had to do was grease somebody's palm to break in - well, fuck, man! We'd have
paid somebody two thousand dollars years ago." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b>Quincy Postscript:</b> As time went by we met
every chance we could with Godfrey - so much that Scotty just waved us through
the gate and didn't bother to ask what we were up to. And we spent many an
evening pitching stories and shooting the breeze with Al, and Trumbo and
Freilich.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We even sold another script to Al - The Money Plague - which was about
anthrax-infected money getting into the system through a neighborhood bank. (A
greedy story editor managed to grab some of the credit on that one as well.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Al lasted one season - a very successful season - and another producer
came on board. Several others followed. Klugman chewed through producers like he
chewed through dialogue. (Quincy scripts had to be twenty pages longer than
most because Klugman talked so fast.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Godfrey was philosophic about what he knew would be his eventual demise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"If I do my job right," he said, "I can keep the numbers
up and the show a hit. But eventually, I'm going to make Jack mad. And then I'm
gone. No worries, though. I had that eventuality covered in my contract."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Meanwhile, over the following seasons we sold several more scripts, and
were such old pros at Quincy that the new producers used to call us - a couple
of freelancers - to ask vital questions, such as: What's Quincy's first name?
Answer: He didn't have a first name, just the initial "R." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Another: What was Sam's (Quincy 's sidekick, played by the multi-talented
Robert Ito ) last name? Answer: Fujiyama. And yes, he was a doctor too,
although few writers, except us, ever referred to him with that honorific.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Quincy M.E., ran for eight hit seasons, ending in 1982 - not because
the ratings were down. The show was always in the top ten or close to it. Jack Klugman
was worn out with the incredible effort he put into the program and was having
continuing problems with his voice. He called it a day, bowing out at the top
of his game. Last I heard he was still alive and giving them hell at age 89.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
An interesting side note on Godfrey 's comment about the firewall he'd
built into his contract:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Glen Larson was the creator of Quincy - a guy I'll be telling you a lot
more about later on in greater and more horrific detail. Old Glen had a PhD in "borrowing"
other people's ideas and making them into (usually low brow) hits.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He probably would have ruined Quincy, one of the most honored shows in
TV history, with an impact that reached all the way to Congress. But he didn’t
stick around much past the first season.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old hands on the show told us
that Klugman and Larson were butting heads before the cameras started to roll.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Klugman demanded quality. He wanted realistic stories based on fact.
Stories that meant something and that had decent dialogue for the actors to
speak.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Surely, Glen may have wondered - Is Jack fucking nuts?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As you may have gathered, Larson was an unlikely source for any of the
things Klugman demanded. Larson’s motto was: Whatever works, works. The rest is
bullshit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Despite these problems, Quincy was a huge a hit. It started out as one
of the shows in the NBC "Mystery Wheel." The other members of the
wheel were "McCloud," "MacMillian and Wife, " "Banacek,"
and "Columbo." All good programs. Each getting two hours per episode
- just like a movie, with all the production values that a movie has.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
When the Network - in its stupidity- broke up the wheel, Quincy became
a regularly scheduled one hour program and Klugman - we were told - said either
Larson was off the show, or he was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Larson lost.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Well - not really.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Actually, Glen Larson probably never lost a dime of his own money in
his professional career. We were told that his payoff was in the neighborhood
of fifty thousand dollars an episode to stay away from the show. That's fifty
thousand dollars in 1979 money, which, according to my inflation calculator,
would be $145,846.11 today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Which is one hell of a restraining order.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I’d take that deal, wouldn’t you?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Anyway, at this point in the game, Chris and I were all but made.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But two things had to occur before our success was assured.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
One concerned Sten - the first novel in a series that what would turn
out to be an international science fiction hit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The second had to do with a big fucking shark.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>NEXT: THE SHARK THAT ATE BUNCH AND COLE</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p> *****</o:p></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</a></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;">Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1296516992&sr=1-1allancoleswor-20">In The U.S.</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349572&sr=1-1">In Canada</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349709&sr=1-1">In The U.K.</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.de/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books-intl-de&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349811&sr=1-1">In Germany</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.fr/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349925&sr=1-1-catcorr">In France</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.es/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350004&sr=1-1-catcorr">In Spain</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.it/Lucky-In-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350095&sr=1-1">In Italy</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.jp/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350193&sr=1-1">In Japan</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists-ebook/dp/B00260GUME/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=digital-text&qid=1249688260&sr=1-1&tag=533633855-20allancoleswor-20">Here's the U.S. Kindle edition</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lucky-in-cyprus-allan-lucky-cole/1018271031?ean=2940012592163&itm=1&usri=2940012592163">Here's the Nook Book edition</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39038">All E-Book Flavors</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com</span></li>
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*****<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:</span></div>
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A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan</div>
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After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.</div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/jbeO3m">CLICK HERE FOR THE TRADE PAPERBACK</a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/gvUVpe">CLICK HERE FOR THE KINDLE EDITION</a><br />
<a href="http://is.gd/oovdEe">CLICK HERE FOR THE NEW AUDIOBOOK</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">NEW STEN SHORT STORY!!!!</a></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmU-sdQLxNO1yb9XxaLISSPgORbTr5SLzG0eDll3NYbAWzHmlHIAioh5YUTdBByQGE-VJgyp7lCGpG_4drBPdKQu9IhfZqJHYnfZ5CzHFW2sXCrsQETphXO1i8j1bZW3ldn_jU_nhoQOI/s1600/SatSW-cover101813-600x600_colin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmU-sdQLxNO1yb9XxaLISSPgORbTr5SLzG0eDll3NYbAWzHmlHIAioh5YUTdBByQGE-VJgyp7lCGpG_4drBPdKQu9IhfZqJHYnfZ5CzHFW2sXCrsQETphXO1i8j1bZW3ldn_jU_nhoQOI/s320/SatSW-cover101813-600x600_colin.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;"><b>BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. </b></span><b style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;">They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. </b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">CLICK HERE TO GET THE E-BOOK</a></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://new%20audiobooks%21%21%21%20%20my%20hollywood%20misadventures%20a%20daughter%20of%20liberty%20sten%20and%20the%20star%20wanderers/">CLICK HERE TO GET THE AUDIO </a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In the depths of the Sixties</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. </span><span class="apple-style-span"></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tales-Blue-Meanie-Allan-Cole-ebook/dp/B00260GTB6/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386612534&sr=1-1&keywords=TALES+OF+THE+BLUE+MEANIE">CLICK HERE TO BUY THE PAPERBACK & KINDLE</a></div>
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<b><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size: large;">THE STEN BOOKSTORE:</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/">All eight U.S. editions, both in paperback and Kindle... The three massive U.K. omnibus editions, including Kindle... The Audiobooks ... Alex Kilgour's Jokebook, The Sten Cookbook, Empire Day 2013... And much, much more. </a></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!</span></div>
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Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four episodes. Here are the links: </div>
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vZkVGeTZtbElTdjg/edit?pli=1">Part One </a>... <a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vaFh4OFRjdEROUmM/edit">Part Two </a> ... <a href="http://depositfiles.com/files/lnqi3yag6?redirect">Part Three </a> ... <a href="https://www.box.com/s/py0r23ei188izm95t3jb">Part Four</a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-63169495142841848152014-03-09T16:50:00.001-04:002014-03-09T16:50:30.201-04:00What's The Story Boys?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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*****</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxEx4OxajQGFrWzIb3_kVnAyjxYUWY2kyXadz9bEMl1yXehrbEsexXBicpwVtQHiweW59yXIHIyk3n1WDxXH9WCePw7MPXwinJB7FR4fYsFivLn3tGFUqHgK7Avu_5wdDcQSsamk7nRo/s1600/quincy_story.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxEx4OxajQGFrWzIb3_kVnAyjxYUWY2kyXadz9bEMl1yXehrbEsexXBicpwVtQHiweW59yXIHIyk3n1WDxXH9WCePw7MPXwinJB7FR4fYsFivLn3tGFUqHgK7Avu_5wdDcQSsamk7nRo/s1600/quincy_story.jpg" height="400" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Writer's Creed</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>A conman was caught
impersonating a Hollywood producer. One of his victims - a rising young actress
- told the judge: "I should've suspected he wasn't a producer. He didn't
hit on me more than once."<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>* * *<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b>HAL: Look Dave. I can see
you're really upset by this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly,
take a stress pill, and think things over. (From 2001: A Space Odyssey)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>* * *<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b>"It's not the most
intellectual job in the world, but I do have to know the letters." <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b>(Vanna White - Wheel Of
Fortune.)</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
* * *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris was hammering furiously on the keyboard. He paused to glance at
his notes, then snorted his complete disgust. He said, "Man, this is some
serious sick shit." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He shuddered. Something I had never seen him do before. "Makes my
skin crawl just thinking about these assholes. And here we have to write a
whole fucking script about the suckers."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I settled back from my own work and sighed my agreement. "I keep
saying to myself, this is our big break. Don't fuck it up."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris said, "If this wasn't for Jack Klugman I'd pack it in. At
least we know he'll make good use of this shit. Get some Congressional hearings
going, and such."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then he hunched his shoulders, his face took on a fierce light, and he
started blazing away at the keyboard again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
When I remind you that the project we were engaged in had to do with
Pedophiles - the scum of the Earth - you'll understand our feelings. Especially
since the whole business with Jack Klugman started out with a nice, gentle
story about murdering boxers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As Chris put it: "On a scale of one to ten: Murdering boxers
Versus Pedophiles, the baby rapers rate way down on the shit scale."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Not only that, but we were both troubled by Peter 's super strong
insistence that he already had a story in mind and just wanted us to do the
research.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But, after we got home from the meeting and had poured a couple of
scotches, Chris said, "I don't feel right about this somehow."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What's wrong? We got the deal didn't we?" I replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris said, "Are you sure you got that right? We're just to do the
research. And he'll give us a story which he already has worked out?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I started to nod, then stopped to drag out my notes. Flipped through
them. Found the place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Yep, he was adamant," I said. "We said two or three
times - are you sure you don't want us to come up with a story. And he said -
No. He had the story. I looked at the heavily scored pen marks beneath his
exact quote and read it to Chris: "Not to worry, boys. I've got the story."
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Before he said it," I pointed out, "he thumped his
chest like he really meant it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris sighed and shook his head. Then, "What did you think about
the guy?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Twenty four-carat British charm," I said. "At least
that's how he comes across."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Think it's actually gold wash?" Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I do," I said. "I won't be surprised if he tries to
pull some sort of con," I went on. "But, I still can't help liking
him."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris laughed and topped up our drinks. "What the fuck," he
said. "The Guild 's got our back. And so does Klugman. What can he do?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
So, we jumped head first into the sex crime cesspool and researched the
hell out of the son of a gun. It was a skin crawly subject, but with Klugman we
knew it was for a good cause. Also, it was our entry through the gates of
Hollywood.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We spent a couple of weeks taking to cops who specialized in busting
the miscreants, and shrinks who specialized in treating young victims, as well
as those who were experts on the mindset of the perps.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
When we were done, Chris and I came away pretty much of the opinion
that the perps were incurable and ought to be locked up for two largish
forevers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We called Peter 's office and his assistant set up an appointment. But,
while I was on the line with her I made double-damn sure of our instructions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Peter said he didn't want us to write the story," I told his
assistant. "He said he had one he wanted to assign us. Is that still on?
Or, should we get busy writing?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The assistant said, "I know for a fact that he has a story. He had
me call Business Affairs at the Tower and pencil it in on the production pay
schedule."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and I liked the sound of that: Pay Schedule. Rolled that around
on our tongues a little. Went well with the scotch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Couple of days later we were once
again making our way over the hill from Santa Monica to the San Fernando Valley
where most of the major studios, including MCA-Universal - were planted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Scotty was at the gate like before and he whisked us on our way with a
cheery, "Break a leg, boys." Made our way along the yellow brick road
to the Quincy offices - about a hundred yards up from the old Ozzie and Harriet
house - and with barely a wait we were ushered into the inner-sanctum of the
Executive Producer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Imagine our surprise when we were greeted not by Peter Thompson, but a
smooth, well-made fellow who wore a quirky little smile as if he viewed the
world with great amusement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He said, "I'm Al Godfrey, the new exec producer." He shook
our hands, then waved us into seats.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We must have looked like we were in shock, because he kindly hastened
to explain: "I know you boys were expecting to meet with Peter - and you
will in a minute or two. But first, let me reassure you that I've talked to
Jack and he's impressed with you boys and so I know all the background." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I heard Chris give a sigh of relief. I could tell Godfrey caught this,
but he just went on to explain that Peter had been promoted to head of
production for MCA/Universal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In other worlds, he was now one of the Guys With The Big Telephones who
resided in the Black Tower.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Peter still wants to handle your script," Godfrey said, "as
his final contribution to Quincy." The crooked smile of his grew a little
more crooked, with a little cynical twitch at the edges. It made you wonder
what he was really thinking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Godfrey looked us up and down, measuring. Then said, "I know
you're both new to the game, and might not realize it, but you now have a
friend in a very high place."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and I nodded. "Head of production. It's just starting to
sink in," I said, still a little numb.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The desk phone buzzed. Godfrey picked it up, listened, thanked the
person on the other side and said, "Let's go see Peter. He's ready for us."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Godfrey chatted as he drove us over there in his Mercedes, but I don't
remember much about what he said. I was too busy absorbing the fact that Chris
and I were actually going to enter the infamous executive tower.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I saw it rising in my view like an obelisk. Cue the 2001 A Space
Odyssey theme music. And damn was that sucker black. Black as a producer’s
soul. And it really does tower. The closer you get to the son of a bitch, the
more it looms over you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As you approach, you know that no building in the earthquake prone City
Of The Angels can be really very high. But if you are an aspiring anything, and
either your doom or your dreams are to be found at Universal’s Black Tower, I
guarantee that it will look like the Empire State Building when you arrive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Here's what it's like when you enter:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
After being examined by Security for hidden grenades and genital warts,
you are allowed to go to the elevator reception area. Generally men and women
dressed in million dollar business outfits are waiting there. Very rarely
shabby writers. The Suits stare at you, smiling - everyone in Hollywood
cultivates a special smile - but it's about as shallow as a Casting Director's
good intentions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The elevator stops at each and every floor as you ascend. And if you
dare to peek out at each stop, you will be struck at how amazingly well
decorated each floor is. Lovely paintings. Plush rugs. Antique furniture.
Beautiful secretaries and receptionists.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But as you rise, you’ll also notice that the carpets get thicker and richer,
the paintings become originals, instead of just expensively framed copies, and
the secretaries grow more and more beauteous.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
When you reach the rarefied atmosphere of the very top floor - which
overlooks all that the Guys With The Big Telephones choose to survey - you will
step off into wonders unknown to a common writer like yourself. While you wait,
they practically put out towels on the furniture so you won’t drip nervous flop
sweat on the Louis the XXXZZZZ antiques.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You don’t dare look at the paintings, for fear that the light of wonder
shining from your Commoner eyeballs might somehow harm them and lessen their
value.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Your feet sink into the carpeting up to your ankles and janitors in
gold-braided uniforms approach to make you wipe your feet on portable scrapers
with handles made of polished wood.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And the secretaries - well, let me put it this way. These are women who
have been genetically altered so they do not sweat, or do any of the ordinary
human things regular women do. The wondrous ladies there smell only of faint, incredibly
expensive perfume, have modulated voices that are eternally sweet, yet
commanding, and have eyes that can warm you to the quick, or turn you into ice
if you offend the dignity of the Very Top Floor Of The Black Tower. Oh, and no
matter what their race, color or creed, they speak with a charming British
accent, with a little French thrown in here and there for variety's sake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Got the picture? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Okay, back to the action... After a small eternity, Peter ’s exquisite
executive assistant summoned us. The three of us followed her lovely, silk-clad
posterior into Peter’s Office.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It was a marvelous office. As head of production at Universal, Peter commanded
a space only a few places under the legendary Lew Wasserman and his mail-fisted
Knights Of The Golden Box Office. There were so many floor to ceiling windows,
you felt like you might fall off the face of the Earth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And, although you could not see All The Way To Tomorrow, the view did
offer a scary glimpse of your immediate future - if All Did Not Go Well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Peter rose from his fabulous Prince Something Or Other Desk and graced
us with that roguish smile. "Thanks for coming, boys," he said. He
nodded at Godfrey. "And you too, Al... How are things progressing with
Jack?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We didn't realize it then, but Klugman was famously difficult with
producers, but I did note the knowing look Peter gave Godfrey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Every thing's coming along fine, Peter," he said. "Thanks
to your smooth handover."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Peter nodded, smiling a smile of such great sincerity, that I knew it
was at heart deeply insincere. In other words, Big Shot though he might be, he
was worried Godfrey might show him up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then he turned to us, oozing warmth and charm. He made polite conversation
for a minute or two, then paused. Planted his elbows on his desk and leaned
forward.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Looking me right in the eyes, and holding that gaze, he said, "Okay,
what's the story, boys."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It was like someone had rammed a spear into my heart. I knew Chris must
feel the same. Shit, the guy had insisted that HE HAD THE STORY. He'd said it
several times over the past weeks. His assistant had confirmed it only a couple
of days before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
What the hell was he doing? He was fucking us. Sure, I got that. But
for the life of me I didn't know why.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I looked helplessly at Chris, who had gone pale. I could see in his
eyes that he was thinking, shit, shit, shit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then - without a beat - Chris said, "Go ahead, Cole, tell Peter the
story."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
If I'd had a gun, I'd have shot him. No, I would have shot myself
first, then let the gun spill before his feet so he could follow me into that
deep, dark place where ink-stained wretches are condemned to abide in an
afterlife, where there is never a period to end a sentence, but only an endless
series of commas.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
This all happened in a split second. However, I hadn't been a newsman
for fourteen years to not have several shovels of bullshit ready at all times.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
So, I just started spouting our research. Spewing it out in way that
might indicate that this was just the prelude to the story - a fabulous story
yet to come. In the back of my mind I was hoping that I was giving Chris time
to come up with something so I could toss the ball back to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then Peter 's phone rang. Peter raised a hand, "Sorry, Allan. This
will just take a tick."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As he spoke to someone on the phone I gave Chris a look of desperation.
To my horror, the look I got back was one of equal desperation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I glanced over at Godfrey, but he was just staring at the floor, that
crooked smile twitching his lips.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then Peter hung up. "Sorry, boys, but I have to run down the hall
to see Lew for a second," he said. "I'll be right back."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then he was gone. In the silent room you could sever the tension with splicing
shears. Godfrey cleared his throat, getting our attention.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
My head came up to see a look of great pity. "You poor putzes,"
he said. "What the fuck is going on here?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Quickly, we explained. We were told not to develop a story. Just do the
research.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Peter insisted he had the story," I said once again. "But
now..." my voice trailed off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Never mind that shit," Godfrey said. "Let's stick our
heads together and come up with something before the son of a bitch comes back."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Twenty minutes later Peter swept into the office, took up residence in
his plush executive chair. He gave us his total attention.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And once again he asked, "What's the story, boys?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But this time we told him.<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>NEXT: HOW TO STEAL A MILLION DOLLARS</b></div>
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<o:p><b> *****</b></o:p></div>
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!</span></b></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349572&sr=1-1">In Canada</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349709&sr=1-1">In The U.K.</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:</span></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:</span></div>
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A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan</div>
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After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;"><b>BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. </b></span><b style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;">They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. </b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</span><br />
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Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In the depths of the Sixties</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. </span><span class="apple-style-span"></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tales-Blue-Meanie-Allan-Cole-ebook/dp/B00260GTB6/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386612534&sr=1-1&keywords=TALES+OF+THE+BLUE+MEANIE">CLICK HERE TO BUY THE PAPERBACK & KINDLE</a></div>
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<b><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size: large;">THE STEN BOOKSTORE:</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/">All eight U.S. editions, both in paperback and Kindle... The three massive U.K. omnibus editions, including Kindle... The Audiobooks ... Alex Kilgour's Jokebook, The Sten Cookbook, Empire Day 2013... And much, much more. </a></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!</span></div>
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Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four episodes. Here are the links: </div>
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vZkVGeTZtbElTdjg/edit?pli=1">Part One </a>... <a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vaFh4OFRjdEROUmM/edit">Part Two </a> ... <a href="http://depositfiles.com/files/lnqi3yag6?redirect">Part Three </a> ... <a href="https://www.box.com/s/py0r23ei188izm95t3jb">Part Four</a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-33300179317036572552014-03-09T16:36:00.002-04:002014-03-09T16:36:05.435-04:00Jack Klugman & The KO Kids: Part Two<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1">NEW AUDIOBOOKS!!! </a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/c2b5Rq">STEN #8 - EMPIRE'S END (CD or MP3)</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1">MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/A-Daughter-of-Liberty-Audiobook/B00G00JYDS/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1382633139&sr=1-1">A DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Sci-Fi-Fantasy/Sten-and-the-Star-Wanderers-Audiobook/B00GGXMNXW/ref=sr_1_15?qid=1383838194&sr=1-15">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Mysteries-Thrillers/MacGregor-In-Dying-Good-Audiobook/B00GS0TVPQ/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1385562624&sr=1-1">MACGREGOR IN: DYING GOOD </a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/Tales-of-the-Blue-Meanie-Audiobook/B00GNDG22S/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1386612277&sr=1-1">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Health-Fitness/The-Sten-Cookbook-Audiobook/B00HUEAX06/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1389828424&sr=1-1">THE STEN COOKBOOK</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/search/ref=a_pd_Bios-M_tseft?advsearchKeywords=THE+STEN+COOKBOOK&filterby=field-keywords&x=0&y=0">A COP'S LIFE</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Sci-Fi-Fantasy/The-Blacksmiths-Daughter-Audiobook/B00HWFNMG0/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1390496599&sr=1-1">THE BLACKSMITH'S DAUGHTER</a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/Sbk4QH">THE ALEX KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</a></div>
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<u><a href="http://is.gd/oovdEe">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER</a></u></div>
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<a href="http://acoleaudiobooks.blogspot.com/">CLICK HERE TO WIN </a><a href="http://acoleaudiobooks.blogspot.com/">A FREE AUDIOBOOK.</a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Klugman And Ether Merman In Gypsy</td></tr>
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Chris was cussing a blue streak in my ear.</div>
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In between Eff words and Em-Eff words, I could sort of make out that he
was in some kind of a pickle, but with all the sounds of a busy newsroom around
me I was definitely missing the meat of the matter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Something about a distributer. Well, a Fucking Distributer, actually.
At least that's what I think he was saying.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"What about the distributer?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then the presses started rolling - hitting about two thousand feet a
minute in no time. And then the whole building started to shake. It was the
Home Edition.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I put Chris on hold and went into the computer room, which was
soundproofed and air conditioned. The computer was a 1979 marvel to behold.
Huge, with flashing lights and spinning reels of tape, it looked like something
off the set of Forbidden Planet. The Outlook was the first newspaper west of the
Mississippi to computerize, making some of us proud, and others scared shitless
of being run over by the Future. Thinking back on it, that whole damned machine
probably had fewer brains than my BrandSmart Microwave, so maybe the
scaredy-cat group really did have something to freak over. I mean, after that
came Sexting.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lifted the phone extension and punched up Chris. "What's going on,
partner?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"The new fucking distributer Russ' boys bolted on to my bike is
fucking fried, is what's going on," he said. The bike - a blown out
Kawasaki Z1 - was normally his pride and joy. The mechanics at racing champ
Russ Collins ' speed shop tried out experimental Go Fast gear on it, and let
Chris keep the stuff if it worked. If it didn't - well, they'd fix it when they
had time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Unfortunately, mechanical things have their own schedule when it comes
to going Kaput! And this was the worst possible time imaginable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Shit, we're due at Universal in an hour and a half," I said.
"No time for me to pick you up and then make it to the studio. Not with
you all the way over in fucking Compton."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris' voice was weary. "Well, I know that, Cole," he said. "What
I don't know is what the fuck to do about it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Unspoken, was that there was no way we could cancel. Mr. Jack By-God Klugman
was personally giving us a shot at breaking into The Game and if we blew the
meeting we'd both feel like blowing our brains out as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
There was a clicking sound on the phone and Chris said, "Hang on.
Got another call. Maybe it's Gunsmith Bob."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Bob Willy - aka Gunsmith Bob - was not only a great friend, a wealth of
technical information of all kind, but possessed an old Rambler station wagon
that regularly poisoned the atmosphere, but was reliably capable of getting
from here to there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Maybe… Just maybe…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris clicked back on the line. "Hot damn," he said. "Bob
and Big Dave are dropping the Rambler by. See you in a bit." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A half hour later I was off work and Chris pulled into the newspaper
parking lot as I exited the building. Double checked the chain lock on my
Suzuki, then popped open the passenger door of the Rambler. Empty beer cans
came rolling out, but who the hell cared at a time like this? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We dodged traffic over the hill, the car choking and coughing past
Mulholland to the very top, then diving down to where many possible Freeway
Cloverleaf routes leap up with no warning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Quite by accident, we merged onto the correct freeway. Over the
sputtering engine, I was shouting, "That way, Chris, that way," while
jabbing a finger in the wrong direction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But my warning came too late and Chris was forced by traffic to make
the proper choice and before you knew it we were approaching the Universal Studios
off ramp, with the legendary Black Tower marking the spot just up ahead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Even as rookies we knew the Black Tower was a scary place. That’s where
the Guys With The Big Telephones held forth. GWTBT types like Lew Wasserman -
the Pope of Hollywood, who started out as a theater usher in the 1930’s and
cut, slashed and machinegunned his way all the way to the top of the mountain -
CEO and majority share holder of the biggest, baddest motion picture and music
company in the...well... universe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You know that scene in the Godfather with the horse's head in the
producer's bed? If you had met Waserman and his Number Two - Sid Sheinberg -
you'd know that there isn't a Mafia boss in the world with balls enough to pull
such a stunt on either of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As Chris once put it, "The blowback would be fucking ferocious."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Once you become familiar with Universal Studios, it's no surprise when
you learn that it was founded on the back of a string of horror movies. The
House that Frankenstein, Dracula, and The Wolfman built, with a little Francis
The Talking Mule and Abbott and Costello thrown in to lighten things up. It's
like General Motors getting its start with Funny Cars. Which, come to think of
it… Oh, never mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We stopped at the gate and a tall, silver-haired gentleman in a perfectly
creased uniform emerged from the guard shack. He politely inquired what our
business was, established that we had an appointment at the Quincy offices, and
as he handed us a map of the Lot the Rambler gave a hacking American Motors wheeze
and expelled a big fat smog fart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The gentleman gate guard didn't react, or sneer at our poverty on
wheels, but just leaned closer so we could hear him over the ailing engine
noises.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
(Later, we learned his name was
Scotty, hands down the most well-liked gate guard in all of Hollywood. From
that day on he remembered our faces and names and always smoothed the way with
prime parking spots and a cheery, "Good luck, boys.")<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Scotty indicated a score of lines painted on the roadway. They made up
a rainbow of broad stripes: red, green, blue and yellow - and they all went off
in different directions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Like the Good Witch said, boys, just follow the yellow brick
road," Scotty quipped, smiling at what was obviously a joke he told many
times a day, but still enjoyed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He added, "Mr. Klugman’s production offices are just about all the
way to the back of the lot. When you go by Mr. Hitchcock ’s and Miss Lucille
Ball's dressing rooms you will be almost there. If you find yourself in front
of an old fashioned white house with a picket fence you have gone too far.
That's the Ozzie and Harriet house, you know."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We didn’t, but figured we would when we saw for ourselves. Of course,
Hitchcock and Lucy were in a really, really long hiatus, and Ozzie and Harriet went
off the air long ago, but we didn’t point any of this out to the dignified
guard and set off to find the wizard whose name was Quincy along the By God
yellow brick road.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The broad yellow stripe twisted and turned through a maze of sound
stages and bustling crowds of workmen operating strange machines with even
stranger gadgets attached. Electric carts whizzed this way and that, whipping
around the occasional black limo carrying some "Suit" or other to
meetings at zillion dollar a plate bistros, or maybe even the dreaded Black
Tower.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The sound stages were the size of aircraft hangars and here and there
alarms blared, doors into the sound stages slammed and red lights blinked on to
warn one and all to stay the hell out - people were performing magic in there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In some places costumed actors, actresses, and Star Standins hung out
of open doors to catch a quick smoke break. We caught glimpses of everything
from green-skinned aliens, guys with movie blood-spattered bandages, and
fabulously beautiful women in every variety of scanty attire. Mingling with
them were burly stuntmen and lithe stuntwomen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We couldn't help but goggle, and by and by we came upon a tram ferrying
some fellow lookee-loos around the lot. But these were rubber-neckers of the
paying variety. They were enjoying what was then called the Universal Studio
Tour. A primitive, low-bucks affair with no special effects or rides, other
than the trams, which were usually helmed by young actors and actresses who did
their best to entertain the rubes with quips and show biz tricks, like stopping
the tram in mid road, and juggling purses and cameras, or walking on their hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Anything to get in a little of the old razzle dazzle. Who knows, maybe
a producer in a passing limo or electric VIP cart would see them and hire them
on the spot. (Factoid:<span class="apple-style-span"> in
those days the trams were called "Glamour Trams." Glamour by whose
measure? Probably Wasserman, which made it so.)</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The tourists were milling around two little cottages set side by side.
One had Alfred Hitchcock ’s shadow profile painted on the door; the other was
graced with a caricature of Lucille Ball. The studio had turned them into mini-
museums and the people seemed to be enjoying themselves wandering in and out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris glanced over at me. "You a little nervous?" <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I shrugged. "All they can tell us is to fuck off," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I didn’t ask you that," Chris pointed out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I shrugged again. "Yeah, I’m nervous."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then before we knew it we were cruising over a rise and below us we saw
a white house with a picket fence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"That must be Ozzie’s place." I observed. "Except in
color, instead of black and white."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As Chris came to a stop he snorted. "Ricky Nelson ’s a no-talent
wimp," he decreed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then we were turning left into a parking area in front of a fairly
large white cottage. Not only did the number on the cottage match the address
scrawled in our notebook, but we spied an empty parking space with the name
Jack Klugman painted on it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Guess Jack's not home," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Inside Jack’s place we were greeted by a middle-aged woman, with a
practiced smile meant to put us at ease. She advised us that the wait would be
short and fetched us some cold drinks. The reception area was cool and dark,
with comfortable furniture.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The walls were decked with posters illustrating Klugman's long and
varied career. Films like 12 Angry Men and Days Of Wine And Roses. TV series
like The Odd Couple. There were Broadway posters, like Gypsy. And any number of
cards from his countless appearances on the Twilight Zone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Before all this had time to sink in, the lady ushered us into an office
where three men waited: Peter Thompson, the executive producer, and two other
producers whose names I was too nervous to catch. We learned later that they
were <span class="apple-style-span">William (Billy)
Cairncross and Charles (Diz) Dismukes and they both not only taught us a lot
but saved our young asses innumerable times.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Peter was a handsome devil, with a British accent. He was the Quincy Showrunner
- TV lingo for the guy who runs the show, okay? And, as we would soon learn, a
genial conniver of the first order. Even so, he was hard not to like.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Copies of our script about a boxer falsely accused of murder were laid
out around a large meeting table and as we settled into our chairs, nervously getting
out notepads and pens, Peter said, "Hold on a tick, lads, Jack's going to
join us."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I could tell from Chris' expression that he was as surprised as I was.
We heard Klugman's gravel voice issuing orders to his assistant at the front
desk, then the door opened to frame the Great Man Himself - Jack By God
Klugman.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He was tall, well-built and he came charging into the room boiling with
energy. Talking a mile a minute, grabbing our hands and giving them firm
shakes, telling us to "Sit, sit," and all the while asking questions
and issuing orders non-stop to his producers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The assistant ducked in to tell Klugman so-and-so was on the phone. He
waved at her, looking disgusted. "I don’t have time for Suits," he
said. "I’m talking to my writers."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and I exchanged looks. The guy was growing larger in our book by
the second. (Later, we'd learn that sort of thing was routinely staged, but it
was still a thrill that a big TV star like Klugman had taken the trouble.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then he got down to business. Grabbed a copy of our script and started
flipping through it. "Great story, boys," he said. "I could
almost shoot it as is. Maybe a couple of suggestions I might have, but bottom
line - this is a damned fine job."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We were enthralled, to say the least. We were in. Finally in. The big
door kicked down. We were made, Baby, made. Wait'll Kathryn hears the good-<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Unfortunately," Klugman continued, snapping off my thoughts,
"we can’t use it. We’ve already done a boxing show for this season."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
My heart fell from a far height. I could almost hear Chris' bouncing on
the floor beside mine. Shit, so close. You almost get there - just like all
those other times - then, wham, they sucker punch you flat on your ass.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"You couldn’t have known," Klugman went on. "The episode
won’t air for a couple of weeks. It doesn't have the same angle as yours - the
aneurysm deal - but what're you gonna do?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He kept flipping through the script. Stopped at one point, read for a
second. Then looked up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"This boxing business is right on the money," he said. "That’s
one thing that really caught my eye. You've got it down good. I oughta know. I
was a Golden Gloves boxer back in the day, and I've had ringside seats at all
the top fights ever since."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I couldn’t believe our good luck. "Well, sir," I said, "I’ve
been nuts about boxing and boxers myself since I was a kid. My grandfather,
Frank Guinan, and his brother, Joe, were founders of the Philadelphia Boxing
Association. You know, the gym where they shot Rocky and -"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"No shit?" Klugman said, breaking in. "The Philadelphia
Boxing Association? Know it well." He sat back in his chair. Impressed as
all hell. "They must have been pros, then."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Yessir," I said. "Back in the Twenties they not only
won championships, but in several different names." Klugman laughed
knowingly. I went on, "They had to feed their families, you know? So
they’d fight two, sometimes three times a week. But under different names.
Besides that, my grandfather was lightweight Fleet Champion when he was in the
Navy, and something similar when he was in the Army. My Great Uncle Joe later
became president or vice president of the association."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He looked at me, interested. "Are you a Philly kid?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I hadn’t been there more than a few months at a time since I was a
baby, but I said, "I was born in South Philly, sir. Twenty First and
Tasker, that’s me. Just down from Bishop Neumann High School."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"No shit?" Jack said again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Yessir." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I was only lying a little bit. My Aunt Cassie and Uncle Tom had a row
home at Twenty First and Tasker and I had attended Bishop Neumann for
practically a whole month. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Klugman closed the script and sat silent for a few seconds, thinking.
After the verbal barrage, it felt like a storm had just passed through.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then he said, "Okay, Philly, here’s what we’re gonna to do." (Over
the years that's what he called me - "Philly.") He looked over at
Peter Thompson. "I want them write a script for us," he said. "Call
their agent and make the deal."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Peter smiled that charming smile of his. "Sure, thing, Jack. And I
have just the story for them. That notion about mistreated children you wanted
to explore."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Fine," Klugman said. "Get on it right away."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then he rose, stuck out his hand for parting handshakes, and said, "You
go get 'em, Philly." He grinned at Chris. "You too. I want to show
those Suits in the Tower that they can’t keep a lock on this town forever."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then he was gone and there was a sudden vacuum in the room. The two
other producers (Billy and Diz) congratulated us, then shot out of there,
leaving only Peter behind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He said, "Jack’s been wanting to do something about child molesters.
It’s become one of his pet causes."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Yessir," Chris and I said in more or less unison.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I want you to research the subject thoroughly," Peter added.
"I have a few names at the LAPD you can contact and a psychiatrist or two
who specialize in that area."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"When do you need the story?" Chris asked, naturally enough.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Peter gave a wide - and in retrospect - wolfish smile. "Don’t
worry about that, boys," he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Thumped his chest. "I’ve got the story."</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>NEXT: WHAT'S THE STORY BOYS?</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
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<div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</a></div>
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!</span></b></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;">Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1296516992&sr=1-1allancoleswor-20">In The U.S.</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349572&sr=1-1">In Canada</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349709&sr=1-1">In The U.K.</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.de/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books-intl-de&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349811&sr=1-1">In Germany</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.fr/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349925&sr=1-1-catcorr">In France</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.es/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350004&sr=1-1-catcorr">In Spain</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.it/Lucky-In-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350095&sr=1-1">In Italy</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.jp/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350193&sr=1-1">In Japan</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists-ebook/dp/B00260GUME/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=digital-text&qid=1249688260&sr=1-1&tag=533633855-20allancoleswor-20">Here's the U.S. Kindle edition</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lucky-in-cyprus-allan-lucky-cole/1018271031?ean=2940012592163&itm=1&usri=2940012592163">Here's the Nook Book edition</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39038">All E-Book Flavors</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:</span></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:</span></div>
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A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan</div>
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After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.</div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/jbeO3m">CLICK HERE FOR THE TRADE PAPERBACK</a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/gvUVpe">CLICK HERE FOR THE KINDLE EDITION</a><br />
<a href="http://is.gd/oovdEe">CLICK HERE FOR THE NEW AUDIOBOOK</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">NEW STEN SHORT STORY!!!!</a></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmU-sdQLxNO1yb9XxaLISSPgORbTr5SLzG0eDll3NYbAWzHmlHIAioh5YUTdBByQGE-VJgyp7lCGpG_4drBPdKQu9IhfZqJHYnfZ5CzHFW2sXCrsQETphXO1i8j1bZW3ldn_jU_nhoQOI/s1600/SatSW-cover101813-600x600_colin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmU-sdQLxNO1yb9XxaLISSPgORbTr5SLzG0eDll3NYbAWzHmlHIAioh5YUTdBByQGE-VJgyp7lCGpG_4drBPdKQu9IhfZqJHYnfZ5CzHFW2sXCrsQETphXO1i8j1bZW3ldn_jU_nhoQOI/s320/SatSW-cover101813-600x600_colin.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;"><b>BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. </b></span><b style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;">They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. </b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">CLICK HERE TO GET THE E-BOOK</a></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://new%20audiobooks%21%21%21%20%20my%20hollywood%20misadventures%20a%20daughter%20of%20liberty%20sten%20and%20the%20star%20wanderers/">CLICK HERE TO GET THE AUDIO </a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</span><br />
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Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In the depths of the Sixties</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. </span><span class="apple-style-span"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!</span></div>
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Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four episodes. Here are the links: </div>
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vZkVGeTZtbElTdjg/edit?pli=1">Part One </a>... <a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vaFh4OFRjdEROUmM/edit">Part Two </a> ... <a href="http://depositfiles.com/files/lnqi3yag6?redirect">Part Three </a> ... <a href="https://www.box.com/s/py0r23ei188izm95t3jb">Part Four</a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-80987117122922338482014-03-09T16:27:00.003-04:002014-03-09T16:27:59.177-04:00Jack Klugman And The KO Kids<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1">NEW AUDIOBOOKS!!! </a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/c2b5Rq">STEN #8 - EMPIRE'S END (CD or MP3)</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1">MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/A-Daughter-of-Liberty-Audiobook/B00G00JYDS/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1382633139&sr=1-1">A DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Sci-Fi-Fantasy/Sten-and-the-Star-Wanderers-Audiobook/B00GGXMNXW/ref=sr_1_15?qid=1383838194&sr=1-15">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Mysteries-Thrillers/MacGregor-In-Dying-Good-Audiobook/B00GS0TVPQ/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1385562624&sr=1-1">MACGREGOR IN: DYING GOOD </a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/Tales-of-the-Blue-Meanie-Audiobook/B00GNDG22S/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1386612277&sr=1-1">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Health-Fitness/The-Sten-Cookbook-Audiobook/B00HUEAX06/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1389828424&sr=1-1">THE STEN COOKBOOK</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/search/ref=a_pd_Bios-M_tseft?advsearchKeywords=THE+STEN+COOKBOOK&filterby=field-keywords&x=0&y=0">A COP'S LIFE</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Sci-Fi-Fantasy/The-Blacksmiths-Daughter-Audiobook/B00HWFNMG0/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1390496599&sr=1-1">THE BLACKSMITH'S DAUGHTER</a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/Sbk4QH">THE ALEX KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</a></div>
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<u><a href="http://is.gd/oovdEe">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER</a></u></div>
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<a href="http://acoleaudiobooks.blogspot.com/">CLICK HERE TO WIN </a><a href="http://acoleaudiobooks.blogspot.com/">A FREE AUDIOBOOK.</a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRNYzAeDL2uppPUzDHdwcsb3uEGMDIscI-ENmEI4iEhW-xuA9r2hB6ZtdDCBP5qhHdoMYOKFngWwDaswbWFb6vOnYQlkjAMIIV7BWSRrRKSmL93HPzihZXimnL9X6GoYqKgJdIMMOaNM/s1600/quincy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRNYzAeDL2uppPUzDHdwcsb3uEGMDIscI-ENmEI4iEhW-xuA9r2hB6ZtdDCBP5qhHdoMYOKFngWwDaswbWFb6vOnYQlkjAMIIV7BWSRrRKSmL93HPzihZXimnL9X6GoYqKgJdIMMOaNM/s1600/quincy1.jpg" height="400" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack Klugman</td></tr>
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<span class="apple-converted-space"><b><span style="color: #333333;">"G</span></b></span><span class="apple-style-span"><b><span style="color: #333333;">entlemen, you are about to enter the most important and
fascinating sphere of police work: the world of forensic medicine, where untold
victims of many homicides will reach from the grave and point a finger
accusingly at their assailant." (Jack Klugman as Quincy M.E.)</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="apple-style-span"><b><span style="color: #333333;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<b style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333;">"Don't point that finger at me unless you intend to
use it." (Jack Klugman in The Odd Couple.</span></b></div>
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* * *<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">We were pounding away on sample chapters for Sten, when the phone rang.
It was Larry Grossman, our brand new agent. (I'll tell you how that happened
down the line.)</span></div>
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Chris hit the speaker button in time for me to hear: "Guys, I've
been thinking about our problem, and I may have come up with an avenue to explore."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The "Problem" was a series of no sales for movie scripts we
were churning out. It wasn’t that the scripts weren’t any good. On the
contrary, they got us noticed all over town. They not only landed us Larry as
an agent but opened the doors to many production offices where the scripts were
being optioned on a fairly regular basis.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But after that - Nada. And there
they languished in Option Hell, waiting for somebody to say, "Let's shoot that
sucker!"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "Sure as shit hope you so, Larry. This keeps up and
the IRS will declare our work area a fucking Hobby Zone?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Two words," Larry said. "Television."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I automatically blurted, "That's one word, Larry."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris rolled his eyes at me - Cole, the stickler for detail.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Larry said, "In this Town it's two words: Fucking Television. But
the 'Fucking' part is understood."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "What're you suggesting." <o:p></o:p></div>
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"Just that," Larry said. "Write for television."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"What about our movie scripts?" I said - a little stunned.
Television? What the hell?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Larry sighed. "Guys, don't get me wrong. They are all wonderful
scripts. But, you have to be realistic about this. The odds against actually
selling a movie script without a track record are enormous. And even after you
sell it, the chances that it will ever be made into a movie are even greater.
And even then, even with recognized pros the average time between a script sale
and a movie being made is ten years. Sometimes more."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris was getting hot. I wasn't far behind. He said, "What're you
suggesting, Larry? That we pack it the fuck in?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"No, no, not all," Larry hastened to say. "All I'm
saying is that if you guys want to make a living at this, that you ought to consider
working in television."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"I hate fucking television," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Everybody does," Larry agreed. "But that's where most of
the employed people in this Town work. Also, the employment - although seasonal
- is fairly steady."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"What about our movie scripts?" I demanded.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Larry said, "Right now they are your best chance of getting a job
in television. Any producer who reads them is going to know right off that you
have the talent and the dedication." He paused. "But you're going to
need to do something more than just show them a good movie script."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Like what?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Write a spec script for their show," Larry said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"You mean write for fucking free?" Chris asked, outraged.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Larry said, "You're already writing for free. All those movies.
And what about you book? Colt? Or Derringer? Or, whatever it is called."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Sten," I said. "Which is also a gun. A machine gun,
actually, that happens to be the name of our hero."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Right… Sten," Larry said. "You're writing that for
free, true? All in the real hopes of a sale down the road."<o:p></o:p></div>
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* * *<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>PAUSE SCENE FOR SHORT BACKSTORY<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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As usual, Larry was right on the money. Or lack of same. We'd talked
him into letting us use his letterhead when we blanketed all the science
fiction houses in New York with a query letter pitching the Sten series - which
we saw as twelve novels back then, instead of the eight it turned out to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Last episode I told you about the format we used for query letters.
Three graphs. No more than one page. And the last graph said: "May we send
sample chapters and an outline of our novel series." <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But, using Larry's letterhead we could change that to read: "May
we have our agent send sample chapters and an outline of our series." A
big damned difference - even though Larry wasn't a book agent - which we'd have
to get later on - he was a legit agent, with a sterling reputation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Anyway, that query letter had drawn maybe eight or nine positive
replies. One thing: There were no sample chapters, much less an outline. We
hadn't written them yet. Now, we had to deliver, and deliver fast. Thank the
Gods Of Ink-Stained Wretches And Other Fools that we were fast writers. Because
we had to get the chapters and outline in the mail PDQ before they forgot all
about us. An editor's attention span in circumstances like that are about the
length of a fruit fly's life span.<o:p></o:p></div>
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* * *<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>RETURN TO SCENE<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Where Larry's words were sinking in. Way, Way In. To get through the
gates of one of the studios, we were going to have to hold our noses and-<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Wait a minute," Chris said. "I don't even watch fucking
television. Shit, my folks didn't get one until I was twenty years old and in
the Army."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I confirmed this. "He's right, Larry. And the only reason they
bought the set is because I sold it to them for twenty five bucks. Chris was
home on leave and we had spent all our money on - you know - and his dad felt
sorry for us."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Damned thing was half dead," Chris said. "My dad said
he'd buy the sucker if it worked, so Cole stuck the antennae in his mouth and
bingo, the picture came in clear as… well. Anyway, there was a picture."
He chuckled at the memory. "Next day it died for good, but now my old man
was determined to show he hadn't been taken so he bought fifty, sixty bucks
worth of tubes and fixed it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"He still barely speaks to me," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And then only when he's in his cups," Chris added.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Larry was only half-listening. He said, "What about you, Allan?
What are your favorite shows?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I'm not so far off from Chris on the TV-watching front," I
said. "I grew up overseas in places where you could only get radio. And
half the time the Russians were jamming it." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Larry's voice took on an insistent tone. "However you do it, guys,
my best advice to you is to watch a few programs. Really study them. Then write
a couple of spec scripts. If you really want to work in This Town, that's the
price you'll have to pay."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
After some moaning and groaning, we grudgingly agreed we'd try, then
got off the phone. We dragged the morning newspaper out of the trash, found the
TV guide and picked a couple of shows. We agreed that Chris would watch one and
I'd watch the other, and that we'd discuss them the following afternoon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I should mention that we at least both owned TV sets: Chris because his
Ex-Wife liked to watch television and didn't take it with her when she left,
and me because I needed one for when it was my turn to have my kids over for
the weekend. (They came up once a month by train from San Diego, where my own
Ex had moved.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
That night, after Kathryn and I had dinner, I dutifully switched on my
fugitive from a pawn shop - staying well back during the warm up stage, since
it tended to shoot sparks. When things steadied out, I turned to the assigned
show and started to watch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
An hour or so later Kathryn shook me awake and I sat bolt upright on
the couch. Other than the Fade In and the first commercial, I'd slept through
the entire program.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Shit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I tried to wake you, sweetie," Kathryn said. "But you
just kept saying, 'In a minute, in a minute,' but the minute never came."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The problem was that I had to get up at three every morning to make my
job as Wire Editor of the Santa Monica Outlook. It was a tough shift - 4 a.m.
to noon - but it gave me from 1 p.m. to 7 p.m. to work with Chris. We banged
away Tuesday through Friday. I got a break on Saturday - I only had to work at
the newspaper, not with Chris. I had Sunday and Monday off from the newspaper.
Slept Sunday. Worked a full eight hours with Chris on Monday. So, that's 40
hours at the newspaper and 32 hours with Chris.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Which equals…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Well, never mind. I get tired just thinking about it. Bottom line: I
was always on the edge of complete exhaustion and would fall asleep - suddenly,
and deeply - at the slightest pause in the action of living. If there was a
wall to lean against, I'd learned the trick every swabbie and grunt the world
over knows, and catch a nap standing up. Fortunately my sole transportation was
a motorcycle, or I might have nodded off while driving.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Shamefaced, I reported my failure to Chris the following day. But, he
was no better off. He'd been reading, he said - had even set an alarm so he'd
know when to stop and switch on the TV. Unfortunately, the book was so
interesting that when the time came - and the alarm buzzed - Chris had absently
shut it off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Several days passed - all without success. And then Chris put his
finger on another problem:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"We really ought to be watching this shit together," he said.
"But I'll be damned if I'll drive to your place just to watch TV, and if
you were stupid enough to do the same I'd take back my introduction to you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What we need," I said, "is one of those video
recorders. We could record the programs at night, then speed through them
together at work the next day."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris sighed. "Yeah, but I'm so broke the Eagle on my Last Quarter
is flying on one wing."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He'd just had to pay out a bundle to his Ex, who had demanded a half
share of everything he'd written - or any notion he'd put on paper - since they
got married. In the end, our very clever attorney - Marshall Caskey -
negotiated a buyout settlement. Even so, it would be a while before Chris had
any spare money in his jeans. (More about The Amazing Possum-Eating Caskey down
the road.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Buying a VCR was no quick trip to Wal-Mart in those days. The cheapest
version - made by the Singer Sewing machine company, or something ridiculous
like that - went for $300. (About $1,336 in today's dollars.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Fortunately, I'd just done a manual for the Yamaha trail bike for
Peterson Publications and for a change had a few bucks to spare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I sprang for the VCR.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Every night I'd set the timer, tape a likely show, and the next day
Chris and I would zip through it at high speed, noting premises, regular characters
and the type of stories they told.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Even so it was wearisome.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris would sigh and say, "I’m getting warts."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And I’d reply, "Big deal. My warts are getting warts."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And he’d say, "Tell me about the yachts, Cole."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And I’d say, "If we can crack this nut, Bunch, we’ll be farting
through silk."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And he’d look insulted and say, "I was talking yachts. Why’d you
go all scatological on me."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And I’d end the gripe session, saying, "This is the last one. When
we finish, I’ll pour us a Scotch." (We hadn’t invented Stregg yet.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
That would be on a Monday. On a Tuesday, the positions would be reversed
and I'd do the griping and he’d pour Scotch on troubled waters.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Finally, one show in particular caught our attention - Quincy, M.D., starring Jack Klugman, a great character actor
who had blown us both away years before in Sidney Lumet 's 12 Angry Men. There
were many more great roles after that, including a couple of Twilight Zone episodes
even Chris and I had caught, as well the TV version of the Odd Couple, with
Klugman and Tony Randall. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Quincy was unusual at that time because in those pre-CSI and Bones days
it was a show about a coroner - a pretty gritty subject for the Networks back
then. The other unusual thing is that Klugman not only insisted on total
accuracy but he loved stories that were "About Something." An
injustice, revealed. A wrong, righted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I called Larry the next day to tell him that we wanted to take a crack at
Klugman's show.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Larry said, "What a coincidence, Allan. Have you seen today's
Variety."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We hadn't. The mail came late in our neighborhood.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Well, there's a big story about Jack Klugman and Quincy,"
Larry said. "The gist of it is that Jack is lashing out at the Studio and
Network again. He says they're sending him nothing but tired old hacks to write
for his show and he wants fresh ideas - Fresh Blood."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Does he mean it?" I asked. I might have been a Hollywood
newbie, but I'd been a newsman for fourteen years and had waded through
bullshit my entire career.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Not only does he mean it," Larry said, "but he's put
the word out to all the agencies that he'll consider any new young writer for
his show - the less of a track record, the better. "<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Well, that was us all over. Although, at 35, we didn't consider
ourselves young anymore. (Looking back, I can see now what red ass kids we
really were.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I reported all this to Chris, who was - if not delighted - encouraged.
All objections to TV were momentarily edged aside. We sat down and really put
our heads to coming up with a good story for a spec Quincy script.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In the end, we decided on a tale about a boxer. (For reasons that will
be clear in the next episode of this MisAdventure.) We stumbled upon an old
news story about a boxer who suddenly became violent in the hours after a bout,
and then died. Another man was held briefly as a murder suspect. But it turned
out that the man's death - and violent behavior - had been triggered by an
aneurysm in his brain's frontal lobe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In the Bunch & Cole version of the story, an old time boxer loses a
crucial match to a kid everyone thinks is a definite contender. Quincy, a
boxing fan, is at the match. Later, the winner is at a club celebrating with
his girl and entourage. The loser enters. Gets a drink. Goes over to the winner
- as if to congratulate him - but then suddenly attacks him. The kid blocks the
punch, pushes the guy away, but before anything else happens the loser suddenly
keels over - dead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The boxer is arrested for murder. Enter Quincy. Add more complications
- the kid's shady background, some Wise Guys, etc. And there you go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Sent the script to Larry, who sent it over to Klugman's office at Universal
Studios.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A week later the great man himself got on the phone to our agent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I like your boys' style," Jack Klugman said. "Have them
come on in and meet my people."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The meeting was set for the following week, but already we could see
ourselves on our bikes, thundering up to the Gates Of Universal Studios – the
Infamous Black Tower looming overhead - ready to take on the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
NEXT: JACK KLUGMAN AND THE KO KIDS PART TWO</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p> *****</o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</a></div>
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!</span></b></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;">Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1296516992&sr=1-1allancoleswor-20">In The U.S.</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349572&sr=1-1">In Canada</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349709&sr=1-1">In The U.K.</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.de/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books-intl-de&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349811&sr=1-1">In Germany</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.fr/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349925&sr=1-1-catcorr">In France</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.es/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350004&sr=1-1-catcorr">In Spain</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.it/Lucky-In-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350095&sr=1-1">In Italy</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.jp/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350193&sr=1-1">In Japan</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists-ebook/dp/B00260GUME/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=digital-text&qid=1249688260&sr=1-1&tag=533633855-20allancoleswor-20">Here's the U.S. Kindle edition</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lucky-in-cyprus-allan-lucky-cole/1018271031?ean=2940012592163&itm=1&usri=2940012592163">Here's the Nook Book edition</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39038">All E-Book Flavors</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:</span></div>
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A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan</div>
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After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.</div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/jbeO3m">CLICK HERE FOR THE TRADE PAPERBACK</a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/gvUVpe">CLICK HERE FOR THE KINDLE EDITION</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">NEW STEN SHORT STORY!!!!</a></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;"><b>BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. </b></span><b style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;">They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. </b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">CLICK HERE TO GET THE E-BOOK</a></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://new%20audiobooks%21%21%21%20%20my%20hollywood%20misadventures%20a%20daughter%20of%20liberty%20sten%20and%20the%20star%20wanderers/">CLICK HERE TO GET THE AUDIO </a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In the depths of the Sixties</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. </span><span class="apple-style-span"></span></div>
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<b><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/">All eight U.S. editions, both in paperback and Kindle... The three massive U.K. omnibus editions, including Kindle... The Audiobooks ... Alex Kilgour's Jokebook, The Sten Cookbook, Empire Day 2013... And much, much more. </a></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!</span></div>
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Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four episodes. Here are the links: </div>
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vZkVGeTZtbElTdjg/edit?pli=1">Part One </a>... <a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vaFh4OFRjdEROUmM/edit">Part Two </a> ... <a href="http://depositfiles.com/files/lnqi3yag6?redirect">Part Three </a> ... <a href="https://www.box.com/s/py0r23ei188izm95t3jb">Part Four</a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-61342279531453939362014-03-09T16:22:00.002-04:002014-03-09T16:23:58.518-04:00The Blonde All Over Lady And The Lion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1">NEW AUDIOBOOKS!!! </a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/c2b5Rq">STEN #8 - EMPIRE'S END (CD or MP3)</a></div>
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<u><a href="http://is.gd/oovdEe">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER</a></u></div>
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*****</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6i32i2k9gMCZYvz4QdQq1KKQ3-8wH8gkWGzvcYIBFM_lU6MewxAoCC24yy8aj6FCELuweNKcOGh0baNfRSKDOcx1T_KmctkBY8SmUZ-dGToYxy5jEVgVAfv61gGIqzWZwliixzRyPDQ/s1600/Lady+&+Lion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6i32i2k9gMCZYvz4QdQq1KKQ3-8wH8gkWGzvcYIBFM_lU6MewxAoCC24yy8aj6FCELuweNKcOGh0baNfRSKDOcx1T_KmctkBY8SmUZ-dGToYxy5jEVgVAfv61gGIqzWZwliixzRyPDQ/s1600/Lady+&+Lion.jpg" height="257" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
When I roared up to Chris' house on my Suzuki, he was already rolling
his bike into the garage. It was a tricked out Kawasaki Z1 that could do an
honest 150 mph, with still more twist in the throttle.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
When Chris saw me he pulled a manila envelope from his jacket and waved
it. "Got the shit," he said. "Straight from the Guild."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Translation: The "shit" was a list of Guild -sanctioned agents.
(Only later did I realize just how right-on that description was.)The Writers
Guild Of America -west (WGAw ) was a union of brother and sister scribes we'd
recently joined. You had to sell at least one movie or two episodes of
television to qualify. We'd made that sale - a low budget flick about The Lost
Dutchman Mine that would never be made. But it did pay well enough to cover the
several thousand dollars it cost for WGA membership.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I made appropriate "hot damn" noises and we repaired to his
home office, equipped with one state-of-the-art IBM Selectric for Chris, and an
elderly electric typewriter whose particulars I can't recall, but I can tell
you that when you hit a letter, a key rose up on a slender, curved metal type
bar, which struck an ink-soaked ribbon, making an impression of the chosen
letter on a piece of paper. In that pre-I-Pad age it wasn't quite a quill pen,
but close.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris shook two copies of the list from the envelope so we could get to
it. "It's divided up by state and city," Chris said, "but we can
ignore most of them. Met another writer - a pro - coming out of the Guild office
who was nice enough to give us some tips."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I fanned the pages. "Skip everything but Los Angeles, right?"
I guessed. We were newbies, but not so new that we didn't know if you wanted a
book agent you stuck with New York City and if you wanted a film agent, you
stuck with Los Angeles.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Narrowing it down to LA isn't enough," Chris said. "The
guy told me that the only agents worth a fuck are In The Loop?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What's The Loop?" I asked, naturally enough.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Basically, anything within a thirty-mile radius of SAG headquarters,"
he replied. (SAG is the Screen Actors Guild.) "He said by contract the
actors get more bennies for any shoot outside that area, and the other unions
basically follow suit. So that's where any agent worth a shit hangs his toupee."
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Another thing," Chris said, "he warned us that just
because an agent is what he called 'A Guild Signatory,' and is 'In The Loop,'
doesn't mean he's any good. First red alert, he said, is if they are ready to sign
you at the drop of the fucking hat. They're just churning for scripts, hoping
to come up with a winner. Second - and this was the biggest caution - is that
if anybody asks you for money, tell them to fuck off. They are crooks. No fucking
exceptions, he said."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I laughed. "An easy lay that asks for money is to be avoided,"
I said. "Sounds like somebody's uncle talking."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We got to work: dividing the list, then narrowing it down; first by zip
code, then by the Agency's comments - if any. More than a few said they weren't
taking on new clients. Much later, we learned that actually meant they would
only consider writers recommended by somebody already in the business. All of
them discouraged phone calls. They wanted a query letter, and if they liked the
letter, they'd graciously permit us to send samples of our work. And we'd go
from there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris said, "I think we oughta send a query letter to every single
swinging dick and dickette."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I agreed."Writers' Market says you're supposed to approach them
one at a time. That's bullshit. We'll be old and past it before we get to the
end of the list."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And so that's what we did: A mass mailing of query letters, but with
each letter tailored to what we could find out about the agency. In the
following weeks, some positive replies trickled in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Quite naturally, they wanted to see some script samples. Here's where
the mass mailing idea turned up a flaw in our cunning plan. In those Neolithic
times there was no such thing as a home printer or copy machine. Unless, of
course, you had a spare 10 grand handy - which is what a printer cost back
then. According to my handy-dandy inflation calculator, that'd be $38,909.73 in
modern currency.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Bottom line: if you wanted copies you were at the mercy of print shops,
which charged anywhere from 12 cents to 15 cents a page.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Your average movie script is a hundred pages plus. That was minimum
fifteen bucks a copy, plus a Suitably Fancy Cover (more on that boneheaded
notion of ours down the road), which would run another five dollars, making it
twenty dollars. Getting out my inflation calculator again, that'd be $72.80 in
today's bucks. Now, each agent would need samples of three or four movies. So
that means... Well, you get the idea. A whole mess of greenbacks for what would
more than likely be a turndown.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Fortunately, right about then I got a gig on the side writing a car
repair manual for the Chevy Nova for Peterson Publications and was able to hold
up my end of the expenses. (I'd been recently divorced and after alimony and
child support was clipped from my paycheck I was broker than a sailor after a
two-week toot - but without the fun.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
So, you can understand that we greeted every positive response with
mixed emotions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Fuck me, Cole," Chris said one particularly successful day."Any
more agents say 'Yes, please send samples of your work,' I'm gonna have to hock
my bike."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
His Z1 had been tricked out by the guys at Russ Collins ' Speed Shop. Collins,
for those who aren't students of motorcycle history, held the speed record in
the quarter mile for eleven straight years - breaking his own record each of
those years. He raced to promote his after-market shop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris' ride was a project motorcycle for Big Bike Magazine, which he
edited.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And in return for keeping it goosed up with the latest go-fast
technology, Chris let Collins' lads bolt on new shit and run his bike through
speed trials every month or so.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In short, it was his pride and joy and for him to talk about hocking it
demonstrates just how desperate we were the day the my phone rang at the City
Desk and the guy on the phone wasn't calling to threaten one of my reporters -
or me - but to say that he was an agent and he'd liked our scripts so much he
wanted an actual face-to-face meeting with the not yet legendary writing team
of Bunch & Cole.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I had to stall him a tad because Chris was in Vegas on assignment for
Rolling Stone covering the Bike Show.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and I were both writing pros, but we had taken divergent paths to
get there. After the Army, Chris had been saddled with the sort of bullshit
jobs soldiers home from the wars have been stuck with since - well, forever. A
stint as an architectural reporter for McGraw Hill. A foray into the
Underground Press - Open City and The Free Press, among others. Then into motorcycle
magazines. And finally into magazine freelance. Popular Mechanics and Popular Science.
The various motorcycle magazines. Life Magazine. Rolling Stone. And even the
magazine for the California Highway Patrol - I shit thee not.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Meanwhile, I'd gone a straighter route, working my way up the ladder at
a series of Southern California dailies, until I was City Editor, then Wire
Editor at The Outlook - a Santa Monica -based daily newspaper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Another bit of Bunch trivia: While in Vegas for the bike show he ran
into his old buddy - and Rolling Stone colleague - Hunter Thompson, the
legendary Gonzo Journalist. He was there living the events that would become
Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. Chris set Hunter up with a rare Vincent Black
Shadow motorcycle to ride during his visit. Hunter later acknowledged Chris'
help in the dedication of that book.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
After some fairly insistent dialing - and making false use of my
newspaper credentials - I finally caught up to Chris. I told him about the agent's
call and the request for a meeting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Where's the guy's office?" was the first thing Chris asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Naturally, I'd double checked the address. "Beverly Hills," I
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"So it's In The Loop," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Looks like it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I won't be back for at least a week," Chris said. "I'd
hate to lose the deal making the guy wait."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"No problem," I said. "I'll give him a call, say you're
on assignment for Rolling Stone. Which sure as hell won't hurt our Creds. Then,
I'll set up a solo meeting."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris said go for it, and a couple of days later I climbed aboard my
Suzuki and headed out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Like I said, the agent's address was in Beverly Hills. That should have
been gold, but when I got there, and made the turns as instructed, I suddenly
found myself in some kind of factory district, with buildings pocked by busted
out windows and guarded by razor wire and junk yard dogs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Obviously, he was stretching the Beverly Hills connection a wee bit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I finally found the address marking a little cottage on a huge
gravel-covered lot. This couldn't be it - could it? Double-checked my Thomas
Guide. (Expedia with a cover and pages) Yep. This was the place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Went to the door, crossing a small porch with sagging floor boards.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Knocked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A harried-looking guy answered, glanced furtively up and down the
street, then hurried me inside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It was the agent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The office was set up in the cottage's living room and he hustled me
over to his desk and asked me to relax for a minute while he finished what he
was doing. To my amazement, he was addressing a big stack of Christmas cards.
Mind you, this was in early February.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He grimaced when I looked at the stack. "Running a little late
this year," he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I wanted to say, "No shit," but thought it unwise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then he called out over his shoulder, "Honey, can you get our
guest some kind of refreshment."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I saw a door open and you might imagine my surprise, Gentle Reader,
when a lady with long blond hair, wearing nothing but a pair of sheer bikini panties,
stepped out of the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The first thing I noticed was her rather amazingly enhanced tits. The
second thing was her bush, which was as blond as the hair on her head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And the third thing I noticed was this big damned lion standing next to
her. I suppose it was actually a lioness, since it didn’t have a mane.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I suspect my reaction was typical guy: tits and bush, and then - oh,
shit a lion. Not - oh, shit a lion, then the chick.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
So now I was stuck there, wondering what to look at next - the lady, or
the lion. For some reason I couldn’t turn my head away. And the guy was saying
that this was his wife and "our pet pussy cat."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
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The might-as-well-be naked lady smiled and said, "Why don’t you
come into the kitchen and pick out what you want."<o:p></o:p></div>
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In my confusion, I suppose I wondered if she was offering herself, or
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What I really wanted to do was get the hell out of there, but I didn’t
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Anyway, I squeezed past the lion - the lady saying, just give her a
shove. Which I sure as hell didn’t do and then I’m in the kitchen, and she’s
got the fridge open, bending over and showing me everything all the way to
China, and the lioness sidles up to me and starts sniffing me like a dog. I
almost pissed my pants, Gentle Reader.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Soon as I could, I got some kind of a cold drink, retreated to the
office and eagerly accepted the agent’s invitation to come along with him to
the Post Office. He said we could talk while he drove.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The moment I got outside, I mumbled some kind of an excuse, jumped on
my bike and peeled the fuck out of there just as fast as I damned could.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Obviously, Chris and I crossed the guy’s name off the list.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And no, we didn't get the script samples back.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>NEXT: JACK KLUGMAN AND THE KO KIDS</b></div>
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*****</div>
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!</span></b></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;">Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349572&sr=1-1">In Canada</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349709&sr=1-1">In The U.K.</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:</span></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:</span></div>
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A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan</div>
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After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">NEW STEN SHORT STORY!!!!</a></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;"><b>BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. </b></span><b style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;">They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. </b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</span><br />
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Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In the depths of the Sixties</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. </span><span class="apple-style-span"></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tales-Blue-Meanie-Allan-Cole-ebook/dp/B00260GTB6/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386612534&sr=1-1&keywords=TALES+OF+THE+BLUE+MEANIE">CLICK HERE TO BUY THE PAPERBACK & KINDLE</a></div>
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<b><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size: large;">THE STEN BOOKSTORE:</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/">All eight U.S. editions, both in paperback and Kindle... The three massive U.K. omnibus editions, including Kindle... The Audiobooks ... Alex Kilgour's Jokebook, The Sten Cookbook, Empire Day 2013... And much, much more. </a></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!</span></div>
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Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four episodes. Here are the links: </div>
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vZkVGeTZtbElTdjg/edit?pli=1">Part One </a>... <a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vaFh4OFRjdEROUmM/edit">Part Two </a> ... <a href="http://depositfiles.com/files/lnqi3yag6?redirect">Part Three </a> ... <a href="https://www.box.com/s/py0r23ei188izm95t3jb">Part Four</a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-20032797910773825032014-03-09T16:14:00.000-04:002014-03-09T16:14:04.751-04:00Fade In: Bunch And Cole<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1">NEW AUDIOBOOKS!!! </a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/c2b5Rq">STEN #8 - EMPIRE'S END (CD or MP3)</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1">MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/A-Daughter-of-Liberty-Audiobook/B00G00JYDS/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1382633139&sr=1-1">A DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Sci-Fi-Fantasy/Sten-and-the-Star-Wanderers-Audiobook/B00GGXMNXW/ref=sr_1_15?qid=1383838194&sr=1-15">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Mysteries-Thrillers/MacGregor-In-Dying-Good-Audiobook/B00GS0TVPQ/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1385562624&sr=1-1">MACGREGOR IN: DYING GOOD </a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/Tales-of-the-Blue-Meanie-Audiobook/B00GNDG22S/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1386612277&sr=1-1">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Health-Fitness/The-Sten-Cookbook-Audiobook/B00HUEAX06/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1389828424&sr=1-1">THE STEN COOKBOOK</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/search/ref=a_pd_Bios-M_tseft?advsearchKeywords=THE+STEN+COOKBOOK&filterby=field-keywords&x=0&y=0">A COP'S LIFE</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Sci-Fi-Fantasy/The-Blacksmiths-Daughter-Audiobook/B00HWFNMG0/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1390496599&sr=1-1">THE BLACKSMITH'S DAUGHTER</a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/Sbk4QH">THE ALEX KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</a></div>
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<u><a href="http://is.gd/oovdEe">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER</a></u></div>
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<a href="http://acoleaudiobooks.blogspot.com/">CLICK HERE TO WIN </a><a href="http://acoleaudiobooks.blogspot.com/">A FREE AUDIOBOOK.</a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your Intrepid Writers: Allan Cole & Chris Bunch</td></tr>
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Chalk in one hand, pointer in the other, the teacher skritched her name
on the blackboard, then made a squeaky, swirly underline beneath and announced
loud and clear for all to hear:"I'm Miss Susan Fordyce and I'll be your
Journalism Advisor this year."</div>
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With her pointer, she tapped a large banner above the blackboard, which
read:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>LA VISTA <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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And informed us, "This is where we publish Mira Costa's student newspaper,
La Vista."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The kid in front of me snickered. "No shit," he said in a
stage whisper that I'd come to learn was one of his trademarks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Miss Fordyce whirled on him. She said, "Chris? Did you have
something you wanted to share with the class?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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The kid named Chris said, "No, Ma'am. I was only expressing my
pleasure that I wasn't in the wrong room. And I almost forgot the name of our
school newspaper. Thanks for setting me straight."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Miss Fordyce paled and her lips, which were already thin, became pencil
lines. For a minute I thought she was going to give the kid a righteous piece
of her mind, but then she sighed, adjusted her stylish (for 1960) cat's eyes
spectacles and returned her attention to the rest of us.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She said, "For your first assignment I want each of you to write a
short biography about yourself, and then-"<o:p></o:p></div>
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The kid named Chris raised a laconic hand to half mast, saying, "You
mean autobiography, don't you Miss Fordyce?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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She gave him a confused look - what the hell?<o:p></o:p></div>
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But before she could speak, the kid named Chris explained, "A
biography about yourself would be an autobiography, wouldn't it, Ma'am?" <o:p></o:p></div>
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Another long sigh. "Yes, Chris," Miss Fordyce said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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From her tone I guessed she'd endured previous encounters with the guy.
Probably last year, when he would have been a Junior. Only Juniors and Seniors
could be in Journalism. I was a senior and the kid had that Don't Mess With Me,
I'm An Upperclassman look, so I figured he was a senior as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It was my first day at Mira Costa High School in Manhattan Beach - I'd
transferred in from Hollywood High. The semester before that I'd attended three
different high schools - one in Florida, two in Philadelphia. And before that,
Kubasaki High School in Okinawa.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
How all that occurred is another story, and you can read all about it
in my book, Lucky In Cyprus. In brief, I was a young nomad - a CIA brat who'd
spent his life bouncing around the world, leaving everyone he knew behind and
mostly forgotten.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And now I was in sore need of new friends.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Up front, Miss Fordyce was telling everyone that she expected the
biog... mmm... autobiography... at the end of class. She would review them
overnight and in the morning she would announce which of us were to be editors
and which of us were to be mere reporters on "our award-winning student
newspaper - La Vista."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Somebody asked, "How many pages."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Miss Fordyce raised three fingers. "Three," she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
There were groans. In an outraged tone, somebody said: "Three
pages?!?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Miss Fordyce remained firm. "At a minimum," she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
There were more groans - but not, I noticed from the kid named Chris.
Miss Fordyce told us to get started and he just shrugged, got out paper and a
pen and started writing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I glanced around, noting there were about two dozen of us. All girls,
except for me, the kid named Chris, another kid whose name I'd later learn was
Tom, and another guy whose name escapes me. Among the girls was a petite blond
named Carol Cavanaugh who was destined to be my ex-wife. But that catastrophe
was in the future and so I was of good cheer when I got to writing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It only took a few minutes. I was a good writer, a fast writer, and
besides I was used to this sort of thing. By the time I hit Mira Costa I'd
attended thirty one schools and had explained myself to so many people so many
times - both formally and informally - that I had the whole thing down pat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The kid named Chris had finished his assignment as well and fetched a
book from the stack beneath his desk, opened it and became instantly absorbed. Hmm,
I thought. A reader. That's a good sign.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I took further note. He was still in his skinny teenage stage, but from
his long legs I could tell that he was tall. And he had a huge head topped by a
buzz-saw haircut.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I craned to get a better look at what he was reading. From what I could
see it was an odd-looking tome, with weird symbols and illustrations.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I whispered: "What's the book?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He glanced back, displaying a long, shovel-shaped face and steely blue
eyes. He shrugged and showed me the cover. It was The Encyclopedia Of
Witchcraft. Volume Six, no less.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Damn, I thought. Now this has got to be one interesting guy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I gave him a thumbs up and a grin. "Name's Cole," I said. He
nodded. "I'm Bunch." Then went back to his book.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The following day, Miss Fordyce announced that she and the editor of
the paper, a girl named Carol Chadwick - whose family owned a nursery across
the street from the school - had made their choices. The other Carol - the one
who was to be my future ex-wife - was named editor of Page One. I forget who
was made editor of Page Two. Chris Bunch was to be editor of Page Three, the
feature page, on which he would soon establish a humor column titled,
Phantasmagoria. It was packed with puns, some obscure, some not and the column
gave Miss Fordyce conniptions each week trying to ferret out any that might contain
a rude double meaning. Without great success, I'm pleased to say.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I was named co-sports editor, along with the kid named Tom, whose last
name I learned was Mead. This decision, no doubt, was made because, besides the
kid whose name I forget, we were the only other males. And in those days only
humans bearing the XY chromosome were deemed suitable for the Sports Beat. The
kid whose name I forget was a genial jock who could barely spell, so that left
him out of the running.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Of that group, three of us would become pros. Me and Chris, plus Tom
Mead who would go on to become a reporter for Copley News. (Chris and I used
him as a war correspondent in our Vietnam novel- A Reckoning For Kings. )<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It was at Mira Costa that Chris and I hatched our first conspiracy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The school was building a new indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool as
well as a new auditorium. Why anyone would construct an indoor pool in Southern
California where it rains maybe once every seven years is anybody's guess. But
Mira Costa was blessed with an enormous amount of vacant land, and in those
days California schools were brimming with money, thanks to Baby Boom parents shelling
out taxes so their little darlings would be decently educated to deal with a
future made uncertain by the Russians beating us into space with the Sputnik.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Wondering how Mira Costa had acquired so much land in a beach community
where property values were sky high, Chris did a little research. When he kept
coming up with Japanese surnames attached to the previous property owners, he
really dug in. Manhattan Beach was an upper middle class, very white, aerospace
community where there was only one black family and a young Japanese American
guy and his wife who ran a restaurant across from the pier. And they were
newcomers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris learned that prior to World War Two there had been many Japanese
families who had lived in the area for years and owned well-established farms
and nurseries. When World War Two broke out, so did mass hysteria and
xenophobia and despite the fact that most of the farmers were native born
Americans, they were rounded up and stuck in concentration camps. Their land
and possessions were seized, or sold for less than a song.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The law that permitted this enormous ripoff was Executive Order 9066 signed
by President Roosevelt and later upheld by the Supreme Court. (More than
120,000 people of Japanese descent were interred. Most were native-born
Americans.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And guess what, folks? The land our school sat upon and was building
new auditoriums and lavish indoor swimming pools upon had been stolen from
Japanese-American families not many years before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris wrote a series of articles exposing this wrong-doing, and a companion
editorial urging that the families be located and properly reimbursed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The articles never saw the light of day. No surprise there, right? But,
Chris dug in and fought the censorship, enlisting first my support, then
others, but nothing ever came of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Except that Chris ended up on Miss Fordyce's permanent shit list for
causing so much trouble.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Well, what could she do to even the score? She could give him a poor
grade, but other than myself, he was easily the best writer in the class.
Nothing less than an "A" would be acceptable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She bided her time until the annual Navy Day came round. Navy Day was a
rather clever U.S. Navy PR (meaning Recruiting) program, in which student
journalists spent a day and a night aboard one of the nation's battleships or
aircraft carriers, and then wrote an article about the experience for their
school newspaper. The article would be entered in a contest and the winners in
various categories would win a handsome plaque, or framed scroll - I forget
which. Maybe it was both.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Considering the times, you won't be surprised to learn that only boy
journalists were allowed to participate in the program - just like only boys
could cover sports.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
That was when Miss Fordyce struck. She handed official invitations to
me, Tom, the kid whose name I forget - but, not Chris.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Your classroom attitude leaves something to be desired," she
informed him when he protested. "And so I must withhold your invitation."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In later years, Chris would have told her where to put that attitude
business, but he was too close to graduation to take the risk. It seemed that
nothing could be done about it. The real pity was that Chris was the only one
of us who really gave a damn. Sounded like fun, sure, but not that much fun.
Chris, on the other hand, loved everything military. Read stacks of books about
wars and battles and weapons. Plus, his father had served aboard an aircraft
carrier in WWII. (The same carrier the First President Bush - father of the
Shrub - flew off of during his wartime service, and then crashed into the sea
where he was rescued after a harrowing time afloat. Some of you might think the
rescue was a good thing, others might not.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"This is totally screwed, Cole," he complained. "If an
editor spikes your story you're supposed to have the balls to kick, right?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Well, sure. Unfortunately, the First Amendment stops at the gates of
your local school district, and even bitching about it brings down the wrath -
and pettiness - of The Powers That Be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I tried to plead his case to Miss Fordyce, but she had put her Mean on
and could not be budged. So, I got together with Tom Mead and the other guy and
we joined forces and told her that if Chris couldn't go, none of us would go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
These were the days of Teacher Loyalty Oaths and Commie Scares, so in
the end she had to cave. Otherwise, she'd look unpatriotic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We went. Had a nifty time. And when we returned we elected Chris to
write the story about our experiences. He filled it with authentic detail, colorful
quotes from officers and enlisted men alike and eventually it was Chris Bunch
who snapped up the Navy Day prize for Best In The State, bringing honor to La
Vista and pissing Miss Fordyce off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Although Chris' articles about Executive Order 9066 never ran, many
years later he and I sold a story based on that travesty to the late, great Jack
Klugman for ten grand. Which ain't bad for a little high school research.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And thus began a friendship that lasted over three decades; twenty of
which we spent as writing partners. Our first collaboration was a very bad
thriller, which we wrote by mail while he was humping jungle in Vietnam and I
was pounding a typewriter in a newsroom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The book was kind of a game. I'd write a chapter with a cliff-hanger
ending, then ship it to Chris. Chris would solve the cliff-hanging business,
continue the story, ending his chapter with a cliffhanger. If one guy couldn't
solve the puzzle, he owed the other guy a bottle of scotch. If the guy who set
up the cliff-hanger was stumped himself, he owed two bottles of scotches. I
don't remember how it all came out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We also collaborated on the world's worst porn novel (Palace Of Strange
Delights, by Rod Cummings ), but gave up midway, bored out of our skulls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Both of us had dreamed of becoming novelists and screenwriters well
before our ages hit the double digits. And in 1976 we made a pact to team up
and launch a concerted effort to crack the literary walls of both Hollywood and
New York.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We worked 35 hours a week, while holding down stress-ridden full-time
jobs. We got so many rejections you could have papered an executive bathroom at
Universal Studios.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But we persisted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Finally, in the summer of 1979 we got not one but two breaks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We sold our first novel, Sten, and our first TV script, Quincy, M.E.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A month later we quit our jobs and never looked back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
What follows are the sometimes frustrating, but always hilarious
adventures - or misadventures - of Bunch & Cole, who became known far and
wide as the fix-it boys.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>NEXT: THE BLONDE ALL OVER LADY AND THE LION</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</a></div>
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!</span></b></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;">Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1296516992&sr=1-1allancoleswor-20">In The U.S.</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349572&sr=1-1">In Canada</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349709&sr=1-1">In The U.K.</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.de/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books-intl-de&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349811&sr=1-1">In Germany</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.fr/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349925&sr=1-1-catcorr">In France</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.es/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350004&sr=1-1-catcorr">In Spain</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.it/Lucky-In-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350095&sr=1-1">In Italy</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.jp/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350193&sr=1-1">In Japan</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists-ebook/dp/B00260GUME/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=digital-text&qid=1249688260&sr=1-1&tag=533633855-20allancoleswor-20">Here's the U.S. Kindle edition</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lucky-in-cyprus-allan-lucky-cole/1018271031?ean=2940012592163&itm=1&usri=2940012592163">Here's the Nook Book edition</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39038">All E-Book Flavors</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:</span></div>
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A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan</div>
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After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.</div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/jbeO3m">CLICK HERE FOR THE TRADE PAPERBACK</a></div>
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<a href="http://is.gd/gvUVpe">CLICK HERE FOR THE KINDLE EDITION</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">NEW STEN SHORT STORY!!!!</a></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">STEN AND THE STAR WANDERERS</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;"><b>BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. </b></span><b style="font-size: 18.666669845581055px;">They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. </b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCZO37E">CLICK HERE TO GET THE E-BOOK</a></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://new%20audiobooks%21%21%21%20%20my%20hollywood%20misadventures%20a%20daughter%20of%20liberty%20sten%20and%20the%20star%20wanderers/">CLICK HERE TO GET THE AUDIO </a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In the depths of the Sixties</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. </span><span class="apple-style-span"></span></div>
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<b><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/">All eight U.S. editions, both in paperback and Kindle... The three massive U.K. omnibus editions, including Kindle... The Audiobooks ... Alex Kilgour's Jokebook, The Sten Cookbook, Empire Day 2013... And much, much more. </a></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">STEN #1: NOW IN SPANISH!</span></div>
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Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four episodes. Here are the links: </div>
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vZkVGeTZtbElTdjg/edit?pli=1">Part One </a>... <a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vaFh4OFRjdEROUmM/edit">Part Two </a> ... <a href="http://depositfiles.com/files/lnqi3yag6?redirect">Part Three </a> ... <a href="https://www.box.com/s/py0r23ei188izm95t3jb">Part Four</a></div>
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<b>REMEMBER - IT'S FREE!</b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-82617052225699450052013-01-04T07:31:00.000-05:002016-07-03T09:28:40.652-04:00EPILOGUE: THE LAST MISADVENTURE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjStvzWMupLvyitzT8HOQWYjsivz36uYzvMhzetluxf-psmJxIZazkj83WFrv7VOu49fhFBqWHJYhQuyihA1-pbrlkuD0yhW2bESQQDLcwMyF20kknrBXIX1PpUrd_9ybqVwdoomNoQr7A/s1600/bunch%2526cole_final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjStvzWMupLvyitzT8HOQWYjsivz36uYzvMhzetluxf-psmJxIZazkj83WFrv7VOu49fhFBqWHJYhQuyihA1-pbrlkuD0yhW2bESQQDLcwMyF20kknrBXIX1PpUrd_9ybqVwdoomNoQr7A/s320/bunch%2526cole_final.jpg" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 16px;">Your Intrepid Writers</td></tr>
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<div>
<i><b>The following </b>was written to mark the sad anniversary of the death of Chris Bunch, my friend and writing partner of over three decades. He died in the little town of Ilwaco, Washington on July 4, 2005. Although he'd been ill for some time, his death was sudden and unexpected.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i><i>A proud veteran of the Vietnam war, Chris always thought of himself as a soldier. Or "sojer," as he'd laconically put it. If he had to choose a day for his death, I suspect there could be no better than the date that marked the birth of the country he fought to defend.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>He left behind his love of many years - Karen Eisenberg. As well as his sister - and my wife - Kathryn; his brother, Philip and mother, Elizabeth. He also left a score of books and over a hundred and fifty hours of screen dramas that millions of readers and viewers the world over have enjoyed to this day, and will enjoy long into the future. I was honored to have written many of those books and screen plays with him.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>The fragments that follow are some of the memories I have of Chris:</i><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>FADE IN BUNCH & COLE</b></div>
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<br />
I first met Chris in our senior year at high school. He was sitting in front of me in journalism class, a tall guy, with an oversized head and a buzz-saw haircut. I was a CIA-brat - a student vagabond - and I'd just transferred in from Hollywood High, by way of Kubasaki High School in Okinawa. In short, I was in sore need of friends.<br />
<br />
I looked over his shoulder and saw that he was engrossed in a very odd-looking book, with weird symbols and illustrations. I whispered: "What're you reading?"<br />
<br />
He glanced back at me, displaying a long, shovel-shaped face, and steely blue eyes. He shrugged and showed me the cover. The book was "The Encyclopedia Of Witchcraft And Demonology."<br />
<br />
Damn, I thought. Now this has got to be one interesting guy.<br />
<br />
I gave him a thumbs up and a grin. "Name's Cole," I said.<br />
<br />
He nodded. "I'm Bunch." Then went back to his book.<br />
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*****</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>PEPPERMINT SCHNAPPS GOES GOOD WITH RAIN</b></div>
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<br />
Over the din of a rare LA monsoon, I could hear somebody pounding on my front door. I staggered out, grumbling because I had a fucking eight o'clock psych class and some sonofabitch was banging at my door at three a.m.<br />
<br />
I opened it and found Chris standing there, sodden and just a little drunk. Chris said, "You gonna let me in, Cole? I got a bottle."<br />
<br />
I took him to the kitchen so he could drip on linoleum instead of carpet. He passed me a pint of Peppermint Schnapps.<br />
<br />
I looked at the label and said, "When did you start drinking this shit."<br />
<br />
Chris shrugged. "Peppermint Schnapps goes good with rain.<br />
<br />
Doubtful, I took a hit. Listened to the rain pounding the roof. He was right. It did "go good with rain." I took another hit and passed the bottle back.<br />
<br />
I said, "What're you doing here? Last I heard you were an English major up at San Jose State."<br />
<br />
Chris grunted and said, "Nothing but a bunch of stupid kids there. And the classes bored the snake snot out of me."<br />
<br />
"They threw you out," I guessed.<br />
<br />
Chris nodded, took a couple of swigs - passed the bottle back. "We had an understanding that I'd just leave and not come back."<br />
<br />
"What happened?" I asked.<br />
<br />
Chris sighed and said, "I broke up a frat house water balloon fight with a .45." Another sigh, then he added, "I guess I wanted to be a sojer more than a fucking college jerk."<br />
<br />
Realization dawned. I said, "You joined up?"<br />
<br />
Chris nodded. "I report next week.<br />
<br />
I thought about that a second, then asked, "Tell your folks yet?"<br />
<br />
He shook his head. "I was on my way there, but it started raining, then it got a little drunk out, so I thought I'd crash with you and sober up."<br />
<br />
I finished off the Schnapps, then said, "This the only bottle?"<br />
<br />
"No," he said. "I've got a couple spares in the car."<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
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<b>A DAY I'D RATHER FORGET</b></div>
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<br />
I hurt like hell - especially in the region of my gut. Also, there was something - or some things - sticking in my nostrils. Both my arms seemed weighted down. More pain, but not as bad as the business with my gut.<br />
<br />
Then I started to remember and my heart gave a jump and I thought, "Aw, shit, shit, shit."<br />
<br />
Somebody said my name and I opened my eyes. Things were blurry, but not so blurry that I couldn't recognize that big head, the buzz saw haircut, and shovel-shaped face."<br />
<br />
"Why aren't you a blond?" I told Chris.<br />
<br />
He said, "Lost my wig on the way down from Ord." This was Fort Ord outside of San Francisco where Chris was currently stationed.<br />
<br />
I said, "You on leave?"<br />
<br />
Chris shrugged. "Sort of." He went on: "I asked for emergency leave, they said no fucking way unless you were my brother. I said I was going anyway, so the sergeant busted me a grade, then gave me a pass."<br />
<br />
"Thanks," I said. I didn't know what else to say.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "No sweat. I re-upped for Vietnam, so they'll probably make me sergeant when I get back."<br />
<br />
The pain was starting to return - bad - so I mashed the button for the nurse.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "If you were gonna get yourself shot up, Cole, you should have joined the Army with me."<br />
<br />
I didn't say anything - the nurse was pumping some miracle juice into the tube leading into my arm.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "They said you got hit three times."<br />
<br />
I said, "I zagged when I should have zigged."<br />
<br />
Chris said, "The paper said you put the asshole through a window."<br />
<br />
"It was a patio door," I said.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "Good thinking. Not so far to fall."<br />
<br />
I closed my eyes a second as the miracle juice cut in.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "They said you held the son of a bitch until the cops came."<br />
<br />
I didn't reply. Didn't see any reason to. Then I thought of something.<br />
<br />
I said, "The surgeon took my belly button." I started to laugh, but it hurt.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "Not to worry. They bolted your ass on pretty good."<br />
<br />
I smiled, then started to fade away.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "Carol and your brothers are with my mom and dad. They'll take care of them until your aunt flies in." Carol was my first wife. My brothers were Charles, 12; Drew, 8; and David, 3.<br />
<br />
It made me feel better. I said, "Tell them… thanks."<br />
<br />
I started to fade again. And from somewhere far away, I heard him say:<br />
<br />
"Sorry about your mom, Al."<br />
<br />
I said, "Yeah."<br />
<br />
Then - "Yeah."<br />
<br />
And I was gone.<br />
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*****</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR - WHAT'RE WE FIGHTING FOR?</b></div>
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<br />
When Chris was in Vietnam I was working at a weekly newspaper in Alhambra. It was just the beginning days of the war protests and everybody was arguing. Kids were demonstrating and politicians were bloviating. Meanwhile, the cops had expanded their tear gassing and bludgeoning of Civil Rights marchers to include Peace Activists and the world was a very confused and nasty place.<br />
<br />
I wrote a column about it - laying out both sides of the debate. Then said with the country so divided that our guys in Vietnam must be conflicted as well. And it was not safe to be in enemy territory wondering who was right and who was wrong. I said my best friend was there now, and I hoped he wouldn't hesitate.<br />
<br />
I said, "Forget the debate, Chris. If you have to shoot - Shoot."<br />
<br />
A month or so went by. The newspaper I worked for sent free newspapers to GIs whose hometowns were in our circulation area. I'd included Chris on the list.<br />
<br />
One day a battered letter arrived. It was from Chris. I opened it and the stink of the jungle rose up. I'd lived in areas with jungle so I knew that stink well.<br />
<br />
Inside was a newspaper clipping - crumpled and green with mold.<br />
<br />
I took it out.<br />
<br />
It was a copy of the column.<br />
<br />
And across it - in Chris' crazy, left-handed scrawl - was the word:<br />
<br />
"BANG!"<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>NIGHT SWEATS</b></div>
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<br />
It was two thirty in the morning. I knew this not because I'd looked at the clock on the nightstand, but because of the very fact that I'd just fought my way free of a nightmare and had rolled out of bed.<br />
<br />
It had been two thirty in the morning when the intruder with the gun had come into our home and ever since then I always wake up from a nightmare at exactly that time. In days past, I'd get up and read a book until I fell asleep on the couch. These days - thanks to Kathryn - I clamp on a pair of headphones and listen to an Audiobook. And when I fall asleep it's in bed with Kathryn beside me - where I belong.<br />
<br />
But this was way back in the book-and-couch days and so I automatically picked up the paperback on the nighstand and stumbled out into the living room.<br />
<br />
Before I could flick on the light, I heard someone grunt and I saw a dark figure shoot up from the couch. It gave me a start, but then I remembered and turned on the overhead light.<br />
<br />
It was Chris, getting up from the floor where, after coming off the couch, he'd dropped to one knee - bringing up a .45 to cover whoeverthefuck had entered his sleeping area. Next to the couch was an upside down ashtray and a knocked over can of Budweiser.<br />
<br />
Chris looked at the mess, made a face and said, "I'll get some paper towels."<br />
<br />
He went into the kitchen and called back softly, "Want a beer?"<br />
<br />
I said sure and pretty soon he came out with a roll of paper towels, a six-pack and a Church Key. (What we called a beer opener in the days before pop tops and screw caps. It was sharp on one end for beer cans and flat on the other for the bottled variety.)<br />
<br />
While he cleaned up, I opened the beers. Chris was just out of the Army and after a combat tour in Vietnam he was more than a little edgy. Hence the beer and the .45 beside the couch. (He would sleep with a gun close at hand the rest of his life, moving it from the floor to under his pillow in later years out of deference to the ladies.)<br />
<br />
Chris was staying with us (my then wife, Carol and my brother, Charles, now 14) until he found an apartment. He'd just gone to work for McGraw Hill as an architectural reporter and was so bored that while in his cups he talked of gathering every copy of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead he could find in the building - then, piling them up and making "a big fucking fire."<br />
<br />
"There must be a couple of hundred of them," he'd said. "That's all they read. The Fucking Fountainhead. That, and maybe, None Dare Call It Treason. Never knew architects were such Fascist Piggies."<br />
<br />
After dumping the trash, Chris came back and we drank cold beer together. He said, "I guess we're both pretty edgy. Me from Vietnam… and you from - you know."<br />
<br />
I said, "Yeah, but do you hear voices?<br />
<br />
He thought a minute, then said, "Sure, but I don't answer, so it works out okay."<br />
<br />
I said, "But, Bunch - warm beer next to your bed? British beer, fine. But warm American beer? Jesus, how can you stomach it?"<br />
<br />
Chris said, "You get used to it. The VC kept interdicting our ice supply on Highway 13. Atrocity committing sons of bitches."<br />
<br />
We sat in silence a little longer, then Chris said, "Got a hit the other day from the War Resistor's League."<br />
<br />
I said, "I hear J. Edgar calls them Draft Dodger's Anonymous."<br />
<br />
Chris snorted. "Bullshit. He doesn't have that good of a sense of humor."<br />
<br />
"Even so," I said. "The FBI has their eye on them."<br />
<br />
"So what?" Chris said. He drank more beer. "Look, my unit took three hundred percent fucking casualties. All the guys I came over with were either sent home in bodybags or with pieces missing. All gone. Every swinging dick. Then replaced two times over. Pretty soon I was the Old Fucking Man at age 25. I have to tell you, Cole, I got real tired of taking kids out into the jungle to get killed."<br />
<br />
I nodded. He'd said this before. It was what motivated him to hit up Stars And Stripes, who took him on as an Army combat reporter and photographer during his last days in Vietnam.<br />
<br />
He said, "Fuck a bunch of draft dodgers. After eight years in the Army, I know the damn ropes. I can teach kids how to get out of the draft legally. Wouldn't make me feel better for the kids I got killed, but it'd be a start, you know?"<br />
<br />
I said I did.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "Another thing. I heard there was a job opening at the LA Free Press." The LA Free Press was the largest and most successful of the hundreds of Underground Newspapers starting up in those days."<br />
<br />
"They pay like shit," I warned.<br />
<br />
Chris laughed. "So does McGraw Hill," he said. "Plus," he added, "no fucking Ayn Rand."<br />
<br />
And then we finished our beers and went back bed.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>GOD BLESS YOU, CHUCK BUKOWSKI</b></div>
<br />
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<br />
I pulled into the parking lot of Chris' apartment building in my 1960 Ford Galaxy. It was in decent shape for being ten years old, but after Chris and I had taken it over some bad ass roads in the Los Padres Mountains the automatic transmission had become confused. When you wanted to go forward, you had to put it in Reverse. And when you wanted to back up, you put it in Drive.<br />
<br />
Chris was in his carport painting what I took to be the front door of an apartment unit. His buzzsaw haircut was long gone, replaced by a pretty respectable mane. He also sported a handlebar mustache, and wore a fatigue jacket with the sleeves cut off, jeans and well-worn motorcycle boots.<br />
<br />
I exited the car - not forgetting the case of beer - and wandered over. Sure enough, he was indeed at work on an apartment door. Except, instead of paint, he was coating the thing with thick layers of clear shellac.<br />
<br />
I said, "If that were wood-grained, maybe the shellac would make it look better. But, it's a shitty apartment building red or orange, or Whatnot. And the shellac is just making it look like an even shittier apartment building red or orange, or Whatnot."<br />
<br />
Chris stood back from his work. "Look closer," he instructed, reaching over to get a beer from the case I'd set on the tarmac.<br />
<br />
I looked closer. To my surprise, I saw a crudely-drawn penis attached to a set of testicles. Next to it was a little caricature of a bearded man. And beneath that was somebody's scrawled signature.<br />
<br />
I said, "What the hell? Looks like Men's Room graffiti." Then I asked, "That your front door?"<br />
<br />
Chris said, "It is."<br />
<br />
I said, "I know this is a stupid question - but, why aren't you covering it up with red paint, or something? Shellac just makes it stand out more."<br />
<br />
Chris said, "It's like this. Last night, Bukowski came by." (He was speaking of Charles Bukowski the underground poet and writer who would later acquire international cult status, but in those days he was an unknown. Chris, who was by now editor of The Oracle - a counter-culture newspaper - was among the few who published his stuff.)<br />
<br />
"Chuck was drunk like he always is," Chris went on, "And he fell in lust with Big Carol." (Big Carol was Chris' girlfriend at the time - a tall, luscious blond and an ace photographer who would soon land a prestigious job at the LA Times.)<br />
<br />
I said, "Everybody falls in lust with Big Carol."<br />
<br />
Chris nodded. "Yeah, except Chuck insisted he was going kick my ass and take her away from me. Then he was going to - and I quote - 'Fuck her on your fucking bed, you fuck-ass peddler of fucking hippie propaganda.'"<br />
<br />
"So you threw him out?" I supposed. Chris was big, but so what? Bukowski was so ravaged by alcohol and other substances he couldn't have licked a ten-year old even in a rare moment of sobriety.<br />
<br />
"Well, I more or less gently pushed him out," Chris said. "I like him. And I like his shit. I'm gonna publish a special issue featuring his poetry next week."<br />
<br />
I pointed at the defaced door. "He did that?"<br />
<br />
"He did," Chris said. "He yelled and cursed, then went silent and we heard scratching at the door. Then there was more yelling and cursing and he went away."<br />
<br />
I traded Chris a full beer for his empty while I waited for him to go on.<br />
<br />
He said, "The landlady came by this morning for the rent and when she saw it she had fucking conniptions. Pounded on our door until I came out. And she's yelling - what the hell is this all about, you hippie bums?<br />
<br />
"And I think real fast and then tell her - Don't you know? Why this drawing is by none other than Charles Bukowski, an incredible artist. All the gallery owners say his work will be worth thousands of dollars some day.<br />
<br />
"Then I show her the signature, and say, 'And, we're in luck. He's even signed it. Why, this door is a fabulous piece of art. Can't you see that?'"<br />
<br />
Impressed by his quick thinking, I said, "And she believed you?"<br />
<br />
Chris nodded. "Not only that, but I agreed that instead of exchanging it for a new door to keep for myself, that I'd preserve Chuck's Brilliance with shellac and give it to her in lieu of this month's rent."<br />
<br />
"No shit?" I said.<br />
<br />
Chris finished off his beer.<br />
<br />
"No shit," he said. and went back to work on the door.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>THE SILVER ARMADILLO ON A TANK</b></div>
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<br />
It was one hell of a party.<br />
<br />
This was usually the case at Chris' house in Laurel Canyon, when he was the self-described "worst PR man in the history of Rock And Roll."<br />
<br />
I forget who he worked for, but it was the biggest in the business and they had a new client list with all the top names. But, their reps were all suit and tie Doris Day and Pat Boone types, which wouldn't do to handle the likes of The Byrds, or The Turtles, or Frank Zappa, or Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, or Emerson, Lake & Palmer - all of whom lived in Laurel Canyon in those days. (Oh, yeah, so did famed SF writers like Norman Spinrad and Harlan Ellison.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, the party was going full blast when I got there. The house was packed with musicians, artists, writers, bikers and whoever else wandered in.<br />
<br />
Chris spotted me and waved me into the kitchen. I thought it was to get a beer, but while I was fishing around in a big tub of ice for a Budweiser, he said, "Wait'll you fucking see, Cole."<br />
<br />
I turned, beer in hand, noting that his eyes were dancing with excitement. I said, "Okay, what should I fucking see?"<br />
<br />
To my amazement, Chris unhooked his belt and pulled it out from the loops. I took a step back. What the…?<br />
<br />
To my relief, Chris unhooked what I took to be the buckle of his belt, and dropped the leather portion on a table.<br />
<br />
"Take a look at this," he said, handing it over.<br />
<br />
The thing was silver and very heavy. I hefted it.<br />
<br />
"Is this pure silver?"<br />
<br />
"About a pound's worth," Chris said. "But, never mind the silver. Look at that sucker."<br />
<br />
I looked again. I wasn't sure what the thing was, but then it gradually came into vague focus. Some kind of animal? Perched on what? Tracks, like a tractor? And cannons? Were those cannons?<br />
<br />
"I give up," I said.<br />
<br />
Chris made a face. Damn, I was being slow tonight. He said, "Can't you see? That's an armadillo, crouched on top of a World War II tank."<br />
<br />
And that's when it dawned. "The cover of the new Emerson, Lake & Palmer album?" I said.<br />
<br />
"Tarkus," Chris said, confirming my guess by naming the new album. It was heavily anti-war and controversial in the straight world mostly occupied in those days by conservative music critics. It was also damned good.<br />
<br />
Chris had become pretty tight with the group, and they'd let him produce one of the songs that ended up on the album.<br />
<br />
I forget the exact details, but I think the belt buckle had been made for one of the group's members - maybe it was Carl Palmer. Anyway, they were so pleased with the help they'd gotten from Chris - not just with the work on the album, but his efforts to hype them - that they'd given it to him as a gift.<br />
<br />
"Now, is that fucking cool, or what?" Chris said, fixing the buckle back onto the belt and running it through the loops again.<br />
<br />
I admitted that it was. I said, "But, if you keep taking it off like that, people might get the wrong idea."<br />
<br />
Chris snorted. "If they do, I'll whack 'em with the fucking buckle."<br />
<br />
(Postscript: Chris' younger brother, Philip, has the belt now - silver armadillo-on-a-tank buckle and all.)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>RIDING BACKWARD AT 100 MPH</b></div>
<br />
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<br />
It was the summer of 1972, or 1973, when I got a call from Chris to meet him down on PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) where he was going to do a shoot.<br />
<br />
I was working at the Outlook in Santa Monica then. The newspaper's two-story building sat practically on the bluffs overlooking PCH so it only took a minute to get down the hill in my little Austin American and meet him by the Jonathan Club. (The old rich man's beach club that infamously refused to admit Jews and other minorities. When Groucho Marx was asked his opinion of this policy, he famously replied: "But my wife isn't Jewish… so will they let my son go into the water up to his knees?")<br />
<br />
Chris and a group of bikers were gathered in a parking lot near the club. Besides the bikes - all choppers - there were a couple of large open-bed trucks. Supervised by Chris, two guys were rolling a big Harley Shovelhead off one of the trucks.<br />
<br />
In those days Chris was the editor of Chopper Magazine, and the "shoot" he was talking about was for the cover of the next issue. The fabulously chopped Harley - complete with a tricked out candy-apple red peanut gas tank - was no doubt the subject of that cover.<br />
<br />
When Chris spotted me he said, "Hope you aren't looking for a beer, because the yard arm's down until after the shoot."<br />
<br />
I <i>was</i> looking for a beer - what the hell did he think I drove all the way down the hill for? But, I manfully said, "I can wait."<br />
<br />
Somebody straddled the Shovelhead, kicked it over, and it roared into life . Then he leaned it on the kickstand and got off.<br />
<br />
Chris grinned. "Don't you love that sound? Pure Harley Fucking Davidson. If the Japanese ever figure out how to pipe that sound into their Rice Burners the American market will go tits up."<br />
<br />
But, before I could think he'd maybe gone all soft on me he added, "Too bad they leak oil worse than a pigeon with the shits. See a garage with a 30-Weight-stained floor and you know a Hog lives there."<br />
<br />
Chris gave the nod to a big biker, who'd traded his originals for more Citizen-like leather jacket and jeans. He climbed aboard the Shovelhead and sat there looking uncomfortable in his Civvies and newly trimmed beard.<br />
<br />
I said, "Shit, is that Friendly Fred?"<br />
<br />
Chris said it was. Friendly Fred used to be known as "Attitude Fred," but he was so nasty that his biker brothers - bad asses all - tossed him out of the club. A year or so later he returned, swearing he was a changed man, and they took him back.<br />
<br />
So, now he was Friendly Fred, but even with his kinder and gentler nature he usually looked way more felonious. Chris had obviously told him that he didn't want a Most Wanted look for the cover. If the magazine had been Easy Rider - another publication Chris worked for - it would have been different. Except, maybe Chris would have traded the biker dude for a Chick in nothing but a skimpy bikini and strategically placed "Property Of" Tats.<br />
<br />
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(Chris had once dated Jennifer Gan, a very sexy B-Movie actress who was starring in a Roger Corman biker movie - Naked Angels. One of the many pictures he took of her for a magazine spread ended up - literally - as the inspiration for the movie's poster.)<br />
<br />
My friend was in full work mode now, camera out and shooting pictures. He moved around the bike and Friendly Fred a few times, getting different angles - favoring those with a beach and rolling Pacific background. Then he stopped and walked back to me while reloading.<br />
<br />
"You follow in your car, Cole," he said. "And when I've got enough, we'll stop some place handy and buy a case on my expense account. We can put it in your trunk."<br />
<br />
So, that's why he'd called. He needed somebody to play Gunga Din, but with beer. I shrugged, What the hell, got into the little Austin, goosed it into life, and waited.<br />
<br />
Chris had on an old bomber's jacket with lots of pockets, which he was stuffing full of film cartridges. He draped two cameras around his neck, but I knew he'd mainly use his motor-drive Nikon which he'd bought at the PX back in his Vietnam bush-humping days. He'd saved his Army pay for months to make the price of that Nikon and he loved it almost as much as the Bonneville Triumph he'd bought with his mustering-out wages. (The rest went for a couple of cases of Ancient Ancient Age Bourbon, which we'd disposed of long ago.)<br />
<br />
Another biker throttled over to where Chris stood and he climbed on behind him. It was a nice 4-cylinder Honda chopper, if I recall correctly. Property of the same chop shop that had turned an ugly full dresser Harley into a thing of such rare beauty that it had been chosen to grace the cover of Chopper Magazine.<br />
<br />
Except, hold on - Chris wasn't sitting facing the guy's back like an ordinary passenger.<br />
<br />
He was turned the other way!<br />
<br />
Facing out!<br />
<br />
I mean, for crying out loud, don't you get it? He was riding fucking backwards! His boot tips curled around the passenger pegs to keep from falling off.<br />
<br />
I wanted to jump out and shout, Bunch, wait! Are you fucking nuts! You're gonna get killed! Then your mom's gonna kill me because I'm here and I didn't…<br />
<br />
But it was too late. Chris signaled and his bike pulled away, the shovelhead chopper carrying Friendly Fred following. Some other bikes pulled in behind them and so there was nothing to do but join this weird-ass convoy and think nothing but "Please, God" thoughts just as hard as I could.<br />
<br />
We headed down PCH, Chris blazing away with his motordrive. Running through rolls of film. Changing them while in full flight.<br />
<br />
Then we came to that long curving stretch that snakes along the Pacific Ocean and the sky was blue, the waves were high and there was almost no traffic whatsoever.<br />
<br />
And then we started going faster.<br />
<br />
And faster.<br />
<br />
And faster still.<br />
<br />
And, then Jesus, we were going so fast the little Austin felt like she was coming off the ground and I had to back the hell off before she took flight into yon ditch. The one with the big telephone pole poking out of it.<br />
<br />
My last view of Chris was of him sitting backward on the Honda chopper, hair streaming behind him like the scarf ends of an old WWI fighter pilot. Camera aimed like a gun. Firing away. And the only thing holding him on were his boot tips, straining against the pegs.<br />
<br />
Later I learned that Chris and the others had pegged out at 100-Plus mph before ending the shoot. I found them a couple of bends of the road later, pulled over onto the gravel, laughing and congratulating each other for surviving yet another of Bunch's damn-fool camera stunts.<br />
<br />
I stayed in the Austin while they all yakked, waiting for my heart to fully understand that we were done now and it was okay to beat at a nice, normal rhythm. Chris sent his guys back to where the pickups waited then hopped into the car beside me.<br />
<br />
For a minute, I couldn't speak. I just looked at him - grinning at me like crazy. Eyes glittering with adrenalin and pure joy.<br />
<br />
Finally, I said, "Bunch, I am so glad you are fucking alive, because now I can kill your ass for scaring me like that."<br />
<br />
Chris laughed, then said, "Is there a liquor store around here?"<br />
<br />
I sighed. Turned back to the wheel.<br />
<br />
"Just up around the next bend," I said. "Across from the Malibu sheriff's station."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>THE MISADVENTURES BEGIN</b></div>
<br />
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<br />
The Sunday after my thirty-third birthday, a ringing phone brought me out of the front yard - where I'd been playing with the kids - into the little Hermosa Beach cottage where we lived.<br />
<br />
I was slave to that phone - the plight of city editors the world over. Usually it was nothing but a bored cop shop duty officer fucking with the local press, but sometimes it was a passenger jet pancaking into Santa Bay; and once, in the middle of the night, it had been the LAPD shootout with the SLA, the gang that had kidnapped Patty Hearst.<br />
<br />
(Critics say there were more bullets fired by the cops than all the wars the U.S. has ever fought. An exaggeration, to be sure, but when my hearing deserted me a few years ago, I blamed it on that night.)<br />
<br />
This time, however, it wasn't the cops. It was Chris. He said, "We gotta talk."<br />
<br />
"Okay," I said. "But you'd better not come here. And I'd better not go there."<br />
<br />
Chris said, "Where do you want to meet?"<br />
<br />
I suggested The Bay 90's - a Manhattan Beach restaurant I'd worked at years before. It was always quiet on a Sunday afternoon.<br />
<br />
He agreed, we set a time, and I took a shower, donned fresh clothes, and climbed into the Cherokee Jeep I was driving at the time. It was new, looked great, but proved to be a lemon. Why, oh why, hadn't I bought a nice, reliable Toyota Land Cruiser?<br />
<br />
If you think I'm being (a) unpatriotic, and (b) unfairly maligning the Cherokee, you should know that the model year I owned had a tendency to flip itself into permanent 4-Wheel Drive. The only way to make it quit - and this I learned after many calls to many Jeep mechanics - was to find the little Alan Wrench taped to the bottom of the glove compartment. In the back of said glove compartment was a small, deep hole. You poked the Alan Wrench into that hole and turned it. Then you put the Cherokee into reverse and backed up in an S pattern until the 4-Wheel drive let go. This never worked the first try.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I got into the Cherokee - prayed to the Gods of 4-Wheel Drive - and made it without incident to the Bay 90's.<br />
<br />
If you are wondering why Chris and I had to meet on neutral ground, it was because a couple of weeks before we'd had big damned fight. Actually, his first wife and my first wife got into a dispute and we - damned fool males that we were - stuck our noses into it.<br />
<br />
In short, until Chris called we hadn't been on speaking terms.<br />
<br />
Once in the restaurant I stopped to stick my head into the kitchen and say hello to Angelo - the Mexican chef who had broken me into the restaurant game years before. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Court-Thousand-Suns-Sten-ebook/dp/B0091XBC9A/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1467552181&sr=8-1&keywords=the+court+of+a+thousand+suns#nav-subnav">(His recipe for Angelo Stew - the ultimate hangover cure - is the dish the Eternal Emperor cooks for Sten in The Court Of A Thousand Suns)</a><br />
<br />
I was early, so Chris wasn't there. There was just me, the bartender, Skip, and a barfly in the corner nearest the back exit. Don't get the wrong idea - the Bay 90's was a nice place, so the barfly was of the inoffensive, aerospace stalled middle-management variety. In short, a guy who had reason to drink, but wore a nice jacket and tie to do the business.<br />
<br />
I got a Scotch, exchanged pleasantries with Skip, and a few minutes later Chris came in. He stuck a haunch on the bar stool beside me. Our hellos were strained, so we had a couple of hits off our drinks before we started.<br />
<br />
Then Chris said, "I'm sorry for my 51 percent."<br />
<br />
I said, "And I'm sorry for my 51 percent."<br />
<br />
We shook hands. Drained our drinks, ordered more and swore that in the future we'd let women work things out themselves without our (unwelcome) interference.<br />
<br />
And that was the end of it.<br />
<br />
Skip came over with our drinks. I introduced him to Chris and then Skip chuckled and said, "You know, when I saw you, the first thing I remembered was that night you fell off the stairs."<br />
<br />
I laughed and when Chris displayed a puzzled grin, Skip explained. He indicated a short stairway that led up to the restaurant's second level, which looked out over the scene below. It was mainly for cocktails and big groups of diners. On weekend nights there was a Honky-tonk piano player to regale the crowd.<br />
<br />
Skip said, "One night Al, here, started down those stairs with a big damned tray of dishes and glasses. He was carrying it waiter style - over his head and one-handed."<br />
<br />
Chris nodded. He got the picture.<br />
<br />
Skip said, "I just happened to be looking that way at the time. And Al caught his heel, or something, and fell down that whole flight of stairs. Tray and all."<br />
<br />
Skip broke off to laugh at the memory. Me joining in and Chris getting a chuckle too.<br />
<br />
Then Skip said - "But, you know what?"<br />
<br />
Chris shook his head. He didn't.<br />
<br />
"I'll tell you," Skip said. "It was the damndest thing. Old Al, here, landed at the bottom of the stairs on his back. Tray still held over his head with one hand. And he didn't break one dish, or spill one drop. And we all just stared a minute, then, I turned and rang this bell."<br />
<br />
Skip demonstrated, turning and banging the old fire bell that hung over the bar.<br />
<br />
"The whole place stood up and applauded," Skip said.<br />
<br />
Chris got a laugh at that. "Cole always was fast on his feet," he said.<br />
<br />
Skip said, "In this case, it wasn't Feet he was fast on. It was All Ass - all the way down the stairs."<br />
<br />
We had another good laugh over that, finished our drinks, and got two more. Then Skip asked if I could hold the fort a second. He had to get more ice.<br />
<br />
"If you need me for anything," he said, "just reach over the bar and smack the bell."<br />
<br />
I said no problem, and he took off, leaving us and the barfly alone.<br />
<br />
After a minute, Chris observed, "You turned thirty three last week."<br />
<br />
I said I had.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "I'll be catching up with you in a few weeks."<br />
<br />
I agreed this was so. My birthday was November 19. His was December 22.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "You know, when we first met we both swore we were going to write books some day. Hell, whenever we get together, what we mostly talk about is the books we're going to write one of these days. And now, we're thirty three fucking years old and 'One Of These Days' still hasn't come around."<br />
<br />
I agreed and said, "It's been bugging me, too. I like being a newsman. Hell, I love being a newsman. But, the only reason I got into the newspaper business is because that's how Hemingway started. Stupidly, I figured I'd do the same."<br />
<br />
Chris said, "Same with me. Although, I'm not straight press like you, I enjoy the shit out of what I'm doing. And I get paid for writing magazine stuff and so maybe that's why I've been delaying getting down to the serious shit."<br />
<br />
"You know we both take a stab at it every once in awhile," I pointed out. "But you get tired after slinging words around all day. Too tired to come home and start in again on something you only have hopes of getting paid for."<br />
<br />
"There it is," Chris said.<br />
<br />
A long silence. Then, I said, "I'm going to have to shit or get off the pot pretty soon. I've been getting hits from some big papers. A buddy at the Philadelphia Inquirer has been after me to come on over. Says they're winning Pulitzers right and left there. The thing is, if I'm going to stay in newspapers, it's time to make that kind of move. If not…"<br />
<br />
I let the rest trail off.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "I was thinking - maybe we could team up."<br />
<br />
I looked at him - interested.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "You know, if it was the two of us - getting together after work every day - then you could guilt-trip me if I tried to sluff off. And I could guilt-trip you right back for the same reason."<br />
<br />
I thought about it and could see nothing wrong with the notion. I'd known Chris since high school. And, except for rare instances, we got along famously. Knew how each other thought. Mostly shared a common view of life. And most important of all - we were both superior writers. Hell, we were World Class Writers, were we not? And we both knew it and if we didn't do something pretty soon, we'd regret it the rest of our lives.<br />
<br />
I said, "It's a deal."<br />
<br />
Chris said, "We split everything fifty percent. Right?"<br />
<br />
I said, "Right."<br />
<br />
And Chris said, "If we get into an argument about the writing, whoever feels the strongest about it gets a 51 percent vote. No questions asked. Right?"<br />
<br />
"Right," I said.<br />
<br />
"When do you want to start?" Chris said.<br />
<br />
"How about tomorrow?" I said.<br />
<br />
"Deal," Chris said, sticking out a hand.<br />
<br />
We shook. Clinked glasses. And polished off our drinks.<br />
<br />
I knew we'd need another to really seal the deal.<br />
<br />
So, I leaned over the bar and gave that fire bell a whack.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>*****</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/search/ref=sr_adv_b/?search-alias=stripbooks&unfiltered=1&field-keywords=&field-author=&field-title=&field-isbn=9781479421879">THE STEN OMNIBUS #1 MAKES</a><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/search/ref=sr_adv_b/?search-alias=stripbooks&unfiltered=1&field-keywords=&field-author=&field-title=&field-isbn=9781479421879">ITS</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="font-size: large;">Ever since my British publisher put all eight novels in the Sten series in three omnibus editions, American readers have been clamoring for equal treatment. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="font-size: large;">Well, my American publisher – Wildside Books – was listening and beginning today Volume One in the three volume omnibus series is available all over America. The omnibus includes, Sten #1, Sten #2 – The Wolf Worlds, and Sten #3 – The Court Of A Thousand Suns. Isn’t this a wonderful country? And isn’t Wildside a wonderful publisher? Stay tuned for when the others will be available. Kathryn and I will start reading proof on Sten Omnibus #2 by week’s end.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: x-large; line-height: 64px;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/search/ref=sr_adv_b/?search-alias=stripbooks&unfiltered=1&field-keywords=&field-author=&field-title=&field-isbn=9781479421879">THE STEN OMNIBUS #1</a></b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.booksinmotion.com/index.php?route=product/search&search=allan%20cole">STEN & FANTASY NOVEL</a></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/2013/06/sample-chapters-where-to-buy-books-in.html" style="font-size: x-large;">HERE IS WHERE YOU CAN BUY STEN IN ALL ITS VERSIONS: </a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/2013/06/sample-chapters-where-to-buy-books-in.html" style="font-size: x-large;">PAPERBACKS, OMNIBUS EDITIONS,</a></div>
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<a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/2013/06/sample-chapters-where-to-buy-books-in.html" style="font-size: x-large;"> E-BOOKS, AND AUDIOBOOKS. </a><a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/2013/06/sample-chapters-where-to-buy-books-in.html" style="font-size: x-large;">ALSO, SAMPLE CHAPTERS </a> <a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/2013/06/sample-chapters-where-to-buy-books-in.html" style="font-size: x-large;">AND A RUNDOWN </a></div>
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<a href="http://stenbooks.blogspot.com/2013/06/sample-chapters-where-to-buy-books-in.html" style="font-size: x-large;">ON WHAT THE SERIES IS ABOUT</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Audiobook/B00FAUNP1Q/ref=sr_1_1?qid=1380284479&sr=1-1" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">MY HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Tales Sometimes Tall, but always true, of Allan Cole's years in Hollywood with his late partner, Chris Bunch. How a naked lady almost became our first agent. How we survived La-La Land with only the loss of half our brain cells. How Bunch & Cole became the ultimate Fix-It Boys. How an alleged Mafia Don was very, very good to us. The guy who cornered the market on movie rocks. Andy Warhol's Fire Extinguisher. The Real Stars Of Hollywood. Why they don't make million dollar movies. See The Seven Pi$$ing Dwarfs. Learn: how to kill a "difficult" actor… And much, much more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Allan-Cole/dp/0615563031/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321199154&sr=1-1=allancoleswor-20">U.S.</a> .............................................<a href="http://www.amazon.fr/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Allan-Cole/dp/0615563031/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1372529380&sr=1-1&keywords=my+hollywood+misadventures">France</a></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/The-Wars-of-the-Shannons-Audiobook/B00V53GJBA/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1427494485&sr=1-1"><br /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/The-Wars-of-the-Shannons-Audiobook/B00V53GJBA/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1427494485&sr=1-1">THE WARS OF THE SHANNONS</a></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/The-Wars-of-the-Shannons-Audiobook/B00V53GJBA/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1427494485&sr=1-1"><span style="font-size: large;">Narrated By Scott Larson</span></a></div>
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<span class="apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>A NATION AT WAR WITH ITSELF:</b> In Book Three Of The Shannon Trilogy, young Patrick Shannon is the heir-apparent to the Shannon fortune, but murder and betrayal at a family gathering send him fleeing into the American frontier, with only the last words of a wise old woman to arm him against what would come. And when the outbreak of the Civil War comes he finds himself fighting on the opposite side of those he loves the most. In The Wars Of The Shannons we see the conflict, both on the battlefield and the homefront, through the eyes of Patrick and the members of his extended Irish-American family as they struggle to survive the conflict that ripped the new nation apart, and yet, offered a dim beacon of hope.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><o:p><br /></o:p><o:p><b>*****</b></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p><o:p> </o:p><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">LUCKY IN CYPRUS:</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>A True Story About A Boy,</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>A Teacher, And Earthquake,</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Some Terrorists And The CIA</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">LUCKY IN CYPRUS is a coming-of-age story set in the Middle East during the height of the Cold War. An American teenager – son of a CIA operative – is inspired by grand events and a Greek Cypriot teacher. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He witnesses earthquakes and riots and terrorist attacks, but in the end it is his teacher’s gentle lessons that keep him whole.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: right;">Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1296516992&sr=1-1allancoleswor-20"><span style="font-size: large;">In The U.S.</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349572&sr=1-1"><span style="font-size: large;">In Canada</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349709&sr=1-1"><span style="font-size: large;">In The U.K.</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.de/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=books-intl-de&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349811&sr=1-1"><span style="font-size: large;">In Germany</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.fr/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337349925&sr=1-1-catcorr"><span style="font-size: large;">In France</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.es/Lucky-Cyprus-Allan-Cole/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350004&sr=1-1-catcorr"><span style="font-size: large;">In Spain</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.it/Lucky-In-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350095&sr=1-1"><span style="font-size: large;">In Italy</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.jp/Lucky-Cyprus-Teacher-Earthquake-Terrorists/dp/1440429162/ref=sr_1_1?s=english-books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337350193&sr=1-1"><span style="font-size: large;">In Japan</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Cyprus-Earthquake-Terrorists-ebook/dp/B00260GUME/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=digital-text&qid=1249688260&sr=1-1&tag=533633855-20allancoleswor-20"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's the U.S. Kindle edition</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lucky-in-cyprus-allan-lucky-cole/1018271031?ean=2940012592163&itm=1&usri=2940012592163"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's the Nook Book edition</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39038"><span style="font-size: large;">All E-Book Flavors</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:</span></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">NEW: THE AUDIOBOOK VERSION OF</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">THE HATE PARALLAX</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://is.gd/I4VV7O">THE HATE PARALLAX:</a></b> What if the Cold War never ended -- but continued for a thousand years? Best-selling authors Allan Cole (an American) and Nick Perumov (a Russian) spin a mesmerizing "what if?" tale set a thousand years in the future, as an American and a Russian super-soldier -- together with a beautiful American detective working for the United Worlds Police -- must combine forces to defeat a secret cabal ... and prevent a galactic disaster! This is the first - and only - collaboration between American and Russian novelists. <b>Narrated by John Hough. </b>Click the title links below for the trade paperback and kindle editions. (Also available at iTunes.)</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hate-Parallax-Allan-Cole/dp/1434430294/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1403015155&sr=1-1&keywords=the+hate+parallax"><span style="font-size: large;">CLICK HERE FOR THE TRADE PAPERBACK</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm- ravaged night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><b>BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. </b></span><b style="font-size: 18.6667px;">They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. </b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoa2RpZnpjBkgBNM6LtyulcFVn0ljJdPX7bBeXV1BsIEpU9Mcu9PMJQIPNwCJJ0ul_prn5SxuiqbOOo71WPPXhgmQi7tNGXpqpSm8K_VXWfzvc2Z5qI6r0z7E4s03niR6hiMfyNxTSfFc/s1600/Venice_boarwalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoa2RpZnpjBkgBNM6LtyulcFVn0ljJdPX7bBeXV1BsIEpU9Mcu9PMJQIPNwCJJ0ul_prn5SxuiqbOOo71WPPXhgmQi7tNGXpqpSm8K_VXWfzvc2Z5qI6r0z7E4s03niR6hiMfyNxTSfFc/s320/Venice_boarwalk.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div>
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Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">In the depths of the Sixties</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"> and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself.</span></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-35431646724256615362012-12-28T08:38:00.003-05:002013-01-02T11:11:31.273-05:00STEN IN HOLLYWOOD: THE PENULTIMATE MISADVENTURE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<b style="font-size: 16px;">ONE MORE MISADVENTURE TO GO and then, as they say in the Biz, the Bunch & Cole Show will be entering hiatus to "rest" for a year. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Allan-Cole/dp/0615563031/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321199154&sr=1-1=allancoleswor-20">(You can get the collected MisAdventures both as Dead Tree and Kindle editions BY CLICKING HERE)</a> Meanwhile, TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE, will debut after the MisAdventures end. And so, Gentle Reader, you'll get your Friday funny fix without interruption. Set in Venice Beach, California the Tales follow the zig-zag path of a young newsman - yours truly - through the crazy, hazy daze when the Flower Children sang, and danced and romped to drown out the sounds of distant guns. </b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>*****</b></div>
<b><br /></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioULJa_SS06bMBwfeltQg8S0jkq0shoZBCY4ft_bLGZChQx7ZG4bYXyOAa2xtxw2vU8ec9E14ESu50azvALLL0nCGe5UCFSCamyjp3_LFGia5gaI0vXRsH8QuPETBp9bfYMGBpvfHQXVc/s1600/new_sten.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioULJa_SS06bMBwfeltQg8S0jkq0shoZBCY4ft_bLGZChQx7ZG4bYXyOAa2xtxw2vU8ec9E14ESu50azvALLL0nCGe5UCFSCamyjp3_LFGia5gaI0vXRsH8QuPETBp9bfYMGBpvfHQXVc/s200/new_sten.jpeg" width="137" /></a><b>The Eternal Emperor filled up his glass again. "You took care of everything? On the Sten matter?"</b><br />
<br />
<b>"Just like you said, boss."</b><br />
<br />
<b>The Emperor thought a minute. "Let me know how he works out. I think that Sten is a boy to watch."</b><br />
<br />
<b>"He sure is, boss. He sure is."</b><br />
<br />
<b>Mahoney forced himself to finish his drink. And then held out his glass for more. In his job, you made sure you always kept the boss happy.</b><br />
<br />
<b>And the Eternal Emperor hated to drink alone.</b><br />
<b>.......... (From Sten #1 - The Final Scene)</b><br />
<br />
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<b>*****</b></div>
<div>
Lew Weitzman was on the phone. He said, "Hey there, Big Guy. How's everything in Gator Land?"</div>
<br />
<br />
I said everything was fine and it was. The sun was doing its usual South Florida best. Through my office window the orange blossomed Poinciana Tree on the opposite bank of the canal delighted the eye. A fish leaped from mossy waters for a flitting dragonfly and was almost snared himself by an enterprising hawk. Besides the blessings of a benevolent Mother Nature, I had a good start on a new book; I was healthy and so was Kathryn; and now I was talking to one of the only two decent agents I'd had since Chris and I broke into the game. <a href="http://tinyurl.com/4oeuaw2">(To learn what happened to the first one see Episode #69: Hollywood Screw -Up.)</a><br />
<br />
I was thinking of telling Lew about the bull gator Kathryn and I had heard bellowing for its mate the night before, but as The Boss Man at Preferred Artists he was perennially short on time so I just asked, "What's up?"<br />
<br />
Lew replied, "We have a situation here that I wanted to run past you, Allan."<br />
<br />
I said, go ahead and in his clipped, efficient manner, he said, "A kid from (Redacted Inc.) stopped by to inquire about Sten. (Redacted Inc.) has a pretty good reputation, so I said we might be interested in hearing what they had in mind."<br />
<br />
I thought - Hmm. Movie deal? In my head, Chris warned, "Careful, Cole. They're gonna try to fuck us again."<br />
<br />
I told both Lew on the phone and Chris in my head, "Won't hurt to listen."<br />
<br />
Lew said, "Exactly my take on it, Allan. He said they're thinking movie - possibly even a series of movies. All the Big Tent Pole franchises in Town are getting pretty worn. Everybody's looking for new properties with legs. He thought with eight novels, Sten would be perfect."<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris gave a cynical, "Yeah, yeah." But what I said to Lew was, "Can't disagree with that. There's enough material for a dozen movies. "<br />
<br />
But, in my head, Chris was still arguing: "Been down this fucking road before, Cole. Sten is, Number One - too expensive. And Number Two - Hollywood just doesn't get it. They'll think it's just a bunch of bang, bang you're dead books."<br />
<br />
Lew said, "This kid said he was a big fan of Sten. He said his father turned him onto the books years ago and he's read the whole series dozens of times." (This was not unusual. I've had communications from all over the world from people whose father - and sometimes mothers - introduced them to Sten. One Russian's old man was even a Soviet-era fighter pilot.)<br />
<br />
In my head I told Chris, so much for Number Two. To Lew, I said: "Well, the bit about being a Sten fan is heartening. But what about the cost? Isn't it too damned expensive? Chris and I budgeted it out years ago, and a Sten movie would go for an easy hundred million dollars."<br />
<br />
Lew laughed. He said, "Yeah, but, Allan - that's back when a hundred million dollars was A Hundred Million Dollars. Even adding in inflation, with all the computer Blue Screen stuff they have now it would probably cost about the same. Except, these days they'd consider a hundred million dollars for a Sci-Fi action movie pretty cheap."<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris said, "Hmm. Maybe. But who the hell are they?"<br />
<br />
Good point. I asked Lew, "Who are these guys? They some kind of a production company, or something?"<br />
<br />
Lew said, "Part production. Part management. They're mainly a Canadian company, and now they're expanding their presence here."<br />
<br />
"So, what do they want to do with Sten?" I asked. "Option it? Shop around for backers?"<br />
<br />
"Pretty much like that, Allan," Lew said. "Except, it's my guess they'll try for more of a commitment than just an option. They'll probably want to manage the property as well."<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris said, "Fuck that. Movie - maybe. TV - maybe. Nothing else."<br />
<br />
No argument from me. I told Lew, "If they want to option the film and television rights for a limited time, let's see what they offer. But they can't have a say over the past, present or future of the actual books."<br />
<br />
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"That's my take on it too," Lew said. "The books are a known entity. You and Karen (Chris' widow) are doing a great job of getting them republished. And now they're all moving into new formats... E-books... Audiobooks... and every other kind of book."<br />
<br />
It was good to see that, as usual, Lew and I were on the same page. Chris didn't say anything, so I figured he was of same opinion.<br />
<br />
Lew asked, "What's the readership of Sten, now? The kid asked me, but I didn't have the details."<br />
<br />
I said, "Ah, geeze, Lew. We're probably up to twenty five million sales... maybe more... and in half-a-dozen languages. The Dumb Asses in the U.S. let it go out of print, but we're doing gang-buster business in Europe. <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3op47ed">(As of this writing the books have been re-issued in both the U.S. and the U.K. See The Sten Page for details.)</a> Last I heard from my Russian editor we'd sold ten million copies there. And that's in hardback. Top of the Moscow best seller list for over two years. And the German publisher is going to be republishing them as well."<br />
<br />
Lew said, "Perfect. It's got a built-in international market. And it's action-adventure science fiction, which always sells a lot of popcorn and Coke no matter what country you're in. What's not to love?"<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris said, "That's what we've been telling ever Tom, Dick and Lucas Films for years. And see where it fucking got us."<br />
<br />
Ignoring the gripe - which was legitimate - I asked Lew, "What's the next step?"<br />
<br />
Lew said, "I think the kid would appreciate a call from you, Allan. Get your take on him. Then get back to me."<br />
<br />
And so that's what I did. My call was directed to voice mail, but I had no more than stated my name when The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) picked up. In a voice that started high, then went to just a chest hair less than shrill, he gushed, "Allan, it's such a thrill to speak to you. I've been a Sten fan for so many years. I just love the series so much. And when I got into this business I swore that someday I'd be in a position to do something with it. And now I can."<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkZ75OdZneqxDRu_kL2l0-E-XEX86YqzXfrz2l5iwXWsi5n9pdtKqCWUDT9nRR64Z9PINpC9_rmkHhx9sMmXTxFKLgQ0sAfSOWjx3jEPKbxV4Bbt3ijv6b-RT5A_PiN8PFqO5v0kpsmA/s1600/Adam+Rich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkZ75OdZneqxDRu_kL2l0-E-XEX86YqzXfrz2l5iwXWsi5n9pdtKqCWUDT9nRR64Z9PINpC9_rmkHhx9sMmXTxFKLgQ0sAfSOWjx3jEPKbxV4Bbt3ijv6b-RT5A_PiN8PFqO5v0kpsmA/s200/Adam+Rich.jpg" width="159" /></a></div>
I mean, what could I say after all that? Uh... thanks? So, okay, that's what I said. But in my head, Chris mocked him with a screechy-voiced, "The Hawks take care of their own!" Sounding like the pre-teen actor who played the Wuss gang leader in Code Red who was trying to entice Adam (The Beach Ball) Rich to join his Band Of Punk Brothers. <a href="http://tinyurl.com/253s7ev">(See Episode #32: The Hawks Take Care Of Their Own.)</a><br />
<br />
I had to bite back laughter as The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) gushed on, while in my head Chris muttered things like: "Yaps like a poodle in heat." And, "Maybe his balls haven't descended yet." And, "Comes on like a cross between The EatAnter and The Weasel." (A producer and an agent, respectively.) And then I really almost lost it when Chris started singing Tip Toe Through The Tulips in a perfect imitation of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiny_Tim_(musician)">Tiny Tim.</a> (Chris repped Tiny briefly in his days as "the worst PR man in the history of Rock and Roll.")<br />
<br />
Finally, when The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) wound down, he told me some things his company was involved in, which were moderately impressive. Explained that they had a big fat Line Of Credit, which was more impressive. And that they had a relationship with the Weinstein Brother, which shut even Chris up.<br />
<br />
I called Lew, told him what I'd learned, and asked the crucial question, "What's your take on this, Lew?"<br />
<br />
Lew said, "Let's see what the numbers are. If we like them, we can bounce it off Karen and take it from there."<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris said, okay, we'll see - and so I told Lew to go ahead. Then I got back to work on <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3wsgezn">Lucky In Cyprus</a>, an-in-progress book about my life as a CIA brat in the Middle East.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
FREEZE SCENE FOR A SHORT SANITY DEFENSE</div>
<br />
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<br />
If all this sounds crazy - me talking to the ghost of my late partner - it probably is. But the fact is, even though Chris and I split up back in the mid-90's, and he died some years before this incident (July 4, 2005) we had been friends and writing partners for so many years that an area of my brain had been altered from long use to consider his point of view. Whether he was actually there in the flesh, or not.<br />
<br />
Also, Sten was just as much his brain child as mine, and he'd poured just as much sweat and murdered just as many brain cells as I had to complete the series. So, I had to consider what he'd think about any deal involving our joint authorship.<br />
<br />
Bottom line: I might be nuts, but name me a writer who isn't and I guarantee sleep-inducing prose. Either that, or a diabetic coma.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
RETURN TO SCENE</div>
<br />
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<br />
A couple of weeks later Kathryn and I flew out to LA. We visited her mom and younger brother, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tea/e/B001LH4XU4">(Phil Bunch - an amazing musician.)</a> and my son and his wife, Jason and Hiroko, and my grandsons. (Can't resist. Here's a picture of Ryan, the youngest, and his little girlfriend.)<br />
<br />
Jason drove me to a meeting with The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) and his boss. They had a Beverly Boulevard address and a reassuring (Inside The Loop) 90048 Zip, so I went to the meeting wary, but encouraged.<br />
<br />
The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) was a tall, good-looking lad and proved to be just as gushy in person as on the phone. His boss was small, wiry and nervously aggressive. He was in constant motion, running his hands through his hair, finger-drumming the conference table, shifting around in his seat like - well, as Chris opined in my head: "Fucker must have an anthill for an ass."<br />
<br />
At that moment The Kid From (Redacted Inc.)'s Boss shifted forward, until his Anthill was right on the very edge of the seat, and with great sincerity said, "I've heard all about you and your books, Allan. To be honest, I haven't read more than a few pages of Sten, but what I read was impressive. Very impressive. I really think that this is a property we can work with."<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris snorted laughter. "Property? Things never fucking change, do they, Cole?" But I knew he really wasn't insulted. We'd grown thick hides in our time in Tinsel Town. Never mind calling books "property," that's how they viewed people as well.<br />
<br />
I said, "I'm not quite clear on what you guys intend to do with Sten. I've heard movie. Series of movies. And even a television series. Maybe we could narrow that down a bit."<br />
<br />
The Kid From (Redacted Inc.)'s Boss said, "Definitely a series of movies. After we hook up with the right people, we'll start with one, then move up to the next level."<br />
<br />
"That's the best sales point," The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) put in. I thought I saw a flicker of annoyance on his boss's face (he wasn't done yet) but his oblivious employee went on, "Sten starts out young - seventeen, right?" I nodded."Then in each book he ages and gains more abilities."<br />
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<br />
The next line he addressed to his boss: "Just like Harry Potter.'<br />
<br />
Outraged, Chris went, "Harry Fucking What?"<br />
<br />
But The Kid From (Redacted Inc.)'s Boss seemed pleased with this. He nodded. "Absolutely. And the Potter franchise is over and done with. Everybody's looking for a replacement."<br />
<br />
"And that should be Sten," The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) said.<br />
<br />
"Aw, fuck, Cole," Chris said in my head. "Set 'em straight, would you?"<br />
<br />
I said, "Sten is a long way from Harry Potter, guys. To begin with, he kills people. He's the Eternal Emperor's number one assassin."<br />
<br />
The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) waved that aside. "Not a problem," he said. "We can have all the blood we want and even flash Bet's tits, and we'll still score a PG rating." (Bet is Sten's first girlfriend.)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
PAUSE SCENE FOR MOVIE ECONOMICS ASIDE</div>
<br />
In Movieland, the preferred rating is P(arental) G(uidance) A much-tamer G rating is for kiddies, and that means too many half-price seats for a big bucks movie. Bottom line: you've got to have multiple viewings by millions of little Rug Rats before you can make a dime.<br />
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On the other hand, an R rating, means the Junior High crowd will have to buy tickets to something else at the multiplex, then sneak into the forbidden R flick to catch glimpses of the naked body of Angelina Jolie's double. (Or, the real deal with Lindsay Lohan.) Meaning, the money intended for your movie goes into a competitor's pocket.<br />
<br />
An "X" rating almost never happens because the multiplex has to spring for extra security to keep the theater swapping from getting out of hand and bringing down the local law, Ministry, and the PTA on them.<br />
<br />
But, with a PG rating you can have all the violence, fart jokes, and barely contained Jiggle you need to lure the young popcorn and Coke chugging minions, who, after all, have about the only real discretionary money there is to spend these days. (Outrageous ticket prices barely pay the bills at a multiplex. All the profit is in the outrageous candy counter prices.)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
RESUME SCENE</div>
<br />
The Kid From (Redacted Inc.)'s Boss was starting to look less twitchy now. In my head, Chris said, "He's smelling money."<br />
<br />
The Bossman said, "Is there a script?"<br />
<br />
I said there wasn't. Chris and I had had only briefly considered doing a Sten movie script and decided against it. Unless somebody crossed our palms with silver, that is. We were too busy writing books. And I still was.<br />
<br />
"Not a problem," The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) said. "I've got just the writer who's dying to do a spec script on something of this quality." (A spec script is for no money, but for the hopes of same. As Someone In The Know once said, "A freelance writer is somebody who is paid per piece, per word, or perhaps.")<br />
<br />
The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) named the guy he had in mind, which seemed to more than satisfy The Bossman. "He's certainly, A-List," he said. I'd never heard of him, but then I'd been out in Boca Raton for quite some time.<br />
<br />
I said to the (Redacted Inc.) Pair, "Sounds good to me."<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris remained silent. No surprise there. If he were still alive and banging on the keyboard he'd have no more time than I did to write a Sten script on spec. Besides, as I've mentioned several times in these MisAdventures, books are way more fun and you don't have to take shit from anybody.<br />
<br />
Then, just to make sure that we were all on the same GPS spot, I said, "Summing things up: We're talking option on film rights only, correct?" They agreed that it was. "And Lew is my agent, so any deal has to include him, right?" They said, right. "And I get final say-so on the script, obviously." It was and they said so. "Then, I'll give Lew a call when I clear the meeting and tell him what we all agreed on, okay?" It was.<br />
<br />
We left and for a change the Beverly Boulevard traffic was mild enough to get back to Jason's house in Culver City in time to take my 5-year-old grandson - Ryan Ito Cole - to the park. And what a time we had running Grandpop's legs off.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
DISSOLVE TO: MY PLACE IN BOCA - A WEEK OR TWO LATER</div>
<br />
I'm taking a break from the Cyprus book, perusing my e-mail, when I see something from The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) I open it. To my surprise he informs me in the email that he's had (Redacted Inc.)'s Business Affairs people work up a contract, which is attached.<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris says, "What the fuck? Over."<br />
<br />
I'm thinking the same thing. Lew hasn't mentioned anything about contracts. Hell, he's barely mentioned any details of a pending deal. In any deal in any field, there's always a tendency for the Side With The Big Bucks to grab as much as they can. In Hollywood, you can double that. No, triple that. As far as Lew and I were concerned, everything was still way up in the air. (Karen had been consulted from the very beginning. She was an experienced Hollywood hand herself, and had a positive, but wait-and-see attitude.)<br />
<br />
As I clicked to open the PDF attachment, Chris was saying, "They trying some kind of end run around Lew, for fuck's sake?"<br />
<br />
My thinking, exactly. Contracts and contract details should be handled by agents, not writers. There has to be a middle person between The Art, and The Business Of Art, or nothing but grief is sure to follow.<br />
<br />
I open the attachment. Scan it. "Fuck!" Chris says.<br />
<br />
I agree. It looks like total bullshit. Starting with the fact that it's basically a no-limits contract and the way it is worded there were loopholes that might not only give them control of all future Stens - in all media forms - but gave them a piece of the royalties of the completed series.<br />
<br />
"Fuck!" Chris says again.<br />
<br />
I forwarded the email and attachment to Lew's office. It was lunch time in Boca, meaning LA was just getting good and snarled in rush hour morning traffic, so I waited a couple of hours to call.<br />
<br />
Lew was not happy. And by this time I was going from irritated to steamed. We talked it over, then Lew got me - and partner's ghost - calmed down. He pointed out that if we can make things work, maybe - just maybe - we can finally kick start Sten The Movie.<br />
<br />
"He's a kid," he said. "Chalk it up to inexperience."<br />
<br />
I agreed, although in my head Chris was making rude noises.<br />
<br />
A day later The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) called to make squeaky apologies. It was never his intention to - blah, blah. Business Affairs communications screw up, blah blah. Unfortunate boilerplate language that slipped by, blah, blah, blah. Blah. (Ever notice that Boilerplate language always favors the We Say So Corporations of this world?)<br />
<br />
Chris wanted to rip his lungs out just on GP, but I did my damndest to graciously accept his apology, said go thou and boilerplate no more, then got back to the far more rational world of 1950's Mideast terrorism.<br />
<br />
A few weeks go by. Contracts bounce back and forth and are finally approved by me and Karen. I'm told the writer is excited to get to work on the Sten Script. Mild alarm bells jingle when I get the idea that the writer thinks all he needs to do is read the first book, and he'll be ready to go. (Everybody hates to read actual books in Hollywood, including many writers.) I warn The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) that if the writer wants to get a handle on not just Sten's character, but the all important character of The Eternal Emperor, plus the Galactic Empire Chris and I have created, he'd better read at least a few of the other books.<br />
<br />
Sure, sure, The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) tells me. No problem. Not to worry.<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris says, "Wanna bet?"<br />
<br />
I sigh, tell him, "Back in the box," and time travel back to the good old days of the Cold War. Time passes. Every once in a while I pull my head out of the book long enough to ask how the script is going. Wonderful, I'm told. Just great. The writer's really "broken the back of this thing."<br />
<br />
It's a familiar writer's lie that I've used often enough myself. But, I can't begrudge its use by a fellow ink-stained wretch. <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/04/hooray-for-hollywood.html">(See The Four Most Important Writers' Lies in Episode # 76 - Hooray For Hollywood.)</a><br />
<br />
I pretend I believe the writer and return to my book.<br />
<br />
More time passes. I finish the first rough draft of Lucky In Cyprus. Just short of nine hundred manuscript pages. By now, the Sten script - which ought to come in at around 90 to 120 pages with lots and lots of white space instead of prose - should be way, way done.<br />
<br />
It's not.<br />
<br />
"He had to take a break," The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) tells me, "to do some character tweaks on a movie he's on."<br />
<br />
"Character tweaks?" Comes Chris' outraged internal voice. "Only a Twinkie would fuckin' talk like that. Who are these guys?"<br />
<br />
Alas, I have no choice but to let it go for a little longer. Kathryn and I have booked a trip to Cyprus so I can gather material for the second draft of my book.<br />
<br />
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I hadn't visited the island for many decades, and was dealing with some decidedly mixed emotions. Those were among my most formative years. I had a Cypriot teacher - Jim Demedrakis - who was probably more responsible than any other person for my success as a writer. He'd been murdered by terrorists shortly after I left the island, which would make my visit there bitter-sweet, to say the least.<br />
<br />
All this made the goings on in Hollywood seem like baby stuff - which, of course, is what it really was. And is.<br />
<br />
The visit complete, we headed home - only for me to be waylaid by a heart attack at Athens Airport. Fortunately, I remembered enough of my childhood Greek to get help and stave off the Grim Reaper. A week in Intensive Care later, we returned to Boca Raton.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://tinyurl.com/l9mpr5">In my experience, near death has a way of wonderfully focusing the mind, and so I threw myself into my work, pouring out pages. (So little time. So many books to write.) I finished the last draft of the Cyprus book. Published it. Finished a book about my adventures in the Crazy Hazy Sixties in Venice Beach - Tales Of The Blue Meanie. Published it. Also published The Hate Parallax, which I'd collaborated on with Nick Perumov, the Russian fantasy author. Got a dozen books that had been out of print back in print. Moved all my books into the e-book market and some into the Audiobook market. And, along with that, I resurrected two books that Chris and I hadn't quite finished when we were still partners: The Wars Of The Shannons and Freedom Bird. (One's about the Civil War, the other about The Summer Of Love in the Vietnam era.)</a><br />
<br />
Sten The Movie was rarely on my mind, but once in awhile I'd pause long enough to make an inquiry, hear another writer's lie - which don't work as well when told by a Wannabe Producer.<br />
<br />
But, I let it go, let it go, until, one day Chris stirred around in the back of my brain and informed me: "The asshole could have written War And Fucking Peace three times over, by now."<br />
<br />
I made inquiries with The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) He did not reply. No return emails, or phone calls. I was starting to get pissed. Finally, I posted a "What The Eff?" on his very public Facebook page and instantly got this email saying that the writer had delivered a first draft and that The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) would read it over the weekend and get back to me on Monday.<br />
<br />
Monday came and went. No word.<br />
<br />
"They're dodging us, Cole," Chris said in my head. "This can't be good."<br />
<br />
"No shit, Dick Tracy," I mentally growled in reply. "Where'd you park your squad car?"<br />
<br />
Finally, The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) called. Squeaky apologies for the delay. Somebody got the flu. Yeah, yeah. Somebody else was stricken with Beriberi. Yeah, yeah. "Fuck me," Chris said in my head. "Will this son of a bitch ever get to the fucking point?"<br />
<br />
Finally, he did. Sort of.<br />
<br />
He said, "I read the first draft and except for a few things here and there, it's pretty good. We have a meeting set up (whatever day) so I can give him my notes."<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris said, "Hold the fuck up! Why can't we see it, first?"<br />
<br />
I said as much to The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) Hemming and Hawing commenced.<br />
<br />
"What the hell's the problem?" I finally burst out. "Does a first draft actually exist? If it does, I'd appreciate the opportunity to look it over and offer notes of my own."<br />
<br />
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More hemming and squeaky-voiced hawing. Finally, The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) said, "You see, back a few months ago (Redacted Writer's Name) and I decided that we had to make certain changes necessitated by marketing concerns. And those changes took us down - you know - different... uh... avenues... and that's one... uh... reason the... the... process has taken longer than we... uh.. expected. But those... uh... marketing changes... necessary though they may be... created some other... uh... problems... Unexpected problems... (nervous giggle) You know how that goes. And so, the first draft, is really to... uh... rough... and... uh... (then in a rush) really doesn't express what we had in mind. And so, if... uh.."<br />
<br />
Enough! I jump in. "What marketing changes?" I demanded.<br />
<br />
The hemming and hawing started again. I said, "Tell me."<br />
<br />
He tells me. And with dawning horror I realize what they have done. Chris is going apeshit, and I'm only a few beats behind from joining him - howling on the bars.<br />
<br />
"It's like this, Allan," The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) began. "Sten is what, seventeen when the first book begins? And you know how hard it is to cast somebody that age in a major feature."<br />
<br />
Dismay. Of the heart-wrenching variety. But I hold it together long enough to say, "Sten's seventeen at the start. Twenty two at book's end. In my experience, they'd cast an actor about 25 - or even 30 - for the part. Ask any Casting Director - it's routine casting. "<br />
<br />
"Well, yes, but we thought somebody older might have more appeal to general audiences," he said.<br />
<br />
"What the fuck's he talking about?" Chris said in my head. "What this kid knows about The Business you could stick in the small end of frigging nothing and it'd still rattle around."<br />
<br />
I want to scream and shout, but I clamp down and say, "Would you please tell me what's going on?"<br />
<br />
The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) finally got it out. "We made Sten older. He's 25 when the story starts."<br />
<br />
"What the fuck?" I blurted. "So, now he's twenty five when his parents and his brother and sister are killed?"<br />
<br />
"Well, that's the other thing," The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) said. "In this version, it's not his parents who are killed. But his wife and kid. We thought it better to give him a family of his own."<br />
<br />
In my head, Chris said, "Don't they get it? The military becomes his family. The Imperial Guard. Under the Eternal Emperor. Whole damned point of the character. That's why in the end, it's..."<br />
<br />
I break through Chris to say, "Let me get this straight. So, now instead of seventeen, he's twenty five when - not his folks - but his wife and kid are killed. And then what... is he still thrown into the Hellworld slammer?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, just the same," The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) said. "And he escapes, too, just like in the book. And hides out until Mahoney comes along."<br />
<br />
"Who does he hide out with?" I said. "In the books it's the Delinqs. Teenage - and younger - runaways and malcontents. All hunted by the Company."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, yeah, the Delinqs," he said. "Same thing as the book"<br />
<br />
I said, "Don't you think it's a little weird for this twenty five year old guy to be hanging out with a bunch of kids? Not only that, he's got a Delinq girlfriend he's fucking. She's about sixteen. So now he's a pedophile?"<br />
<br />
"Well... That's one of the things we have to fix," he said. "We're going to make Bet older too."<br />
<br />
Chris started to say something, but I'd already gone way around the bend. "That's just plain fucked," I told The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) "And it is so fucked in so many way I won't even begin to spell them out. Absolutely no way would I agree to anything vaguely like that. It's not only stupid, and unnecessary, but insulting."<br />
<br />
The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) bleated a string of apologies. No insult intended. Stupid mistake. Don't know what I was thinking. Sorry. Sorry. Yadda. Yadda. And on.<br />
<br />
One thing I'll give him, though. He didn't cast the blame on the writer. Took it all on himself. The writer was only following orders, and such.<br />
<br />
That small act of generosity calmed both me and the internal voice of Chris Bunch, who always was a softie at heart. Witness the multitude of pussy cats that dined off his largesse wherever he lived. Or, how fast he'd reach into his pocket when told a tale of woe.<br />
<br />
In my head, he said, "We've got, what, two three months left on the contract? Let them run it out. Maybe they'll surprise us."<br />
<br />
"Fat fucking chance," was my take. Once again reversing roles - as was our habit. But he continued to plead their cause, and so I finally relented and told The Kid From (Redacted Inc.) that they could continue, but only if they returned to the original source and motivations of the novel's hero.<br />
<br />
Sounding much chastened, he swore on stacks of holy nonsense that they'd sin no more and got off the phone. I sent Lew an email, briefly describing the imbroglio and the temporary status of things. A day or so later, Lew called back to say he agreed, but that we'd better "keep a close eye on things."<br />
<br />
Time passes. I write many more words, some of which even involve these MisAdventures. A few days before the contract with (Redacted Inc.) ends I still haven't heard anything, so I send a "what's up?" email. Then another. Then I repeat the Facebook routine. Still nothing. I hit him on Linkedin.<br />
<br />
Bam! The phone rings. Shrill voice proclaiming, "It's done, it's done!"<br />
<br />
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I say, send me the script, and a few minutes later an email with a script attachment pops up on my inbox.<br />
<br />
I open it.<br />
<br />
I read.<br />
<br />
"Aw, fuck!" says Chris.<br />
<br />
And that's just at the Fade In.<br />
<br />
It gets worse from there.<br />
<br />
Instead of the accident that triggers the first novel being the simple error of a hungover tech, it's now caused by a freighter that bangs - somehow unnoticed - into the factory planet that is Vulcan. Those of you who have read the books know that the old "for want of a shoe, etc." is at the heart of the whole series. Even three thousand years from now, things just don't work the way they're supposed to. Sten and Murphy's Law march very much in step. (Except when Murphy screws up.)<br />
<br />
Okay. Never mind that. Proceed.<br />
<br />
I flip pages. Come upon Sten's father, moments before death, staring meaningfully into the eyes of Sten's mother. Saying, "Everything's going to be fine, dear."<br />
<br />
More "Aw fuck's" from Chris.<br />
<br />
Flip. Flip.<br />
<br />
The gates to The Row come crashing down and Sten charges them "like a fullback charging the line." Chris goes from "Aw fuck," to "What total, unmitigated sour owl shit!"<br />
<br />
Flip. Flip.<br />
<br />
Sten jumps on a small hooded figure, the hood comes off. Long hair spills out. And it's - no shit - a girl! Bet. The love interest.<br />
<br />
"Who are these guys?" Chris demands - not for the first time. But, he knows. He knows.<br />
<br />
Flip. Flip.<br />
<br />
Enter the Eternal Emperor. But, instead of the down-to-earth guy in the series, who rules with a cat's paw instead of a mailed fist, we get this brooding figure, slouched in Thinker-like poses on a huge throne in a darkened throneroom.<br />
<br />
"What's he think this is - Batman?" Chris demands. "The Emperor doesn't do thrones. He does barstools."<br />
<br />
Flip. Flip.<br />
<br />
And, "What's this shit?"<br />
<br />
The feces Chris is referring to is the big fight scene at the end. Suddenly the Eternal Emperor is there with Sten and his Mantis team. Fighting side by side. This is a glaring example of how fucked up Hollywood can get. The Emperor showing up for the fight on Vulcan, would be like President Obama flying in with the S.E.A.L. teams to whack Bin Laden. Dumb. Never happen. But, it does here.<br />
<br />
Then we have the penultimate scenes, in which things that never happened, happen. Mahoney saves Bet's life. She thanks him. He says (No kidding) "Just doing my job, Ma'am." And... get this... Bet says, "Not you weren't." And rises on her toes to give him a little thank you kiss.<br />
<br />
I skipped the final scene and closed the file. Too depressed to go on.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "Time to pull the fucking plug, Cole."<br />
<br />
So, that's what I did.<br />
<br />
Later, after the deed was done, Chris rose up in an idle moment and said, "Maybe we should write it ourselves, Cole."<br />
<br />
Then Lew called and said the ties had been cut with (Redacted Inc.) and I said maybe - when I had time - I'd do a script for a Sten movie myself.<br />
<br />
Lew said, "I've thought that all along. Who better than you, Allan?"<br />
<br />
And maybe I will.<br />
<br />
If I did, it would probably start something like this:<br />
<br />
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<i>STEN</i><br />
<i>By Allan Cole & Chris Bunch<br /><br />THE BLACKNESS OF UTTER MOST SPACE<br /><br />HARSH WHISPER: Death came silently to the Row<br /><br />FADE IN: VULCAN - HUGE AND MENACING<br /><br />Spinning slowly on its axis. Vulcan is a gigantic artificial factory planet. Many thousands of miles long, but only a few hundred miles wide, it looks a bit like an enormous cop’s flashlight - with a glowing “Eye” at the top.<br /><br />Old, space-worn freighters move in and out of gaping space ports that belch fire and gasses from the factories within. The “Eye” is a vast brightly lit “greenhouse” - think “Silent Running” on an immense scale. It contains forests, green fields, crystalline lakes and the luxury homes, apartments, and offices of the Execs - the planet’s elite.<br /><br />But the main body of the planet is in desperate shape. It’s composed of many sections, and each section is an enormous and self contained module with loading docks, factories, crew spaces, Migratory labor (MIG) dorms and apartments, mess and recreation areas.<br /><br />But the supreme bottom-line thinking of the Execs - especially their hereditary leader, BARON THORESEN, can be seen in the supreme neglect of anything but the comfort of the Execs. Cheaper to abandon then remove, some sections appear dark next to more efficient modules newly installed. Patched and pitted areas appear on the older modules, many hydraulic leaks are seen spewing into space.<br /><br />And just then:<br /><br />ANGLE ON EVA UNIT<br />A small powered space suit is seen cruising over a low maze of pipes. As it moves past we can hear the Tech inside bitterly complaining.<br /><br />TECH’S SPEAKER VOICE: Clottin’ suit stinks so bad, boss, I’ve got heaves. Somebody ought to make Jonsey take a bath, once every planet fall, or three, or four.<br /><br />FOREMAN’S SPEAKER VOICE: Ah, you’re just hung over. Jonsey don’t smell any worse than the rest of us. I saw you knockin’ down the narco-beers last off-shift. Get your butt movin’ out there, or I’ll bust you down to MIG status.<br /><br />TECH’S SPEAKER VOICE (contrite - but surly): Okay, boss. Whatever you clottin’ say.<br /><br />ANOTHER ANGLE<br />As the Tech in his EVA unit moves on. But hungover as he is, the Tech doesn’t notice the small wrench drift out of one his storage pouches. It’s on a tether, and as he continues on the wrench swings violently to the side.<br /><br />It soundlessly impacts one of the pipes, and we see metal fragments shatter outward.<br /><br />ANGLE<br />The pipe array is laid across one of Vulcan’s modules. An identifying marker tells what it is: REC 26. And through large plas-glass viewing ports that peer into Rec 26 we see people moving about.<br /><br />Then:<br /><br />ANGLE ON PIPE A crack starts to form from the pressure and the wrench impact. Pale yellow gas begins hissing out. Fluorine - a highly corrosive yellow/green gas spews out, hosing against the side of the Module.<br /><br />The metal wall begins to blister and boil.<br /><br />CAMERA PUSH THROUGH the module - a MIG recreation area known to the inhabitants as:<br /><br />THE ROW<br /><br />Think of it as a mini Las Vegas, complete with a Red Light district where JOYGIRLS AND JOYBOYS ply their wares. ‘BOT GAMBLING MACHINES hoot the odds, and drinking machines dispense narco-beer, and other heady refreshments.<br /><br />Way down along the aisle is the FAMILY SECTION, where MIGs and their kids can enjoy family-rated livees - movies with full quadra-sensaround - touch, hear, smell and feel - entertainments.<br /><br />STEADY ON a MIG family: Father, AMOS STEN; his wife, FREED STEN; and two kids, a boy and a girl, eight and ten respectively. The boy is JOHS STEN, his sister is AHD STEN.<br /><br />They hurry toward a livee marquee, which advertises: THE EXEC AND THE JOYGIRL. As they move past scantily clad hookers of both sexes and gambling machines, Freed tries to block her kids’ view of the seamier side of “The Row.”<br /><br />JOHS (shouting): Hurry! We’ll miss the livee!<br /><br />FREEZE UNTIL THAT TIME<br /><br />When I may, or may not continue.</i><br />
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Meanwhile, as we await the glorious day when Sten - The Livee - comes to Multiplexes near us, the books are still the books, and you can read them by actually turning pages, or hitting the next page bar on your e-reader, or listening to them on your favorite listening device. <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3op47ed">And they can all be found in The Sten Page alcove in Allan's Bookstore.</a><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">NEXT: THE LAST MISADVENTURE</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK:</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE HOLLYWOOD MISADVENTURES</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red;">GET THE MISADVENTURES HERE:</span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a> </b></div>
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<b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby">KINDLE.</a> </b></div>
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<b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu">NOOK BOOK.</a> </b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a> </b></div>
<b>Over 200,000 readers visited the blog every Friday. Now all seventy three MisAdventures have been collected into a book. Click on one of the links above to buy the book. Maybe get one or three for your friends. I</b><b>f you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b><br />
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<b><b><span style="color: red;">ALL THREE STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS NOW ON TAP</span></b></b></div>
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<b><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGdOaaAXEpxLIW7iTiT9nYpNP8E9qrWjvVe-wxqbDgBZNDdPHRmDdzIrgfnwJIJxw8K87AaleSnPZta2U4AXOyFVY8FwcU06IYfffdJDyETl_dyZJbq20Yr1NAxUN9DqpRF4TRueGbJg/s1600/sten-omnibus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGdOaaAXEpxLIW7iTiT9nYpNP8E9qrWjvVe-wxqbDgBZNDdPHRmDdzIrgfnwJIJxw8K87AaleSnPZta2U4AXOyFVY8FwcU06IYfffdJDyETl_dyZJbq20Yr1NAxUN9DqpRF4TRueGbJg/s320/sten-omnibus.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></b></div>
<b><br /></b><b>The entire 8-novel landmark science fiction series is now being presented in three three giant omnibus editions from Orbit Books. The First - <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">BATTLECRY</a> - features the first three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of A Thousand Suns. Next: <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355424010&sr=1-2">JUGGERNAUT,</a> which features Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of The Emperor. Finally, there's <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Death-Match-Sten-Omnibus-Numbers/dp/184149495X/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355424010&sr=1-3">DEATHMATCH,</a> which contains Sten #6, Vortex; and Sten #7, End Of Empire. Click on the highlighted titles to buy the books. Plus, if you are a resident of The United Kingdom, you can download Kindle versions of the Omnibus editions. Which is one clot of a deal!</b><br />
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<b><b>Here's the Kindle link for <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355424010&sr=1-1">BATTLECRY</a></b></b></div>
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<b><b>Here's the Kindle link for <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355424010&sr=1-2">JUGGERNAUT</a></b></b></div>
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<b><b>Here's the Kindle link for <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Death-Match-Sten-Omnibus-Numbers/dp/184149495X/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355424010&sr=1-3">DEATHMATCH</a></b></b></div>
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<b><b><span style="color: red;">HERE ARE ALL EIGHT AMERICAN EDITIONS OF STEN </span></b></b></div>
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<b><b><b><b>YOU CAN BUY THE TRADE PAPERBACKS, E-BOOKS AND AUDIO BOOKS BY CLICKING ON <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/httpssitesgooglecomsitecolesnewspreviewsbest-sf-f-sitesabout-sten">THE STEN PAGE!</a></b></b></b></b></div>
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*****<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></div>
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<b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b>Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b>cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b>paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/httpssitesgooglecomsitecolesnewspreviewsbest-sf-f-sitesabout-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a></b></div>
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<b>TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE</b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt;">In the depths of the Sixties</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/the-summer-of-love-page">Here's where to buy the book. </a> The Tales Of The Blue Meanie blog will makes its debut after the first of the year, so stay tuned. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>STEN #1 NOW IN SPANISH! </b></span></span></div>
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Diaspar Magazine - the best SF magazine in South America - is publishing the first novel in the Sten series in four <b><div style="display: inline !important;">
episodes. Part One and Part Two appeared in back-to-back issues. And now Part Three has hit the virtual book stands. Stay tuned, for the grand conclusion. Meanwhile, here are the links to the first three parts. Remember, it's free!</div>
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vZkVGeTZtbElTdjg/edit?pli=1" style="color: #6900b3;">Link To Part One </a></div>
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B579d0REwU2vaFh4OFRjdEROUmM/edit" style="color: #6900b3;">Link To Part Two</a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-85711480291472860632012-12-21T07:18:00.000-05:002012-12-27T11:47:42.082-05:00A HOLLYWOOD CHRISTMAS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 16px;"><b>TWO MORE MISADVENTURES TO GO and then, as they say in the Biz, the Bunch & Cole Show will be entering hiatus to "rest" for a year. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Hollywood-MisAdventures-Allan-Cole/dp/0615563031/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321199154&sr=1-1=allancoleswor-20">(You can get the collected MisAdventures both as Dead Tree and Kindle editions BY CLICKING HERE)</a> Meanwhile, TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE, will debut after the MisAdventures end. And so, Gentle Reader, you'll get your Friday funny fix without interruption. Set in Venice Beach, California the Tales follow the zig-zag path of a young newsman - yours truly - through the crazy, hazy daze when the Flower Children sang, and danced and romped to drown out the sounds of distant guns. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 16px;"><b>*****</b></span></div>
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White Christmas</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">NOTE FROM ALLAN: This episode, which appeared last Christmas, was set at the end of our sojourn at Werewolf - a show created by our old friend Frank Lupo for Fox Television. It was so popular, that I thought I'd run it again. Happy holidays, one and all.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">***</span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"It's Christmas time in Hollywood, Santa's back up in the hood..." (</span></b><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Lyrics by The Hollywood Undead)</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">'Twas the day before the night before Christmas and all through the Werewolf 's house, every critter was stirring, and as far as I can recall, not a single one of us was soused.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">We were all too darned busy figuring out new and interesting ways to scare hell out of people and besides, it was going to be a short day in a short week because our boss, Frank Lupo, was throwing a big party for the staff and crew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">To locate everyone, this was Wednesday, Dec. 23, 1987, and we all had Thursday off as well as Friday, which was Christmas. In the high speed, high stakes world of weekly television, this meant that everything had to be done by the (early) close of business, because shooting would resume in Salt Lake City, Monday morning. (The day starts well before the crack of dawn for actresses because of makeup and costume requirements. The guys wearing the Werewolf suits started even earlier.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuck Connors</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">To further locate you, this was a little before Chris and I got to TWEEP Chuck Connors on the new Fox Network series, so we still had that little bit of fun ahead of us. <a href="http://www.rumormillnews.com/cgi-bin/archive.cgi?read=24282">(For the definition of TWEEP, see The CIA dictionary.) </a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">We were just working on our second cup of coffee, when our secretary buzzed us to say that Bob Butler was on the line. Butler was a hot, hot, hot television director who had a nice production deal with Viacom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chris slapped the speaker phone to "On" and said, "Ho, Fucking Ho, Robert!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I heard Butler chortling at Chris' greeting, then he said, "And Merry Fucking Christmas to you too, Bunch."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I came in. "Gonna come over and check out our new digs? See a werewolf or two? Let us buy you a couple of drinks?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Butler said, "Maybe later, boys. I'm just calling to give you guys an early Christmas present."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chris said, "Hmm, let's see. I already asked Santa for a new crossbow and a speedloader for my AK-47. Got something like that in mind?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">More laughter. Then Butler said, "Actually, I was getting ready to call your agent and re-up the option on We Take The Palace." He was referring to an hour-long comedy series Chris and I had created about a group of screwball mercenaries who end up running an equally screwball island. Sort of like "F Troop," but with an ocean view.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I said, "Same deal? Option for another year at the same price?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"That was my thinking, " he replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Far fucking out," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Would that be a 'Yes, thank you, Mr. Butler, sir?'" Robert said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Fucking A," Chris said. "And Merry Christmas back at you... Mr. Butler... sir."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">We exchanged a few more pleasantries, then got off the line.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chris said, "Now, that's gonna brighten our Christmas." He started flipping through his Rolodex. "Gotta call Kurtz Jewelers," he said. "Buy Karen something shiny."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">A little over an hour later - and I swear I'm not making this up - we got a similar call, this one from Phil Fehrley, a producer, but one of our favorite people just the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Ho, Fucking Ho, Uncle Phil," Chris greeted him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"You're such a heathen," Fehrley laughed. "Better watch out for lightning."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chris said, "Hey, it wasn't JC who said Ho, Ho, Ho. It was Saint Nicholas and he was a fucking Turk, and last I heard the Pope yanked his sainthood stripes. So, I'm pretty sure I'm safe."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I said, "Let me guess, Phil. You're calling about the option on The Berlin Reel, right?" The Berlin Reel was yet another TV series proposal, this one a drama about an American newsreel journalist in pre-war Berlin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Phil said, "That's the size of it, Allan. And Merry Christmas to you both."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikTOYZ9IIEWa4L0Ufto0uDMU8GAHOQ6IU2hBvGV2LdTMby6wskwy-EHlp0FDO0_5wjIWE5iJfZw-gpDdaD5Mn9wuI_xV1UXub84TsUO3KevtSA81gf-k_9PsB7TaVjs3egRrjuubHNrAE/s1600/santa_money.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="85" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikTOYZ9IIEWa4L0Ufto0uDMU8GAHOQ6IU2hBvGV2LdTMby6wskwy-EHlp0FDO0_5wjIWE5iJfZw-gpDdaD5Mn9wuI_xV1UXub84TsUO3KevtSA81gf-k_9PsB7TaVjs3egRrjuubHNrAE/s200/santa_money.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The option money for The Berlin Reel was similar to We Take The Palace, so Christmas was looking merrier by the minute. Chris called Kurtz again and I made grander plans for Kathryn as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Naturally, things couldn't continue in that vein, even if it was the day before the night before Christmas. The next call was a little troublesome and involved outgo, not in-go. It was from the artist/owner of a crystal-making shop in Venice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chris and I had conspired to create some special gifts for people on the show. We'd scored photographs - from different angles - of one of the werewolf costumes. We'd given these to the artist to make crystal statues for everyone. Lupo was to get the largest - about ten inches high. John Ashley, his right hand man, John York, star of the show, and Rick Baker, who created the costumes, would get smaller ones - about six inches high. And we'd had another two dozen or so made up for our secretary and other key people on the show. These consisted of the werewolf head, mounted on a base.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">They were very, very cool, if I do say so myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Anyway, the order was a week overdue. The good news - the artist was calling to say they were finally done. The not so good news - he was so swamped by Christmas orders that he couldn't personally deliver the gifts to our office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I jumped on the line, called ABC Messenger service, and arranged for a pick up. Naturally, with the holiday, ABC was pretty busy. But for an extra fee, they promised delivery before the party.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Finished what we were doing and went to see Lupo. Stuck our heads in the door. Chris said, "Want to hear how we're going to kill that son of a bitch, Chuck Connors?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Lupo paused, hands dangling over his keyboard. "Ah, geeze, guys, it's the holidays. I never kill people during the holidays."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I gestured at his typewriter. "What's the body count on the Fade In? Two hundred? Three hundred?" He was working on the pilot for his new science fiction series, Something Is Out There, which opened with a violent break out on a prison space ship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Frank chuckled. "Fuckin' guys," he said. Then he waved us off. "See you at the party."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">When we got back to our office, Kathryn and Karen had shown up. They'd both come directly from work. Karen was the top designer at a fancy flower shop. While Kathryn owned an escrow company at Wilshire and Bundy in West LA. (Escrow Revue, decorated with antique movie posters and sporting a big, working popcorn machine just inside the front door.) Kisses and embraces were exchanged. And we shared the good news about the two timely options.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">After chatting awhile, Kathryn said, "I saw the funniest thing this afternoon. It was right outside of my office. We wouldn't have noticed at all, if it wasn't for the fabulous old car."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chris, who was making drinks, looked up at his baby sister and asked the typical guy question: "What kind of old car?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Oh, I don't know," Kathryn said, impatient. "The story isn't about the car, it's about what happened while we were looking at the car."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Wisely, Chris said no more, but just delivered the drinks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"You know how I have all those big windows in my office?" Kathryn said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">We did indeed. The entire front of the long building was all window, with mirror coating. People in the office could see out, but people trying to look in only saw their reflection. Kathryn and her staff used to love to watch people pause to pose and primp, not knowing they had an audience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maria & Arnie In Somewhat<br />
Happier Times</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Anyway, we were all looking at the old car, when who should come out of the Bicycle Shop next door, but Arnie and Maria." The Bicycle Shop was a trendy Hollywood lunch stop. Arnie and Maria were, obviously, Arnold Schwarzenegger and his wife, Maria Shriver.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"It was Arnie's car," Chris guessed correctly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Right," Kathryn confirmed. "And that's where they headed when they came out of the restaurant. They were in the middle of a knock-down fight. Maria was furious about something, and Arnie was stupid enough to argue back. Can you imagine? Making a Kennedy mad?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chris and I laughed, guessing what the fight was about. A friend of ours was a Below The Line craftsman on one of Arnie's recent shoots. He said Arnie had been after one cutie something awful, demonstrating in spades, what he would later call in his run for Governator of California, "My playfulness." The girl finally came around to his way of thinking, but the director spotted them in mid-act, and a couple of minutes later, Arnie begged: "Don't tell Maria. Don't tell Maria. It was jus' a ploh jhob, jus' a ploh jhob. It doesn't count."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Kathryn continued, "They stood right in front of our windows yelling at each other. Except Maria was doing most of the yelling. Arnie took off for the car, but Maria got in front of him, and she kept on yelling. And she was shaking her finger at him - she's so teeny, and he's so big, but he wilted like a scared you know what. Oh, it was so funny to see. Finally, they both got in the car and took off, but you could see her still yelling at him."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">We had a good laugh at that. Chris looked at his watch. Frowning. "Where the hell's that messenger with the werewolves?" he wondered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I started worrying. The party would start any minute and our presents hadn't shown up. Then our secretary buzzed us. I answered and she said, "Allan, there's something weird going on." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I asked what could be weirder than working on a show about a Werewolf, and she said, "What's weird about a Werewolf?" When I couldn't answer, she said, "There's some loony guy running all over the building asking for Brunch and Cola. He's going from office to office and floor to floor. Somebody thought it was a practical joke, or something. You know, Brunch and Cola? So they sent him to the restaurant. The receptionist finally figured it out and called me."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Right away I knew it was our missing gifts. I said, "Tell the receptionist to send the guy up."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">She said it was too late, he'd already left. Chris and I bounded up and headed for the elevators. We searched for the guy floor by floor. Finally, we ended up in the basement in the Security office and there we found our missing presents in the keep of an hysterical guy with the looks and thick accent of somebody whose native land was South by Southeast of Somewhere The Hell Else. Obviously the messenger service was short-handed during the holidays and he was a temp. We showed Security our IDs and they released him into our custody.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">There were several boxes and he wanted to help, but he was so screwy we were afraid he'd drop them and next thing we'd know there'd be this horrible crash and crunch of all those crystal figurines. We tipped him, snagged a nice rent-a-cop to help, and elevated the boxes upstairs to our office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Christmas music blared over all the hallway speakers and it was time for the party. We carried the boxes into the main meeting room, which had been turned into a Hollywood Christmas Wonderland. Our set decorators had really gone overboard and we had glitter and lights and glorious Yuletide props everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">A copy of the scarred Skorzeny Werewolf 's head was set up as a centerpiece of the table, with lights and candy canes dripping from his ears and muzzle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> Spread around the head, we had plenty of drink to drink and goodies to eat. In one corner, there was a huge stack of presents piled under a spectacular tree blazing with lights.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The room filled up quickly and everybody got something to eat and drink and the fun began. Frank came in and he and Ashley handed out presents to everyone. Chris and I got new Sony stereo systems with all the gadget trimmings, including dynamite speakers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Everybody oohed and ahhed over their loot, then Chris and I started handing out the boxes of crystal werewolves. When Lupo opened the box meant for him and drew out the large Werewolf figurine - an exact crystal copy of Rick Baker 's original - he was speechless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Fuckin' guys!" he said, choking up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Then everybody else got their crystal mementos, including Ashley, York and Baker. And the reactions were equally appreciative. We also had smaller ones made up - just the head with bared teeth - for the rest of the team.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The party moved on and we had a nice chat with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rick_Baker_(makeup_artist)">Rick Baker,</a> the Academy Award winning costume artist. (He got it for American Werewolf In London) He told us some of the tricks of the trade, such as the hydraulic puppetry he'd developed to bring the werewolves to life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">A short, but muscular stuntman was inside each costume for the main movement. But the really cool scary things - like the opening of slavering jaws, sharp claws reaching out, the head turning to show those blood red eyes - were performed by a team of technicians with control boxes hooked up to hydraulic lines that were connected to the werewolf.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Wherever the werewolf went, the team followed, all dressed in black, and keeping carefully out of camera range.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Star Werewolfing Out</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Then we got to talk to our star, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0948718/?ref_=fn_nm_nm_1">John York,</a> who was a little shy and unassuming - a lot like the character he played.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">York joked about the werewolf transformations. All his clothes would be ripped off, of course, and later there'd be a scene where the human York - quite naked - had to score new clothing. Stealing them from clotheslines, or whatever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was a challenge to come up with something different for each transformation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"You guys are always making me flash my butt," he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chris said, "Hey, we're past masters of flashing actors' butts, John." He clapped York on the back. "Just ask Bill Bixby. Two, maybe three Hulkouts per episode. Losing all his clothes every damned time... And poor Lou Ferrigno... There was the Hulk, always stuck in ripped up shorts with his balls hanging out."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Happened so often," I lied, "they had to spray paint 'em green to match the rest of him."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">York had to agree that he wasn't as bad off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Rick added, "At least the guys in the werewolf suits don't have to worry," he said. "I made them smooth between the legs, like Barbie's boyfriend."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chris said, "That bothered the shit out of artist who made the crystal statues, so he added a set on each of them. Take a look and see."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">They all bent down and peered between the legs of one of the statues. And Chris said, "What're you guys, pervs or something? Staring at the poor werewolf's balls." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">That broke everybody up and we all had a couple of more drinks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The party wound down and finally, Chris and I and our ladies made our separate ways home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">DISSOLVE TO:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Thursday. The day before Christmas. Kathryn and I slept in, recovering from the party and a hard (albeit) short work week. The doorbell bing bonged and I grumbled and got up. It was chilly for California and the polished wooden floors weren't so charming in bare feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">We were in our new house on Amoroso Place, in Venice. It was a two-story 1918 Arts & Crafts home, with leaded glass windows looking out on a wide front porch. I could see a young man in a suit and tie waiting there, with a big box beside him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Even though there are few things in Venice Beach more worrisome than a short-haired guy in a suit and tie, I answered the door. He was too young and the suit was too nice for him to be some breed of cop. Also, even though I was a Venice denizen, I didn't have any current reason to feel guilty. That I knew of, anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Merry Christmas, Mr. Cole," the kid said, beaming like one of Santa's elves. He told me his name, then added, "I'm from 20th Century Fox, Mr. Cole. The studio sent this little gift to thank you for the fabulous job you're doing on the show."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And he lugged the huge box into my house, shook my hand, refused coffee, and rushed out into the chill beach air, probably on his way to Chris' place in Manhattan Beach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">My sleepy-eyed wife wandered into the living room, tying her robe about her. "Who was that?" she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I indicated the big box. "It's from the studio," I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sleepiness was replaced by bright interest. "Ooh, let's open it," she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And so we did. The first thing we found was a large, wooly lap rug. It was red and black and white, and in the center was a big 20th Century Fox logo - like you've seen at the beginning of every Fox movie since 1935 when the legendary Mr. William Fox merged his company with the equally legendary Mr. Darryl F. Zanuck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Beneath that were all kinds of goodies. Bottles of champagne and cider with two glass flutes. Cakes and cookies. Fine cheeses and sausages and crackers. Two 20th Century Fox mugs with packets of gourmet hot chocolate to go in them. And lots, and lots of other things, too many to remember.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">While Kathryn made some hot chocolate and unpacked the cake and cookies, I finished setting up the new stereo Frank had given us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Kathryn put on a record, then curled up with me under the 20th Century Fox lap rug, sipping at mugs of chocolate. Kathryn clicked the remote, a record fell into place, there was the hiss of a needle in the grooves and the music purred out of the speakers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And this is the very first Christmas song she played:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Eartha Kitt's <a href="http://tinyurl.com/2f5hqk">"Santa Baby."</a><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b>NEXT: STEN IN HOLLYWOOD: </b></div>
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<b>THE NEXT TO THE LAST MISADVENTURE</b></div>
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<b>Over 200,000 readers visited the blog every Friday. Now all seventy three MisAdventures have been collected into a book. Click on one of the links above to buy the book. Maybe get one or three for your friends. I</b><b>f you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b><br />
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<b><br /></b><b>The entire 8-novel landmark science fiction series is now being presented in three three giant omnibus editions from Orbit Books. The First - <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">BATTLECRY</a> - features the first three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of A Thousand Suns. Next: <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355424010&sr=1-2">JUGGERNAUT,</a> which features Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of The Emperor. Finally, there's <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Death-Match-Sten-Omnibus-Numbers/dp/184149495X/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355424010&sr=1-3">DEATHMATCH,</a> which contains Sten #6, Vortex; and Sten #7, End Of Empire. Click on the highlighted titles to buy the books. Plus, if you are a resident of The United Kingdom, you can download Kindle versions of the Omnibus editions. Which is one clot of a deal!</b><br />
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<b><b>Here's the Kindle link for <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355424010&sr=1-1">BATTLECRY</a></b></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b><br />
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<b>Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b>cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b>paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/httpssitesgooglecomsitecolesnewspreviewsbest-sf-f-sitesabout-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a></b><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-48970853331981433052012-12-14T07:20:00.000-05:002012-12-14T07:20:12.665-05:00HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hooray for
Hollywood</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
That
screwy ballyhooey Hollywood<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Where any
office boy or young mechanic can be a panic<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
With just
a good looking pan<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
And any
barmaid can be a star maid<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
If she
dances with or without a fan<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Johnny
Mercer)<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Get it in
your head,<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Baby,
Hollywood is dead.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Michael
Buble)<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
earnest young reporter asked, "What do you miss most about
Hollywood?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "Not a fucking thing."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
reporter switched off his recorder and said, "Can I paraphrase that?"
He shrugged. "It's a family newspaper, you know."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As an
ex-newsman I thought it was my duty to help. I said, "How about swapping
'not a damn thing,' for 'not a fucking thing.' That work?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The kid
thought a minute, then nodded and scribbled a note to himself. "Long as I
don't put God in front of it," he said, "Damn is okay."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He
switched the recorder back on. "What about you, Allan? Do you feel the
same?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"Not entirely. Chris is probably a little more burned out than I am. When
I think back on it, mostly I had a helluva good time."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
scoffed. "It was mostly shitty, with occasional bursts of piss."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"We
made a lot of money," I pointed out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
More
scoffing. "What most people make in a year will get you through maybe a
month in LA," he said. "It hooks you. Then you're always Jonesing on
money."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I couldn't
disagree with that, but persisted, "Didn't you at least have a little
fun?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
grudged. "Okay. Maybe a little."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And
we learned a lot, right?" I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
nodded. "I could write a write a big fat natural science book on the Assholes
Of Hollywood - with illustrations."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
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"Can't
use that," the reporter said, but laughed anyway. Then he asked, "As
a writer, what's the most important thing you learned in Hollywood."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"Story, story, story. You have to come up with so many ideas, so fast, and
so frequently, that any smell, sound, or movement turns itself into a story
possibility."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What
about you, Chris?" the reporter asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"How
to tell a boy stunt person, from a girl stunt person," he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The kid
chuckled. "Isn't that kind of obvious?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Not
really," I said. "Even these days the Town's pretty sexist. In a lot
of stunts involving women they substitute a small guy. You can usually catch
the switch just before the big gag. If the hero's best girl is dressed in pants
and a jacket and sensible shoes, she'll probably only do some of the action.
She'll run away from, or after someone, and it'll most likely be the actress
running."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
broke in: "In the old days, actors and actresses had to take fencing and
riding lessons. These days they've practically got to be fucking
marathoners and world class sprinters."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I nodded
agreement, then got back to the point. "So, the actress is running. But
then there's a big jump coming up. One rooftop to the next... whatever."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "At that point you get a closeup of the chick - reacting - Holy
Shit. Then camera pullback and they swap a small stuntman dressed just like the
hero's best girl to do the jump, or the fall, or whatever."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"They try to make the costume loose, so they can hide the lack of a female figure
and also to put protective gear under the costume."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2zgu5DWOJn6hyphenhyphenlA8PEOx2JBX5IZODnts4muPP859Dv4lOBjcK8dRnxUPuOpbg-laGPrjiGjA5r2kKaKeYvVMlcOTbagDQczN2L1pDHW6zMHzNeMqN7uH2x1KaKMoBIuOaOiS2RlWwog/s1600/Hooray_stunts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2zgu5DWOJn6hyphenhyphenlA8PEOx2JBX5IZODnts4muPP859Dv4lOBjcK8dRnxUPuOpbg-laGPrjiGjA5r2kKaKeYvVMlcOTbagDQczN2L1pDHW6zMHzNeMqN7uH2x1KaKMoBIuOaOiS2RlWwog/s1600/Hooray_stunts.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Xena And Her<br />
Stunt Double</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Chris
said, "Of course, if they want the shot to be sexy - the audience gets to
see her pretty ass, and so on - they use an actual stuntwoman. But, then they
can't wear protective gear so they can get pretty banged up. In that kind of
situation, it's a helluva lot more dangerous - and takes more moxie and guts -
to be a stuntwoman than a stuntman."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"The
best Tell is when the action has a woman jumping or falling off a bridge into a
river," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
reporter leaned forward, interested. "How so?" he asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"If it's a woman, she'll protect her tits." I demonstrated, hands on
my chest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"If
it's a dude," Chris said, also demonstrating, "he'll protect his
balls."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
More laughter
from our audience of one. "What about the writing part?" the reporter
asked. "You obviously prefer books to scripts. What's the
difference?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
snorted, "You'll never hear anybody say they curled up last night with a
good script. And if you do, it'll be some lying sack of a producer who moves
his lips when he reads."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I agreed.
"A script's more like an architectural drawing. A model for a whole lot of
other people to stick their own ideas in."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"But
what really sucks big fat greasy donkey dicks," Chris said, "is that
Hollywood is the only place where a writer doesn't own what he writes."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
reporter made a note to paraphrase the donkey business when he played the tape
back, then looked up. "I don't get it," he said. "You write it,
then it's yours. Or should be."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "That's true everywhere but fucking Hollywood."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"When you sell a book you're actually just leasing certain publication
rights to the publisher. And they can't change a damned word without your
permission. It's a piece of property. And it's yours for 99 years plus whatever
the latest copyright law says it is. You can will it to your wife and kids so
it'll take care of them when you're gone."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Same
with a play," Chris said. "A playwright physically owns the play.
Like a book, nobody can change it without his okay."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"During
tryouts," I said, "when they're getting ready to run the play up to
Broadway, the playwright fine-tunes his work after every rehearsal, and every
performance."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"But
if the director tries to insist on something that the writer doesn't
like," Chris added, "The writer can tell him to go fuck
himself."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
reporter hesitated. I could see that he was still having Eff-word issues. I
took pity. "Just say 'bleep' whenever we say 'fuck,'" I offered.
"After fifteen years in journalism and almost twenty in Hollywood, foul
language is an impossible habit to break."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Plus,
I did six fucking years in the fucking Army," Chris said. "Getting
shot at will knock all the 'oh, dears,' and 'gee whizzes,' the fuck out of you
fast."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The kid
gave an apologetic shrug. "A lot of our readers are regular church
goers," he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then
God Fucking Bless them," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPikNNjcy1WKFy48WOh6lSlzsigEI9l6bMj8m1C3LpojHJ_2AoiVQQOlrpi5iAl66cp44RP-Wj7hQw2h8AJdZScQhrv9fAQeu1XS7uy2QRQ8buiPwQoV81zJXuv50Gy3eO5ZGExSE8v1w/s1600/hooray_title-card-400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPikNNjcy1WKFy48WOh6lSlzsigEI9l6bMj8m1C3LpojHJ_2AoiVQQOlrpi5iAl66cp44RP-Wj7hQw2h8AJdZScQhrv9fAQeu1XS7uy2QRQ8buiPwQoV81zJXuv50Gy3eO5ZGExSE8v1w/s1600/hooray_title-card-400.jpg" /></a></div>
"But
back to Books Versus Scripts," I said. "When Hollywood started out it
was the Silent Era. The only thing you needed from a writer was to map out a
scenario, then do Title Cards. They figured, who needs an actual Writer,
writer? Anybody can do 'I Can't Pay The Rent,' and 'You Must Pay The Rent,'
Title Cards."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"That's
why the writer is the lowest man on the shit pole in Hollywood," Chris
said. "Never did get any respect."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"But
the big thing..." I put in... "the really major thing, is that when
the whole system of screenwriting evolved into talkies, the hacks they had on
staff got a salary to write whatever crap the Studio bosses wanted. They might
get a little extra if somebody actually exposed film and made a movie, but
everything in the script - story, characters, dialogue - was owned outright by
the Studio."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"In
the end, you were just a hack for hire and they could do anything they wanted
with your script because They owned it, not you," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"But
you get paid a lot," the young reporter said. "Plus you get rerun
money."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"You
do," Chris admitted."And, like I said, it's is a bitch of a habit to
break. If you're serious about being an ink-stained wretch you should be
working on your books. But, then some producer calls and whispers sweet dollar
figures in your ear and you shove the book aside."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"That's
why we got the hell out of La-La Land," I said. "And now we're in
Writers' Rehab in Ilwaco, Washington. Writing books and looking over tons of
ideas we've both had for future books."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
thought of something else. He said, "Another thing you learn fast is how
to lie like a rug."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The kid's
eyebrows rose and I put in, "He means Writer's Lies. It's the only way to
deal with producers. You have to have a lie ready on zip notice."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "Sometimes you get a producer who calls for a progress report every
fucking minute. Gets so you can't think to write."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Also,"
I said, "if you are a freelancer you'd better be working on several
projects at once, or you'll be Broke-City in no time. So, more than likely when
the producer calls you're not even on his project. But, you can't tell him
that. He wants exclusivity."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "I'll give you four of our favorite lies... Number One: 'No worries,
boss. We've got a good fucking start on it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I
translated: "In reality that means that you're thinking about writing
'Fade In' - but only when your hangover lets up."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "Number two: 'We're smokin', babe! Half fucking done.'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"This
means," I said, "that you maybe have the First Act firmly in mind -
now, if only that hangover will let go."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said: "Lie Number Three: 'Man, are we fucking whipped. Finished a First
Draft. Pretty rough, yet. But we're already marking it up for rewrite.'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"This means that the Fade In is a definite possibility."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP0q2Y2tEplMkMGjNuu7P-HVGo8bb0G1JE7i-cBqERkHvgZ5VSHruqFupRInH38XiO_BZelcQDFSnEMLBrXZLZiO6v0YbycBpTlXcFqkHBUM0yKk3ugDtENcUuwhfMauMjlJkuvmflXlE/s1600/hooray_carnac.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP0q2Y2tEplMkMGjNuu7P-HVGo8bb0G1JE7i-cBqERkHvgZ5VSHruqFupRInH38XiO_BZelcQDFSnEMLBrXZLZiO6v0YbycBpTlXcFqkHBUM0yKk3ugDtENcUuwhfMauMjlJkuvmflXlE/s1600/hooray_carnac.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson As Carnac</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Then I put
a hand to my forehead like Johnny Carson doing The Great Carnac. Eyes closed, I
said, "Writer's lie Number 4: 'We're almost there, boss. Just need to do
some character tweaks.'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
mock-plucked an envelope up and blew into it - Poof. Pulled invisible paper out
and pretended to read: "We must have written these fucking notes drunk.
Can't make heads or tails of them. What's this, Hero does Talk, Talk,
shit?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
reporter loved it. "Maybe I'll censor that part," he said. "With
a couple of changes, those lies would work just as well on my editor."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"We've
tested them out on Random House," Chris said. "Works for book editors
too."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"Another list a writer has to know - if he wants to eat and pay the rent -
is the lies a producer will try to sell him about a deal. "<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "If the producer says the deal is fucking set..."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I
finished, "It means the contracts may or may not be in the wind."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "If he says, 'No worries, boys. This deal is not just Set - it's
fucking Set-Set...'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I
translated, "... It means he's possibly had his 'girl' mail the check to
your agent."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "If you're agent calls and says the deal is not only Set, but
Set-Set-Set..."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"It
means the check has not only arrived, but cleared the bank," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
reporter had a laugh at that. Then moved on. "You hear a lot of
scuttlebutt about censorship in Hollywood," he said. "Especially on
television. How did you deal with that?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"When
we started out," I said, "we fought like hell.'<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris came
in: "We'd say, 'Hey, this is fucking America. What about Free Fucking
Speech?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I grimaced
at the memory. "And they'd say: "We're all for Free Speech. Just as
long as it doesn't violate Program Practices." I sighed, adding:
"Then we learned a couple of tricks to get around the censor."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "Put shit in there you don't care about, then give 'em hell when
they try to make you take it out."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then,
you very reluctantly give up the point," I said. "They get so full of
themselves they miss the stuff you really wanted to get in."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Another
thing you do," Chris said, "is fuck with the descriptions of action
that might get you into trouble."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"If
you have a big fight scene on an eight o'clock show," I said,
"Program Practices will go bananas if they think there's going to be
massive bloodshed."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"So,
you don't say the people are wounded, or killed," Chris said. "You
say they're stunned. You know - car full of bad guys fleeing the scene... hero
shoots the tires out... car goes over canyon wall... crashes and burns... but
the guys inside somehow roll out - stunned."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-aVKe3UUJ_gjXl5WRRwvOOfkRUyskb6tUS12_G4Db6hEbbO2Qhh5DI27hHwwqb4-8aD17Vd2-aKMfvk8XOMNwQVeYpdW7yo8u_0pdstrDuCmPhhBrkswadISSSquJ0yoGaweqzncixPY/s1600/hooray_the_A-team.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-aVKe3UUJ_gjXl5WRRwvOOfkRUyskb6tUS12_G4Db6hEbbO2Qhh5DI27hHwwqb4-8aD17Vd2-aKMfvk8XOMNwQVeYpdW7yo8u_0pdstrDuCmPhhBrkswadISSSquJ0yoGaweqzncixPY/s1600/hooray_the_A-team.jpg" /></a></div>
"You
had to do that on A-Team a lot," I said. "Nobody was ever killed on
that show - even when Hannibal Smith let loose with his machinegun and chewed
down brick walls."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
raised a finger. "Actually, one person was killed," he said. "In
the pilot. And the A-Team was on the run because they were 'falsely accused' of
the guy's murder."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"A producer friend - an old timer - was hired to do a mini-series about
the Roman Empire. Wanted lots of T&A, which was no problem. Tits and Ass
come cheap in Hollywood. But they also wanted some big set piece battle scenes.
Which was a definite problem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"They
gave him shit for a budget, but said they'd had the foresight to buy the rights
to some old Italian flicks about ancient Rome. Said he could use all the
footage he wanted for the battle scenes and so on."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "It was pretty gory stuff. Especially the big Aftermath Of Battle
Scene. Arms and legs and guts all over the place."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"When they screened the rough cut for the network, the Program Practices
Lady pitched a fit. Said, no way, Jose."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "So our buddy scratched his head. Then got a flash. Rearranged the
footage some - but not cutting anything out, because then he'd be fucked for
time."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"Then he looped in a guy shouting: 'Help me with these wounded men!'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Showed
it to the Network again," Chris said, "including the Program Practices chick. And they bought it, guts and gore and all. Easy as bacon
through a goose."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"On the other hand, once in a rare while you agree with the censor."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "Like the time we were doing a fire show and sold a story about a
pyromaniac. The bad guy, who was no fan of Smoky The Bear, was burning up half
the State and Federal parks."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"The producer asked us how somebody could do that much damage and get away
with it for so many years."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "It's a simple trick. Cheap. And almost untraceable. We told the guy
how it was done."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"The jerk got all excited and said, 'Put it in! Put it in!'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"We
refused," Chris said. "And it took some convincing to make the
Dimbulb realize that maybe twenty, twenty five million people would be watching a show
about firemen and there was bound to be a potential firebug among them. And
guess, what? We've just taught him how to burn down our National Forests."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQpeVSjBV6DaLxwN8PyLEeiORSJ4olGSWgW9m3Xu6ceXryjBz3Vj7g5oljvmrXS2Bqvqlg1Ej4Eoa3hFOVd0khMjbT5dQNLprUfVnMrxPN7Fv3_3oC1p6Vcy2lL-42FNsL_6pNDPTYMs/s1600/hooray_wagner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQpeVSjBV6DaLxwN8PyLEeiORSJ4olGSWgW9m3Xu6ceXryjBz3Vj7g5oljvmrXS2Bqvqlg1Ej4Eoa3hFOVd0khMjbT5dQNLprUfVnMrxPN7Fv3_3oC1p6Vcy2lL-42FNsL_6pNDPTYMs/s1600/hooray_wagner.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lindsay Wagner</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"Another
screwball case we agreed with," I said, "was when we worked on a
Lindsay Wagner cop-type show. She played a shrink working for the police
department."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Before
we went in to pitch the show," Chris said, "we got a call from the
Network warning us that beautiful as Ms Wagner is... and talented as she is...
She's got a few screws loose about a couple of things."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"Like, they said she was an True Believer in homeopathic cures."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Dipshit
science," Chris said. "Dilute the medicine until only a lonely
fucking molecule is hanging around, then feed it to a cancer patient, or
whatever, and bingo - They're dead."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"The
Network said Ms Wagner was determined to get some of her ideas about
homeopathic medicine into the show. You know - 'For the good of
Mankind...'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "The Network didn't give a fat fuck about Mankind. But, they were scared
shitless that as the original Deep Pockets they'd end up in a big class action
suit."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"It wasn't easy. She was really, really nice to us. And so easy to look
at... Well, we're only human... even if we are writers."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The kid
reporter grinned. "But you resisted, right?" he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
sighed. "Should've gotten a medal or something. But, yeah - we
resisted."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"Another way you can have some fun getting around censors is by
substituting foreign words for smutty language."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
reporter, who had smutty language problems of his own, perked up at that.
"How so?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "Instead of calling a guy a dick, you say he's a putz."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Which
is Yiddish for 'dick,'" I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"We
got that through a lady censor who was Jewish," Chris said. "Back
brain she had to know, but it went right past her."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Instead
of saying that your hero has big brass balls," I said, "you say he's
got big brass cajones."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"But,
that's 'balls' in Spanish," the kid said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"No
shit," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"You
mean, no 'drek'," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
laughed. "Try that out on your editor," he told the reporter.
"Bet you lunch it gets past him."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Guess who
got a free lunch?<o:p></o:p><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>*****</b></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>FADE OUT: BUNCH & COLE</b></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQSL3Bq_1L2u_a3ytoMsq2qgQ-H45nItNRHNkbNkF7KmUtyOBR_2A5d3aqKcDZ3MsLErDrenTo2FscHMaQqxnLoS2_h8LsyQ5v66ocCkKhSWcHh_nFejIzi9Awjo7GDLPqaG2_BLxc4fk/s1600/hooray_bunch&cole_final+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQSL3Bq_1L2u_a3ytoMsq2qgQ-H45nItNRHNkbNkF7KmUtyOBR_2A5d3aqKcDZ3MsLErDrenTo2FscHMaQqxnLoS2_h8LsyQ5v66ocCkKhSWcHh_nFejIzi9Awjo7GDLPqaG2_BLxc4fk/s320/hooray_bunch&cole_final+(1).jpg" width="313" /></a></div>
<br />
Chris and I struck out on our own not long after we left Hollywood. He went on to write books like the very popular <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_Bunch">Star Risk Ltd. Series</a>, while I ventured forth with books like the <a href="http://tinyurl.com/4x45pco">Timura Trilogy</a> - loosely based Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat. I'd dreamed about writing such a work since I discovered a battered old book of his poems at a Middle Eastern bazaar when I was just a lad.<br />
<br />
I also labored for more than three years on <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3qssejk">Lucky In Cyprus</a> - about my experiences as a CIA brat during the height of the Cold War.<br />
<br />
During our years together Chris and I sold more than 150 screenplays, and published 16 novels together, amounting to many millions of words.<br />
<br />
And, as Chris said more than once: "That's a fuck of a lot of dead trees, Cole."<br />
<div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>*****</b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
NEXT: A
HOLLYWOOD CHRISTMAS FLASHBACK<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
(Note From Allan: After Christmas there are two more episodes to go - Sten In Hollywood and Chris Bunch: In Memoriam.)</div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
<span style="color: red;"><b>AND A GREAT CHRISTMAS PRESENT</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpR9Gl4CDQYh_ahCeMMpOX6Z4DLm1_BgCitEmtOsiegOkjrCdDLTCR4Ov1O9G52EMf0YuIszkWYoWfHZcVP1nR7y9mLiAmeXLL0fLORD_Hv1fV6gqyNIO4iX0vbAEivmkSjnlw7MwzA2E/s1600/BookCoverImage_kindle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpR9Gl4CDQYh_ahCeMMpOX6Z4DLm1_BgCitEmtOsiegOkjrCdDLTCR4Ov1O9G52EMf0YuIszkWYoWfHZcVP1nR7y9mLiAmeXLL0fLORD_Hv1fV6gqyNIO4iX0vbAEivmkSjnlw7MwzA2E/s200/BookCoverImage_kindle.jpg" width="133" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b></b></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we're now nearing the 200,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b>
<b>*****</b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span style="color: red;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS:</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="color: red;">IT'S HERE: JUGGERNAUT! </b><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>Sten Omnibus #2</b></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy the book!</a></b></span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JLR69tS7YkQkvUr7JPa0C2QQx_Ta470u4JdFK6PxCzF7e3-Hbs4vbTLVNHDM7503N-FMUioXW3GCzsF32HTANjRH9AMuAw6ipIRC3UUb-5ZL1f7tQXMrKE9O-y0oUHWr83jx1TjQGp0/s1600/combine3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JLR69tS7YkQkvUr7JPa0C2QQx_Ta470u4JdFK6PxCzF7e3-Hbs4vbTLVNHDM7503N-FMUioXW3GCzsF32HTANjRH9AMuAw6ipIRC3UUb-5ZL1f7tQXMrKE9O-y0oUHWr83jx1TjQGp0/s320/combine3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">Click this link to buy it.</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">Click this link to buy it.</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Available now: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy both the trade paperback and Kindle version.</a> Next month</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for </span></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s1600/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s200/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-89079060069966621152012-12-07T07:07:00.000-05:002012-12-17T13:47:19.958-05:00THE BIG RIPOFF - HOLLYWOOD STYLE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>"Everybody
comes to Hollywood<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>They wanna
make it in the neighborhood<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>They like the
smell of it in Hollywood<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>How could it
hurt you when it looks so good?"(Madonna)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>***<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>"One
thing I've learned from straddling two worlds: Hollywood is way more gangster
than the streets. Hollywood is colder. Way more vicious." (Ice-T)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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***<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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A guy, who kind of looked like Dracula,
except he had to remove his fangs to talk, asked: "All those horror
stories about writers getting ripped off in Hollywood - are they true?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "Rip-offs in Tinsel Town are
like muggers in The Big Apple. Sooner, rather than later, it's gonna fucking
happen."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3NF3X7tgDnOUAIEhi2-nLpivhm-UbPzK1vRTMWHFRsQXo03L1R3gUIXXvmKbZG6v2_mnIm-ogIQlcNbBZ-GnCgeF8QiNel3gYPdgfUmQ054AYG6WNZsK3CeTXLGlG6LBK9LHu9OInodA/s1600/ripoff_vampire_girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3NF3X7tgDnOUAIEhi2-nLpivhm-UbPzK1vRTMWHFRsQXo03L1R3gUIXXvmKbZG6v2_mnIm-ogIQlcNbBZ-GnCgeF8QiNel3gYPdgfUmQ054AYG6WNZsK3CeTXLGlG6LBK9LHu9OInodA/s1600/ripoff_vampire_girl.jpg" /></a></div>
A cute girl vampire - with two bloody puncture
wounds on her pretty neck - said, "Isn't there anyway you can protect
yourself?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I said, "Sure, but sometimes you
forget... Just like you forgot to wear your garlic wreath to the party."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The girl giggled and gave her Vampire
boyfriend a swat. "You should see the other hickeys," she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
During the laughter and catcalls Chris and I
signaled one another. Time to switch to our spiel about Theft: Intellectual
Property Of.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxO2MqnLbKrbeHV3x3bR7bImsIH24okDUAxuBsIhK3_SaOjaF2NdZULQ2rfxiVisZr_e2feMoClRUcxuZYxI8bRWqXLBMpZMDZFHJzW0xPOTrsDNVIrbRLGpN0unIws2aaYAYvPxodo_c/s1600/ripoff_dragoncon-110px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxO2MqnLbKrbeHV3x3bR7bImsIH24okDUAxuBsIhK3_SaOjaF2NdZULQ2rfxiVisZr_e2feMoClRUcxuZYxI8bRWqXLBMpZMDZFHJzW0xPOTrsDNVIrbRLGpN0unIws2aaYAYvPxodo_c/s1600/ripoff_dragoncon-110px.jpg" /></a></div>
We were at DagonCon in Atlanta, Georgia to
hype The Far Kingdoms Series. The second book - A Warrior's Tale - was about to
be released and Del Rey had come prepared with many, many cartons of books.
Over the course of the convention Chris and I would sign more than ten thousand
books (That's right - 10,000!) and would leave happily grinning through our
carpal tunnel pain.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Besides the wall-to-wall signing events, we
managed to participate in a few panels, and now we were putting on our
specialty act - The Bunch And Cole Show: How To Survive Hollywood With Only The
Loss Of All Bodily Hair. It was delivered sort of Improv style - taking cues
from the audience, then moving in that direction.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "It's like riding a
motorcycle. It's not a matter of If You're Gonna Go Sky-Ground - it's When
You're Gonna Go Sky-Ground. And if you pitch stories in Hollywood for a living
there's a theft - or three, or six - in your future."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I said, "And there's not a lot you can
do about it."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNQl2BSiZwDOXyh79EhihhnQidszbAPznuVGEv-dxEjJq-CYNoJHKd3b1umz7Sgq8-CvhG_Tz4r8uEKTATIvt7kOG7Bw-JxfEzOL8nMT-gvfTkR_nzS0GDvxLOp-pcZPr_N6xaXUANAY/s1600/ripoff_Lt.+Uhura.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNQl2BSiZwDOXyh79EhihhnQidszbAPznuVGEv-dxEjJq-CYNoJHKd3b1umz7Sgq8-CvhG_Tz4r8uEKTATIvt7kOG7Bw-JxfEzOL8nMT-gvfTkR_nzS0GDvxLOp-pcZPr_N6xaXUANAY/s1600/ripoff_Lt.+Uhura.jpg" /></a></div>
A black girl in a Lt. Uhura outfit cut to
show off her long legs, said, "You could sue them, couldn't you?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Sure - if you've got Gene Roddenberry
to pay for the attorneys," Chris said, giving her a sly grin. (He was
making a reference that probably whisked over everyone's head: The long-time
affair between Gene and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0629667/">Nichelle Nichols,</a> the beautiful and talented actress who
played Lt. Uhura.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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"Even then," I said, "it can
be tough. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Art_Buchwald">Art Buchwald</a> is a famous syndicated newspaper humorist. Pulitzer
Prize winner. But he ended up suing Eddie Murphy and Paramount for ripping off
'Coming To America.' Eddie said it was his idea. Art claimed that he had it
first, and his agent had sent it to Eddie as a movie idea.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWvex7392ucHeedEriUkz4TE1HnBm7qL8OPLecnd-lRvQJvJt7RnVnGGwzdkQer1dJvOjZAMAA8xyKfeWMH_PRen6FP4qnUKzeR5hNMbpTpO7jNO-jvOX1sC5CPjUjEIGDBxwW907V_w/s1600/ripoff_murphy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWvex7392ucHeedEriUkz4TE1HnBm7qL8OPLecnd-lRvQJvJt7RnVnGGwzdkQer1dJvOjZAMAA8xyKfeWMH_PRen6FP4qnUKzeR5hNMbpTpO7jNO-jvOX1sC5CPjUjEIGDBxwW907V_w/s1600/ripoff_murphy.jpg" /></a></div>
"Eventually the Court
agreed with Buchwald and gave him a piece of the profits. But, then Paramount
said that although "Coming To America" grossed nearly $300 million, that it didn't break
even. In fact, they suffered a big loss."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Gasps from the audience. "Hollywood
economics," Chris said. "$300 million minus the $20 million it cost
to make and distribute the flick, equals not just Zero, but less than
zero."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"For a couple of years," I said,
"the only satisfaction Buchwald had was they made the Studio put his name
on the VHS Story-By credits. Later, another court declared Coming To America
profitable and Art finally got paid for his work."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Guy wins the fucking Pulitzer
Prize," Chris said, "and he still gets ripped off."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"And then there's <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3eh7xrr">Harlan Ellison</a>,"
I said. "Harlan had to sue
The Great James Cameron over the "Terminator." Cameron said it was his idea.
Harlan said it was ripped off from a couple of Outer Limits episodes that he
wrote.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Who was right? Chris and I screened the
episodes, compared them to the "Terminator" movie and we hands down agreed with Harlan. In the end, the evidence was apparently
strong enough that they settled out of court in Harlan's favor."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris added, "But Cameron couldn't let
it go. Said Harlan was a parasite who could 'kiss my ass.' Big mistake to play
word games with Harlan. His reply? 'Anybody who sticks his hand in my pocket is
going to 'pull back a bloody stump.' When it comes to suing, Harlan is a
Terminator all on his own. He just keeps coming."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I said, "In both cases, it would have
cost a whole lot less money to just pay Buchwald and Harlan for the rights.
You'd think it'd also be less of a public embarrassment."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "Never happen. You can no
more shame a Studio Suit for being a greedy ass than you can a politician or a
crack whore."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I said, "As for Cameron and Eddie
Murphy, they were motivated by pure Ego. Nothing more. James Cameron wanted the
writing credit to go with his director's credit so he could maintain his
'artiste' pose."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Same thing with that knuckle-head Eddie
Murphy," Chris said. "Can't be just a great comedian, or comic actor.
He wants to pose as a guy who writes his own material as well."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZrxrYQ1iLYb6o_uTCalxLFOvrNOyQ6tyNV0RCmvYoiScQOCMwuToQMKTghyphenhyphenSh5LAdPKfgw4F28qjU2LrufdMj2BsjzY4JFU8glVvOUoDkDY-pm5Mi8GK2hSNynzTYdYq_KBsP79h5Q7Q/s1600/ripoff_butch_cassidy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZrxrYQ1iLYb6o_uTCalxLFOvrNOyQ6tyNV0RCmvYoiScQOCMwuToQMKTghyphenhyphenSh5LAdPKfgw4F28qjU2LrufdMj2BsjzY4JFU8glVvOUoDkDY-pm5Mi8GK2hSNynzTYdYq_KBsP79h5Q7Q/s1600/ripoff_butch_cassidy.jpg" /></a></div>
I said, "Eddie Murphy's agent once set
him up with the legendary scriptwriter, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Goldman">William Goldman.</a> We're talking All The
President's Men, Butch Cassidy, that sort of legendary writer. But Murphy spent
the whole meeting giving Goldman a lot of shit. No respect whatsoever."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "So Goldman walked out. Told
Eddie's agent: 'I'm too fucking old and too fucking rich to put up with his
shit."<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">After the applause for Goldman's line died
down, a guy in a Robocop outfit asked, "What about you guys? Have you been
ripped off?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris sighed. "So many fucking times we
lost count," he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I said, "On our first sale we got ripped
off for half the story money." (See: <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/06/whats-story-boys.html">What's The Story Boys,</a> and <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/06/how-to-steal-million-dollars.html">How ToSteal A Million Dollars.)</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"But you know," Chris said,
"if somebody had told us before that getting a break in Show Biz was sort
of like joining the Pipefitters Union - you had to cross somebody's greasy palm
with silver - we would have done it sooner."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"On our second sale," I said,
"we lucked out by running into an honest story editor. He could have
ripped us off easy - plus made some major points with a Network Bigshot. But he
didn't."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"We not only got paid," Chris said,
"but we got paid fucking double. Plus we shared credit on a TV series
pilot. "<a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/07/shark-that-ate-bunch-cole.html"> (See: The Shark That Ate Bunch & Cole.)</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"On the other hand," I started...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"...You have a foot," Chris broke
in, going for the cheap laugh and getting it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Okay," I said, "on the other
foot - sometimes what you think is a ripoff is pure coincidence."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Your Genius Idea comes from something you
read or saw in the news," Chris said. "Naturally, you can't be
surprised if a zillion other writers come up with the same thing."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Somebody shouted, "But what if you had
the idea first?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"There's no copyright on ideas,"
Chris replied to the audience's great surprise. "It's only what you do
with the idea that counts."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Sometimes," I said, "It's not
theft, but a weird kind of convergence," I said. "It's in the
atmosphere. If you pitch for a living, you're always thinking story, story,
story."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "Then, fucking boom! Out of
nowhere you get this God damned notion of pure genius."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"But so do all the other writers in
town," I finished for him. "And if then you read that some Studio or
Producer is going to do something exactly like your idea, you think - 'Hey,
I've been ripped off.'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Except, to prove theft," Chris
said, "you have to prove access. Art Buchwald's agent apparently had proof
that his notion about an African prince in America had been sent to Murphy, or
Murphy's people. Otherwise they wouldn't have fucking settled out of court.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Harlan's stuff was televised. Seen by
millions. How could you miss it? And if you watch the episodes yourself, you'll
think - 'Damn, that's The Terminator!'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"So, if you can't show access," I
said, "the conclusion of most Legal Eagles is that it must be a
coincidence. And mostly, that's what it is. It's also the main reason Studios
and Producers refuse to look at unsolicited material - and insist on some kind
of go-between like an agent before they'll read a script, or treatment for a
script."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5jrKvVmEjuFElByFOeunOB4Di8iw2g-jWPkTl23bc69o3Mp9n9RgmaZEko0wWOHtukRKrJhW8rz1nyFoqjSpRT6T7oKrWZ3LLrYAeYSKqqTmxAl266KCU7noEVeMq1RQn1Aeg1MHJk4/s1600/ripoff_timcurry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5jrKvVmEjuFElByFOeunOB4Di8iw2g-jWPkTl23bc69o3Mp9n9RgmaZEko0wWOHtukRKrJhW8rz1nyFoqjSpRT6T7oKrWZ3LLrYAeYSKqqTmxAl266KCU7noEVeMq1RQn1Aeg1MHJk4/s320/ripoff_timcurry.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
"But what if the agent rips you
off?" asked a guy dressed like Tim Curry in Rocky Horror Show.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Oh, they do," Chris said. He
shrugged. "And then, you're just fucking fucked."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I said, "Some thefts are the result of
what Chris and I call the Dishonest Subconscious Syndrome."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Guys who hear pitches," Chris
said, "have so many ideas thrown at them that they forget Who's On First.
Sure, the stupid asses pass on your brilliant idea during the meeting."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I said, "But, then later on something
triggers a vague memory."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Maybe they're in the shower,"
Chris said. "Maybe they're sitting on the toilet with the drizzles from
too much Blow. They get the Big Ah-Ha! But they don't realize they're the same
numb nuts as before and it was somebody else who not only had the idea, but
pitched it to them in a meeting."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"We've had cases where we've made a sale
on a show," I said, "but then later, something else we pitched that
they passed on ends up in a story by one of the people on staff. People we know
and like and there's no question of their honesty."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Besides, we know where their kids go to
school," Chris said to laughter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWn5zIB3X8lmJNqkG_1XSGYKwkxtXDTz3JfBGVrmnaUAz5xf3PQ4ijM63YlfMIkfeRm1E84C9O7F3ca6-IKxSViqC9kfvqDANMB4SxJTfbPfwNyPldAEdPiOyWOFYcIxbkPqmw9Aslk0o/s1600/ripoff_magnum+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWn5zIB3X8lmJNqkG_1XSGYKwkxtXDTz3JfBGVrmnaUAz5xf3PQ4ijM63YlfMIkfeRm1E84C9O7F3ca6-IKxSViqC9kfvqDANMB4SxJTfbPfwNyPldAEdPiOyWOFYcIxbkPqmw9Aslk0o/s1600/ripoff_magnum+(1).jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tom Selleck</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"Had it happen on Magnum," I said.
"We pitched half a dozen ideas to Don Bellissario. He passed on them all.
Finally we sold something we made up on the spot." <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/10/tom-selleck-and-ugliest-dog-in-hawaii.html">(See: Tom Selleck AndThe Ugliest Dog In Hawaii.)</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"But later in the season," Chris
said, "we saw an episode on the show about dope growers in Hawaii who
plant their shit in the boonies. Not your friendly neighborhood pot dealers,
but fucking thugs armed with automatic weapons who set deadly man traps on the
paths leading to the marijuana crops."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I said, "We pitched that very idea, but
Don passed. Much as we think Bellissario is a jerk of the first order, we doubt
whether he deliberately stole the idea. Our idea was sitting in the back of
that raisin Producers call a brain, but he thought it was original to
him."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Then there are situations, where
producers deliberately set out to rip you off," I added.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Mostly happens at Cattle Calls,"
Chris said. "That's when they call in twenty or more writers. Show them
the pilot. Give them a little talk. Then invite them to pitch."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"They have no intention of buying,"
I said. "The Guild has this rule that shows have to interview a certain number
of freelancers a season. The idea is to discourage the staff from Bogarting
every script, and thereby encouraging the freelance market."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"There's a fucking big ass Catch 22,
though," Chris said. "The rule says they have to let freelancers
pitch, but it doesn't say they have to buy."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"We refuse to attend Cattle Calls,"
I said, "unless the Exec Producer guarantees our Agent up front that
they'll buy a script. Then we go, sit with all our fear-soaked brethren, then
when the dog-and-pony show is over, we're whisked through a secret entrance to
the producer's office."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Meanwhile," Chris said, "they
hear pitches from the other writers. Tell them not only 'No,' but 'Fuck No,'
and send them on their way. But they keep notes of the best stuff then have
their staff fuck with it so the theft can't be proven."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFO_dR8IcEyOufnv33iuW60_-_gxXR3ks_4PVnnMjz-vJqIC3XKHB6CllIkm89E6-s7Wx0dxA2HT8eJmkWOaFjYBzwZqfgIo3W195u_QeFgCYkuMtffa-VEGy-RKsAhX_e2rxFWqbXJdw/s1600/ripoff_alien.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFO_dR8IcEyOufnv33iuW60_-_gxXR3ks_4PVnnMjz-vJqIC3XKHB6CllIkm89E6-s7Wx0dxA2HT8eJmkWOaFjYBzwZqfgIo3W195u_QeFgCYkuMtffa-VEGy-RKsAhX_e2rxFWqbXJdw/s320/ripoff_alien.jpg" width="292" /></a></div>
A girl in a Sigourney Weaver Alien get-up
called out, "They're just cherry-picking people's brains."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Right fucking on, sister," Chris
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I said, "They can steal any idea they
like, change it just a little, and there's nothing anybody can do about
it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "Then there's the really big
rip-offs. Not just ideas for single episodes of television, but whole fucking
movies."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"For example," I said. "We
pitched a modern version of Robinson Crusoe to Touchstone, not long ago."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris made a face."That's Touchstone, as
in Touched By A Mouse," he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I grimaced. "It's a division of
Disney," I said. "As you might gather, we're not big fans of
Disney."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"What's wrong with Disney?" a guy
in a Teen Wolf getup shouted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlYsqf6gA75-oC5WuKLlXRRKZfDOJMF1DiYpw_SJmL3aePdwOLtjLM1zVeBJoQ-CMeOj5H8AhHh3nVQGg-a4ScHI-83KTr1mLkoZLh2oL6DniswdNFU1BkHYJk9J2g9yYg62-mAt1q94/s1600/Michael_Mouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlYsqf6gA75-oC5WuKLlXRRKZfDOJMF1DiYpw_SJmL3aePdwOLtjLM1zVeBJoQ-CMeOj5H8AhHh3nVQGg-a4ScHI-83KTr1mLkoZLh2oL6DniswdNFU1BkHYJk9J2g9yYg62-mAt1q94/s200/Michael_Mouse.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
"Long story," I said. "Remind
us some other time to tell you about the Pissing Dwarfs. <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/08/screwed-by-mouse-or-michael-eisner-and.html">(See: Screwed By The Mouse : Or, Michael Eisner And TheSeven Pi$$ing Dwarfs.)</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I continued, "It was a Romancing The
Stone type action comedy. Our lead was an outdoorswoman. A descendant of the
real Robinson Crusoe."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Guy named Selkrik," Chris
interjected. "A Scotsman and an actual castaway whose rescue was played up
big by what sufficed as the British media back in the early 1700's. Old Danny
Boy Dafoe interviewed Selkrik and even paid him real money for the rights to
his story. Which is where the novel came from."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Meanwhile, back at Touchstone," I
said in mock exasperation. Jerked a thumb at Chris. "He knows shit like
that, so don't get him started or we'll be here all night."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
After a few guffaws, I said, "In our
story, the lady winds up on a desert island just like her ancestor. Except,
instead of a shipwreck, she's in a plane crash. Then it's just her and her
hunky but flaky pilot."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "Instead of threatening them
with cannibals, we had bad ass drug smugglers who use the island as a midway
stop on the way to the States."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Pretty good idea for a shoot-em up,
don't you think?" I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
There was enthusiastic agreement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"It's so good," Chris said,
"that it was announced in Variety two weeks ago that they're gonna make
the movie. Harrison Ford starring."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
There was applause. I held up a hand to stop
them. "You won't see our name anywhere on it," I said. "Not our
movie."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"They passed at the meeting," Chris
said. "But now, guess what? They're doing a movie just like ours."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"You're so damned suspicious,
Bunch," I said. "It was just a coincidence." I turned to the
audience. "Right?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
There were loud replies of
"Bullshit!"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris and I grinned at each other. An
audience after our own hearts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsyVh6e_wG_CwVoUDcshZSsFpxgD6gSfqhaPiNCz8isZgyK1pmne64UWxlIKZVzR21Ox7NHgYcESaKjLss6-0O_EgzQyB8VPj35LN8HtnfIniIfN5aIXwToP9mhgPF8X8ibuQRXgIwaqA/s1600/ripoff_freddy-krueger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsyVh6e_wG_CwVoUDcshZSsFpxgD6gSfqhaPiNCz8isZgyK1pmne64UWxlIKZVzR21Ox7NHgYcESaKjLss6-0O_EgzQyB8VPj35LN8HtnfIniIfN5aIXwToP9mhgPF8X8ibuQRXgIwaqA/s320/ripoff_freddy-krueger.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
"Second example," I said.
"You've all heard of Nightmare On Elm Street, yeah?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Man, had they. Lots of applause for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freddy_Krueger">FreddyKrueger</a> and his young victims.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "Our former agents - CAA,
the worst of the fucking bunch - also repped some of the guys at New Line, the
company that makes Elm Street. One of them was Mike De Luca, their fair haired
boy."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"He was on his way up then," I
said. "Later he became head of the company."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"And became infamous for his X-Rated
public behavior at a party with the top celebrities in Town in
attendance," Chris added. "His host was so disgusted that afterward
he threw out the chair De Luca was using during the incident." <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3aqozoe">(Go HereFor Dirty Details. Parental Guidance Very Much Advised!)</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"We'd met De Luca before on a show
called Dark Justice," I said. "He was on loan from New Line and we
thought he was pretty much of an asshole then. Our buddy, Jeff Freilich, spoke
up for him, though, so we let it go."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "Long story short - CAA
sends us to see De Luca who had just been put in charge of the last Elm Street
movie. Mainly because he'd worked the last season on the Elm Street TV series.
The really important thing about the project was that it was supposed to be the
final movie in the Franchise. The last Nightmare On Elm Street."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"What we didn't know," I said,
"was that De Luca's writing credits were mostly bullshit, and he really
needed something major he could call his own if he wanted to climb the Suit
Ladder To Success."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "We didn't particularly want
to write an Elm Street, but we were asked to go pitch as a favor to our agent.
So we watched two of the movies they sent over, came up with some ideas, and
went in to see De Luca."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Mike passed on a couple," I said,
"but we figured he was the kind of jerk who dumps the first two stories on
general asshole principle. But we were holding back a really killer idea - a
for sure sale - that Chris had come up with."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "I asked Mike, 'This is
supposed to be the last Elm Street, right?' He says, yeah, the last one. So, I
said, 'After all these Elm Street Movies and TV shows about Freddy in other
people nightmares, what if we do a big switch?'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I said, "Mike looks real interested. He
asks Chris - 'What big switch?'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"And Chris told him, 'What's Freddy's
Nightmare?'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I said, "Mike jumped at that. Like he'd
been goosed. He started to get real excited. And Chris went on to pitch him the
idea, which started with Freddy having an accident - hits his head on a rock,
or something - and gets amnesia. Then it spooled out from there, bringing in
characters from the past."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Mike went along at first," I said.
"Damn, was he excited. I figured we had then sale. Then he drew back.
Started hating the idea."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris said, "I asked him what was wrong.
"And he said, 'It's a premise breaker. We can't do it.'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"I jumped in then" I added.
"And said, 'It's the last fucking Elm Street. There's no reason you can't
break the premise.'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"But he didn't see it," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Or, at least he told us that," I
put in. "And so we packed up and went back to our office to do something
sensible, like write books."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Somebody in the audience shouted, "But
they did the movie. I saw it last year."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"No shit," Chris said. "And
guess who got the writing credit?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"If his initials are Mike De Luca,"
I said, "you guessed right."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once again, somebody yelled, "You could
sue them."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris and I both shook our heads.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"Life's too fucking short," he
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I said, "Every hour you spend in court,
or in an attorney's office, is an hour lost writing books."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
And Chris said, "The only time it's
worth suing, is if it's the only idea you'll ever fucking have."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
In the back of the hall where Kathryn and
Karen sat keeping time for us, I saw Karen point to her wristwatch, and Kathryn
make throat-cutting motions with a finger.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Time to end this sucker.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris turned to the fangless Dracula. Popped
him a mock salute.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He said, "So, to finally answer your
question about what's true and what's not in Hollywood, I have to say this:
Every fucking thing you have ever heard about Hollywood is true...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
"...Except what they say about me. And
only some of what they say about Cole."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I flipped Chris the finger and the audience
roared. I had to shout over them."Oh, yeah! Well tell them about that
starlet at Quincy who flashed you the whole damned meeting."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chris raised both hands for silence, and got
it. Head bowed in mock humility he said, "As God is my witness I thought
she was there for an anatomy lesson."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He appealed to the audience. "I mean, it
was a medical show, right?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
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And to much laughter and applause, it was a
wrap.<br />
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">It was also the last convention Chris and I
attended together. And when we flew home, it wasn't to Hollywood, but to a
little seaside dot on the map, called Ilwaco, Washington.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The Golden Chains had been broken.<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
***** </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<o:p> </o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">NEXT:
HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD!</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS:</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">IT'S HERE: JUGGERNAUT! </b><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>Sten Omnibus #2</b></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy the book!</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">Click this link to buy it.</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">Click this link to buy it.</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Available now: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy both the trade paperback and Kindle version.</a> Next month</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-72284355063932347562012-11-30T07:35:00.000-05:002012-11-30T07:35:12.670-05:00CHUCK NORRIS NEVER BLINKS. NEVER!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5ZSi8pJUTMbTOcYAsQGIUlvXCQ9eNRiz_PYIGFu9qQIREQW_wD9RnS6XfvgiIsootDlNFkNGvcY-KYCES_ZbIoqVe9x9Z8HghOV4wGaKWhg_d6GFId9eW1sTY2n41BNN1rXC5op6bDM/s1600/chuck_norris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5ZSi8pJUTMbTOcYAsQGIUlvXCQ9eNRiz_PYIGFu9qQIREQW_wD9RnS6XfvgiIsootDlNFkNGvcY-KYCES_ZbIoqVe9x9Z8HghOV4wGaKWhg_d6GFId9eW1sTY2n41BNN1rXC5op6bDM/s400/chuck_norris.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>* If Chuck Norris is late,
time better slow the Hell down</b><br />
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<b>* Chuck Norris doesn't worry
about changing his clock twice a year for daylight savings time. The sun rises
and sets when Chuck tells it to.</b></div>
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<b>* If you have five dollars
and Chuck Norris has five dollars, Chuck Norris has more money than you.</b></div>
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<b>* Life insurance premiums
are based on how far you live from Chuck Norris.</b></div>
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<b>* Ghosts sit around the
campfire and tell Chuck Norris stories.</b></div>
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<b>* Chuck Norris counted to
infinity - twice.</b></div>
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<b>* Chuck Norris can slam a revolving
door.</b></div>
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<b>* Death once had a
near-Chuck Norris experience.</b></div>
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<b>* There is no Theory Of
Evolution, just a list of animals Chuck Norris allows to live.</b></div>
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<b>* Unstoppable force meeting
an immovable object? Chuck Norris clapping.</b></div>
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<b>* When Chuck Norris does a
pushup, he isn't lifting himself up, he's pushing the Earth down.</b></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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Frank Lupo said, "Whatcha'doin', guys?"</div>
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Chris said, "In a word - getting the fuck out of town."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "That's six words."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "Jesus, Cole, you're so damned nit-picky."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I could hear Frank laughing on the speaker phone. He was always a duck
for the Bunch & Cole Show. He said, "No, seriously, guys. What're you
up to?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "We really are leaving town, boss. Chris and Karen are
pretty much packed. Kathryn and I have to hang on a little longer so she can close down
her business, and we can find tenants for the house." <o:p></o:p></div>
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Knowing us, Frank was unsurprised. All he said was: "Where you
headed?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "A little town called Ilwaco in Washington State. We ran across the place years ago on bike trip. It's on a peninsula across from
Astoria. Beautiful country. Maybe fifteen thousand people in the whole damned
county."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I added, "Looked like a great place to write. We both agreed that
when we made it, that's where we'd go to. We've got enough book contracts to
take care of us for a few years, then we'll see what's next."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"That's great news, guys," Frank said. "The dream of
practically every writer in Town."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Even you, boss?" I teased.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Frank laughed. "Nah. I'm too much of a city kid." <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaAVfacxVN6lI8h3uZ4R9a1WplSWkQHT23qLekpL6pXQ7xQfDp88dmk1fWV0bc_drhuJXJ8d6qOraXxgZeajsElSouy1WCajuHSdAt5vCeDtu1_PLy_mNVgQmVykbGFlWQvHtUFnXbTWA/s1600/Chuck_Frank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaAVfacxVN6lI8h3uZ4R9a1WplSWkQHT23qLekpL6pXQ7xQfDp88dmk1fWV0bc_drhuJXJ8d6qOraXxgZeajsElSouy1WCajuHSdAt5vCeDtu1_PLy_mNVgQmVykbGFlWQvHtUFnXbTWA/s200/Chuck_Frank.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frank Lupo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lupo was ex-New Yorker who'd come out to Hollywood to make his bones as
a writer. Drove a cab to support his family, while turning out spec scripts on
the side. At a very young age, he'd impressed the hell out of the right people
and before you knew it he was a big time producer. Another blink of the eye and
Frank was Co-creator (with the late Steve Cannel ) of The A-Team, Wise Guys,
Hunter, Werewolf, and many more.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you recall, we'd first met on his debut gig as a showrunner on
Galactica 1980 (it wasn't Frank's fault) where we were story editors (wasn't
our fault, either) and since then we'd written a pile of scripts for most of
his shows. In fact, the best experience we ever had in Hollywood was as story
execs on Werewolf, where at Frank's behest we had not only scragged Chuck (The
Rifleman ) Connors, but made him literally kiss the ring of his replacement.
<a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/08/chuck-connors-kisses-ring.html">(See: Chuck Connors Kisses The Ring)</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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I was grinning at the memory when Frank said, "Can you guys maybe
use a little 'get out of town' money?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Sure as hell could, boss," Chris said. "Can't believe
how much it costs to ship fucking books. They want 50 cents a damn pound, and
I've got easy - four thousand books."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Well, maybe we can help each other," Frank said. "You
hear about that new <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chuck_Norris">Chuck Norris</a> show CBS bought?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Vaguely. There was a two-hour MOW that did big numbers. A
Texas Ranger thing, right?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Walker, Texas Ranger," Frank confirmed. "Damndest story
behind it. Chuck made the two-hour himself. And get this, he got the Mattress
King of Texas to finance it. CBS bought the movie, then didn't know what the
fuck to do with it, so they thought they'd burn it off. Show it in the Dead
Season and maybe they'd get their money back. But, then - Boom! Ratings through
the roof."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said. "No surprise there. Martial arts shit always does well
- not that any Suit ever realizes that. Hell, there's a huge built-in audience
for it. Put a Kick Boxer on anything and you've got automatic sales."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I added, "Plus, we're talking Chuck Norris, here. He's no great
shakes as an actor - but when it comes to martial arts, he's the real deal.
Middleweight champion for I don't know how many years."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris snorted. "Not like that phony-ass Steve Seagal!" (As you
may have gathered, Chris did not hold Steven Seagal in especially high esteem.
Nor did I. Revisit <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/09/chris-bunch-versus-steven-seagal.html">Chris Bunch Versus Steven Seagal</a> for a refresher course.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Although I could hear him chuckle, Frank stayed on point. "So, the
Network had this hit from out of nowhere. Even had some financing if they
wanted to share the profits with the Mattress King."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Fat chance," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"You guessed it," Frank said. "Anyway, they make a deal
with Chuck to do a Texas Ranger TV series. But, holy shit, after they sign the
deal, they realize the movie was a fluke. Made by amateurs, for fuck's sake.
And no way can amateurs do a whole fucking TV series. With or without Mattress
King money."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I could imagine the dilemma. A weekly series is an incredible grind.
Fourteen hour days. Six, seven days a week. Couple hundred employees - all
members of some kind of union. One sneeze can cost a fortune. And then there's
the actors. Temperamental? If they are any good - probably.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roseanne Barr</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I remember a Studio Veep who bragged to me that she'd blown off Rosanne
Barr when she came calling with her show. She said, "I knew she was a bitch that'd cause nothing but
trouble." Well, that "bitch" made a rival network hundreds of
millions of dollars. Sure she was trouble. But it goes with the territory. In my
experience, Talent is a coin whose flip side is Temperament, if not downright
Trouble. (Present company not excluded.)</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Frank said, "Anyway, the network asked me and John Ashley to get
the show off the ground. And after we backed up a truck to the studio gates and
they'd shoveled in enough money, we said okay."</div>
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<b>***<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>FREEZE SCENE FOR SAD BACKSTORY</b></div>
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The<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Ashley_(actor)"> John Ashley</a> Frank was referring to was his longtime friend and
production partner. A really great guy. Sadly, Ashley died from cancer not many
years after this conversation.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQczRPAWgI8rOKtPa6hpB0T6K14ddSeWRktxwhT48QxmtuXTKELIzzJV1aNLUUk_pXBTHKk_TBO7GjRGDrK__ubhSydPnceINrqh_wAs5vkzMWLV1L5idKepLIoeXkYNDe3pwupZCsS2w/s1600/Chuck_Wayne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQczRPAWgI8rOKtPa6hpB0T6K14ddSeWRktxwhT48QxmtuXTKELIzzJV1aNLUUk_pXBTHKk_TBO7GjRGDrK__ubhSydPnceINrqh_wAs5vkzMWLV1L5idKepLIoeXkYNDe3pwupZCsS2w/s200/Chuck_Wayne.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>
He'd won his start in the business working on a
John Wayne movie back in 1956. The movie - an awful thing with a fabulous group
of Players - was called The Conqueror, with Wayne totally miscast as Genghis
Kahn.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Far worse - the movie was shot at St. George, Utah, about a hundred
miles downwind from the government's nuclear test site in Nevada. (Testing was
above ground back then.) Worse still, when they returned to LA to finish the
movie, Howard Hughes (who made movies and starlets in those days) shipped tons
of the dirt from the Utah location back to the studio for an added sense of
film realism.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The result: Of the 220 people in the cast and crew, 91 later developed
cancer and 46 died of the disease - including Wayne, the amazing Agnes Moorehead...
and our John.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Coincidence? Government says so. Cancer specialists say otherwise. Who
to believe? Hmm.</div>
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<b>***<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>RESUME SCENE</b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Frank said, "So, whaddaya say, guys? Write one more for the
road?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris made with his favorite reply: "Is the Bear Catholic? Does
the Pope shit in the woods?" And that afternoon a messenger dropped off a
package with an outline, character sheet, and VHS tape of the movie - which
Frank told us to mostly ignore since there was really nothing in there that
would make a series. But, it did give us a look at how Chuck Norris handled
himself. The martial arts scenes - all choreographed by him - were a marvel.
Natch. His acting was kind of wooden, but passable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Not bad for a guy who went to acting school on the GI bill,"
I told Chris.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"That's right," Chris said, "You met him before, didn't
you."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhip554hnWOXxEuEnKmXA9-dy8CsYL-hSfhKx_nOYcCyDrYgd2q96xWti9XjpAuYJk4r91L-Ha_usefzoxWfwn4_G0u9pYpUTD9dSCRSbnltGN_zry9dQJFRXiJcBmmFmPaKPxMy6swzEA/s1600/chuck_karate_school.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhip554hnWOXxEuEnKmXA9-dy8CsYL-hSfhKx_nOYcCyDrYgd2q96xWti9XjpAuYJk4r91L-Ha_usefzoxWfwn4_G0u9pYpUTD9dSCRSbnltGN_zry9dQJFRXiJcBmmFmPaKPxMy6swzEA/s200/chuck_karate_school.jpg" width="162" /></a></div>
I had - although I doubt if Norris would remember me. It was when I was
a kid reporter for the late, unlamented Inglewood Daily News. Norris, an ex
Airman (he served in Korea, among other places), had yet to kick his way up the
ladder to Karate fame. He worked at an aerospace company in our circulation
area - shrewdly hoarding every penny to open up a chain of karate schools.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I interviewed him at his Torrance school, and quite liked the guy. He
was shy, earnest, and totally focused. He was about my age and we hit it off
right away. I had an interest in the martial arts - I'd lettered in Judo at
Kubasaki High School in Okinawa, and we swapped stories about life on military
bases in Asia. After that interview, his success came as no surprise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3EIR75Aym5s1sLv6pzgxt4wQeKp2R0H7dTBIhip1PE2HLoJ5J8nOBz_tZy5TBIXwYid5mJuyf7khHeiwYBicyrmHefrQ7ZIFd9cQIblZ7WNewLA7WtmEP7SPgCwG-ICz-vv4fk73WewI/s1600/Chuck_Bruce+Lee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3EIR75Aym5s1sLv6pzgxt4wQeKp2R0H7dTBIhip1PE2HLoJ5J8nOBz_tZy5TBIXwYid5mJuyf7khHeiwYBicyrmHefrQ7ZIFd9cQIblZ7WNewLA7WtmEP7SPgCwG-ICz-vv4fk73WewI/s200/Chuck_Bruce+Lee.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
When Chris and I were done with the TV movie, we scored a copy of Way
Of The Dragon - the film he did with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruce_lee">Bruce Lee.</a> Although Chris and I were both
big Bruce Lee fans, we had to admit that Norris held his own in his scenes with
Lee.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We came up with some stories and met with Frank's Story Exec - whose
name I unfortunately don't remember, because he was a definite Pro and a
helluva nice guy. There weren't any offices for Walker yet, so we met at the
guy's house out in the Valley.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We made our pitch and the one he especially liked was titled
"Right Man, Wrong Time." Basically, it was about a beautiful country
singer who is being stalked by a former beau - a Jerry Lee Lewis type madman
who is on the skids.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We gave him a sawed-off shotgun to make things interesting, and a
couple of very large Red Neck bully boys to make them doubly so.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b>
<b>***<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b>
<b>TRUE STORY ASIDE</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
When Chris was (by his own admission) the world's worst Rock And Roll
PR man he was one member of a team repping <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jerry_Lee_Lewis">Jerry Lee Lewis.</a> Opening night of one gig
Jerry Lee shows up and becomes infuriated that the club's marquee gave him
second billing. Story goes that he got a shotgun out of his trunk and blew the
marquee to smithereens. See what I mean about what's on the flip side of the
Talent Coin?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>***<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>BACK TO THE ACTION<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The Story Exec got on the phone to Frank, told him about "Right
Man" and a couple of minutes later he was saying the four magic words:
"Who's your agent, boys?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We wrote the first draft. Things were in a flux on the show and the
Story Exec was swamped, so we met with Frank personally for our second draft
notes. It was at his house, if I remember correctly. Big place. Nice art,
tastefully decorated and Frank's study was filled with books. Many of them
first editions from writers he admired. Some of ours were among them. (Aw,
shucks.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He said, "This is great, guys. But there's a couple of things we
need to do throughout." We nodded, pens hovering over notepads. Frank went
on, "You've got some scenes here that Chuck just isn't equipped to handle.
We've got a guy who has three expressions: Poker Face. Poker Face With A Frown.
And Poker Face With A Smile. And sometimes the smile looks more like he's gonna
kill some-fucking-body, than anything else."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and I knew right away where we'd gone wrong. We'd set up a trap
for ourselves. This was a love story, after all. And a bitter sweet one at
that. Normally, we could expect our lead to show the appropriate emotion at the
appropriate time. Woo the girl. Win the girl. Lose the girl and Fade Out, The
End. Where we'd gone wrong was to treat Norris like any other professional
actor, giving him some real meaty scenes to work with.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Big damned mistake. We'd handled similar situations for Frank before -
where the Lead's acting abilities were weak, but he was surrounded by very
professional character actors and actresses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "Gotcha boss. Throw the lines to the real actors and give
Chuck the button on the scene."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Frank said, "Yeah, like that."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He shook his head, then said, "You know, I probably won't be with
this show long. To make it work, I've gotta come down hard and Chuck isn't
going to like it. I told the Network that. Said I'd make the show a success,
but when that point came Chuck's gonna want to fire my ass, then take credit
for the success."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and I made noises of concern. Frank laughed and waved them away.
"Don't worry, I've got a fuckin' Fail-Safe Clause built into the contract.
Let him take credit. He's not a bad guy. In fact, I like him. But, pretty soon
he's not going to like me."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
With those final words in mind we gathered up our stuff and headed out.
Turned in the last draft a couple of weeks later, and then it came time for
Chris and Karen to call the Bekins man and make the big move to little Ilwaco.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Kathryn and I stayed on another month or so. She to sell her business,
me to find renters for our house in Venice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A couple of weeks before we left, I got a call from Frank's Story Exec.
He said, "We've got a situation here, Allan, where we have to rattle
Chuck's cage. He thinks the other people on the show are getting all the acting
glory, while he just gets to punch people out."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
That worried me. I thought we'd done a good job of walking that
tightrope. The Story Exec sensed my concern and said, "No, not your
script. That's fine. Chuck loved it. It's already been shot and it's in
post-production.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"But now what we need is a script that makes Chuck think that if
he's not careful, we can make his worst fears come true."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I knew what he was after. "You want a story that really puts the
spotlight on one of the other characters," I said. "Then Chuck comes
in at the last minute and saves the day. So, who needs him, right? Any action
star can do that."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Right," the Story Exec said. "Frank said you boys were
specialists in that kind of thing."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And indeed we were. We'd done it any number of times, starting way back
at the dawn of our careers with Jack Klugman on Quincy and James Garner on
Rockford Files. You write a script in which the Star is on vacation, or sick, or
something. Throw the story to one of the regulars on the show - or even a guest
star - then sit back and wait for the Star to read it. Give birth to a
two-headed cow. Shout and scream at his agent. Then promise to be a good boy or
girl again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But there was one big problem with that kind of script.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "If we do it right, you'll never shoot it." This
meant there'd be no reruns, meaning no residuals - which count for a large part
of a freelance screenwriter's income.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The story exec said, "Got you covered. Frank said to make a
back-up script deal."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Ah, that was better. A backup script - one which will only be shot if
something else falls out - pays scale and a half. Maybe even double. I made a
mental note to tell our agent to negotiate for double. The move out of state,
as Chris had said, was really expensive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I told the story exec we'd give it a shot. I called Chris in Ilwaco and
he agreed I'd done the right thing taking the gig. This was in Barbarian times,
you understand. Before the Internet. (I know, I know. But, we still had Fire,
and this new-fangled thing called the Wheel.) Chris and I both used CompuServe,
which was sort of a mini-mini-internet. So, to save long distance charges
(yeah, no Skype either...sigh...) we hammered out ideas and shot them back and
forth on CompuServe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It wasn't long before we had what I thought was the perfect story. I'd
just read an article - or, maybe it was something I saw on 60 Minutes - about a
Breast Cancer Boot Camp aimed at restoring self confidence in cancer survivors
through strenuous physical activity, obstacle courses and group counseling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIiB09FPkDnWNV3B2MYTbgijdMRCVvjmFQI8dsp66rphqqlpr7sAYgViL05r-jM9N8Y3wAhMcKvxGvzwZ7QmfjYBxmH9IrmZX2HCD99tRtfbJrb3rcQWi6JerHk4Vm3-OoElJkCnfo4oM/s1600/Chuck_Alex1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIiB09FPkDnWNV3B2MYTbgijdMRCVvjmFQI8dsp66rphqqlpr7sAYgViL05r-jM9N8Y3wAhMcKvxGvzwZ7QmfjYBxmH9IrmZX2HCD99tRtfbJrb3rcQWi6JerHk4Vm3-OoElJkCnfo4oM/s200/Chuck_Alex1.jpg" width="134" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheree J. Wilson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
One of the regulars on Walker was Sheree J. Wilson who played the part
of Alex Cahill - an assistant district attorney. Ms Wilson is as talented as
she is lovely, so she was perfect for our purposes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In our story, we gave her a background that made her particularly
sensitive to the issue. Her character's mother, or sister, or whatever had died
from the ailment. That gave us a reason to involve her in a newly-formed Breast
Cancer Boot Camp and volunteer to spend a week with one group. Walker,
meanwhile, is busy on some other case and we follow Alex Cahill as she helps
these women win back their confidence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Naturally, we had a McGuffin that produced a group of really nasty
villains who go after Alex and the ladies. And they spend most of the episode
bravely and cleverly fending off the bad guys. The
resultant battle does a lot for confidence regaining, and just when it still
looks like all is lost, Walker shows up and kicks serious butt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and I collaborated long distance on the script and then I punted
it forward. The Story Exec loved it. More importantly, Frank liked it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But most important of all...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I got the call from Frank a few days before Kathryn and I were due to
leave town to join Chris and Karen in Ilwaco, Washington.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He said, "It fuckin' worked, Allan."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Chuck hated it, right?" I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Fuck, yeah. But you know the reason he gave?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said I couldn't begin to guess.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Chuck said if you get cancer, it's your own fault because you're
not living right. He won't do a show about fucking cancer, and that's
that."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"You think he really believes it?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Who the fuck knows?" Frank said. "But he's back at work
again, and really giving it his all."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Glad we could help, boss," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And that, was that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Just as Frank predicted the show became a big hit, winning its time
slot week after week. And just as he predicted, Chuck grew to dislike him and
Frank exited the show to go on to better things. No boo-hooing for Frank. (a)
He was already rich. And (b) You remember that Fail Safe clause in his
contract? Well hide and watch how it played out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Walker, Texas Ranger ran a full nine seasons - always at the top of the
Nielsen charts. During that time, Chris and I finished up our book contracts,
then broke up the band and took our acts solo. Remarkably, it was a writing
partnership that had lasted nearly twenty years.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>***<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>LONG DISSOLVE TO: BOCA RATON, FL <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Where Kathryn and I now live.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We had spent three years living in the boonies of Washington State. It
was there that an ice storm inspired the idea that would lead to The Warrior
Returns, the final novel in <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/the-far-kingdoms-page?pli=1">The Far Kingdoms</a> series.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNdySJ8T6G1N5v8aj6gqF00wU5YJsg3L3sN2D4ahPnOjjdzSu4JT1N_7InGdzgfSCsSFJf06HSEfqyWRZiMFa31ROmnH4eZeDHOYDrtYAa1RFaKhyphenhyphen8s-IynKsxUac93tYJCc7RHScEKw/s1600/Chuck_Truth+Consequences-500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNdySJ8T6G1N5v8aj6gqF00wU5YJsg3L3sN2D4ahPnOjjdzSu4JT1N_7InGdzgfSCsSFJf06HSEfqyWRZiMFa31ROmnH4eZeDHOYDrtYAa1RFaKhyphenhyphen8s-IynKsxUac93tYJCc7RHScEKw/s200/Chuck_Truth+Consequences-500.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Then we spent another three years in New Mexico, outside the tiny little
town named (I shit thee not) Truth Or Consequences. This was Geronimo and Billy
The Kid Territory so we had a grand old time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It was also where I came up with the idea for the <a href="http://tinyurl.com/6e8xh7a">Timura Trilogy,</a> and if you look at the
cover of the first book - When The Gods Slept - you'll see that the artist
exactly matched the view of the wilderness outside my office window. (Sans the
cavalry and magical city.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But it was time to get back to civilization so we heeded the urgings of
my Aunt Rita and moved to the little beach town of Boca Raton.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
By sheer chance, one night we ran across Walker, Texas Ranger on TV. I
hadn't seen the show since our episode - Right Man, Wrong Time - aired, so held
on a minute to watch the big fight that always ended the show. Chuck kicked
ass, then you had the obligatory, laugh, ho-ho, with the regulars at the Bar -
a standing set used for those purposes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then I watched the end credits. And, son of a gun, I saw the names of
two old friends: <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0179709/?ref_=fn_al_nm_1">Nick Corea,</a> from our Incredible Hulk (See: Showdown At The
Incredible Hulk ) and Gavilan days. And <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0148971/">Bruce Cervi</a>, who we had worked with on
Gavilan, which starred Robert Urich. (Bruce is married to another Hulk alumnus
and friend: <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0364922/?ref_=fn_nm_nm_1">Karen Harris</a>, a whiz of a producer and writer.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Kathryn who knew and liked them all, said, "Maybe you should call
and say hello."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And so, that's what I did. It was a great phone reunion, and while I
was at it - what the hell? - I tested the waters for a possible script gig and
found them warm and welcome.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I sold them a notion I'd been toying with for awhile - a story without
a home. While in New Mexico, we had visited some of the small border towns -
including Columbus, NM, which Pancho Villa had attacked back in 1916. My
grandfather - Frank Guinan - had been an underage soldier under General
Pershing then and he and the other members of the unit fruitlessly pursued the
wily Villa all over the badlands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
One particular thing about those towns stirred the writer in me. Some
of them were run by old-fashioned Western Sheriffs, who ruled the towns like it
was their personal fiefdom. Also, some of the towns - and the sheriffs - had
been living off the proceeds from smuggled contraband for well over a century.
In the old days it was guns and rustled cattle and horses. In modern times guns
and narcotics.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
So, I sold them a story - On The Border - about such a town and sheriff
that went down pretty well with everybody, including Chuck Norris. Lee Majors
played the bad ass sheriff. (Watch the episode: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LOzDWtqS-2s">Click here for Part One.</a> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NH6lGVDE2Nc">Click here for Part Two)</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Damndest thing, though. The notes I got for the first draft consisted
of a recording of the Exec Producer - Gordon Dawson reading the story aloud to
Norris. As he went on, you could hear Norris cracking and eating what I took to
be nuts of some kind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He'd go - crack! - "Yeah, that's good..." Munch, munch -
"But, maybe after that I'll just choke the guy out, instead of a big
fight." Crack! Munch, munch. "See how I feel when we get there."
Crack! Munch, munch. Crack!<o:p></o:p></div>
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It went on like that for two small forevers, me scribbling notes in
between sounds of nut cracking and eating. And I was wondering - Geeze, when I
met Chuck Norris all those years ago, it hadn't occurred to me that maybe he
didn't read very well. He had his own business, right? <o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, I thought, maybe that's the trouble he's having with dialogue
scenes. How can he memorize his lines well enough to dramatize them if he has
trouble reading the scene? Or if somebody has to read them to him over and over
until he got it? Kind of like Gordon was doing reading my story aloud.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I thought about asking some of the guys on the show about it, but
decided it would be wiser to just write the damned story, Cole, and don't mess
with the idle speculation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The episode was shot, aired, and to this day both Walkers I wrote rerun
more than just about any other show. Matter of fact, I just got a nice check a
week or so ago. Chris was spot on when he talked about the built-in popularity
of anything to do with the martial arts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Several months later, Kathryn and I visited LA to see her family and
mine. I had lunch with Frank Lupo, introducing him to my son, Jason Cole, a
budding writer following in his old man's footsteps. <a href="http://tinyurl.com/44rwg8s">(Check out his book ofshort stories: 50 Rooms)</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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From there I went to Walker, to visit with Bruce Cervi and his partner,
John Lansing, along with some of the other people on the show. I told
them I had just come from seeing Lupo and everybody laughed and looked at each
other knowingly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I must have seemed confused, because one of the guys explained:
"We don't mention Frank's name around here."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"A definite fucking no-no," somebody else said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And that's when I learned about Frank's Fail Safe Clause.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"It's like this," one of them told me. "Frank may have
left the show - but every single time an episode airs he gets fucking one
hundred thousand dollars right off the top."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Holy shit!" was my reaction. "And that's been going on
for all these years?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"All nine fucking seasons," one of the guys said. "For
one hundred and ninety four episodes."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I started to calculate in my head, but gave it up. All I could say,
was, "Wow!"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwfDexumAfXXR_uNrRqhF1Vyfq5q5Jlu66_-qrLmLUrFSGbSBJU8D6GVi1nn0b96KHXAhUkSf15hvgQL27x6_Hzp5zN7xTAMpCikHwOXThcClRQd2DV9TTZiVt_51jx582AgfsMdob8Q/s1600/Michael_duck_bank1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwfDexumAfXXR_uNrRqhF1Vyfq5q5Jlu66_-qrLmLUrFSGbSBJU8D6GVi1nn0b96KHXAhUkSf15hvgQL27x6_Hzp5zN7xTAMpCikHwOXThcClRQd2DV9TTZiVt_51jx582AgfsMdob8Q/s200/Michael_duck_bank1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
"It drives Chuck crazy," one of the guys said. "Whenever
we sit down to budget a new episode, the first item on the list is Frank's one
hundred thousand dollars. Gets a look on his face that would scare the fur off
King Fucking Kong."<o:p></o:p></div>
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We all laughed over that, then I observed, "Only reason the show
has been a hit for nine years is because of Frank Lupo. Without him, it would
have been cancelled after three episodes."<o:p></o:p></div>
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And somebody said - "Want to tell Chuck that?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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As Chris would've said: "Not a fucking chance!"<o:p></o:p></div>
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*****</div>
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<b>POSTSCRIPT #1 - A producer friend</b> tells me that when Chuck heard about
the deal, he fired his agent and hired Frank's.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
*****</div>
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<b>POSTSCRIPT #2 - A tragic
footnote:</b> Unintentionally, this has ended up as sort of a cancer
episode. You see, Nick Corea died before I had a chance to see him again after
all those years. The cause: Pancreatic Cancer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<b>NEXT: THE
BIG RIPOFF - HOLLYWOOD STYLE</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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*****</div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS:</span></b></div>
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<b style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">IT'S HERE: JUGGERNAUT! </b><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>Sten Omnibus #2</b></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy the book!</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">Click this link to buy it.</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">Click this link to buy it.</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Available now: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy both the trade paperback and Kindle version.</a> Next month</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-78905961488354141282012-11-23T07:57:00.000-05:002012-11-23T07:57:52.193-05:00HIGHLANDER THREE: OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><br />Amanda: MacLeod, why don't
you believe me?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Duncan MacLeod: Experience.
(From The Highlander Series)</b><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></div>
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<b>***</b><b> </b></div>
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<b>Amanda: The longer I live
the more I get attached to myself. (Ditto)</b><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></div>
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****<o:p></o:p></div>
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Crying gulls circled a bright yellow sun set in a sky so blue you just
knew you had to be in California. Further proof: gentle waves lapped a
glittering white beach, and there was a yacht berthed nearby where curvaceous
young ladies in barely there bikinis gyrated to raucous music.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Ah, The Golden State," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Highlander Story Exec chuckled, took a healthy swallow of his
G&T and said, "You bloody Yanks certainly know how to bloody
live."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyHB0fybp0Rn6h14QOq1DqWUubH52GMfrMeY1BWy1uCV8v7nr-NvtA5bByKuE8wRUxzVoCGl4Op6iZISFloXHWu6wpypaQ1S48ePUfTKUVZrNBCeVPIhH2-VV_oSo_qXmXdAW9bzabzm8/s1600/highlander_3_marina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyHB0fybp0Rn6h14QOq1DqWUubH52GMfrMeY1BWy1uCV8v7nr-NvtA5bByKuE8wRUxzVoCGl4Op6iZISFloXHWu6wpypaQ1S48ePUfTKUVZrNBCeVPIhH2-VV_oSo_qXmXdAW9bzabzm8/s200/highlander_3_marina.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I gestured, taking in the rich surroundings of the Marina Del Rey and
said, "Producers on the downswing hang their toupees here. It's a helluva
front. Lease a hot car. A condo unit with rented furniture and art. Find a
broke boat owner and take over his payments. Stuff the boat with starlet
wannabees, then play Mister Hollywood and invite out-of-state doctors and
dentists to back your next film. Then party them down, hoping your creditors
don't catch you before you score." <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Story Exec, a Londoner who used "bloody" as frequently as
Hell's Angels use the Eff-Word, nodded knowingly. "Not too bloody
different from the bloody Riviera," he said. "Except the birds are
topless." Another big honk off the G&T. "Let's be bloody honest
about it, mate," he continued. "When it comes to bloody filmmaking,
it's the same the bloody world over. At heart, the bloody business is a bloody
fraud."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "We were sort of thinking along those lines when we drove
over here. A meeting at a motel?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The Story Exec had a laugh at this. "Bloody wondering if illicit
drugs or sex were on the bloody menu, instead of a bloody story meeting."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "I'm past the age of drugs. But sex..." He
shrugged. "I'm not much into hairy faces reeking of gin, but, you know -
if you go easy on the rewrite..."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Another big laugh from the Story Exec. "Bloody hell," he said.
"I heard all about you blokes. If trouble strikes, they said, call bloody
Bunch and Cole. Unless bloody Bunch and Cole are your bloody trouble. And
then..." <o:p></o:p></div>
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He let the rest trail off. Finished his drink and waved for another
round - One G&T, two Scotches. This guy was heavy duty. Damn, we might have
finally met our match.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I just had to ask:"Who told you about us?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Your old mate, Bruce Lansbury," he replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhndVAUq9aj2cec2ZvjETniO6-iuzSxgrUU40Ga9Ri10KtujAcllVksOwJJxgQLhJPQwVOHvO4UPc4P5tF5GNfK8NH9qevoXFW590zDUSfggq8SzwWcsoKN2GhElVVNRSYWrTJqw_8Pw/s1600/highlander_3_Pam_Hensley1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhndVAUq9aj2cec2ZvjETniO6-iuzSxgrUU40Ga9Ri10KtujAcllVksOwJJxgQLhJPQwVOHvO4UPc4P5tF5GNfK8NH9qevoXFW590zDUSfggq8SzwWcsoKN2GhElVVNRSYWrTJqw_8Pw/s200/highlander_3_Pam_Hensley1.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pam Hensley As Ardala</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Chris and I got a kick out of that. We'd met Bruce (Angela Lansbury 's
brother) - a Brit like the Story Exec - on Buck Rogers earlier in our careers.
<a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/07/buck-rogers-is-fatty.html">(See: Buck Rogers Is A Fatty - Ardala Definitely Isn't!)</a> He was a good guy in
our book.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I switched subjects: "What is it with the motel? I mean, it's a
pretty posh joint for a motel and all. But, Marla should have sprung for an
office instead of sticking you all the way out here."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Story Exec snorted. "Last bloody thing I need is to be in the
same bloody office as Marla Ginsburg," he said. "When I bloody saw
that the motel had business services - and heard old Marla was flying in from
bloody Paris - I used my hard-earned lying skills to move things my bloody way.
I'm bloody here. Marla will be bloody there. The only bloody time I have to
hear her bloody voice, is on the bloody phone."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our waiter came and we took grateful delivery of our drinks. Bad
mouthing Marla was thirsty work. The Story Exec got the swizzle stick and
lime-slice garnish out of his way and gulped fresh G&T.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, after a moment's hesitation, he said, "I'm not bloody good
at this sort of bloody thing, but I'd best get it bloody done with."<o:p></o:p></div>
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We didn't know what to expect. Did he hate our script? We hadn't wanted
to write the sucker in the first place, but Marla had arm wrestled us into it,
saying Fox Studios wanted assurances that A-List American writers would be
among the foreign crew writing for the show. She also pleaded with us to use
our influence with two key Fox producers we were tight with to back the
Highlander Series.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Plus, she said, that if Fox went for The Highlander, they'd be sure to
get on board with our TV series - Angels Of Mercy, based on the International
humanitarian organization, Doctors' Without Borders. Oh, yeah - And did I
mention she'd promised to pay us double the going rate for a Highlander script?
(For the hairy-scary details revisit <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-she-devil-who-scared-hell-out-of.html">The She Devil Who Scared Hell Out Of TheHighlander</a> and <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/11/highlander-two-its-just-free-day-in-la.html">Highlander Two: It's Just A Free Day In LA) </a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Continuing to hesitate, the Story Exec twisted his glass around in its
coaster, then he said, "I just wanted to bloody say what a bloody honor it
is to work with you blokes. I read your Vietnam novel. Brilliant. Just bloody
brilliant. And your science fiction books - the Sten series. Bloody fantastic
the way you get all those bloody insights about the bloody World, and bloody
Governments, and the way things really bloody work. All bloody tied-up in
fantastic action and all those bloody awful Alex Kilgour jokes."<o:p></o:p></div>
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As you might imagine, this was followed by embarrassed silence on our
side of the table. Then - raising his voice - Chris looked all about, saying,
"Okay, Mom. Come out, come out, wherever you are! Where are you hiding? We
know you paid this guy."<o:p></o:p></div>
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We all laughed, and things returned to normal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris decided it was time to get down to business. He said, "What
about the script we sent over? Are we heroes, or are we goats."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Story Exec grinned, and said - "Heroes in my bloody book. And
Marla's as well. She's already bragged to Fox about it as well. I just have a
few notes... there's been some changes in a few of the bloody characters.
Bloody Marla is driving me around the bloody bend with the bloody Bible. Every
bloody time I think we have things bloody nailed down, she wants another bloody
change."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "I feel for you, brother. We're having the same
fucking problem with the Bible on our show."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I added, "We've gone six or seven different ways with most of the
characters. We had one, for instance, who was a nun in her previous life. Falls
in love, falls out with the Church, falls out of love, then signs up with
Doctors Without Borders. The character is based on an actual nurse we
interviewed in Paris."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "So Marla says, fuck a bunch of ex-nuns. Make her an
ex-hooker who sees the light and goes to nursing school, or some-such."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Then, it's back to the nun again, except she leaves the
Order because she's a lesbian. And when we meet her on the medical team she's
having a mad affair with a woman doctor."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "And that's not fucking all, folks. Next, Marla says
never mind the lesbian stuff. Make her older and she's having an affair with a
much younger guy."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Story Exec laughed. "Similar bloody problems, mates," he
said. "Including the older woman, younger bloody guy thing. Except in our
case the bloody younger guy is our bloody hero - MacLeod -who may look younger,
but is really hundreds of bloody years old."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"In both instances she probably thinks she's just making the
series edgier, sexier and more commercial," I said. "Even if it
doesn't make sense."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Grudgingly, Chris said, "Can't blame her there. Television and
making sense? That's a fucking oxymoron of the first and second order. Murkier
you make it, the more Nielsen dolts you pull in."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Story Exec grunted. "I just bloody wish she'd make up her
bloody mind," he said. "Let me finish the bloody bible so I can tell
the bloody writers what is bloody what." He sighed. "Bloody producers
are all over me because the bloody scripts are late. And how can they bloody
cast, or bloody shoot, if the bloody scripts aren't bloody there."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Speaking of which. Tell us what changes you want on ours
and we'll put everything aside and get back to you post bloody - I mean,
fucking - haste " (The use of "bloody," I have found is
infectious. We changed it to "clot" in Sten. Just as infectious. Try
it sometime - "Clottin' hell. Too clottin' true, that. You clottin' dirty
rotten clot!" See?)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, we got the notes - and he was right, they were minimal - and
escaped the motel bar with our livers still semi-intact. Shipped the revised
script to him a week later. Couple more notes caused by the endless Marla
changes in the Show Bible. And that was our final draft, plus polish, so we
were out from under.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Except for one clottin' thing: We hadn't been clotting paid.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefVMmEpDNjcBQC-zTv3b572FLGt6SzbcQU0wfpvevMmBpcuZSs0O70J62ZobaihHq17-fWPu9v2lC5DfQxKtRNcYw5a5_O9s3Bg2qXLLt27vJak2D7j-4AYd4nU_vTPqcfGvsENsZZ7U/s1600/highlander_3_doctorswithoutborders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefVMmEpDNjcBQC-zTv3b572FLGt6SzbcQU0wfpvevMmBpcuZSs0O70J62ZobaihHq17-fWPu9v2lC5DfQxKtRNcYw5a5_O9s3Bg2qXLLt27vJak2D7j-4AYd4nU_vTPqcfGvsENsZZ7U/s200/highlander_3_doctorswithoutborders.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doctors Without Borders</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And here's another thing: Marla was literally thousands behind in the
money Gaumont owed us for all our hard work on our own television creation:
Angels Of Mercy, the above-mentioned Doctors Without Borders project.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Meanwhile, the steady streams of changes in the Show Bible were driving
us up the wall. Eventually, we got that nailed down. Then she called to tell us
she wanted fifteen - why the fuck fifteen? - more story précis.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Marla, we already included ten in the Bible."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Well, we think there should be more," she said, sounding
pissed off. (Lately, she always sounded pissed off.) "It will be a big
help to show the studios that the series has legs."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Jesus, Marla. There are enough disasters every single day
in this screwed up world to make hundreds of stories - if not thousands. Don't
you think they'll get that?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Well, fifteen more stories down on paper will help them get it
more," she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Fine. But, if you check your handy-dandy Writers Guild
Book Of Minimums, you'll see that every additional story premise will cost
Gaumont more."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"I don't think that's very reasonable," Marla said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"The Guild does," I replied. "Call them and
complain."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Oh, come on, Allan," she said, "we're all on the same
team, aren't we? We're all working toward the same goal, right?<o:p></o:p></div>
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She was stalling again and I was getting steamed. I said, "At
least you're being paid for your work, Marla. We are not. We've complained. Our
agent has complained. And still, you are way short of what is owed."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Marla snorted. She said, "Why is it that every time I talk to you
the subject of money comes up?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Because every time we speak, you still owe us the
money."<o:p></o:p></div>
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A long pause, then she said, "Okay, Allan. I'll see what I can
do."<o:p></o:p></div>
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When I hung up, Chris glared at the phone, then at me. "What the
fuck does she want this time?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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I told him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris was outraged. "Fifteen stories? For Fucking Free? Who the
fuck does she think she fucking is? That's weeks of work. And, while we're at
it, where the fuck's our money?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I told him that too.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Shit," Chris said. "This is getting way out of hand.
We've gotta do something."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I couldn't agree more. But do what, exactly? In my experience, when all
is lost, and you don't know what to do next, hang on a beat or two while the
world spins on its axis, and by and by it might come around to you with a
solution in tow.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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A few days later: The phone rings. It's a producer/writer friend I
won't name because she might still be on friendly terms with Marla. Chris
punched the speaker button so we could all talk.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
After some preliminary chit-chat and a progress report on a World War
II series idea the three of us had been laboring on for lo these many, the
Producer/Writer Lady said: "You guys are working on something with Marla
Ginsburg, right?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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"Two things," I said, only mildly surprised. In Hollywood
people usually know your business before you do. I mean, at the Universal
Studios commissary, frequently a star's sandwich is cancelled before he/she is
told that their series has "gone into hiatus." <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/10/boxman-cometh.html">(See: The BoxmanCometh.)</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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What followed is a case in point.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "We did a Highlander script for a favor. And we've got a
TV series with Gaumont based on Doctors Without Borders."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Our friend sighed. "Well, hang on, boys," she said, "I
have some disturbing news about the latter." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Our ears perked up like dogs on a hunt. Tell us more, please.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Our friend said, "I've known Marla for years. This is a tough
business and it's even tougher for women. There aren't many of us on the
executive level, so we tend to stick together."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Except when you don't," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Yeah, yeah," our friend said."Until we don't. And
that's why I'm calling. I owe you guys a heck of a lot more than I owe Marla.
In fact, I don't owe her anything."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Off With Our Heads!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I suddenly knew what was up. "Don't tell me," I said.
"Marla called to blow in your ear about shoving us out and you taking over
our show."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In the silence that followed, Chris looked at me quizzically, then
nodded. He knew I was right.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Our friend said, "Shit, Allan. Do you guys have a tap on my phone
or something?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris laughed. "We'll never tell," he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "I'm right - yes?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She said, "Yes, Allan. You are so right. Marla says that your idea
is brilliant, but you two are uncooperative, despite all she's done for you.
She said you block her at every avenue. Always wheedling for more money than
the deal calls for. And on top of that, she says, you begged her to do a
Highlander script, then did a lousy job."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "That's funny. She said she loved it. And so did her Story
Exec."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Our friend said, "Well, he's no longer a factor. Marla just fired
the guy and sent him packing back to England. She says he was a drunk."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqaa6e3BCzC4kZL0BTT-PQa58UGJRIfnsR079kCyt7z6uM65QzzYQR2gT9ZWm_YZDgJd1N7OWV-kzVTifFpfyx1CY1R1Efyh_1YtyY3CDGixgO304xL3mIIdArLPaustk4i3DtWigUG8Q/s1600/highlander_3_drink_writing+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqaa6e3BCzC4kZL0BTT-PQa58UGJRIfnsR079kCyt7z6uM65QzzYQR2gT9ZWm_YZDgJd1N7OWV-kzVTifFpfyx1CY1R1Efyh_1YtyY3CDGixgO304xL3mIIdArLPaustk4i3DtWigUG8Q/s200/highlander_3_drink_writing+(1).jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I couldn't help but laugh. Every writer drinks - or used to drink. As Dylan Thomas put it: "I'm not a writer with a drinking problem, but a drinker with a writing problem." Or, as Dorothy Parker quipped, "I'd rather have a
bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But Chris did not find Marla amusing. He said, "Fuck her.
Everybody in town knows our work. And that we never, ever swing the lead."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Our friend said, "If you don't mind me asking, what does she owe
you?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We told her. She said, "Jesus, guys!" Another pause, then she
offered - "Do you need the name of a good attorney?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said we had a great guy - Marshall Caskey - who eats possum and grits
for breakfast and dines on producers for lunch. Then we thanked her for the
heads up and got off the phone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris said, "Should I call Caskey?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "No. If we get all legal, she'll just declare war. Let's
call Marla instead."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And then what?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"We figure out a way to hit her where it hurts enough to cough up
our dough," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Glumly, Chris said, "There goes Angels Of Mercy."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I had no reply.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
After we worked out a game plan I called Marla. Made up some bullshit
about getting the fifteen extra stories ready - seeming to surrender ground on
the extra payment. Then said we needed to run through the stories with her to
make sure we were solid before nailing them out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Marla very sweetly said, "That sounds good, Allan. I'll talk to my
girl and she'll get back to you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
When it was done, Chris said, "She's thinking that with those
fifteen extra stories she's got the first season licked, which means she needs
us even less." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Once again, I had no reply.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A couple of days later we drove to the new offices of The Highlander. I
don't recall where they were situated, but it was a short drive so it was
probably up near MGM (now Sony) Studios. I do remember that to our pleasant
surprise we were greeted by two old friends and work partners - Barry Rosen and
Gary Goodman.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8K1bBmQET_J6DR4Nv4x-TDxT5t_O1VMwXqjh0ZYL-yR_e3caD4NVvwY0BxHlxZV52zJlCNiT9QbWicXSm2eb2C8yXJ9OR-dx7CjljtZhpr2MYXxyp47SUoOoqdexrvoyCsHmVgvBJN_0/s1600/highlander_3_zorro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8K1bBmQET_J6DR4Nv4x-TDxT5t_O1VMwXqjh0ZYL-yR_e3caD4NVvwY0BxHlxZV52zJlCNiT9QbWicXSm2eb2C8yXJ9OR-dx7CjljtZhpr2MYXxyp47SUoOoqdexrvoyCsHmVgvBJN_0/s200/highlander_3_zorro.jpg" width="108" /></a></div>
We'd done a couple of deals with Barry and Gary (even put them in one
of the Stens, but I don't recall which one) and had nearly gone to work for
them on the new television incarnation of Zorro, which they helmed. (We'd gone
over to Frank Lupo on Werewolf, instead.) Now, it seems they'd been brought in
as Show Runners for The Highlander, which boded well for the series. With the
two of them running production it would probably get on the air, stay on
schedule and budget, and be of reasonable quality.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
After a boisterous greeting, Chris said, "How the fuck did you
guys end up here?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Barry (or, maybe it was Gary) said, "Bad luck, I guess."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "How are you getting along with Marla - or dare I
ask?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Gary (or, maybe it was Barry) replied, "No, you don't dare."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "Are you two running the Story Department, per usual? Or,
is that question also out of bounds."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Both men looked uncomfortable. They'd always prided themselves on their
story sense, and their ability to get along with writers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Barry/Gary said, "Marla's the Exec producer. Is that explanation
enough?'<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris opened his mouth to ask if they'd seen our script, but I gave him
an elbow shot to shut up. No sense drawing Barry/Gary into the dispute.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As we moved down a long hallway, we passed by the open doors of a
conference room, were we saw a mixed group of very grim looking people.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "Somebody die?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Barry/Gary said, "They're our writers."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Fuck!" Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Barry/Gary finally broke down. "She's got them terrified,"
they said. "She hates everything they write and she has these meetings
where she picks at least one person to dress down in front of the others. So,
everybody's frozen in place, scared to write, and scared not to."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Why am I not surprised?" I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then one of them broke off to see to about some crisis and I think it
was Gary who took us the rest of the way to Marla's office. She was at her
desk, leaning over what I took to be a script, and writing marginalia (the
scathing sort, we assumed) at a furious pace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She looked up when we entered, then went back to her task while Gary
got us seated and called to an assistant to fetch us some bottled water, then
hurried away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
After a long minute, Marla put her down her pen and held out a hand.
"Let's see the stories," she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "If you don't mind, Marla, let's take this one thing at a
time. First, there's the matter of the script we did for The Highlander. The
final check - which is for fifteen thousand dollars - has been overdue for some
time."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Marla glared at me. "That script isn't useable," she said.
"You're going to have to rewrite it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I heard Chris grunt, but he kept quiet - leaving me to do the talking.
The last time he and Marla had an exchange was in Paris and Chris had farted
his righteous reply. <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/11/highlander-two-its-just-free-day-in-la.html">(See: Highlander Two: It's Just A Free Day In LA)</a> They
hadn't spoken since.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I didn't bother arguing. It could only lead to - Yes it is! No it
isn't! Is! Isn't! In short, a lot of yadda-yadda that would go nowhere and
solve nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Instead, I said, "We have already done two drafts and a polish,
Marla. We have completed our legal obligation to you and the Show and now we'd
like you to do the same for us."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Marla kept glaring at me. Her face was all sharp angles - like a very
large someone had pinched her head in. She was motionless, except the tap,
tapping of her pen on the desk. Before she could reply - and perhaps this was
deliberately timed - her secretary buzzed her. Marla got up, said she had
something to attend to, and would be back in a few minutes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and I looked at each other, but didn't say a word. This was our
habit when left alone in a producer's office. You never knew who was listening.
Several scripts were stacked on one side of the desk. The one on top had a big
Magic Marker star drawn on it - with exclamation marks on either side. I picked
the script up and flipped through it. Handed it to Chris and he did the same.
When he was done, he wordlessly handed it back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Marla returned. But this was a new Marla. She was all smiles, sweeping
in like Loretta Young on her old TV show. She settled behind her desk, then saw
the script in my hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Oh," she said. "Have you read it Allan?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said I had. She looked even more delighted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Well, I'm glad of that," she said. "That script is
extra special. My baby from the start, so I have spent a lot of personal time
working with the writer. And now... it's almost there."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Poor writer, I thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then Marla fell into my hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She said, "What did you think of it, Allan?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I looked down for a moment. Then gave a long and weary sigh.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "Frankly, Marla, I thought it was amateurish. Clumsy.
Terrible dialogue. Awful characterization and there are scenes in there that
would break the budget of even a network show." (It actually wasn't that
bad. Not great, but not too awful.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A long moment passed. How long? Imagine the world breaking off from the
Sun. Imagine it cooling and seas forming and various critters appearing and
disappearing, the continents shifting, people popping up, farms, villages, then
cities, on and on, until finally we are back in Marla's office, near MGM (I
think) and she is just staring at me, her mouth hanging open in a way that
would have earned her a slap from her mother back when Marla was still in
frilly white socks and Mary Jane's.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
That's how long.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And then her mouth closed and she slammed the desk with the flat of her
hand so hard that I thought she must have either broken it, or possibly the
desk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She raised her head and shouted to the outer office. "Tell Gary to
get in here right this minute!"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Gary must have been nearby because in a flash-and-a-half he came
charging into the office, a worried look on his face. He looked at me, then
Chris, then Marla, and saw we hadn't killed her. Was that a look of
disappointment I caught flickering across his face?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Through gritted teeth, Marla said, "I want them gone. And I never,
ever want to see them again."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She looked at me and said, "Fine. You want your money? I'll give
you your God Damned money. And I'll gladly pay fifteen thousand damn dollars to
get rid of you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Back to Gary."Write them a check," she said. "And bring
it here."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Gary dashed out. And I figured, what the hell, let's go for the rest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"There's still the matter of Angels Of Mercy," I said.
"It's a good project and I'm sure we can find other buyers."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The wrath etched on Marla's sharp features was a wonder to behold. She
said, "Don't you dare show that project to anyone else. The Company has
invested a great deal of money in it. Don't think you can just walk away with
our property."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I shrugged. "Not your property. We created it. Says so on the
front cover of the Bible, and more importantly, it's in our contract. Better
still, it's in a contract also on file in France. And you know the French -
they're worse than the Germans when it comes to following the Letter Of The
Law. Especially when it comes to the Arts. You can't do a thing with Angels Of
Mercy without our approval." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"We'll see about that," she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then Gary came rushing back, carrying a check so fresh the ink was
practically running off the edges. He gave it to her. She glanced at the check,
then slammed it down on the desk in front of me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"There," she cried. "Take your damned blood money."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I took it. Looked the check over carefully. Fifteen thousand bucks,
sure enough. Showed it to Chris, who studied the check with care. He nodded,
slowly unzipped his briefcase, found a good place for the check, and placed it
there. He zipped up the briefcase and we rose in unison.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "Thank you, Marla," and we strode out of the office -
but not quite out of Marla's life. Not yet, at least.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
First thing: We drove straight to a bank where Craig Studwell - Chris'
friend and next door neighbor - worked. Craig was a big shot at the bank, a
vice president of foreign investments or something. In a very few minutes Craig
had someone clear Marla's check and wired the money into our business account.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Okay, so much for The Highlander. There was still the matter of our
proposed series. Yeah, it was dead as far as we were concerned. But the money
was still very much alive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We kept our fingers crossed that Marla wouldn't twig to how we had
pushed her buttons. And the pretzeling must have worked because Marla's
attorney called a few days later. He made threatening noises about Angeles Of
Mercy. He said he was messengering over a contract that - for a fee he felt was
overly generous - would flat out buy our limited interest in the project.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "Interest? We own the project. It's our house. We built
it. We only let Marla crash in a couple of the rooms. That's a heck of lot more
than a limited interest."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He repeated that Gaumont had been more than generous and so on and so
forth and after that conversation, and several more, plus contracts flying back
and forth to our agent, to us, and so on, and so forth, we finally settled on
an amount for a complete buyout.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It was enough to carry us through the rest of the year and then some.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQrtUbeWGbJyDoBc86CmbfJ0ouK5VIUl7_ZOMhDtR95SrDQ0eJrfVx6bfLqj6xaLvEP5rPHCidOlKlE0bqmj8MDy2nBgPq3b350WVdJasiReUBfPvZo0ghxXR7duiioT1vL8YEIech_Y/s1600/highlander_3_bunch&cole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQrtUbeWGbJyDoBc86CmbfJ0ouK5VIUl7_ZOMhDtR95SrDQ0eJrfVx6bfLqj6xaLvEP5rPHCidOlKlE0bqmj8MDy2nBgPq3b350WVdJasiReUBfPvZo0ghxXR7duiioT1vL8YEIech_Y/s200/highlander_3_bunch&cole.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I don't know if Marla ever figured out what actually happened. I do
know, however, that our victory was hollow. It would have been a helluva
show and I have kept watch over the years and there has never been a whisper
about a Doctors Without Borders TV series.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It's a shame, but hardly a crying one. If every "worthy" idea
that got shot down ended in tears, the whole damned Town would be nothing but a
big salty lake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Ps: Last I heard, Marla was hawking a line of clothing in Canada.<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>NEXT:
CHUCK NORRIS NEVER BLINKS. NEVER!</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS</span></b></div>
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<b style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">IT'S HERE: JUGGERNAUT! </b><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>Sten Omnibus #2</b></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy the book!</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">Click this link to buy it.</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">Click this link to buy it.</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Available now: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy both the trade paperback and Kindle version.</a> Next month</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-46455580735544687612012-11-16T07:33:00.002-05:002012-11-16T07:33:34.787-05:00HIGHLANDER TWO: IT'S JUST A FREE DAY IN LA<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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There was a big-damned helicopter overhead and the sounds of crackling
gunfire and wailing sirens were too close for comfort when the phone rang. We
almost missed it in the din.<br />
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Chris was on edge. The gunfire didn't faze him, but the sound of the
helicopter doubtless took him back to the jungles of Vietnam twenty some years
before and he was probably reliving a drop from a gunship into a hot Landing
Zone. If I had shouted "incoming," he would have vaulted the desk and
hit the floor, scrabbling to bring up his non-existent grease gun and return
enemy fire.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was a Friday afternoon when Marla called us from Paris, and it was
May Day! May Day! May Day! all around as we weathered Day Three of the Rodney
King riots. My Associated Press machine in the corner was spitting reams of
bulletins and updates and a few minutes before we had flipped on the TV set to
see President Bush (father of The Shrub) pound on the podium and warn all
evil-doers in Los Angeles that "This will not stand."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Sounds like he's going to bomb fucking Iraq again," had been
Chris' comment.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And this was no joke, because the governor had already called out the
National Guard and they were setting up machinegun posts in the Safeway parking
lot down the street. (How weird is it to see a couple of kids in cammies, flak
jackets and desert boots, trying to look like bad MF'ers while sipping Perrier
Water? That's California, brother.) <o:p></o:p></div>
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Then the Army helicopter moved away to hunt bigger game and the sound
of the ringing phone came through. I picked up, worried that it might be
Kathryn, or my son, in some difficulty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was Marla Ginsburg. She said, "You know, Allan, a telephone
isn't really a telephone unless you either pick up, or at least have the
courtesy to switch on your answering machine. I've been calling you for
ages!"<o:p></o:p></div>
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With the rattle of gunfire a couple of blocks away, the constant
wailing of sirens, and the whop, whop, whop of helicopters, I was a bit
discombobulated. My personal reality stretched. It was brought on by the Elder
Bush proclaiming - "This will not stand!" - while listening to the
sounds of the riot coming through the living room windows behind me. Was this
all real, or were we watching a scene out of a movie unreeling in quadraphonic
sound and smell-o-vision - did I mention the acrid odor of smoke from burning
buildings? <o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Sorry about that, Marla, but Chris and I were a little
distracted, what with the riot and all."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Marla said, "Riot? What riot?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "I know you've been out of town, Marla, but surely you've
heard about the asshole cops beating the bejesus out of a cat named Rodney
King. And how an all-white jury of not-his-peers let the bastards off. And now
people are understandably pretty damned pissed off."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Marla laughed. I mean, she actually laughed. And she put a mocking edge
on it too. "Oh, come now, Allan," she said. "It's not like
you're in the middle of it, or anything."<o:p></o:p></div>
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As it happens, we were. My home - which did double duty as our office -
was in the Walk Street area of Venice Beach on the very edge of neighborhoods
where righteously pissed off people lived. That morning I had seen some fellow
home owners gathered near my gate, and I'd gone out to see what was up.<br />
<br />
These
were middle-class and middle-aged white dudes sporting elaborate comb-overs
standing around doing their best bad ass imitations. You know, sucking in their
guts like a girl in a bikini had just walked by, spitting on the sidewalk to
emphasize every word and standing with their legs spread as if they actually
possessed enough equipment to test the thread count of their tighty-whities.<o:p></o:p></div>
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They pitched their voices low and made manly threats about what they
would do if "those people" came into our neighborhood. Everybody
could boast of at least one gun, of course. I mean, this was LA, where people
were California mellow, but would shoot your lights out if you fucked with
their serenity.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, this bunch - The Baldy Bunch - reminded me of Adam Rich and the
Beach Ball Street Gang <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/01/hawks-take-care-of-their-own.html">(See: The Hawks Take Care Of Their Own)</a> in Code Red and
I soon became disgusted and went back inside to wait for Chris to show up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I'd been through riots and violent urban unrest when I was a kid.
Several times in the Middle East <a href="http://tinyurl.com/43gzlk4">(See Lucky In Cyprus)</a> and a couple of times in
the Far East. (Coming soon - Lucky In Okinawa).<br />
<br />
Closer to home, I'd covered the
Watts Riots as a baby reporter and remembered listening with growing alarm as
LAPD cops in the squad rooms bragged about clubbing those (you know who) down.
At the Inglewood cop shop, one guy boasted to his mates that he'd busted the
stock of his shotgun over the head of some fucking (you know what.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'd
had enough of that group, who now felt quite free to display their bigot medals
on their flabby chests.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A little later Chris arrived, and things got meaner as the day
progressed, and then Bush said what he had to say, and then the helicopter
chased some of "those people" through our neighborhood and Marla
called and said in as dismissive a tone as only Marla was capable of,
"It's not like you are in the middle of (the rioting), or anything."
She added some Upper-Middle Class-White-People remarks about the crisis and she
was really starting to get my goat when she made an abrupt about-face.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Very sweetly - and with no pause in between - she said, "I need a
favor, Allan."<o:p></o:p></div>
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If I were the gasping type I would have done so. My inclination was to
tell her to shove her favor. If the conversation had been on the speaker phone
and Chris had heard, that's what he would have said, except not so nice. But
she owed us a lot of money and we still had hopes that her company - Gaumont
Robur - would make our TV series about Doctors Without Borders.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, I said, "What kind of favor, Marla?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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As I explained in the previous episode <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-she-devil-who-scared-hell-out-of.html">(The She-Devil Who Scared Hell Out Of The Highlander)</a>, Marla was an expatriate Hollywood exec who had been
hired by Gaumont - a huge French film company - to break into the American
television market.<o:p></o:p></div>
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To that end they'd purchased the TV rights to the Highlander movies,
and also our budding series, titled "Angels Of Mercy," based on the
international relief organization Doctors Without Borders. Gaumont had flown us
to Paris, where we interviewed doctors and nurses who toiled in the world's
refugee camps fighting diseases most medical people in Europe and the U.S. had
only read about, but never seen.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The people and the accounts of their work had been stimulating, Paris
had been - well, Paris - and we had even had a lovely day and evening with our
old friend Science Fiction Master Norman Spinrad and his then-wife, Lee. (Their
apartment was in a converted monastery of impressive age and pedigree that was
directly across a spice-garden from your friendly, neighborhood Three-Star
restaurant. "May I borrow a cup of truffles, Henri?")<o:p></o:p></div>
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During our first days in Paris we were too busy taking notes and being
impressed with the people who dedicated their lives to Doctors Without Borders
to notice Marla's flaws. Their world was an exotic and deadly place where food,
shelter, clean water and sanitation were non-existent but where diseases like
Cholera and Typhoid were endemic. A bleak joke from one medical man:
"Instead of Doctors Without Borders, it should be Diarrhea Without
Borders, because that is what most of our patients succumb to."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Surgical instruments were scrubbed with sand instead of soap and water
and laid out to be sterilized by the sun. The sick and the injured, the very
old and the very young lined up for hours for treatment. The medical personnel
were so overwhelmed that they had been forced to act like Gods, choosing who
they would treat and maybe save, and who would wait and probably die.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In short, there is no way I could possibly exaggerate the human worth
of that group. Our TV series, which we had tentatively titled "Angels Of
Mercy," was not misnamed. <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3whv2u3">(Click here to make a donation to this worthy organization)</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Then our awareness of Marla began to creep in and it soon became
apparent that she was a bully. And that she wasn't satisfied until everyone
around her dropped to their knees and offered their necks. Chris and I were
also underwhelmed by her business and management practices.<o:p></o:p></div>
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An example to illustrate both points: Besides a translator, Chris and I
were assigned a young French writer whose only purpose was to hang around long
enough for the company to claim tax bennies for hiring a certain quota of
French film people. He could have been a good writer, or bad writer - I don't
know because he never did any writing around us.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This wasn't particularly bothersome: that's how the economics of
international filmmaking work. And the young guy seemed nice enough. For
Marla's purposes, however, he was way too talkative. One day, after lunch with
the top brass of Doctors Without Borders, he let slip that in the evening he
was going to attend a cocktail meeting with the head of an upstart organization
that was trying to horn in on DWB's turf and scoop up some of their funding.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Back at the office I pressed him on the issue. "Marla told us we
already had the cooperation of Doctors Without Borders," I said.
"Total access to everything... Locations... transport... the camps...
everything. Just as long as we don't get in the way."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The kid nodded. "That is quite accurate," he said. "But,
you know, we have to pay them for this cooperation."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "Damn right. Hell, if I were the boss I'd pay them
double. These guys are fucking incredible."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The kid tried to look worldly wise. "Marla has this saying - 'It's
nothing personal. Only business.'"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Yeah, yeah," Chris said. 'That's what they always say -
right after they fuck you."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "So, what are you telling us? That Marla wants to rewrite
the deal with DWB? That she's going to play the two organizations against each
other... wagging the promise of all the free international PR they'll get from
the series to force a lesser charitable donation?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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The kid suddenly looked not so wise. Blushing furiously, he said,
"I had no part in this. I am a writer - you understand? A writer... not a
boss."<o:p></o:p></div>
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From the doorway I heard a distinctive - "Ahem. Ahem." The
kid jumped like he was snake bitten and then Marla marched into the room. She
was furious. Stood before the young man and berated him up one side and down
the other.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"You ungrateful little twerp," she said. "I've given you
a big chance. Everyone advised against it, but I thought you had something
special. And that I could trust you. Now, here I practically hand you the
opportunity to break into the American market, and you go behind my back.
Telling tales about the Company's private business."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I looked over at the poster, paying particular attention to Rule #5 -
Persecution Of The Innocent. Glanced at Chris, who I could tell was thinking
the same thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It went on from there. Marla going a mile a minute, steam coming out of
her ears. The young writer was a thin, undertall person, who wore a wispy kid's
goatee in an attempt at manliness. But his eyes were as big and soulful as an
orphan in a Keene painting and right about now they were brimming with tears.
Although Marla was fluent in French, the whole time she lit into him she used
English - not sparing his complete humiliation in front of us. Finally, she
dismissed him and he slunk out of the room, quivering like a whipped pup.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris and I were embarrassed for him, and although it wasn't my fault,
I felt a little guilty for getting the kid to tell all. And Chris, who never
could hide his feelings, looked grimmer by the minute as Marla went on. At one
point, he gave a sigh, leaned back in his swivel chair and plopped his boots on
the desk. Marla paused for a beat - eyes cutting quickly to the boots on the
desk, then back to the kid again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When he was gone, she turned, hands on hips, glaring at Chris and said,
"Get your feet off that desk!"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris just looked at her. Then, with elaborate sincerity, he placed a
hand over his heart. He said, "Marla - my reply comes from deep within
me." <o:p></o:p></div>
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And with that he lifted one butt cheek and let loose a very long, very
loud and very stinky fart.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Marla's eyes went wide and her mouth fell open and she said,
"Oh!" And again, "Oh!" And then her jaws snapped shut - you
could hear the teeth click like a mouse trap - and she turned and exited the
room.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris looked over at me, boots still propped on the desk. "Well,
Cole," he said, "Here's another fine mess you've gotten me
into." <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I steepled the hair on the top of my head and made Stan Laurel
blubbering noises.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We both laughed, then Chris said, "If she gets fresh, at least we
have a ride home." He meant the return Air France tickets.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Why don't we get back to work on the treatment and see what
develops."<o:p></o:p></div>
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And so we did. After the interviews with the doctors and nurses we had
all kinds of ideas for character adjustments, new characters with new
backgrounds, and a ton of personal reminisces and descriptive information to
make our treatment come alive. (A treatment is more of a sales tool than
anything else. Used to impress a producer, then a production company, then a
whole damned network, if you can.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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About an hour later Marla tapped softly on our open office door. Chris
glanced up and waved her in, but she avoided his eyes and looked at me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She said, "I've been talking to (and she named her boss) about the
project." I braced, figuring we were about to get the ax - and was already
thinking fuck you and the horse you rode in on - but instead she said, "We
both think that at this point we should move on from the treatment stage and
have you guys do a full Bible for the show."<o:p></o:p></div>
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After what had happened a short time before, this was a huge surprise.
The difference between a Series Bible and a treatment - besides being much
longer - is that a Bible sets up every little detail of the show: the
characters, standing sets and locations, regular equipment and vehicles and at
least a dozen or more story premises. It's not a sales tool, but a full out
production tool. (Could actually exposing film to light be far away?) The other
difference was that although a treatment for a TV series paid a lot of money, a
Bible paid a helluva lot more.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "That's great news, Marla."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Marla ignored him, keeping her attention on me. "What do you say,
Allan?" she said. "Should I call your agent in LA and make a deal for
the Bible?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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I looked at Chris, who nodded, then back at Marla. I said, "Sounds
good to us, Marla."<o:p></o:p></div>
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And so the next step was taken down the road to who knew the hell
where. One thing, though. From the fart on, Marla spoke only to me - which
didn't bother Chris one bit because he'd come to loathe the woman, and he hated
talking to people he didn't like.<o:p></o:p></div>
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***** </div>
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<b style="text-align: center;">SMASH CUT TO: VENICE BEACH - T</b><b style="text-align: center;">HE THIRD DAY OF THE RIOTS</b></div>
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The phone rings. It's Marla. She says, "Riot, what riot?" And
so on.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I buzzed by my inclination to deliver a verbal swat and veered into -
hopefully - safer territory. I said, "What's up, Marla?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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And she said, "I need a favor, Allan." <o:p></o:p></div>
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Once again I noted that she was trying to skip Chris out, and - with
extra emphasis on the pronouns - I said, "We'd be glad to help anyway We
can, Marla."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I tucked the phone between shoulder and ear to free both hands to type
notes. I figured she wanted another adjustment on one or more of the
characters, or to spell out one of the story ideas more fully - stuff like
that. Stuff involving our project - Angels Without Mercy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Instead, she said, "It's about the Highlander."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Both because I was surprised and because I wanted Chris to hear, I
repeated: "The Highlander?" Chris straightened. Gave me a quizzical
look. And I added, "What about The Highlander?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Marla said, "I know you're on good terms with Fox, Allan."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "We sure are, Marla." Emphasizing the "We"
again. "They love Us over there."<o:p></o:p></div>
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It wasn't much of an exaggeration. We'd worked as story execs for Fox on Werewolf,
if you recall, plus had written for some of their other shows, and had
partnered up with Fox producers to pitch various notions, some of which had paid
actual money.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She said she was talking to two key people there and when she named
them, I nodded in recognition. "Great guys," I said. "Did a
Route 66 kind of thing for them - except on motorcycles and set in
Europe."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"They told me about the project," Marla said. "And they
said were thrilled with your work." She paused, then said, "Look. We
almost have a deal closed for Fox Studios to be our guys in America for The
Highlander."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Congratulations," I said. "That's a major step." I
wasn't exaggerating. At the time the Fox Network was just starting out and they
were hot to try out new ideas and people. Important actors - like Johnny Depp -
were launching their careers there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Well, it's not a for sure deal yet, Allan," Marla said.
"There are concerns about the writing. You see, we're relying on a few
English and American expatriates here in France, for the English version. And
some Canadians, of course, over at our Quebec office. But the guys at Fox
aren't completely convinced that our writers will know how to appeal to an
American audience."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"And so?" I pressed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next part came in a rush. "I told them that you were going to
write one of the very first episodes of The Highlander for us."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I was flabbergasted. Chris could tell and was making What The Fuck? motions.
I waved him down, for no reason other than to give my hands something to do.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Finally I said, "Marla, no disrespect. But we're concentrating on
Angels Of Mercy. Which we all think is going to be not just a successful
series, but an important one. I don't see how we can write-"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
She jumped in. "Wait, wait, Allan," she said. "You don't
understand. If we can move Fox forward on The Highlander, that gives us a big
leg up to get them behind Angels as well."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I still didn't like it. Fast excuse needed. I said, "We've never
even seen the movies, Marla. We don't have the faintest idea what they are
about, except guys with swords try to chop off each other's heads."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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"Don't concern yourself with that, Allan," Marla said
quickly. "I'll call the LA office this minute and have them messenger over
the show's Bible. Plus, videotapes of the movies."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I was still hesitant, worried that by turning down one thing, we'd
imperil the other. Even so - I was reluctant to be pushed off course. I said,
"Geeze, I don't know. I really think-"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Once again she pushed in. "Don't make up your mind now,
Allan," she said. "Watch the movies. Read the Bible. Then get back to
me. And here's another thing. Because this is a foreign production, we're
buying out all the residual rights. Meaning, you'll make one and a half times WGA scale." <o:p></o:p></div>
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This gave me pause. But still... But still...<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sensing this, Marla said, "But for you, Allan, we'll pay double.
Double Guild minimum. And it'll be worth every penny."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I needed to talk this over with Chris. So, I said, "Okay, we'll
take a look at the material. But, no promises, right?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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She agreed. Then said, "After we talk tomorrow, I'd really
appreciate it if you called (she named the two execs) and tell them you're
writing one of the debut episodes of The Highlander."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jesus. This lady wouldn't let up. But, I couldn't fault her for that.
It's one of the attributes that go into making a successful producer. Being a
bulldog and a pain in the ass is what gets things made.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Send the stuff, Marla. We'll get back to you
tomorrow."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I hung up and sagged back in my chair. Chris had been thoughtful enough
to make us a couple of stiff scotches.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He let me honk down about half of mine, then said, "Well, tell me
Mr. Spick and Span Man. Where do you think we'll be when the Marla hits the
fan?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And so I told all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As we talked the smell of smoke drifted through the window, the sound
of gunfire and sirens grew louder again, and then that big damned LAPD chopper
came thundering back to chase a woman down the street carrying a towering stack
of disposable diaper boxes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We broke off, watching.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "Man, haven't the pigs figured it out yet? It's just a
free day in LA, that's all."<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b>NEXT:
HIGHLANDER THREE - OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!</b><o:p></o:p><br />
<b>*****</b><br />
<a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/Bulletins/venice-thanksgiving"><span style="color: blue;"><b>MYSTICAL STUFFING RECIPE</b></span></a><br />
<a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/Bulletins/venice-thanksgiving"><span style="color: blue;"><b>IN</b></span></a><br />
<a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/Bulletins/venice-thanksgiving"><span style="color: blue;"><b>A VENICE BEACH THANKSGIVING</b></span></a><br />
<a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/Bulletins/venice-thanksgiving"><span style="color: blue;"><b>CLICK THIS LINK!</b></span></a><br />
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS</span></b></div>
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<b style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">IT'S HERE: JUGGERNAUT! </b><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>Sten Omnibus #2</b></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy the book!</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">Click this link to buy it.</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">Click this link to buy it.</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Available now: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy both the trade paperback and Kindle version.</a> Next month</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s1600/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s200/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-81131068802406736322012-11-09T06:55:00.000-05:002012-11-09T09:42:10.060-05:00THE SHE DEVIL WHO SCARED HELL OUT OF THE HIGHLANDER<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>Louise Marcus: Okay, now let
me see if I can get this straight. You come from another planet, and you're
mortal there, but you're immortal here until you kill all the guys from there
who have come here... and then you're mortal here... unless you go back there,
or some more guys from there come here, in which case you become immortal
here... again.</b><br />
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<b>Conner MacLeod: Something
like that. (Highlander II)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>***<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b style="text-align: left;">"If life were fair,
Elvis would be alive and all the impersonators would be dead." (Johnny
Carson )</b></div>
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<b>* * *</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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I should have known that in the end the feces would be flung at our
personal fans when we walked into the production office in Paris and saw the
Magic Marker writing on the wall.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was displayed on a big pull down roll of poster paper, sort of like an
oversized window shade. And here's what Chris and I saw:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>THE NINE STAGES OF PRODUCTION:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>1. Wild Enthusiasm</b></div>
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<b>2. Total Confusion</b></div>
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<b>3. Utter Despair</b></div>
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<b>4. The Search For The Guilty</b></div>
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<b>5. The Persecution Of The Innocent</b></div>
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<b>6. The Reward And Promotion Of The Incompetent</b></div>
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<b>7. Erection Of Walls</b></div>
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<b>8. Disillusion And Suicide</b></div>
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<b>9. Oscars! Return To Step #1</b></div>
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Unsuspecting innocents that we were, we laughed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said, "Who'd a thunk it? The film business summed up in a French
nutshell."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "For that, I'll even forgive them the fucking genius
medal they gave Jerry Lewis."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then we heard an "ahem, ahem" - like the witch from the
Ministry Of Magic in Harry Potter - and we moved aside to let Marla Ginsburg
sweep into the room.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She turned to Chris, hands on hips and a challenging look in her eye,
and asked, "What's wrong with Jerry Lewis?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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I stepped in before Chris could enumerate the many reasons why he
despised Jerry Lewis - starting with that he wasn't funny and ending with the
rip off of crippled kids. After all, Marla had flown us all the way to Paris, France, put
us up in a nice Froggy hotel, and was about to pay us big bucks for a TV series
we had come up with based on <a href="http://tinyurl.com/l3zg6">Doctors Without Borders,</a> the international relief
organization. If Marla wanted to defend Jerry Lewis' honor, have
at it, kid.<o:p></o:p></div>
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To divert the budding argument, I said, "I've been wanting to ask
you, Marla. The exchange rate at the hotel is lousy. Where's a good place to
swap our dollars for francs?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Tugging on the dollar signs attached to the mysterious organ that
producers claim to be a heart worked a charm. Marla - who had recently been
named Exec Producer of what was to become The Highlander TV series - marched
over to a phone, called a quavering dogsbody in accounting, barked orders in
French, then hung up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She said, "The Business Office is sending up an advance on your
per diem to tide you over. When your translator shows up, I'll ask her to swing
by a bank when you're out."<o:p></o:p></div>
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I felt clever. Two problems solved in one go. Little did I know, Gentle
Reader. Little did I know.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You are probably wondering about now what our series proposal about
Doctors Without Borders had to do with The Highlander. The song says
"There's No Business Like Show Business," and I suppose that's sort
of true. However, the one thing that Show Business has in common with all other
business is that the answer to just about everything involves money. Who gets
it? Who doesn't? And how can we screw more money out of the deal?<o:p></o:p></div>
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In this particular case I'm talking about International movie-making
type economics, whose rules are deliberately confusing so as to fool entire
nations, corporate rivals, profit participants, and the business
representatives of twenty-million-dollar-a-picture stars.</div>
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<b>***</b></div>
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<b>PAUSE SCENE FOR FASCINATING ASIDE<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I don't need to bore you with the details to tell the tale. If you are
hungering for more information however, the best layman's book about the
subject is The Insider's Guide To Film Finance, by Philip Alberstat. The book
is $32.39 (Kindle version about 28 bucks), so just for you, Gentle Reader, I'll
sort of steal one of the examples from Mr. Alberstat's tome and bend it to my
purposes. (A bad writer plagiarizes. A good writer steals.)</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Say you wanted to make yet a third Lara Croft Tomb Raider movie - not
so bad an idea when you figure the first two grossed around 600 to 700 million
dollars. Now, you're gonna want <a href="http://tinyurl.com/2uze5">Angelina Jolie</a> for Lara Croft again,
right? Never mind that's what the worldwide audience of adolescent
popcorn-and-Coke-inhaling boys in lust wants. It's also what the banks will demand to
pony up the millions it will take to make the picture. (I read the other day that
somebody is actually thinking of making a third Tomb Raider - but without
Angelina. Wow, man! That's like The Skipper without Gilligan. Or, worse - The
Scooby, without The Doo.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDfUUL1DbHqrRZkbkCSXNGRxCfev5GCXOzIcFqknYDfxG3bBTAgGjQDuzSSnzawhdj5KTLEssVHdAzq_nRZvM0gzcPP-oytGprWBInk8R1-rcl1hNYwpBi8sRq7d5gH03fPx_N9inDdY/s1600/highlander_Angelina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDfUUL1DbHqrRZkbkCSXNGRxCfev5GCXOzIcFqknYDfxG3bBTAgGjQDuzSSnzawhdj5KTLEssVHdAzq_nRZvM0gzcPP-oytGprWBInk8R1-rcl1hNYwpBi8sRq7d5gH03fPx_N9inDdY/s320/highlander_Angelina.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angelina Jolie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Now, in our more sensible Angelina-starring sequel, the Star would probably
want something like $20 million... maybe even $25 million... to do the movie.
And why shouldn't she? We'll be using her name, talent, and fabulous looks at
the bank to secure loans of maybe Two Hundred Million dollars. But, our Chief Bean
Counter is telling us that when all costs are considered, including trinkets
and lace for the concubines of various Studio bosses, we'll be fifteen million
short of what the lovely Ms Jolie requires.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
What to do? Answer: Promise the German government we'll put some German
filmmakers on the payroll. Tell the French something similar. Make a deal with
the Romanians - where we'll be shooting - to borrow their army for extras, and
bingo! We've got the money we need to cross Angelina's pretty palm. That's
after coming up with a million to get her trainer to skim through the script.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>***<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>RESUME ACTION</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
Our TV series - titled Angels Of Mercy - was being bought by the
venerable French company - Gaumont Robur - which owns, or controls, pretty much
all the film production and television channels in Froggyland. As it happened,
the Doctors Without Borders organization was based in Paris, so the tax bennies
and other government inducements are self-evident.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Now, put Doctors Without Borders aside for a sec and let's bring in
Production Number Two.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7HI4RxKzPOhTnZOy9bkUMKO8lf47qCcWBYu2aeAADZlyOOD0mKqTf5cIOwmUJVlZd_V8_SRujICa05OqCopeUPBmR1caXvmdn4q9OFEnYNP8L3bTgT4IiVSLkKX722We8g8Vk2U9IjsE/s1600/highlander_Sean_Connery_as_Ramirez_in_Highlander..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7HI4RxKzPOhTnZOy9bkUMKO8lf47qCcWBYu2aeAADZlyOOD0mKqTf5cIOwmUJVlZd_V8_SRujICa05OqCopeUPBmR1caXvmdn4q9OFEnYNP8L3bTgT4IiVSLkKX722We8g8Vk2U9IjsE/s200/highlander_Sean_Connery_as_Ramirez_in_Highlander..jpg" width="135" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sean Connery As Ramirez</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As I mentioned, Gaumont had purchased the TV rights to The Highlander -
two very bad films that made a whole lot of money. Chris Lambert, who couldn't
act his way out of a haggis, starred along with Sean Connery, who did his
damndest working with lousy scripts. As our old producer/mentor buddy Al
Godfrey used to say, "A great actor can't make a bad script good - but he
might make it barely tolerable." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Gaumont intended to partly shoot The Highlander TV series in France,
for reasons already explained, and also - to pick up some money from Canada,
where the Frenchy French crew could (theoretically) work easily with the
Canadian Froggies in Quebec. (They also thought they could double New York,
Boston, and - heck - maybe even Houston in Quebec.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But, wait! In order to make the really big bucks, the series had to be
sold to the U.S. market, where dubbing never, ever works. So, it had to be
filmed in actual English. And by English, I mean American English, not the
lesser version of the language. (British actors playing Americans tend to put
in words like "I Reckon" to show how American they are. Okay, it's
the British writers who actually commit the deed, but you get the general
idea.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
With me so far? No? Too bad, because I'm going to confuse things even
more by throwing our Doctors Without Borders back into the mix. (Chris and I
had already won the promise of cooperation from DWB in a series of expensive
phone calls and faxes from Venice Beach to Paris.) You see, all the things that
applied to The Highlander also applied to our series. Except, with two TV
series going - with crews and writers and guest stars and locations shared
between them - the whole thing started to make financial sense. Which is not to
be confused with good old Common Sense.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Oh, yeah. Did I forget to tell you about Zimbabwe? Shit, I did.
Apparently there were all kinds of bennies to be scooped up if a deal was made
with the representatives of a cat named Robert Gabriel Mugabe, then Prime
Minister, soon to be President Forever And Ever of Zimbabwe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRUXsmr81R2e35HvsgHCNYq9AapwsjpM3_K8eNyR3wa3d5aFdNfAT9K2ev9FTGQtfLKvb-VR-E2u0MHmYMc_Yjbmk4kZhd53OMoDPlubtJpC2HvlmmV16ve0j8HmzgE0VAd8rouRKK84/s1600/highlander_zimnote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRUXsmr81R2e35HvsgHCNYq9AapwsjpM3_K8eNyR3wa3d5aFdNfAT9K2ev9FTGQtfLKvb-VR-E2u0MHmYMc_Yjbmk4kZhd53OMoDPlubtJpC2HvlmmV16ve0j8HmzgE0VAd8rouRKK84/s320/highlander_zimnote.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Nobody was interested in Zimnotes, of course - although they were
almost worth something Back In The Day. What they did want was all that dough
and good (read free) publicity from international humanitarian organizations -
including the UN. And what better means to shake the money tree than a TV
series based on Doctors Without Borders, whose presence in African relief camps
is legend.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And with a good Movieland Bookkeeper, you could spread all that
largesse over two weekly series. One set of books trumpeting a big success. The
other set - the one meant for outside profit participants - mourning hopeless
failure. And telling them lies about how it was really All For Art And Humanity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Okay. I've explained it all the best I can. We have our TV series -
Doctors without Borders - on one side, and the very bloody Highlander TV series
on the other. Put them together, and with a lot of luck, a lot of finessing,
and Bunch & Cole would be lighting Cuban cigars with thousand Franc Notes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Now for the fly in the ointment. Or, in the case of Marla Ginsburg, a
big damned buzzing Wasp.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Since an American sale was crucial, Gaumont put Marla - an American
fluent in Swiss Finishing School French - in charge of The Highlander and our
budding series. We'd first met her in LA several years before when she was
repping James Keach, the younger brother of Stacy Keach. We had a movie script
the younger Keach was hot about, and so on and so forth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<b>***<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>FLASHBACK: ABOUT A MONTH BEFORE PARIS<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Yh1mliChvEf0XL6REENgNTXiclldZST-E6c0igbFXj-NYbJ_XWOXF6I5L3Llk3l-j4jSA7IjIQz6hFdscBCJcIVgLOICqm0aglu9eZYugXc7MuA96c8ElXF6SIrk60pe8wc_jarvI4Y/s1600/Far_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Yh1mliChvEf0XL6REENgNTXiclldZST-E6c0igbFXj-NYbJ_XWOXF6I5L3Llk3l-j4jSA7IjIQz6hFdscBCJcIVgLOICqm0aglu9eZYugXc7MuA96c8ElXF6SIrk60pe8wc_jarvI4Y/s200/Far_1.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Chris and I had just sold a big fat four-book contract to Del Rey <a href="http://tinyurl.com/6ekrjw8">(The
Far Kingdoms Series</a><a href="http://tinyurl.com/6ekrjw8">)</a>, but as usual the publisher was woefully late with
the start-up money. The bellies of our bank accounts' were rumbling and we were
ensconced in our Venice Beach office tossing about ideas to make a fast
semi-honest buck. These conversations were always free flowing, almost
stream-of-conscious sessions, where we just flung anything that occurred to us
into the pot, stirred, then waited to see what came out.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A pinprick of a notion flickered in my mind. I said, "Kathryn has
this really interesting new client. He's a doctor - a professor of medicine -
at UCLA." (At the time, Kathryn - my wife and Chris' sister - owned an escrow company - Escrow Revue -
at Wilshire and Bundy in West LA. If you were watching the slow-motion OJ
Simpson car chase, you might have seen his white Bronco pass by her office.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris said, "Yeah? What about him?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_nUNgcCbPbhwf3_tS4TxkHsQNGsLpBEKg1owLDBWlcylLJ-cgCfLj3VP_p-wY8atQeMwz1McVqnxbaEEFF0hRp20NTopZLr26-LP0Lh5vpdUuvmGNcwDbvTZejAeJ7dgXKtzRT9Rk20/s1600/highlander_doctors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_nUNgcCbPbhwf3_tS4TxkHsQNGsLpBEKg1owLDBWlcylLJ-cgCfLj3VP_p-wY8atQeMwz1McVqnxbaEEFF0hRp20NTopZLr26-LP0Lh5vpdUuvmGNcwDbvTZejAeJ7dgXKtzRT9Rk20/s200/highlander_doctors.jpg" width="140" /></a></div>
<br />
"The guy was with Doctors Without Borders. Just finished a
two-year hitch. Has some chilling tales about the refugee camps in Africa, the
Middle East and Asia. They're really a ballsy group of men and women. Braving
war and famine and disease and terrorists and adolescent soldiers ripped on
booze and drugs. Ratcheta, ratcheta - ping go the strings of my heart - and so
on.."</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br />
Chris saw where I was going. "Make a helluva TV series," he
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"That's what I was thinking," I replied. Then I straightened
up. "Shit, I maybe even have a title - Angels Of Mercy."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris nodded. "Smarmy, but upmarket."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then reality struck and I sighed, "Not a chance. Networks would
never go for a foreign shoot. And that's the only way to make it right.
Doubling the backlot at Universal for a teaming African refugee camp just won't
work."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris was about to agree. In which case, we'd toss the idea back into
the pot and keep stirring. But then he said, "Wait up!"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And he pulled the wastebasket from under his desk and fished out that
day's LA Times. "I saw something here," he said, "that I meant
to mention. Probably nothing... but you never know." Then he said,
"Here it is." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris scanned the article, then looked up. "Remember Marla
Ginsburg?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
After a minute, I said, "Yeah. Marla was the lady that put us
together with Stacy Keach's brother, right? James? Yeah, that was his name.
James. Nice guy. "<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4kID4wqOVFG6WxMy7a8kijnMSQJAgEhzM52GqfkG1Z6LhWPIFt3GV_pTcMGlDGummiI6P9itzdE8qLy8c6XHxLOKypyT668TaCzrm5HbBJ_ZQ2zzY4y-cKOVSyL2GkZSHR4pQoVAhMgI/s1600/highlander_Cheech_%2526_Chong%2527s_Up_in_Smoke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4kID4wqOVFG6WxMy7a8kijnMSQJAgEhzM52GqfkG1Z6LhWPIFt3GV_pTcMGlDGummiI6P9itzdE8qLy8c6XHxLOKypyT668TaCzrm5HbBJ_ZQ2zzY4y-cKOVSyL2GkZSHR4pQoVAhMgI/s200/highlander_Cheech_%2526_Chong%2527s_Up_in_Smoke.jpg" width="135" /></a></div>
As it happened, Chris and I had once hung out a little with his
brother, Stacy, along with Cheech And Chong, when we were at Columbia <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/01/code-dead-beach-ball-cometh.html">(See"Code Dead: The Beach Ball Cometh")</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We told him stories - some of them even true - about how much fun we
had. As things turned out, Jimmy liked us, we liked him, and we ended up making
a little option money on that deal. Not much, but it was better than a poke in
the eye with a director's swagger stick.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris tapped the newspaper. He said, "Well, Marla's mentioned
heavily in a story here about film companies in Europe hiring Americans.
They're hoping to learn how come zillions of people all over the world watch
our stuff, and in comparison, almost nobody watches theirs."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Why do you think that is?" I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris shrugged. "Easy," he said. "Americans are better
bullshitters."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said, "So, what's Marla up to?'<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris said, "She's been hired by Gaumont Robur to head up their
television production department. Marla says in the Times that she's living in
Paris and loving it." Chris glanced at the article. "She says she's
really enjoying the creative freedom, blah, blah, blah, blah... Oh, here it is.
She says Gaumont's looking to break into the American market."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I could see the gears whirring in Chris' head. "What're you
thinking, Partner, Mine?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris turned to his computer and fired it up. "I'm thinking of
writing old Marla a nice letter of congratulations. Shit like that."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And mention Doctors Without Borders?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Just a little tease," he said. "Nothing to give the
store away."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He wrote the letter, doing his usual masterful job, and we punted it
into the mail. A little over a week later the phone rang. Chris picked up,
eyebrows rising as he listened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then, he hit the speaker button so we could both hear, and said,
"Sure, we'll hold for Ms Ginsberg."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A second later I heard a woman's voice that I vaguely recalled.
"Bunch and Cole," she said. "What a treat."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We said something similar in reply. And exchanged pleasantries for a couple
of minutes - we got to brag on our big time book deal, she got to brag on her
big time job at Gaumont. Telling us, almost as an afterthought it seemed to me,
that, oh, yeah, she'd had a baby a month or so ago. Beautiful kid, blah, blah.
Changed her life, blah, blah. How hard it was to find a good Nanny, blah, blah.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And then she got to the point. "Guys, about that Doctors Without
Border idea..."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris jumped fast. "Well, it's a little more than an idea, now,
Marla." Then he lied through his teeth. "We've got a nice rough draft
of the treatment. Twenty five, thirty pages worth." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In reality, we hadn't written one thing down except this note:
"Doctors Without Borders. Series? Maybe title: 'Angels Of Mercy.' Hit up
Marla. Wait & See." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A slight beat from Marla, then she said, "That's great, guys.
Really great. I've told some of the people around here and they're all excited
about the project. Do you have any pages you can fax me? Just the idea in a
nutshell, not the whole thing."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It was my turn in the lie-like-hell barrel. I said, "Sure, Marla.
We've got to meet a guy for lunch. But that won't take long. Soon as we get
back we'll shoot some pages to you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
More nice noises. We got off the phone. Chris turned to his computer
and ripped out something lightning fast. Gave it to me. Maybe five pages. I
rewrote it. Within two hours of talking to Marla we were faxing a
mini-treatment to her office.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Now we would see what we would see.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The following morning. Working on the second cup of coffee. Phone
rings. Surprise, it's Marla.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Wonderful pages, guys," she said. "Everybody loved
them."<o:p></o:p></div>
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A short pause, then she spoke the four magic words: "Who's your
agent, boys?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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After we got off the phone, I remember looking over at Chris, a little
numb.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Well, kiss my Irish ass," I said. "It fucking
worked!"<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>NEXT:
HIGHLANDER TWO: JUST A FREE DAY IN LA</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS</span></b><br />
<b style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">IT'S HERE: JUGGERNAUT! </b><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>Sten Omnibus #2</b></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy the book!</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">Click this link to buy it.</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">Click this link to buy it.</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Available now: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy both the trade paperback and Kindle version.</a> Next month</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s1600/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s200/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-29849460183143787052012-11-02T07:42:00.000-04:002012-11-02T07:42:22.987-04:00HOLLYWOOD SCREWUP: HOW WE GOT A PERFECTLY GOOD AGENT, THEN BLEW THE DEAL<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>"Agents like to see themselves as zookeepers. Viewing writers as their captive animals that they keep under lock and key. Chris thought they were more like mushroom farmers. And we were the mushrooms. Kept in the dark and fed only on horseshit." (Allan Cole)</b><br />
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<b>***</b></div>
<b>"Agents are like tires on a car; in order to get anywhere at all you need at least four of them, and they need to be rotated every 5,000 miles." <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Wilder">(Billy Wilder)</a></b><br />
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<b>***</b></div>
<b>"A long time ago, when I was just starting out (as a writer), I had the good fortune to meet the great Willa Cather. With all the audacity of youth, I asked her "If you could only give me one rule to follow, what would it be?" She paused, looked down for a moment and finally said, "Never wear brown shoes with a blue suit." <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_O'Donoghue">(From Michael O'Donoghue's "How To Write Good.)</a></b><br />
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<b>* * *</b><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div>
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The kid -
who looked like Mr. Spock, except he was really fat - said, "I've written,
like, dozens of movies, man, and nobody will give me a break. It's like a total
Hollywood conspiracy, you know? They make all these lousy science fiction
movies that, like, righteously suck. And they totally ignore somebody who tries
to give them something that really - you know - rocks as science fiction
instead of the crap the Studios keep doing... if you'll pardon my French."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Which
part should we pardon?" Chris asked. "The crap part or the Studio
part?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said,
"He must mean the Studio part, Chris. Crap is a perfectly acceptable
word."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The
audience laughed and the kid who looked like Mr. Spock, except he was really
fat, was pleased. He fingered the pointy tip of one ear, and said, "They
keep telling me that I have to have an agent, man. So I tried to get an agent.
I tried and tried, but they keep sending my scripts back. I don't think they
even read them."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"They
don't," I said. "There are certain abasement procedures you
absolutely have to undergo before they finally reject you. First you have to
send them a letter, begging them to read your script. You also better include
return postage and a self-addressed envelope. If you skip the query letter
part, they'll automatically ship the script back without reading it."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Unless
you didn't include return postage," Chris said, "in which case,
they'll shitcan the script."<o:p></o:p></div>
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A girl in
a Yowsa! Princess Lea Slave Girl bikini put hands on rounded hips and said,
"Why do we have to have an agent anyway? Seems like an unnecessary
middleman to me. Why not just go straight to the Studio?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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There were
hot words of agreement from the crowd. Chris and I couldn't really blame them.
Every writer questions the need for agents several times during his career.
More so at the beginning and the end, than in the middle, when you are too busy
hustling gigs to pay much attention to the guys who are snipping ten percent
out of every paycheck.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The crowd
in question would have looked bizarre anywhere else except at a World Science
Fiction Convention - especially a science fiction convention set in New
Orleans. This is the same convention where Chris and I, along with Kathryn and
Karen, had become lost in the fog on the outskirts of The French Quarter and
were rescued by an Inebriated Mime. <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/08/chuck-connors-kisses-ring.html">(See: Chuck Connors Kisses The Ring.) </a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Most of
the people in the audience were dressed as their favorite characters from
dozens of science fiction movies and TV series, with Star Trek and Star Wars
represented more heavily than most. But they all had at least one thing in
common, which is why they'd gather to hear Words Of Wisdom From Bunch &
Cole. They'd been terminally stricken with the I-Want-To-Be- In-Pictures bug,
which can infect an otherwise perfectly rational person for years - if not a
lifetime.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It's a
relatively harmless affliction, unlike - say, a heroin or Texas Hold-Em habit.
Unfortunately, the cure rate is well below the percentages achieved by substance
support groups. (You never hear anyone go: "Hi, I'm Wally. And I'm a
Hollywood Writer Wannabee."... "Hi, Wally!"....) <o:p></o:p></div>
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The cause
is simple. Unless they are from another planet, everyone has seen a movie and
has watched television and considers Himself/Herself(Herself/Himself!)an
expert.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Okay, even
people from other planets probably aren't immune. No doubt they can get twenty
million, five hundred and sixty-six thousand, and fifty two channels from their
endlessly-streaming cable/satellite/Apple TV networks - and there is still nothing the
hell on to watch. And their multiplexes were probably designed by somebody out
of a Douglas Adams' novel, and plopped in The Mall At The End Of The Universe,
and contain an infinite number of rooms with postage-stamp screens and sticky
floors. (Don't forget your towels, kids.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And those
aliens probably thought the same thing you did when watching some typically
awful production - What Crap! (Or, What Studio!) I can do better than that! The
next step - to be avoided at all cost - is to then think: Hell, why don't I
give it a try? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Because,
Whoops! There you go down the Rabbit Hole to La-La-Land, where only two or
three ink-stained wretches ever get the chance to have their keyboards lopped
off by the Red Queen of all Showrunners. The rest wander around aimlessly,
hoping to bump into the Executioner's Agent, or Michael Ovitz, whichever comes
first.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"Think of it as Hollywood's take on Adam and Eve. Without an agent, you
don't even get to nibble the apple, much less talk to the snake."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"So,
how did you guys get an agent?" somebody in the audience - tall, and
furry, so he was probably a Wookie - asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfclZTTc6Z7VefZeuTipTIR7YOgtH-X-m0Cta6M0jyh9TvcpSkEzHaQoEH8Vj-D1LrHls0nJHc2vV8SMeQgPywiVrNmv7t-tHU41-cNg_O9ec7kx3wEkrmV-M8OfG3t-rHkF8ZaGadHgo/s1600/screwup_devil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfclZTTc6Z7VefZeuTipTIR7YOgtH-X-m0Cta6M0jyh9TvcpSkEzHaQoEH8Vj-D1LrHls0nJHc2vV8SMeQgPywiVrNmv7t-tHU41-cNg_O9ec7kx3wEkrmV-M8OfG3t-rHkF8ZaGadHgo/s200/screwup_devil.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Chris
said, "We went straight to the Big Man at the Bottom - Satan. Old Scratch.
Beelzebub. The Prince Of Fucking Darkness."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"In
other words," I said, "we hired a lawyer."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "The lawyer read our stuff and got us an agent, who read our stuff,
and then got us a job. "<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"His
name was Larry Grossman and he was truly a great agent," I said. "He
helped us get our first break. <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/06/jack-klugman-and-ko-kids.html">(See: Jack Klugman And The KO Kids)</a> He was
honest, which is really saying something for an Agent. He cared about us
personally, not just as paychecks. He was looking to our future."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What
happened to him?" Somebody shouted. It was the Wookie's companion - R2D2,
with fishnet stockings, containing a really nice pair of legs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "We fired his ass."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Silence
from the crowd. As well there should have been.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"It was a really stupid thing to do. A fuck-up of the first order. To this
day, Chris and I take turns kicking each other's butts for being so incredibly
- so royally - dimwitted."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
shrugged. "What can we say, except - the Devil made us do it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Trying to
explain the unexplainable, I said, "When you finally do get an agent...
and you land your first gig... all those agents who wouldn't talk to you
before, are suddenly dying to sign incredible geniuses like yourself."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"They
come blowing in your ear," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Whispering
sweet nothings over boozy lunches," I said. "Telling you how your
present agent really doesn't understand you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Pretty
soon, they turn your pretty little empty head," Chris said. "And you
start believing all their shit." He shook his head in disgust, then added,
"It's the Tinsel-Town version of The House Of The Rising Sun."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"First agent we ran away with was a guy named Irv Schechter."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Big
talk, no action," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then
we went with a guy named Scott Penney for awhile," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Nice
guy," Chris said. "But lazy and disorganized."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"After
that we really hit the big time," I said. "William Fucking
Morris."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Not
nice guys. "Energetically incompetent," Chris said. "Scared of
their own shadows." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Before
we came here," I said, "we signed with a guy the jury's still out on,
so I won't mention his name. But to give you an idea how long that's going to
last - Chris calls him The Weasel."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Titters
from the Audience.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"He's
got a really fucking whiny voice," Chris said in his own defense.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"But
he came highly recommended," I put in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"He's
got sharp little teeth and he's got a long skinny neck and he talks and talks
and talks and he's already driving me crazy," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Why'd
you hire him?" somebody shouted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I sighed.
"We had to," I said."Chris put a knife in his desk."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dead
silence - except for somebody saying - "Holy Shit."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHtnFwihps3rx3gBqsG4SpA0oHwUr5GGChyphenhypheneKPIz6UAQWpOoIsAwZSBuS6XwZvDGCBamZOo7FOOwQ0WCZjjlT6SNQGWVUzN4JOHED7rxrZZJqsg44N-0Un_G5sKVty_cKocAi9TbBZ0c/s1600/screwup_bowie_knife_lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHtnFwihps3rx3gBqsG4SpA0oHwUr5GGChyphenhypheneKPIz6UAQWpOoIsAwZSBuS6XwZvDGCBamZOo7FOOwQ0WCZjjlT6SNQGWVUzN4JOHED7rxrZZJqsg44N-0Un_G5sKVty_cKocAi9TbBZ0c/s200/screwup_bowie_knife_lg.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
"I
couldn't help it," Chris said."He wouldn't shut the fuck up. And he
was using all these Hollywood buzz words... You know, like - take a meeting;
and boffo, as in big hit; and tentpole, as in movie sequels; and praisery - as
in, the Agency had an in-house PR team; and dramedy, as in a comic drama, or a
dramatic comedy. He had no goddamn shame and I had this perfectly good knife in
my boot, so I... I..."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
think you made him piss his pants," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
know, I know," Chris said mournfully.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And
now he's going all over town bragging to everybody that Chris Bunch stuck a
knife in his desk," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
know, I know," Chris groaned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"It's The Weasel's new macho act," I said. "Probably the only one he's ever had.
Gets to say, 'Hey, I'm so manly I have a knife scar in my desk from Bunch &
Cole."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
couldn't help it," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Last
time we were in," I said, "The Weasel had the hole in his desk
framed, that's how proud he is of it," <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
swear I'll never do it again," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"For a minute there, I thought you were going for his heart."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
snorted. "An agent? Give me a break, Cole. What fucking heart?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
audience roared.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<b>NEXT: THE SHE DEVIL WHO SCARED HELL OUT OF THE HIGHLANDER</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS</span></b><br />
<b style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">IT'S HERE: JUGGERNAUT! </b><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>Sten Omnibus #2</b></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy the book!</a></b></span><br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">Click this link to buy it.</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">Click this link to buy it.</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Available now: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juggernaut-Omnibus-Numbers-Chris-Bunch/dp/0356501612/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1351796427&sr=1-4">Click this link to buy both the trade paperback and Kindle version.</a> Next month</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
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<div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b></b></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>*****</b></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-89798257242036158482012-10-26T07:30:00.000-04:002012-10-28T07:58:22.930-04:00HOW ROCK HUDSON (SORT OF) HELPED US GET AN AGENT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Question: How Many Writers Does It Take To Screw In A
Lightbulb?</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Answer: Ten.</b></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>One to change the light bulb.</b></li>
<li><b>Four to say that they'd already had the idea
for changing a light bulb, but they didn't want to show anyone what they were
doing until they'd polished their light-bulb-changing.</b></li>
<li><b>Two to point out that someone else had
already changed a light bulb, so changing another one was unoriginal and thus
not worthwhile.</b></li>
<li><b>Three to call light bulbs a new technology
that was going to be catastrophic for traditional candlelight-driven writers.</b></li>
<li><b>And one to figure out that writers are lousy
at math.</b></li>
</ul>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
***<o:p></o:p><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
The Producer/Actor graced us with a smile not unlike a cat on the stalk. He said, "I fucking love this script. I'm gonna make it my next picture or my name isn't..." (I'd best not speak the name, Gentle Reader.) He gave us what I now realize was an appraising look, then delivered the four magic words every writer longs to hear: "Who's your agent, boys?"</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Except, after our rookie fiasco with Harold (I think) Greene, it was a question we both longed and loathed to hear. <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/10/how-many-hollywood-agents-does-it-take.html">(See How Many Agents Does It Take To Screw A Writer?)</a> For the fact of the matter was that we had no answer.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Chris twisted his hair, which was his "tell." While I made with a stony poker-face - which was my "tell," I just didn't know it yet.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The Producer/Actor caught all this in a flash and before we could attempt a stumbling answer, he jumped. "Say, I know you boys are just getting into the game. No problem." He chuckled a deep, throaty chuckle. Unleashed his best Big Screen smile. "It hasn't been so long that I don't remember what it was like trying to land a decent agent."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
We were young and dumb enough to breathe sighs of relief. "Thanks," I said. "We had an agent - sort of - for a while, but it didn't work out."</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
"Hey, you don't have to tell me," the Producer/Actor said. "I have enough spooky Agent stories to scare the panties off Elvira." Another chuckle. "And that wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it?"</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
We managed our own basso-profundo male-bonding laughs and allowed that it wouldn't.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
He said, "Look, we're all gentlemen, here. I respect you boys as artists and I'd like to think you feel the same about my work."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Absolutely, we said.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Why don't we work something out ourselves," he proposed. "We can come to an agreement on our own. Settle on a fair price. Lift on the whole fucking agent thing. ("Lift" is a film-editor's term that means to take out.) Just a simple little deal in which everybody comes up winners."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
We thought that might be a good idea.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Warming to the subject, he said, "Maybe, drop back at the house next weekend. We'll sit around the pool. Gnosh a little. Hoist a few. Talk about the script. And work out the deal."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Sounds good," Chris said. I didn't disagree.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
We shook and headed for the door. As we were leaving, he added, "It'll be a nice, relaxing little get-together. Just the four of us sitting around the pool."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
We stopped and looked back, confused. Both of us did a swift calculation. There was me. And there was Chris. And there was the Producer/Actor. And that made...Geeze, I was no math major, but...</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"The four of us?" I asked.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Sure," the Producer/Actor said. "I'll have my attorney drop by to help us with the deal. Don't worry. I'll spring for his ridiculous fee."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
We exited - more than a little numb.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Chris started the car, brow furrowed. He looked over at me, twisting his hair. "Did you hear that? Four of us? Including his fucking attorney?"</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Stony-faced, I said, "Yeah, I heard."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
We headed out of Bel Air, winding down through the canyons, past all the zillion dollar homes, then made our way back to Chris' house in Manhattan Beach, where the breeze was salty fresh, and the off-duty Stewardesses paraded along the Strand in bright little cover-ups worn over skimpy bikinis</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
But any Girl Gazing that went on that day was just an automatic Guy-Thing. There was no joy in it. In fact, silence reigned all the way from Bel Air to Manhattan Beach. Odd for Bunch & Cole, because we usually talked a mile-a-minute, slinging about a non-stop blizzard of ideas and observations.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
This time, however, we were both running the meeting over in our minds and coming to similar conclusions.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"That attorney business," Chris said - flat, not a question.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Yeah." Equally as flat.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"He's planning to fuck us," Chris said.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Yeah."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"If we go there without somebody on our side," he said, "we deserve to get fucked."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Yeah."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Do you think he's going to supply the KY jelly?"</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"If he does," I said, "it'll probably have sand in it."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Chris nodded. Solemn. There was nothing funny about the situation.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"If we had the money," I said, "I'd say we'd best rustle up an attorney of our own."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Another long silence.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
We were pulling onto his street to begin the search for parking (always a struggle in a beach town), when Chris finally said, "I just signed a contract with Peterson. (They published manuals for cars and motorcycles, among other things.) A chapter for each of their bike books on how to make your motorcycle go fast. Pays two grand a pop."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Yeah, you mentioned that," I replied. "It's a helluva deal." (In those days, Chris was a successful free-lancer, writing for everything from motorcycle magazines to Look, to Popular Science, to Rolling Stone. While I worked for a typically shit-paying newspaper and was going through the bank-and-ball-busting throes of divorce.)</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"If you can find us an entertainment type attorney, I'll spring for it," he said. "You can pay me back from the deal money."</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"What if we don't get the deal?"</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Chris shrugged. "Pay me back when we do get one. Okay?"</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I thought a minute, then nodded. "Okay."</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
The next day I consulted with my assistant city editor, the late Stella Zadeh, who became a successful Hollywood agent herself some years later. Stella had previously been my court reporter and with our newspaper's Santa Monica dateline, she'd dealt with every sort of high profile case imaginable.. She immediately thought of someone she'd met during Steve McQueen's divorce fiasco; called the guy, who just so happened to be an attorney at Mictchell Silberberg & Knupp, the el-primo entertainment law firm to this very day.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
This was a guy who probably charged a couple of grand an hour (Over $8,000 in today's money.) But he had just the fellow to help us who was on a lower rung of the firm, but still pretty pricy. I called the guy - whose name I unfortunately can't remember, because he did more than save our butts - and he said he'd handle the deal for an upfront retainer of $1,500.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Chris paid the man, we explained the problem, and he said never mind the meeting - that'd wipe out our deposit and then some - and that he'd call the Producer/Actor and work out a decent deal. Before that, however, he sent a messenger over to get a copy of the script - on his dime. Then read it - also on his dime.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"The sucker reads," Chris said. "It's fucking amazing, is what it is." (Later, we learned that for a Suit to actually read was not only amazing, but unheard of.)</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The whole thing became even more incredible when the attorney handled the whole deal in less than an hour, got us ten grand for a one-year option, fifteen for a second. The Producer/Actor kicked - that's more than he wanted to spend to outright Buy the damned thing, never mind option it. But he paid up, and although he never did make the movie, he renewed for a second year and the movie has been in and out of option with various companies ever since.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Will it ever get made? "One of these days." Four not-so-magical words also in every writer's lexicon. (What's a Suit's four favorite words? "Check's in the mail.")</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
A little later, the attorney called back, asked if he could see more of our scripts - something we were happy to do. Then he asked us if we'd heard the new(ish) Eagles Album - Desperado. Boy, did we. Great album, based on the infamous Old West exploits of the Doolin and Daltin gang. Not only that, during Chris' brief career as "The world's worst Rock And Roll PR man" (his words) he'd been one of the guys who repped the band and got on wonderfully with them.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The attorney was delighted. "What would you think of writing a movie based on the album?" he asked.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Oh, ho, ho. Would we! Tell us more.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
He did. Seemed that he was on the Mitchell Silberberg legal team that advised The Eagles. And the word had come down that they were anxious to do a film based on Desperado. If he could deliver he'd look like a hero.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Well, we made him a hero - whipping out a thirty-page treatment in a couple of weeks. He loved it, punted it forward, and was told that The Eagles were delighted with the treatment as well. (No, it too was never made. And probably never will.) Then, the attorney did an astounding thing - he sent us all but $300 of the $1,500 retainer back. Said, that was all the time he needed on the movie option deal. Then he invited us to dinner.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Dinner was at the late - very much lamented - Le Sueur's Restaurant, in the Valley. The attorney brought his lovely wife. Chris was with whomever he was seeing at the time. And I was flying solo. Dinner was great. I had something stuffed with truffles. The wine was suitably elderly with an expensive bouquet. And the dinner talk was stimulating, and so on.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
But the highlight of the little party were the attorney's opening words. "Read your scripts. Very impressive. You boys are major talents, just waiting to be discovered."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
We blushed and did the humble aw-shucks routine, but the thing is, we both very much believed this to be true.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"I was so impressed," the attorney continued, "that I took the liberty of sending them to an agent friend - suggesting that he might want to represent you. He called me today and thanked me for the introduction. I expect you'll be hearing from him in a day or two. His name is Larry Grossman."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Wow!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Just plain - Wow!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Man, was our day made. Hell, our Whole Year was made.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Afterwards the conversation turned to things literary, and the attorney's wife proved to be a not only well-read, but Ivy League college well-read. Very stimulating conversation.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Then there were the usual Hollywood stories people in The Business tell. The attorney told an amusing tale. The wife told about her college roommate who was now a famous actress. And Chris told the one about Ray Charles - he was on the PR team that represented that great showman and musician.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Chris said, "I was doing one of those routine interviews PR companies do, in hopes we can plant something in the Press. Ray was a helluva nice guy and went out of his way to make me feel important - young punk that I was.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Near the end, I asked him the usual J-School Final Question - 'What was your most embarrassing experience?'</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Ray didn't even have to think. He said, 'That would be my first concert tour to Seattle.' Ray laughed a little, remembering, then said, 'In those days, I'd never played to a Really White Audience, you know. And Seattle, they tell me, is Really White.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"'Anyway, I get the introduction, the crowd's applauding and then I come hustling out to my piano. I do my usual opener - standing up at the keyboard... I slam out a few chords, real loud and I shout, GIMME A YEAH!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"'And the audience comes back... Yessssssss! Just like that: Yesssssssssssssss!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"'Man, blind as I am, I knew that there was nothing but a sea of white faces out there. Yesssss!'"</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
We all laughed and then it was my turn. As it happened, a young actress I knew had just attended a boisterous Hollywood party.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I told my dinner companions: "She said that about an hour or so into the party the band struck up a big Flourish to get everyone's attention. Then, to everyone's surprise, they start playing 'Here Comes The Bride.'</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"The actress said, 'Well, we all looked up on stage, where a spotlight was playing, and who should we see standing there - dressed in a full-out Bridegroom Tux - but <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3d54t63">Rock Hudson</a>!'"</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The attorney's wife broke in, cooing, "Oh, I just love Mr. Hudson. Such a handsome man. And he seems so... I don't know... charming." Then she frowned. "But you said they were playing the Wedding March? Was he getting married, or something? I didn't hear anything about that."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I said, "Well, here's what the lady said happened... She said Rock was standing there with a big smile, and then the Here Comes The Bride music gets louder and out sweeps this woman in full bridal regalia. White on white on white. Long train, carried by some young guys in Tuxes. And a very heavy white veil.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"'The Bride goes up to Rock, lifts the veil a little to give him a kiss, replaces it... puts an arm through his, then they both turn to face the audience.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"'And the bride pulls the veil aside and who should we see, but Jim Nabors! And he had that huge grin Jim Nabors has. And then he shouts, 'Surprise, Surprise, Surprise!'"</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Everybody at the table laughed, but the laugh from the attorney's wife was half-hearted. She seemed disappointed. She said, "Do you mean that Rock Hudson is..."</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Gay?" Chris broke in. "Absolutely."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVcDJh_60ybY0m3kjAptJ8Uprg66WyFFsdTMGY9O1ujfUf2NBQ796VuPscOB7gaLN0nqx5wOTTFFDeyEHkZTXlXz78xgD_YpN78JbDu4hy_GJbmrdeOKCkTyDo0G3D9NPiOffZkFJ6uw/s1600/rock_hudson_hudson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVcDJh_60ybY0m3kjAptJ8Uprg66WyFFsdTMGY9O1ujfUf2NBQ796VuPscOB7gaLN0nqx5wOTTFFDeyEHkZTXlXz78xgD_YpN78JbDu4hy_GJbmrdeOKCkTyDo0G3D9NPiOffZkFJ6uw/s200/rock_hudson_hudson.jpg" width="143" /></a></div>
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At the time Rock's sexuality was known only to some of the people in the industry. If it had been widely known in those barbaric days, his career as a leading man in the movies, or TV shows like McMillan And Wife would have been over. And, I'm not too sure how well it would go over even now. There's a lot of lip service in the Industry about certain things, like treating human beings like human beings, but many times this is plain old-fashioned hypocrisy.</div>
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Anyway, the attorney's wife was still puzzling over my little story. The check came, the bill was paid (the bill for our dinner was well-over what we had paid the attorney for his services) and we exited that most excellent restaurant.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Outside, a small crowd was gathered for the valets to fetch their cars and the attorney's wife was shaking her head and saying, "Well, I just had no idea. I mean, he was so wonderfully romantic in all those Doris Day movies. And now, there's McMillan And Wife, with Susan St. James. They look so... well, Natural together."</div>
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She paused, then said... "Are you sure he's... you know...."</div>
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Chris laughed, and said, "Everybody knew about Rock Hudson at the PR company where I worked. In fact, there was a story going around that he had some surgical work done to... well... let's just say... increase his size. And I don't mean his height."</div>
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The attorney's wife gasped, but it was with a touch of a giggle. "You mean he had his... you know..."</div>
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"Pee-pee enlarged?' my eternally blunt partner finished for her. "Yeah, that's what they were all saying. That Rock Hudson had some specialist, shall we say... enhance his manhood."</div>
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Just then a voice - a strangely, and, under the circumstances, scarily familiar voice - said, "Excuse us, please."</div>
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We turned, and who should we see but Rock Hudson!</div>
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In the damned flesh!</div>
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He smiled at us, then strode out to a long limo that had just pulled up. He was flanked by two very young, very handsome, and very gay companions.</div>
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The attorney's wife looked at Rock climbing into the limo with his boyfriends. Then at Chris.</div>
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Chris said, "Surprise, surprise, surprise!"</div>
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*****<br />
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<b>NEXT: HOW WE LAND A PERFECTLY GOOD AGENT, THEN SCREW THE POOCH</b></div>
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<o:p><b><br /></b></o:p>
<o:p><b>*****</b></o:p><br />
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JLR69tS7YkQkvUr7JPa0C2QQx_Ta470u4JdFK6PxCzF7e3-Hbs4vbTLVNHDM7503N-FMUioXW3GCzsF32HTANjRH9AMuAw6ipIRC3UUb-5ZL1f7tQXMrKE9O-y0oUHWr83jx1TjQGp0/s1600/combine3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JLR69tS7YkQkvUr7JPa0C2QQx_Ta470u4JdFK6PxCzF7e3-Hbs4vbTLVNHDM7503N-FMUioXW3GCzsF32HTANjRH9AMuAw6ipIRC3UUb-5ZL1f7tQXMrKE9O-y0oUHWr83jx1TjQGp0/s320/combine3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. It is available now. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">(Click this link to buy it.)</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">(Click this link to buy it.)</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Coming in November: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. In the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> following months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s1600/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s200/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-79010942294071166892012-10-19T07:41:00.000-04:002012-10-19T07:41:02.930-04:00HOW MANY HOLLYWOOD AGENTS DOES IT TAKE TO SCREW A WRITER<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWPgL6ViLZc-1tTtnY2NrVbYz1AEIyivzwen9RhQJ0VJC5WoLW6dfl0VGLhcC4N35gjtlwbdnDcJfK_f0ZhjRjlV2KQKZKqRgwREt5HSjBC401s0dloTrMxd9cSkv-LGtkKElU2L-FV8/s1600/howmany_cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWPgL6ViLZc-1tTtnY2NrVbYz1AEIyivzwen9RhQJ0VJC5WoLW6dfl0VGLhcC4N35gjtlwbdnDcJfK_f0ZhjRjlV2KQKZKqRgwREt5HSjBC401s0dloTrMxd9cSkv-LGtkKElU2L-FV8/s200/howmany_cartoon.jpg" width="155" /></a></div>
<b>How many
agents does it take to screw in a light bulb?</b><br />
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<b><i>A1</i>: Sorry,
we're not screwing in any new light bulbs anymore. But have you considered
turning your light bulb into maybe... a candle?</b></div>
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<b><i>A2:</i> Oh
yes, I screwed in your light bulb, but I haven't had a chance to turn it on
yet. I'll get to it as soon as possible. It's just that we're already sitting
under too much light.</b></div>
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<b><i>A3:</i> Loved
your light bulb. Great light. Lots of illumination. Unfortunately, the agency's
decided to remain in the dark indefinitely.</b></div>
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The Weasel
's whiny voice was made whinier by the speaker phone. He said, "I'm really
sorry guys - I just got the word that Knight Rider is all booked up. But, if
there's a pickup you'll be the first-"</div>
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Chris cut
in. "What the fuck do you mean, you just got the Word?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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I jumped
in before Chris reached through the phone and ripped The Weasel's head off. As
I've said before: information first, then head-ripping, that's my motto.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I said,
"We got the tip three weeks ago. Which means they've been taking meetings
from writers all this time. Why the hell are they just calling you back
now?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Yeah,
fucking now?" Chris said, making a weird sort of sense.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Silence. A
strange reaction from The Weasel, an agent who talked a-mile-a-minute, sounding
a lot like Alvin The Chipmunk, and with so many superlatives and industry buzz
words thrown in that it almost made you understand what it's like for enemy
troopies when American Puffships open up with their chain-guns. INCOMING!<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Hello,"
I said. "You with us?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Finally,
The Weasel squeaked, "Well, it's like this, guys, I've been really busy
with this big project at the agency and I was forced to spend more face time
than phone time on things, and then there were all those meetings I had to take
and after that-."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Aw,
Jesus!" Chris cut in. "That was a sure deal. Money on the fucking
hoof. The producers there fucking love us."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Well,
you never know for sure..." The Weasel said, "and they promised that
if they got a pickup that you would be the very-"<o:p></o:p></div>
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But now it
was my turn to cut in. "We'll get back to you," I said. And we got
the hell off the phone.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We sat
there stewing for a few minutes. The Weasel, whose name I will not reveal to
protect the guilty, had just made at a minimum a ten thousand dollar screw-up.
Chris had dubbed him The Weasel and The Weasel he shall remain forever in my
mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk81pJsAANRLab_0k8O7DId89o3WUgVp5BC-KS17h_PorzKhqPZyiyZZwSNXzLuGv_3MSZ-prM2_c4trswZp6IA5b38FrK24cPAg4TU48BJxaPQ8jSfX6IExHaGOJbvDogRNMstTt8E44/s1600/court.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk81pJsAANRLab_0k8O7DId89o3WUgVp5BC-KS17h_PorzKhqPZyiyZZwSNXzLuGv_3MSZ-prM2_c4trswZp6IA5b38FrK24cPAg4TU48BJxaPQ8jSfX6IExHaGOJbvDogRNMstTt8E44/s200/court.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
If you
read <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3go7w5n">Sten #3: The Court Of A Thousand Suns </a>you'll
see his actual name there, although with a Sci-Fi spelling. The Wease is the
sneaky, double-dealing, "wee bomber't," that Sten and Alex Kilgour
pursue for half the book. In the end we tormented him without mercy, then brain
burned the son of a bitch. Fuck with Bunch & Cole, will you?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Neither of
us believed for a minute that The Weasel had forgotten anything, or had been
too busy to make the call. We'd had the feeling before that he was taking some
of our tips for hot writing gigs and calling on behalf of his other clients,
instead of us. Made him look good on our backs, and bank accounts. It wasn't
anything we could prove, but several producers - particularly our buddy Al
Godfrey - had said that this was more than likely going on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I went out
to the kitchen, made up a couple of Cups Of Kindness, then returned. Chris was
staring off in the distance, thinking. He absently nodded thanks, took a drink
and I sat behind my keyboard and lowered the level of my own Scotch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Finally,
Chris said, "You know, the swallows have returned to Capistrano."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"Yeah, read it in the paper this morning. They were a little late this
year. And there were fewer of them. Paper speculated that their nests are being
disturbed by urban sprawl."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And
another thing," Chris said, "I read a couple of days ago that the
buzzards have come back to Hinckley, Ohio."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"No surprise there. They show up in Hinckley about the same time the
swallows hit Capistrano."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"You're
not getting my point," Chris said, the light suddenly switching on in his
eyeballs, and swiveling in his chair to face me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Apparently
not," I replied. "What is your point, other than ornithological
migratory patterns?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBVRA6kblB8gYeakugoxbMjrMIdm4CoegmtSAdDBeiSCZE-5N4iOTJJH-UuI7VgD6ofR1UT53rxTj1bQnPT1xkZTcHd-1S-C8OtwaFRR0euiQuq4oBOs6HsUP8brTAqge8I_bnwHRHiSI/s1600/howmany_buzzard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBVRA6kblB8gYeakugoxbMjrMIdm4CoegmtSAdDBeiSCZE-5N4iOTJJH-UuI7VgD6ofR1UT53rxTj1bQnPT1xkZTcHd-1S-C8OtwaFRR0euiQuq4oBOs6HsUP8brTAqge8I_bnwHRHiSI/s200/howmany_buzzard.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Chris
said, "I've long noticed that every year the swallows come back to
Capistrano, the buzzards return to Hinckley, Ohio, and Bunch & Cole fire
their fucking agent."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I got it.
"In other words, you think it's time to Rider-W The Weasel 's ass."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Rider-W is
a clause in the Screen Writer Guild 's Agent-Client agreement that allows a
writer to tear up his contract for too many reasons to cite in this short space.
Besides, unless you are a writer desperate to escape your own agent bondage,
it'll bore you to tears.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We had
even perfected a form letter to invoke this clause:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i>To The
Attention Of (Insert asshole agent's name)<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i>As of this
date (insert date) we are invoking the Rider W clause in the WGA agent-writers
agreement, to terminate your services.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i>Sincerely,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i>Allan Cole
& Chris Bunch<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And that was fucking it. No hint at what Rider-W meant. But as Chris said, "Let 'em
get off their dead asses and look up the clause for themselves." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We both
knew that some agents thought the Guild was an unnecessary hindrance to their
real goal, which was to please the Boss Class as much as possible, and screw
the client who was, after all, just a weird writer guy, most likely with a
drinking problem. (Or, as the Poet Dylan Thomas so aptly put it, "I'm a
drinker with a writing problem.")<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Of course,
the agents always kicked. Whining phone calls that would shame even The Weasel.
(Okay, I'm going too far there. The Weasel had no shame.) The whining would be
followed by angry threats: if we fired them they'd still get the commissions
from any work produced by the following people... And then they'd list
everybody we had known since Jack Klugman was kind enough to give us our first
break. <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/06/jack-klugman-and-ko-kids.html">(See Jack Klugman And The K.O. Kids)</a> Naturally, this was bullshit.
Mainly, we brought the Showrunners and other contacts to the Agency, not the
other way around. Considering that Chris and I sold like two Furies, it was a
big loss to the agency. In short, for a change they were royally screwed, not
the client.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But, as my
old partner also used to say, "Fuck 'em, if they can't take a joke."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And so, on
that particular day, we got out our Rolodexes and started making a list of
agencies we thought might make us a buck or three, and of producers and fellow
writers to call to see what they thought of their own personal Ten Percenters.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Now, don't
get me wrong. I've been honorably represented in Tinsel Town for nearly twenty
years by Lew Weitzman, bossman of Preferred Artists. (The only Hollywood agent
I've ever met who actually Reads.) And I've had the same literary agents - Russ
Galen (U.S.) and Danny Baror (Foreign) since Chris and I first broke into the
book business. (Literary agents almost always Read. The reason for this
discrepancy is that most Hollywood agents went to some Bean Counting School,
with a minor in son-of-a-bitchedness; while Literary agents were usually
Liberal Arts majors, with minors - like Russ - in things like Russian
literature. (Lew, by the way, has the fascinating avocation of being an
Internationally renowned amateur Barbershop Quartet performer.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Anyway,
before our fortuitous introduction to Lew many years into the game, Agent
Madness ruled the day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxlsGSgZltGRPCZrCoJYQBhDHyBXsGghL1Tj_GGwt6-ROkBBlCENQlw_tLutcKUCeg2bXEkAqCZBlYNwV6GqLzll4mmW_fCOdNkZOs2jqW3bTIIDP4nI6bD9QTcOyzpX94Gsn3C1MY0o/s1600/lady-and-the-lion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxlsGSgZltGRPCZrCoJYQBhDHyBXsGghL1Tj_GGwt6-ROkBBlCENQlw_tLutcKUCeg2bXEkAqCZBlYNwV6GqLzll4mmW_fCOdNkZOs2jqW3bTIIDP4nI6bD9QTcOyzpX94Gsn3C1MY0o/s200/lady-and-the-lion.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I began
these MisAdventures with <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/05/blond-all-over-lady-and-lion.html">The Blond All Over Lady And The Lion,</a> the tale of one
of our early attempts to land an agent. It's a pretty amusing story, but if you
read between the lines you'll maybe see just how desperate Chris and I were to
find representation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Everybody
will tell you that you can't work without an agent, and no agent will take you,
unless you have work experience. Well, Everybody is right.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
What they
don't tell you, is that there are worse things than the above-mentioned
Literary Catch-22. Because, once you've landed an agent, ten will get you
twenty that he'll turn out to be exactly the wrong guy. And if you're not
careful he'll sink your career before you get started. (I say "He"
because in my salad days most of the breed were of that sex. And don't think
the "She" agents were any better. They were not.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Before we
got our break, I used to swing by Chris' house after work, where'd we would put
in five or six hours writing scripts, book proposals, and dialing for
agents. (On Monday, my day off, we'd put in a full eight hours or more.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
One day,
when I rode up on my motorcycle, Chris was out by the garage tightening the
chain of his beautifully chopped Kawasaki Z - which had been blown out from 900
cc's to something that would do an honest 150 miles an hour, with quite a bit
of goose left in the throttle. (Don't sneer. This was 1976 and a 150-mph
motorcycle was damned good. Didn't stop worth shit, but it sure could go.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He rose
from his task, wiping grease from his hands, a big grin pasted on his face.
"Shit fire, Cole and the save the matches," he said. "Think I
got us an actual agent."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
This was,
indeed, momentous news. While I helped him put stuff away, he explained.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Guy's
name is Harold Greene." (I think that might have been the agent's name...
it has been so long I'm not sure. But whatever his name, in his day he was well
known. For most writers, landing him would have been a big catch.) "We
sent him some of our stuff a couple of weeks ago, remember?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I
certainly did. In those days, we believed (wrongly) that our scripts had to be
presented with a trick cover, purchased at great expense from a Hollywood
script copying company, who also made duplicates of the scripts for us. We
thought it made us look more "professional." In point of fact, it
just showed what Rubes we were. If the agents sent out the script to potential
buyers, they discarded the cover, made many, many ink-smeared copies on a lousy
Xerox machine and Bob's Your Uncle. (The one you avoided at family gatherings
when you were a kid.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Also, just
the trip to the post office for the mailing had been a big deal. We saw that
simple act as a possible breakthrough. You see, no legitimate agent will even
consider talking to a Writer Wannabe, unless they've seen some material that impresses
them. Remembering, of course, that in the first place, almost nobody will deign
to even glance at a hit letter offering to send samples of your work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The polite
ones will have their "girls" reply with a boiler-plate letter
(e-mail, these days) explaining that the agency is not taking on "new
talent at this time." The rude ones won't bother replying. Most of the
ones that do get back to you, have a sneaky hand out to stick in your pocket.
(First rule of professional writing: If anybody asks you for money, run, don't
walk, to the nearest exit. The whole idea is that People Pay You, not the other
way around. If they want your money for any reason whatsoever, they are
thieves. There are no exceptions to this rule.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But back
to Harold (I think) Greene. Chris said, "He sounded like an okay guy on
the phone. Kind of brusque, but after dealing with all these mealy mouths, it
was refreshing."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"So,
he liked our stuff?" I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
chuckled and said, "Here's how old Harold put it. He said - Read your shit
and it's not as bad as some of the crap that's crossed my desk." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I got my
back up. "Well, fuck him," I said. "We worked our asses off on
that shit. How dare he..." I stopped, realized what I was saying, then
laughed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Let's
get a drink," I said. "Tell me all about it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In the
house, a pair of Scotches standing guard in front of us, Chris filled me in.
"The script that really caught his eyes was Wolves That Remain." This
was an SF piece we'd done - an after-the-fall sort of thing with a pretty cool
hero, a damned good McGuffin, a worthy villain, and lots of bang-bangs, you're
fucking dead!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
added, "Old Harold said he had a producer who does - and I quote -
bullshit like that - and might be interested."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Does
that mean he wants to sign us?" I asked, torn between hopefulness - we'd
maybe finally landed an Actual Agent - and did I really want a guy who called
our Shit, shit?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
shrugged. "Said he'd rep us on this deal and if it worked out, he'd see if
he wanted to stick with us." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Still
wary, I said, "Did you tell him that we might be newbies, but we were By
God WGA Member-newbies. And will not only demand, but are required to demand,
Guild minimum on any deal?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We'd
qualified for membership in the Screenwriter's Guild (WGAW) through the sale of
a movie about the Lost Dutchman mine. The movie was never made - but it still
got our WGA ticket punched and offset the staggering cost of joining the Guild.
Oh, yeah. Another thing you need to know. If you want to work as a writer in
La-La-Land you not only have to have an agent, but be a member of the WGA. As
you may gather, the roadblocks to success as a screenwriter are rather
formidable. Our wise old producer buddy Al Godfrey used to say, "Success
in This Town is ten percent talent and 90 percent Tenacity." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
told him all that," Chris said. "And he said if we checked our WGA
deal book there's a newbie clause. Producers get to pay you fifty percent of
the minimum on the first two deals."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"We
got full boat for the Dutchman," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
told him that too," Chris said. "The clause still holds. And since
the guy who will probably buy Wolves is a low bucks producer, part of Old
Harold's selling point will be that he'll get fifty percent off the going
price."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I thought
a minute. But, not more. A hundred percent of Zero Equals Zero. 'Nough said -
or, more accurately - Nought Said. And the big plus was that it just might lead
us one step closer to Every Writer's Dream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You see
how they've got you by the short and curlies before you even start, Gentle
Reader? A writer (or artist of any kind) is looking to fulfill a dream. You
want to make a living, to be sure. Pay the rent or mortgage. Put shoes on your
kids' feet. Get the wife a second frock, and so on. The flip side of the coin
is The Guys Who Do The Buying. They are only looking to fatten their bank
accounts, never mind the Dreams Of Art, bee-ess. (In the old days, Buyers were
called "Impresarios." They were still all money-grubbing bastards,
but they were, at heart, Showmen.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGgwVR7Ln6IEAtwoLRHXXDM0QMRu2YmsvB0GtPuSo97eC6BgugP0kqjHl2f-9_AnOApcd4PwDLw_7xS1WtBTjvO87F9PV_7UBnbN0Pom5jU5stgX8ipRlWoD0rWTCH-90H7wQADLrFJR8/s1600/foxy_brown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGgwVR7Ln6IEAtwoLRHXXDM0QMRu2YmsvB0GtPuSo97eC6BgugP0kqjHl2f-9_AnOApcd4PwDLw_7xS1WtBTjvO87F9PV_7UBnbN0Pom5jU5stgX8ipRlWoD0rWTCH-90H7wQADLrFJR8/s200/foxy_brown.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pam Grier</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The guy we
were to meet with was a low bucks producer/director by the name of Robert
Hartford-Davis. He specialized in scary movies, Sci-Fi movies, car-chase
movies, and Black Exploitation movies, which were all the rage then. (Guys, if
you've never seen Pam Grier in <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3bhcme8">"Foxy Brown" </a>and movies of that ilk,
hit Amazon.com this minute. Then see why Tarantino
loved Ms. Grier so much that he made her the star of his classic: Jackie
Brown.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Come the
day of the meeting, we made our first trip to MGM. Okay, it was my second trip,
my partner's first. I'd met with Logan's Run director Michael Anderson in a
screening room at MGM when he was finalizing the scoring of the film. The
meeting was due to chance, and Anderson's kindness. We'd been introduced at a
party for the Surgical Tech Advisor for M.A.S.H. (the movie, not the TV series)
and I'd convinced him to read one of our scripts. At the meeting he said he
liked the script, and would see what he could do. In other words, don't hold
your breath, kid. But he did it in a very nice way that was actually
encouraging.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>***</b></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>PAUSE FOR
SCANDALOUS ASIDE</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
surgical tech advisor I was speaking of, was one Dr. David Sachs, a famous
heart transplant surgeon and professor at UCLA Medical School. (This was in the
early transplant days, so the fame was even wider than today.) He had a brief
appearance in the film as a surgical-masked face bent over a patient whose
chest was being cracked by either Eliot Gould, or Donald Sutherland, I forget
which.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Anyway,
Dr. Sachs became so enamored with Hollywood he was convinced that he was only a
few PR Shout Outs from becoming a leading-man-type Movie Star. (Eat your heart
out, Clark Gable ) He just about abandoned his practice, took leave from the
university, and hired a PR man, a manager... the full boat. The party in Bel
Air that I attended was as a newspaper man looking for material for my daily
column.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Sachs'
dream never got off the ground and he was later arrested on suspicion of
supplying (for free) pharmaceutical-grade cocaine to Hollywood types he was
trying to impress. Sort of the medical version of the casting couch, but with
prison time attached.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Besides
meeting the nice Mr. Anderson I got two gifts from that party. The initial
column about the famous heart surgeon giving it all up for (self) promised Big
Screen glory. And the follow-up column after the good doctor was made to do the
Perp Walk. (That's how The Media works. We build you up, then take you down. We
get the sales both ways.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>***</b></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>RESUME STORY</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<a href="http://tinyurl.com/3vp4cso">RobertHartford-Davis </a>was a red-faced British rogue who
looked more like a hard-drinking Fleet Street hack than a movie director. We
quite liked him. He had a young man with male-model looks for a "personal
assistant," and a younger, West Hollywood surfer dude type with blond
streaks in his hair for a gofer. He also had a wealth of Oscar Wilde and Noel
Coward jokes, and delighted us with them over several meetings.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The main
thing, though, was that Hartford-Davis was a "Theaters-And-Drive-Ins
Near-You" pro from way back and was hellishly good at scanning a script,
running a budget calculator in his head, and spotting those
popcorn-sales-killing soft spots in a scene all at the same time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He sat at
his desk and we stood on either side of him while he flipped through the pages,
scratching out entire scenes, scribbling a few words of transition, making this
quick suggestion and that, and in less than an hour he was handing us back the
script, and telling us to go thou and write. In other words, we were officially
hired.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and
I were suitably impressed and edified. We went thou and wrote, got more notes,
did another draft, then another, and another until Hartford-Davis said we'd
finally gotten it - if not right, close enough for Horseshoes, Hand Grenades
and the Drive-In circuit. Writing many drafts of a script or a book is a drag,
but it is a necessary part of the process, and besides, we got a crash course
in Film Writing for free. Never mind it was a cheapie shoot'em-up. The same
basic rules apply for a classy drama, or flatulent-ridden teenage comedy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And thank
the gods for that lesson, because it's the only thing we got out of it. You
see, there was a wee problem with the money. Which was not revealed until Mr.
Hartford-Davis fell over with a heart attack.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Oh, yeah.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He wasn't
dead, just in hiatus for a bit until The Ultimate Executive Producer eventually
called him to that Great Movie Set In The Sky, where he is no doubt surrounded
by handsome-young Angels and entertaining them with Noel Coward and Oscar Wilde
jokes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
About the
money problem: At the start, old Harold had told us that they'd come to an
agreement about the price - half of whatever Guild minimum was in those days
for a low bucks movie. Usually, you are paid a certain percentage down for the
story, another percentage for the completed first draft screenplay, and a final
percentage for the completion of a second draft and a polish.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
For
obvious reasons, in this case the story money was due the moment we gave
Hartford-Davis our spec screenplay of Wolves That Remain. Then we'd written not
just a first draft off that screenplay, but also a second draft and many, many
drafts more and never mind the polish because we rewrote the sucker once or
twice after that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Meanwhile,
we were on the phone a couple times a week with Old Harold asking about the
payments. The calls usually went like this:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris: Did
we ever get that check from Hartford-Davis?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: Don't worry, boys. I got that shit covered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Me: What
about the contract? We haven't seen it yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: Contract? Shit, that's no biggie. We settled on the price, that's the
main thing. And, get this, I got you boys a nice fucking bonus when he shoots
your piece of shit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris:
What do you mean, the contract's no biggie? We've been writing our asses off
and haven't seen a dime. And no words on paper promising same.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Me: Did he
even sign the contract yet?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: Not his fault. I've gotta get my girl to whip up a Deal Letter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris:
Deal letter? What's that? Like a contract or something?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: (sarcastic chuckle) Man, you guys are really fucking green. Don't worry
about that shit. I've seen cases where whole movies were shot and delivered
before a contract even showed up. We've got Bobby's (Hartford-Davis) fucking
word. That's good enough for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Me: Yeah,
but do you have his check? I'd feel a whole lot better if we were banking some
of his Good Word.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: (tired sigh) Okay, boys. I'll hustle things along. Now, you go make
those fucking changes he asked for.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And, once
again, Old Harold would brush us off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
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Come the
day when we see in Variety that Robert Hartford-Davis of "Black Gunn"
and "Bloodsuckers" fame was recovering in Saint Joseph's Hospital (a
Santa Monica hospital favored by Hollywood types) from a heart attack. And all
of his projects had been put on "hiatus." A list of those titles followed.
And, guess what? Ours was not among them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We sent
flowers and a nice note to the hospital, (despite the problems we really did
like the guy) then called Old Harold.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: Ah, fucking fuck, boys. I heard about poor Bobby. A shame. A real
fucking shame.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Me: We
sent flowers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: Good idea. I'll get my girl to send around some posies too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris:
What about our fucking money, Harold? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: (sighing) Yeah, yeah. I was gonna call you about that... Never did get
that deal letter signed, you know?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Me: Did
you even send it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: (sounding shocked - Shocked!) Jesus, Allan. What do you think I am?
Been in this business for Twenty fucking years, for Christ's sake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Me: Should
I take that as a Yes?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: Well, there were certain little contingencies that we hadn't gotten
straight yet. And then we had to-<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris:
(Breaking in) Aw, fuck!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Me: Talk
to you later, Harold.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Old
Harold: Yeah, guys, let's do lunch soon and maybe we can talk about some of
your other shit. Probably something in there - you never can tell.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We hung
up. Never did lunch. Never spoke with Old Harold again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And, once
again, we were two writers Desperately Seeking An Agent.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;"><b>NEXT: HOW
ROCK HUDSON (SORT OF) HELPED US GET AN AGENT</b></span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p><b>*****</b></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JLR69tS7YkQkvUr7JPa0C2QQx_Ta470u4JdFK6PxCzF7e3-Hbs4vbTLVNHDM7503N-FMUioXW3GCzsF32HTANjRH9AMuAw6ipIRC3UUb-5ZL1f7tQXMrKE9O-y0oUHWr83jx1TjQGp0/s1600/combine3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JLR69tS7YkQkvUr7JPa0C2QQx_Ta470u4JdFK6PxCzF7e3-Hbs4vbTLVNHDM7503N-FMUioXW3GCzsF32HTANjRH9AMuAw6ipIRC3UUb-5ZL1f7tQXMrKE9O-y0oUHWr83jx1TjQGp0/s320/combine3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. It is available now. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">(Click this link to buy it.)</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">(Click this link to buy it.)</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Coming in November: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. In the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> following months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b></b></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>*****</b></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s1600/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s200/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-28678616733507973372012-10-12T07:29:00.000-04:002012-10-12T07:29:43.818-04:00THE REAL STARS OF HOLLYWOOD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>"I am involved in a freedom ride protesting the loss of the minority rights belonging to the few remaining earthbound stars. All we demand is our right to twinkle.<br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marilyn_monroe">.....Marilyn Monroe</a><br /><br />"Where are the real stars? Today it`s four-barreled carburetor and that`s it."<br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Mitchum">...............Robert Mitchum</a><br /><br />"Bogart's a helluva nice guy until around 11:30 every night. After that he thinks he's Bogart."<br />............David Chasen - Founder of Chasen's Restaurant, Circa 1950's.</b><br />
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<b>***</b></div>
"I've been fortunate enough to work with - and befriend - many of the stars of the past," Julie Adams said, crossing her long fine legs. "I'm doubly blessed to be able to count a few of them as dear, dear friends."<br />
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Julie was visiting us in our office at Code Red, a series helmed by Irwin (The Towering Toupee) Allen, which was so dismal that even Julie and her co-star, Lorne Greene, couldn't rescue it. (See Episode #36 - Julie Adams: <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2010/06/lady-even-monsters-fell-for.html">The Lady Even Movie Monsters Fell For.</a> For the full Hollywood Monte of Code Red, check out Episodes #28 through #37 of <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/01/misadventures-thus-far.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+MyHollywoodMisadventures+%28MY+HOLLYWOOD+MISADVENTURES%29&utm_content=Google+Feedfetcher">The MisAdventures Thus Far)</a><br />
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"Who was your favorite?" I asked.<br />
<br />
Julie smiled, and said, "Oh, I couldn't choose any particular one. And there were so many stars in Hollywood those days. When I was at MGM the studio's motto was that 'There are more stars at MGM, than in all the heavens.' A publicist's concoction, to be sure. But when you were walking around the lot seeing them all, it didn't seem like such an exaggeration."<br />
<br />
She leaned forward, voice becoming conspiratorial. "I wouldn't want to diminish the talents or screen presence of the new generation," she said, "But stars were... well... actually Stars, in those days. There's really no comparison."<br />
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<br />
Warming to the topic, she said, "I like to count <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shirley_maclaine">Shirley (MacLaine)</a> among my friends - we met at MGM... she was doing a romantic comedy, I was doing a Western... and I remember this delicious story she liked to tell.<br />
<br />
"You might not know this, but Shirley was an unofficial member of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_sinatra">Frank's (Sinatra)</a> Rat Pack. A lot of actresses like to claim membership these days. But there were really only a few - 'Broads,' as Frank might say - who were welcome members of the Pack.<br />
<br />
"<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lauren_Bacall">Lauren Bacall</a> was the Rat Pack's 'Den Mother,' because the original chief rat packer was her husband, Bogie. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Humphrey_Bogart">(Humphrey Bogart)</a>." Julie gave a little musical laugh. "And there was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judy_garland">Judy Garland,</a> of course. If for no other reason than she was Judy Garland.<br />
<br />
"And, of course, there was Shirley. You can't imagine... She's lovely now, of course. Beautiful, talented, and oh, so sweet. But when she was young.... Well, she had this quality - she could stop a man's heart with a look. Or stir the mothering urge in a woman."<br />
<br />
Chris laughed. "She stopped my teenage heart a helluva lot," he said. "She has this... quality... on the screen."<br />
<br />
"Star quality," Julie agreed. "Which brings me back to my story - or, Shirley's story, really. She and some of the other rat packers were having lunch at the MGM commissary one day.<br />
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<br />
"Frank was there, of course...And <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dean_Martin">Dean (Martin)</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sammy_Davis,_Jr.">Sammy (Davis Jr.)</a> and Peter (Lawford), naturally. She didn't mention Joey (Bishop), so I suppose he wasn't in attendance.<br />
<br />
"Well Shirley said Frank was at his best. Cracking jokes, trading jibes with the others. She said he was so full of life that day, his eyes so blue they would break your heart. And you could see right then why so many people - especially women - adored him.<br />
<br />
"But, then Frank spotted someone coming into the commissary and suddenly fell silent. Shirley and all the other looked, and in came <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clark_Gable">Clark Gable!</a><br />
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<br />
She said he looked so handsome... so... so... Clark Gable that she had to catch her breath. He walked right by their table, turned slightly and flashed them that glorious Gable smile in greeting. And then he vanished among the tables.<br />
<br />
"And Shirley said she heard Frank murmur in absolute awe: 'Now, there goes a Real Star!"<br />
<br />
Julie chuckled that musical chuckle she had. And she repeated, "'There goes a Real Star....' "And from the mouth of one of the greatest."<br />
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<b>* * *</b></div>
I'll always remember that conversation, and the prickles running up my spine listening to how Frank Sinatra, a star himself, was overwhelmed by the likes of Gable, and, presumably others like him in those days now known as Hollywood's Golden Era.<br />
<br />
And I think of it often when I hear people call this actor, or that actress, a <i>Superstar</i>. We seem to confer that status on anyone who is the latest box office and scandal sheet darling. In many cases, the person's sole talent is the ability to avoid falling over cables while posing before a Blue Screen. Not just a Star - but a By God <i>Superstar</i>. One word! Not two.<br />
<br />
The Age Of Aquarius has instead become the Age Of Empty Superlatives.<br />
<br />
So, what's a Real Star? I guess it's like the guy said about art - "I know it when I see it." (Or was he speaking about porn?) Here's a page from my own scrapbook of Star memories:<br />
<br />
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<br />
When I was about twenty or so, I took care of Jack Kelly's house (the other <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maverick_(TV_series)">Maverick</a>) for a few months while he and his soon-to-be-ex-wife Donna, went through the throes of divorce (Donna Kelly's stage name was May Wynn. A former Copa Girl, Donna was also known for her small part as the only woman in the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0046816/">Caine Mutiny</a> and as the (not-so) former girlfriend of Mafioso Boss <a href="http://www.americanmafia.com/Feature_Articles_155.html">Jack Entratter</a>, who ran the Sands, in Las Vegas. (Entratter reportedly put a "hit" order out on Jack when he and Donna eloped. They fled to Hong Kong, where they cooled their heels while doing an awful movie - the aptly named <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0051735/">"Hong Kong Affair."</a>)<br />
<br />
The Kellys had three poodles - a standard, Misty, a medium sized one, Sammy, and a tiny one, Mitzy that suffered epileptic fits, poor thing. One of my jobs was to exercise them a couple of times a day, being extra careful with Mitzy.<br />
<br />
The Kelly's lived on Sunset Boulevard in a stretch where a lot of stars had homes - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jane_Mansfield">Jayne Mansfield's</a> house was two doors up. Beyond her was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Backus">Jim Backus</a>. And next door to Mr. Magoo was none other than <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Matthau">Walter Matthau.</a><br />
<br />
<b>PAUSE SCENE FOR QUICK ASIDE</b><br />
<br />
I used to have friends over and we'd sit in the windowed breakfast nook that looked out on Sunset Boulevard, drinking frozen daiquiris and playing cards. When the Star Tour buses went by, pausing to show off the home of TV star Jack Kelly, we'd wave at the tourists and give them a thrill! ("Oh, look, Myrtle, that must be Jack Kelly and his chums!")<br />
<br />
<b>RESUME ACTION</b><br />
<br />
Mr. Matthau had dog-walking chores of his own and we'd pass each other now and again, strolling along the back gate of UCLA. (Sometimes you'd see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elvis_presley">Elvis Presley</a> out on the field playing touch football with his entourage.) Anyway, Matthau would pass by, nod in greeting and say, "Hello, young fella," and continue on,<br />
<br />
Years later Chris and I landed a Story Editor gig at MGM. <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/04/movie-rock-mogul-of-mgm.html">(See The Movie Rock Mogul)</a> One day we were standing in line at the commissary, (the very same one in the Gable story) waiting to be seated, when in walked Walter Matthau.<br />
<br />
He hesitated, looked out across the room, spotted the people he was meeting, and started toward them. But, then he noticed me. Paused for a minute. Frowned that patented Matthau-Beagle frown.<br />
<br />
Then his eyes lit up and he said, "You're the kid with the poodles, right?"<br />
<br />
I was so star struck all I could stammer was "Yessir, Mr. Matthau," and he gave me a smile and continued on - with that long, loping Matthau stride.<br />
<br />
Damn. Now there was a Real Star.<br />
<br />
But, that's not all, folks.<br />
<br />
A few years drifted by. A young actress friend <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0695222/">(Laurie Prange)</a> landed the ingénue part in Sean O'Casey's Juno And The Paycock, starring none other than the original Odd-Couple - Walter Matthau and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Lemon">Jack Lemon.</a><br />
<br />
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<br />
It was at the LA Music Center downtown and our friend left four tickets at the box office for me and Chris, his true love, Karen, and my wife, Kathryn. During intermission, Laurie came to escort us backstage to meet Matthau and Lemon. (I hadn't told Laurie that Matthau and I had sort of met before.)<br />
<br />
She led us to the dressing room, and the two of them were in there, door open, joking with each other and passing a bottle of Scotch back and forth. Half in and half out of costume, makeup smeared. Talking to beat the band to keep revved up.<br />
<br />
Laurie introduced us and right away Matthau recognized me, poked Lemon, and said, "Hey, Jack, it's the Poodles Kid."<br />
<br />
Then he explained how we used to walk our dogs together on Sunset, making it sound way more than it was, but making me feel like a king.<br />
<br />
Then he said, "You doing okay, Kid?"<br />
<br />
I said I was a writer now and he said "Good for you," and that was that. We tactfully withdrew, then went back out to enjoy the remainder of the play.<br />
<br />
To echo Sinatra once more, "There goes a Real Star."<br />
<br />
<b>NEXT: HOW MANY HOLLYWOOD AGENTS DOES IT TAKE TO SCREW A CLIENT</b><br />
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. It is available now. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">(Click this link to buy it.)</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">(Click this link to buy it.)</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Coming in November: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. In the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> following months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>*****</b></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s1600/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s200/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
</div>
<b>*****</b></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-31654920773400320672012-10-05T07:38:00.000-04:002012-10-05T07:38:01.482-04:00TRACKING CARLOS LEHDER TO HIS LAIR<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2agTSEV2ZuE4hXX2IpK2HxCBNj1hrxuVS2gSV4i9gDWodvAWsp3HYWg42usU1-jZzmLEq9s-_EyJSxWHXseTvETBZ5fURbQJkkD_jU64_jlGz3A1WhR04ZTYY63BWlBqqhu2aJZCzx64/s1600/tracking_gun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2agTSEV2ZuE4hXX2IpK2HxCBNj1hrxuVS2gSV4i9gDWodvAWsp3HYWg42usU1-jZzmLEq9s-_EyJSxWHXseTvETBZ5fURbQJkkD_jU64_jlGz3A1WhR04ZTYY63BWlBqqhu2aJZCzx64/s320/tracking_gun.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carlos's Golden Gun</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>"I
consider myself just another member of the crew. But the highest paid member of
the crew." (William Friedkin )</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p> </o:p>***</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<o:p> </o:p>The DEA
Agent said, "So there I was in this motel in Haiti, a girl who was not my
wife in the shower, suffering from the hangover from hell, when some son of a
bitch starts hammering on the God damned door."</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "But you were armed, right? Even though the local cops were dirty,
they let you keep your piece, yeah?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent nodded. He said, "I took it with me to answer the door. First I
peeked through the curtains. I figured it was probably the Perp I was after and
a couple of his Cracker thugs come to say good morning."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"Like maybe you'd blown your cover at the disco the night before? Even
though you'd taken a whore home with you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent sighed. "Yeah, even after doing that." He stubbed out his
cigarette and lit another. He said, "Some guys, when you're hunting them,
get prickles up the back of their neck, even if they don't know for a fact that
you're there."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "In Snake Eater's School they taught us that the first rule of the
ambush is to never stare at the enemy. Just quick looks until you are ready to
shoot." He shrugged. "Critters - even human-type critters - can sense
when you are looking at them with ill intent on your mind."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Yeah,
like that," the DEA Agent said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"So
was it the bad guys?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent snorted. "Depends on your definition of bad. The guy at the door was
the Port Au Prince police chief who'd given me the brush off before. Him, and a
couple of Haitian plainclothes cops. Mirrored sun glasses. Mean looks. Like the
Tonton Macoute from the days of Baby Doc Duvailer. Probably the same guys who
tailed me when I was shadowing the Perp to his villa."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Shit,"
Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
was thinking the same thing," the DEA Agent said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What
did you do?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"First,
I put the gun away," the DEA Agent said. "Then I opened the
door." He paused a beat, reliving the scene, then said, "The police
chief acted real friendly. Charming smile. Easy manner. I asked him to come in.
He did, but to my relief he told the Tonton types to wait outside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
gave him the only chair and sat on the bed. We could hear the shower running
and then it cut off. He gave me this man-to-man... you-sly-dog-you... look. But
he wasn't there to talk about the girl, and she was savvy enough to stay in the
bathroom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then,
out of the blue, he tells me that it had come to his attention that a certain
fugitive from American justice was in their country and he had been told to
kick the guy out of Haiti. It was like we had never talked before."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Was
he offering to help you arrest him?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent shook his head. "He wasn't going that far. But he was alerting me to
the fact that the guy I had been sent here to find - along with his buddies -
had been declared persona non grata in Haiti and once they cleared Haitian air
space, they were all mine."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Yeah,
but the Cracker could easily hire a plane and take off for anywhere in the
world," I pointed out. "Head for Columbia and the protection of
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carlos_Lehder">Carlos Lehder.</a>"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"He
certainly could," the DEA Agent said. "And probably would any minute
now, because the next thing the police chief told me was that he'd just come
from the Perp's house and had told him the jig was up and he had to leave the
country."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"In
other words," Chris said, "he was giving the Son Of A Bitch a head
start."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Exactly,"
the DEA Agent said. "I learned later that my bosses had pulled some
strings and gotten State to warn the Haitians that certain foreign aid they were
expecting might be delayed if they didn't do something about my boy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"On
the other hand, my Perp had paid out plenty for protection, so the Chief
probably felt he had some obligation, no matter how slight. And so he gave him
a head start."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"You
must have really busted ass to get to the airport on time," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And
then some," he said. "Got the chief out of there, gave the girl a nice
tip - she knew something was up and that I wasn't an ordinary John and was
terrified. I called the embassy and got them to hustle a plane big enough to
carry all my prisoners."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "Just you? You were going to confront all those guys by yourself?
Shit, you didn't have enough cuffs, much less enough rounds in your
piece."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
was winging it," the DEA Agent said. "Figured I'd get there then
punt. But when I got to the airport - damn if it didn't look like I was too
late. I saw the Perp and six or seven of his guys - and a couple of women -
walking across the tarmac to this little passenger jet. Boy, was I out of
time."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What
the fuck did you do?" Chris asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"First
thought that came into my head was the tower," the DEA Agent said. "I
raced to the Control Tower, grabbed the guys there, showed them my badge and my
gun and said to stop that plane or the whole fucking U.S. government was going
to fall on their heads.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"For
some reason, my bluff worked. When the Perp's pilot radioed for permission to
take off, they stalled him. But, they also got on the phone to talk to their
own bosses. So, I pushed somebody aside, grabbed his phone, called the embassy
again, and said they'd better have a plane for me right this fucking minute or
we were screwed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
figured the police chief would be on his way to stop me any second, so I rushed
out onto the tarmac, ran up to the Perp's plane and hammered on the side until
the door came open. Some stew was looking out at me, blinking and scared. I
showed her my badge and my gun and said everybody on the plane was under
arrest."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Fuck
me," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"It
sort of worked, because the Perp came out to argue with me, followed by his
guys. For some reason, nobody was showing guns but me so they must have thought
I had the whole U.S. Army backing my act.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then,
while they're yelling at me, and I'm yelling back, up rolls a bus from the
embassy. Door comes open and the guy behind the wheel... a uniformed embassy
security man... shouts for everybody to get on board, the plane was
waiting."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and
I were staring at the DEA Agent in absolute awe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And
they did?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Well,
the Perp hesitated at first," the DEA Agent said. "But then we both
saw - way across the field - a whole line of big black cars coming our way. All
with their light bars flashing. Well, I know it just has to be the police chief
coming to stop me, but the Perp didn't know that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"He
looked at me, a little scared, and asked what was happening. I said, 'If you
don't want to get thrown into a Haitian prison for the rest of your fucking
life you'd better come with me.' <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And,
damn, if he didn't. He practically ran to the bus, his people behind him, and
they all piled inside. I came after them, then it was a race in the bus to
where the embassy had the plane. All the cop cars coming behind us. They were
faster, of course, but we had a lead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"A
lead that was almost gone when we got to the plane. It had a U.S. flag on the
side and when the Perp saw it he said, 'It's American, thank God!'"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Son
of a bitch fooled himself," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent nodded. "Didn't take any effort for me to get them all off the bus
and into the plane. Some more embassy security guys were there and they took over
the business of disarming and taking people into custody."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What
about the police chief?" I asked. "What happened with him?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent gave one of his rare laughs. He said, "The Haitian cops pulled up
beside the plane and the Chief got out. At first he looked furious. I thought
he might order everybody to start shooting. But, then he calmed down. He got on
the radio for instructions, while I stood there at the open door wondering what
was going to happen next. Would they arrest me? Block the plane from leaving
and free the fugitives?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Instead,
he hands the mike back to the driver, turns to me and gives me a little,
half-assed salute, then climbs into the car and leads the cop convoy off the
runway."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Friedkin's
gonna love this shit," Chris said, scribbling notes like crazy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent said, "But that's not the really weird part."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"It
got weirder, still?" I said. I was already dumbfounded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Oh,
boy, did it," the DEA Agent said. "Okay, so we're all on the plane
and the Perp and his friends are congratulating themselves for their narrow
escape. It took everything I had not to laugh in their faces. Then everybody
gets something to eat... talking like crazy... it's gets late, but they are too
excited to sleep.. and I'm wondering when they are going to figure out what
happened and try to stage a rebellion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then
all of a sudden the pilot announced that we had just crossed into U.S. airspace
and the Perp and all his friends cheered and applauded like crazy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then,
out of the blue, the Perp starts singing, 'God Bless America,' and everybody
joins in. Singing, with tears running down their faces - so happy to be back in
The Land Of The Free."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And
then you threw their asses in jail for the rest of their fucking lives,"
Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent grimaced. "Almost felt sorry for them." He raised a finger.
"But, only almost."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And
they also gave you Carlos," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent grinned. "They couldn't fink fast enough," he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
DISSOLVE
TO: INT. BASEMENT - JACKSONVILLE FEDERAL COURTHOUSE <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent showed us around a big basement under the Jacksonville Federal Building,
stuffed with evidence used in the trial of Carlos Lehder And Associates. Agents
in shirts and ties and wearing shoulder holsters were moving through the
evidence, cataloguing it for shipment to wherever it is they keep evidence
against the Forever Damned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MWkgqIU2gmo3BzvTjU8bsMiSnUVaIEsVMOD5PigoDWBnfrhiFDZbXpVnBlFMHhcyqf3KCKlQpMSLtksPdv23jERvclx9dsWxYhF0Km1dJMtxosymQ2dWZC3OAVbuWETzCa4xbl5Ey48/s1600/tracking_coke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MWkgqIU2gmo3BzvTjU8bsMiSnUVaIEsVMOD5PigoDWBnfrhiFDZbXpVnBlFMHhcyqf3KCKlQpMSLtksPdv23jERvclx9dsWxYhF0Km1dJMtxosymQ2dWZC3OAVbuWETzCa4xbl5Ey48/s320/tracking_coke.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coke Haul</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Two walls
were covered with pictures of beached speedboats, stacks of seized automatic
weapons and pistols with silencers, Caribbean island villas, a variety of
airplanes, including one seaplane, and mound after mound of cocaine in clear,
football-sized plastic bags.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris eyed
one of the cocaine photos and said, "Did you know that one of the Popes
always kept a flask of wine laced with cocaine on his belt? The Pope was Louis
Some-Roman-Numeral-Or-Other and the company that made the wine called it Vin
Mariani. His Holiness got it free for advertisement purposes."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent gave Chris a dirty look.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"He can't help it. He just knows shit like that."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent said, "Yeah, but he doesn't have to tell me."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"He can't help that either. Show him an authority figure and he'll give
the guy a Wedgie."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Figuring
he'd gone far enough, Chris pointed at a picture of an AK-47 that literally
glowed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He said,
"I know that's an AK, but what the hell did they do to it?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent snorted. "Had it God damned gold plated is what they did," he
said. "That's how much money Carlos was wallowing in. Got his entire gun
collection gold plated. Gave out gold-plated guns to his boys as a reward for
good work."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I
indicated a picture of the man I now knew to be Carlos Lehder. He was posing in
a black SS-type uniform, with what looked like an old German Lugar holstered at
his belt. Similarly dressed and booted men flanked him. On the wall behind them
was a huge red Swastika.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What
the hell is that all about?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent said, "Maybe it was his daddy's fault. Lehder's old man was a German
engineer, who escaped to Columbia after the war. Married a Columbian school
teacher.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Carlos
admired the hell out of Hitler. Thought the Fourth Reich would be along any day
now, and that his drug money would help arm a whole legion of Nazi soldiers.
After that, it got kookier.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I raised
an eyebrow. What could be kookier?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmZbAlUDPLDlSXG_1zmTacpIuIjfWlEvc3SItPCGfdx2nDXqLsXWTB5K0rRw3lN_x8ydKxlwtaEltWC_EnxPUXQuIJiKwNcX8ZNjxgYBIPdV9ZBb5fkwMwRvtzXUDa8MrClJb5kKeXm0/s1600/tracking_carlos2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmZbAlUDPLDlSXG_1zmTacpIuIjfWlEvc3SItPCGfdx2nDXqLsXWTB5K0rRw3lN_x8ydKxlwtaEltWC_EnxPUXQuIJiKwNcX8ZNjxgYBIPdV9ZBb5fkwMwRvtzXUDa8MrClJb5kKeXm0/s320/tracking_carlos2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carlos And Old Prison "Buddy" At The Cay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The DEA
Agent caught my look and said, "Carlos liked little boys - the younger the
better. He'd play Nazi dress up when he was with them. Put them in little SS
uniforms he had his tailor make up. On the other hand, he professed to hate
homosexuals, and would torture and kill any of his men he thought might be
Trolo limp-wrists."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"That
fuck head is one seriously disturbed dude," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then I
spotted another strange thing. Some of the evidence included expensive
furniture and goods seized from Carlos's island hideout in the Caribbean. Laid
against the concrete block wall of the cellar was a big slab of wood. It looked
like a piece of a ripped out wall, pocked with suspicious-looking holes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Are
those bullet holes?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Yeah,
that was from the big shootout when we raided the Cay where Carlos was holed
up," the DEA Agent said. "I told Billy (Friedkin) all about it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Mind
telling us, too?" I asked. I mean, shit, we were writing this thing, not
Billy. "First off, which Cay are we talking about? I mean, was it one of
the cays off Antigua, or Trinidad, or something?'<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent shook his head. "I can't say," he told me. "All I can tell
you is that it was a little Cay off a Caribbean island-nation that can't be
named. We had to get permission from the Prime Minister to stage the
raid." (It's now known that Carlos was holed up at Norman's Cay.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He looked
disgusted. "The asshole and his entire cabinet and police force were reportedly being
paid off by the drug cartels. We had to do some serious arm-twisting to get
permission for the raid. Part of the deal was that the details, including the
location, had to remain secret."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent paused, thinking it through. He looked at the other agents moving through
the cellar, clearly trying to Big Ear our conversation. Finally, he said,
"Why don't we adjourn for lunch? I'll fill you in over a few beers." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We were on
the second beer when he said, "Okay, here's what happened. The Americans
we busted had clued us in on Carlos's favorite midway station. It was that
little nameless Cay I mentioned. Dope would come in from Columbia, mainly by
plane, but also by boat, and it would be held there until my American Perp and
his guys flew in to do their thing. Sacks of cash for sacks of dope, and so on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"There
were over a dozen villas on the Cay, some small businesses, shops, a nightclub,
that sort of thing. But Carlos drove all the other residents out. Scared shit
out of them, then bought their places for ten cents on the dollar. So, he
basically had the whole Cay for himself and his crew - along with their
girlfriends and people to wait on them and do the scut work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"As
far as the merchants and the nightclub people were concerned, their ship had come
in with Carlos at the wheel. Money flowed from him like water and they were
wallowing in the stuff.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Eventually,
me and my partner made two trips to that Cay." He grinned at the memory,
saying, "It was real Navy SEAL shit. Dark of night. Rowing in from
something the Navy, or the Coasties had dug up for us just offshore. Blackened
faces... stealthy weapons... the whole enchilada.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"We
cased the island, spotted the planes, landing areas and the villas Carlos and
his boys were using. The other places were all boarded up and empty. At night,
it was one scary-looking island.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then
comes the big night for the big raid. Word was that Carlos Lehder himself was
in residence. We had to get further permission from the Prime Minister for the
raid, which bothered the hell out of us, but what could we do? The Brass said
we had to, so we had to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"So,
there were like twelve of us. I take one group... my partner the other. We
close in on the main villa.. the one we were pretty sure Carlos was at. And
damn, the whole place was lit up as if there was some kind of big party. But
there was no music... just guys shouting orders and revving engines.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then
all of a sudden vehicles bust out of the villa and are heading away. And people
start shooting. I don't know how it started - I just know it wasn't us shooting
first. Then everything goes crazy. Shouting and shooting and vehicles crashing
across the dunes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Me
and my guys got to the main house. We were taking fire like crazy. Then all of
a sudden the shooting inside the villa stopped and a couple of Latinos were
shouting in Spanish that they were surrendering.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Well,
we go in fast. Secure the prisoners. Give the house a fast search, but no
Carlos. And I am really pissed, but I'm hoping like hell that my partner and
his team managed to bag him. They'd gone charging over the dunes after the
vehicles, which were heading for the landing field.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjv5-V5YVUgEpOpNp8s20Io0wZ8GQgXv30SpdgR0Bk5_QEi3v8UIPv0YV-_GexhV_7Xw9QoQNr04GPQRgPUiPC7By7uE0SvshjaI4etGtlE37JJS3qpRLLczFv6GGnnXQm7XQtPir38U/s1600/tracking_jet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjv5-V5YVUgEpOpNp8s20Io0wZ8GQgXv30SpdgR0Bk5_QEi3v8UIPv0YV-_GexhV_7Xw9QoQNr04GPQRgPUiPC7By7uE0SvshjaI4etGtlE37JJS3qpRLLczFv6GGnnXQm7XQtPir38U/s320/tracking_jet.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One That Didn't Get Away</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"He
told me later there was an exchange of gunfire at the field, but the firefight
was pretty short. Everybody was too busy trying to scramble on planes. The
seaplane tried to take off, but they stopped it. But, son of a bitch, if a
couple of the other planes didn't manage to get away."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"So,
Carlos was gone," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent sighed. "Carlos was gone," he confirmed. "Obviously,
somebody in the government had tipped him off about the raid."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
called for another round and we all lit up fresh smokes. In the silence, my
partner and I scribbled more notes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Finally, I
asked, "What then?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What
else?" the DEA Agent said. "I followed him to Medellin."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We were
agog. Chris said, "By yourself?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Yeah,
by myself," the DEA Agent said. "My bosses didn't want any of us to
go. The way they saw it, we were hitting on all eight cylinders. We had
arrested all those American smugglers. Sure, Carlos escaped in the raid, but
we'd done him serious harm. Nobody on our side was hurt. But several of his
people were dead or wounded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Plus,
we seized a huge haul of cocaine. And money... shit there was so much money.
Stacks, and stacks of bills - all big bills. Filled up a whole damned room. We
even seized two money machines they used to count it. High speed machines - the
kind the major banks use."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"I saw them in the basement. Man, to think you've got so much money that
you need not one, but two special high speed machines to count it."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "The Brass wanted to declare victory."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Exactly,"
the DEA Agent said. "But I'd already spent six damned years on the case.
And I was all fired up and there was no way I was going to stop."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"So,
your bosses relented?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent snorted. "Not on your life. But I had vacation time coming, so I
took it. Then I bought myself a round trip ticket to Columbia, packed a bag and
headed for Medellin on my own dime."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He told us
that he made like an ordinary tourist, staying at a mid-priced hotel. He
couldn't bring his gun without alerting the authorities - guys he had reason
not to trust - so the week he spent there was a very nervous week.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
had a contact," he said. "A guy we sort of trusted, who provided us
with information now and again."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Sort
of trusted?" Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent shrugged. "He was a paid informant," he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I said,
"My dad always said that you could never trust a spy who did it solely for
money. The best information came from patriots who were pissed off at the way
their country was being run."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"That's
right, your dad was Agency," the DEA Agent said. He thought a second, then
added, "Your dad was right. At first the guy came on like my best friend.
He was taking me here and there, showing me the places where the Cartel did
their business, or had their pleasure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"He
even drove me out into the country, where Carlos kept house. I dressed like a
local and the two of us wandered around the little town there. He showed me the
police station, which was pretty fancy for such an unimportant place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"But
he said Carlos built it for the cops. And that he used to come by regularly,
like once a month, or more. And the local people would line up outside the
station and be escorted in, one-by-one, to meet El Patron. Carlos would
personally settle arguments, and pass out gifts of money and so forth, acting
like one of those kings in the Days Of Old."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then
the contact found out your were there on your own?" I guessed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent said, "Something like that. The main thing he realized was that I
didn't have any money for him. He was working gratis. And this was a guy who
made his living playing both sides.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Then,
one night, he set up a meet at a bar, but when I got there he didn't show.
"Instead, I saw some nasty-looking guys there who were acting way too
curious about me. So, I got the hell out. Next day, I took a plane home."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"So,
the trip was a waste of time," I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Not
really," the DEA Agent said. "Word got out that I had been in
Medellin. Well, not me, exactly. But somebody from the DEA. And it shook up the
Cartel bosses that we had no fear about sending people right into Carlos's
front yard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Also,
the raid on the Cay cost Carlos big. All that dope, all that money, all those
guns, all those planes and boats - gone! And before that, we had cut off one of
his main conduits to the States. The American Cracker and his gang. That made
Carlos look weak to the bosses. And there were already some younger guys
wanting to take his place."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He
shrugged, then said, "Next time we asked, the government suddenly agreed
that Carlos Lehder was one bad son of a bitch. And that he had not only broken
a lot of Columbian laws, but he'd done even worse things to their buddies, the
good old USA.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSUTlU2X0d1fBTDsxlTJXBbkDyxsGcBDP4CqgEHIclLtzhLJRIrxHrpJlWKSXCZv9WWYt_keVeNA1oiSI3v6XszMywUXVRKMaHoYmkZn4N93E2RQUGzqIRwDgh37MMhNwYVBxcerMqP8/s1600/tracking_carlos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSUTlU2X0d1fBTDsxlTJXBbkDyxsGcBDP4CqgEHIclLtzhLJRIrxHrpJlWKSXCZv9WWYt_keVeNA1oiSI3v6XszMywUXVRKMaHoYmkZn4N93E2RQUGzqIRwDgh37MMhNwYVBxcerMqP8/s320/tracking_carlos.jpg" width="182" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carlos Lehder</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"Then
they arrested him. Put him in chains. Ordered his ass extradited. So, we
stuffed him in a plane and flew him to Tampa for processing, then Jacksonville
to face trial." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And
that was the end of Carlos Lehder," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent leaned back in his chair, a wide smile on his face. "Yeah, he was
done."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and
I finished scrawling notes, then I asked, "Now, that it's all over... I
mean, you spent years on this case... and suddenly it's over. Doesn't that make
you feel weird? You have to admit that Carlos Lehder and the others became an
obsession. So, how do you motivate yourself out of bed these days?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The DEA
Agent looked weary. He said, "To my surprise, it bothered me a lot for a
time," he said. "But I have a new wife, and she keeps me settled
down." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then he
brightened. He said, "Besides, I've got myself a new goal. A new
target."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Anything
you can tell us about?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"Only
this," he said. "When I'm done here I'm flying to Aspen."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "Those poor fuckers in Aspen."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
DISSOLVE
TO: MY HOME AND OUR OFFICE IN VENICE BEACH.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and
I wrote up a thirty-page outline of Target: Carlos. Friedkin liked it, but had
a few suggested changes to make, then put us into script.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
One of the
changes he wanted involved telephones. He said he hated scenes where characters
exchanged information on the phone. He preferred to see them on camera -
face-to-face. We had a few scenes like that - after all, Crime is mainly
planned and carried out by phone. In those days, real life bad guys always kept
bags of coins at hand to use in a nice safe, unbugable pay phone. Anyway, if
Billy didn't want phones, we'd take out the phones. No problem. And I sort of
got his point.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I wonder,
however, if I asked him about it now what he'd say. With everyone carrying at
least one cell phone it would look unnatural if nobody used them. These days,
one of the things a writer has to figure out is how to set up the plot so that
the Good Guy can't get to their cell phone when the shit hits the fan. He
mislays it. Or, remarks that the battery is getting weak and either he's
misplaced the car charger, or there is no car. If not, the audience wonders,
why don't they just use their cell? Call 911? Turn out the cavalry?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then came
the day when we finished the first draft. Gave it a fast polish and messengered
the script over to Friedkin's office.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A little
over a week passed. The phone rang. Chris grabbed, heard the secretary say Mr.
Friedkin was on the line, and punched the speaker button so we could both
listen and talk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Billy came
on. "Boys," he said. "I'm back to where we started. I got some
good news and some bad news."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris and
I looked at each other. Oh, maaannn!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chris
said, "Last time we asked for the bad news first. How about this time, the
good news?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Friedkin
said, "The good news is that I read Target: Carlos and loved it. One of
the best first drafts I've ever read."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We
breathed a sigh of relief.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"That's
high praise coming from you, Billy," I said. "Thanks."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But now we
knew the other shoe just had to fucking drop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What's
the bad news?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Billy
sighed. "The bad news," he said, "is that the deal with Showtime
is kaput. No movie."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"What
the fuck?" Chris said. "We thought you had a deal already in
place."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"I
did," Billy said. "But you know, that deal always galled me. I
thought they made me give up too much. So I had my agent to renegotiate the
terms. They eventually agreed to give me the full control I wanted. But not the
money. My agent played real hardball with them. Really pushed."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And
they didn't blink," I said, feeling the floor fall away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"No,
I guess they didn't," Friedkin said. "But don't worry, boys. You'll
still get the rest of the script money. The full boat, plus a bonus."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"That's
good," Chris said. But his heart wasn't in it. Writers aren't in the game
for the money. All we want is enough to live on - and write.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We
exchanged a few more comments, mostly bullshit. Great working with you, blah,
blah. We'll do it again, and so on and so fucking forth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We hung
up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I put my
head on the desk and said, "Shit, shit, shit."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"And
fall back in it," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>NEXT: THE
REAL STARS OF HOLLYWOOD</b><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<br />
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p><b>*****</b></o:p></div>
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<div>
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JLR69tS7YkQkvUr7JPa0C2QQx_Ta470u4JdFK6PxCzF7e3-Hbs4vbTLVNHDM7503N-FMUioXW3GCzsF32HTANjRH9AMuAw6ipIRC3UUb-5ZL1f7tQXMrKE9O-y0oUHWr83jx1TjQGp0/s1600/combine3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JLR69tS7YkQkvUr7JPa0C2QQx_Ta470u4JdFK6PxCzF7e3-Hbs4vbTLVNHDM7503N-FMUioXW3GCzsF32HTANjRH9AMuAw6ipIRC3UUb-5ZL1f7tQXMrKE9O-y0oUHWr83jx1TjQGp0/s320/combine3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Orbit Books in the U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">publishing them as three omnibus editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">three books in the series: Sten #1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A Thousand Suns. It is available now. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">(Click this link to buy it.)</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> The Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">but is only available in the U.K. and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">(Click this link to buy it.)</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Coming in November: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned; and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. In the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> following months Orbit (A division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">editions as well. Stay tuned for details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b></b></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>*****</b></div>
<div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s1600/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s200/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-52411279391803695892012-09-28T07:36:00.001-04:002012-09-28T07:36:43.148-04:00Dancing With A Naked Lady While Watched By Guys With Guns<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYnySnKOWQ3ozbyJ2KGrozoDWmrzrgGAd4giSYi3D67fMOuuwopaPcErQKWFqUyT3y_bBaguJDHkO-3XETYFjjCUoUVJkZqL0PvCNbL4O_ySzrCK5oRJMCtj9cfbAaanlgKcUZCC5Zwx8/s1600/Dancing1_Money.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYnySnKOWQ3ozbyJ2KGrozoDWmrzrgGAd4giSYi3D67fMOuuwopaPcErQKWFqUyT3y_bBaguJDHkO-3XETYFjjCUoUVJkZqL0PvCNbL4O_ySzrCK5oRJMCtj9cfbAaanlgKcUZCC5Zwx8/s640/Dancing1_Money.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>"They say cocaine's for horses/Not for men,/Doctors say it'll kill ya/But they don't say when." (Cocaine Blues - Luke Jordan, 1927)</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>***</b></div>
Chris was razzing the DEA Agent. He said, "Know how many cop jokes there are?"<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent shrugged. "Has to be a couple of billion."<br />
<br />
Chris held up two fingers. "Only two," he proclaimed.<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent said, "Okay, I'll go for it. How come only two?'<br />
<br />
Chris said, "Because the rest are true."<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent thought a minute, then nodded. "A lot of funny things happen when you're a cop," he said. "Like, when I was a rookie escorting the meat wagon to the coroner's office and the body fell out the back when they hit a bump."<br />
<br />
Chris and I laughed.<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent shook his head. "That's not the funny part," he said. "The funny part is that I ran over the son of a bitch."<br />
<br />
The laughter became louder and extended. Then the cocktail waitress fetched more drinks and we settled down.<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent said, "Problem with cop humor is that somebody is usually getting the brown end of the stick."<br />
<br />
I said, "Like Carlos Lehder And Associates. Shitty sticks all around for those guys."<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent said, "They had a helluva run while it lasted. Lived like the Rajahs of old. Mountains of money. Harems of beautiful women. Jewelry. Cars. Boats. Villas. People bowing and scraping when they passed."<br />
<br />
Chris intoned: "In Xanadu did Kubla Khan/A stately pleasure dome decree:/Where Alph, the sacred river, ran/Through caverns measureless to man/Down to a sunless sea."<br />
<br />
"Coleridge," The DEA Agent said - identifying the poet. When he saw our surprise, he added, a little embarrassed, "I was a Liberal Arts major." He sighed. "No help there busting bad guys. What - you've got Reading Gaol? Oscar Wilde going boo-hoo? Carlos Lehder would have pissed on Wilde - or, likely, worse. Hated gay people so much it made me wonder about his own orientation."<br />
<br />
As mentioned before, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carlos_Lehder">Carlos Lehder</a> was one of the villains who pioneered the modern drug smuggling and narco-murder business. And the DEA Agent - who was undercover and must remain nameless - was the Federal cop responsible for putting him and a whole host of people - including a gang of American good old boys - so far under the jail that they can hear Satan scratching at their cellblock floor.<br />
<br />
We'd flown (first class, natch) to Jacksonville, Florida, to meet and interview the agent, who was there tying up the loose ends in the aftermath of the Federal Court Trial of Carlos And Company. Things had been so tense during the trials that all the Courthouse entrances had been sandbagged and the ground floor windows boarded up. They were still in place when we arrived to gather material for the Showtime movie, to be directed by the great William Friedkin.<br />
<br />
A side effect was that the script assignment itself was double-damned delicate and every step had to be approved by the DEA brass. They ran security clearances on us, and it didn't hurt that I was a CIA brat, or that Chris was a decorated combat veteran.<br />
<br />
Eventually, we met up with the agent and we hit it off from the start, even though he thought we were hippie commie symps and we thought he was a fascist piggy with a badge and gun.<br />
<br />
There was a nice bar at our hotel, and while pretty cocktail waitresses fetched us drinks and emptied our ashtrays we got down to it. Naturally, one of the first things we wanted to know was how he got into the cop business in the first place.<br />
<br />
He said, "I'm from a little bitty hick town where nothing ever happens and I was the kind who craved adventure. If things had been different, I guess I could have been a bad guy myself.<br />
<br />
"I used to like, you know, sort of peek over the fence and see what they were up to. Metaphorically, that is. I admit I was tempted, but my momma would have killed me if I had strayed, so I cashed in some decent high school grades and went off to college instead."<br />
<br />
I said, "Drugs were - and are - rampant on most campuses. And the Justice Department's pretty unforgiving about previous drug use. Was that a problem when you took your pre-employment lie detector test?"<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent shook his head. "Thanks to my upbringing - and fear of my momma - I managed to stay clean in college. It was tougher afterward, when I was a rookie on the D.C. police. I was hanging with the same college crowd. Chasing girls. Drinking beer. There was pot and shit everywhere."<br />
<br />
"And you never partook?" I pressed.<br />
<br />
He sighed. "No. But I was tempted. Had to quit hanging out with that crowd. Lost a lot of friends."<br />
<br />
I said, "What prompted you to go from being a D.C. flatfoot to the DEA?"<br />
<br />
He said, "Well, it wasn't long before the cop work got kind of boring. And that can get real dangerous. You get careless."<br />
<br />
Chris nodded sympathetically. "It's like being a sojer boy in a combat zone," he said. "Days on end of nothing happening, followed by three minutes of flying bullets and sheer terror."<br />
<br />
"Exactly," the DEA Agent said. "Anyway, I made some impressive pinches, and pretty soon the DEA came knocking at my door. It looked like a helluva challenge, so I jumped at it."<br />
<br />
He paused, then said, "That's when I lost the rest of my friends. Suddenly, in their eyes I was a Narc. And everybody hated Narcs."<br />
<br />
Chris nodded. "Hate them myself." He grinned at the DEA Agent. "Present company excepted... Almost."<br />
<br />
"Good to know where we stand," the DEA Agent said - but with a slight smile.<br />
<br />
I said, "Then things got boring again, right?"<br />
<br />
He snorted. "Right! It's still basically police work. And that means shoe leather, knocking on doors, or staking out places where the bad guys hang until your ass is falling off and your stomach is eating itself raw from all the cardboard coffee and junk food."<br />
<br />
I asked him how it was that he stumbled on Carlos Lehder 's trail, and he said that while he was based in Florida, he became suspicious of a pilot... crop dusting, flying banners over the beach... that sort of pilot. The guy had been busted before on Federal dope smuggling charges. Flying pot in from Mexico, and so on. He said the guy was White Trash - an ex-con Cracker - who was suddenly flashing a lot of cash.<br />
<br />
He thought the guy was up to his old tricks again, but in a much bigger way - flying harder stuff, like cocaine, into little private airfields that exist by the thousands in the U.S.<br />
<br />
"Come to find out," he said, "that when the guy was in the pen at Danbury, he ended up cell mates with Carlos, who also spent a couple of years in our jails. That's where they worked out the new methods of smuggling coke in huge quantities. Flying in small planes below the radar from South American and the Islands. Tons of the stuff, wrapped up in football-size packages. A hundred grand a football."<br />
<br />
"Your bosses must have creamed their jeans when you told them about the guy," Chris said.<br />
<br />
A weary sigh. "That's what you'd think, wouldn't you?" he said. "But when you're dealing with the government, nothing is ever logical. They were pointed in one direction - dope smuggling on a much smaller scale, and not very organized. Also, I had one sort of job I'd been assigned to, and they wanted me to stick to it."<br />
<br />
He said during his off hours, he started hanging out in the neighborhoods where the Cracker and his extended family and friends lived. Saw little trailer homes transformed into big, new doublewides, with fancy decking and above-ground swimming pools in the backyard. Saw the doublewides turn into upscale homes in posh neighborhoods, with proper swimming pools planted into the earth. Big screen TV sets and stereos. Expensive cars and pickups. Bass boats, speed boats. Wives graduating from K-Mart shopping sprees to Bloomingdale blowouts.<br />
<br />
"First sign that a Cracker has made good," Chris commented, "is he gets himself a doublewide and a picture of Elvis painted on black velvet to hang in the living room." Chris was originally from Fresno, so he knew the type.<br />
<br />
"Hell, there was a time when I might have done the same," the DEA Agent said. "But then those boys started getting really serious. Money - and dope - was rolling in. They bought bigger and better planes - all with really sophisticated electronics. Extra gas tanks to extend the flying range. And pretty soon they were building additions to those homes, and instead of just new cars and pickups, they were buying up whole dealerships."<br />
<br />
"Average guy works his whole life," Chris said, "and he's lucky if he has a set of paid up wheels. And here they have whole car lots full of wheels."<br />
<br />
"That's what really pissed me off," the DEA Agent said. "I started getting offended on behalf of all those working stiffs, who just manage to get by. I felt like these boys were personally rubbing my nose in it."<br />
<br />
"Even though they didn't even know you existed," I said.<br />
<br />
He laughed. "That was the good part," he said. "They didn't have a clue that I was on them like white on rice."<br />
<br />
He said he became obsessed. After work, on his days off, and during holidays he would haunt their neighborhood, meeting places, and small private airports they favored. He kept track of everyone who visited them, snapping telephoto shots of license plates, running them through computers - gradually widening his hunt.<br />
<br />
He persisted, argued with his bosses, put the evidence together piece by piece. He and his partner spent hours pawing through garbage cans for additional evidence - some of it buried in with the dirty diapers.<br />
<br />
"You should have seen us," he said. "Coming up smiling with a key piece of evidence, baby shit all over our hands."<br />
<br />
But as they moved in on the Cracker, the international operation was getting larger. Carlos flew in and out of the U.S. with impunity, even though he had been permanently expelled from the country when he left prison.<br />
<br />
"They are so sophisticated," he said, "that they've rented - and even purchased - homes near major American bases all along the Gulf.<br />
<br />
"I visited one base where they use an AWACs to patrol the Gulf for narcotics and human smugglers. The guy let me look at the radar display. There'd be all these blips of light showing boats speeding across the Gulf when the AWAC was on the ground. The moment it took off on patrol, the blips would stop. When the patrol ended, and the AWAC landed, the blips started up again. Zip, boom... so many dots of light it looked like a meteor shower.<br />
<br />
"Obviously, they have guys watching the planes take off and land, and they're alerting their bosses when it is safe and when it is not."<br />
<br />
But now, our DEA Agent had a team of guys - both on the ground, and in the office - putting pressure on the Cracker and his gang. Going after their car and boat dealerships. Slapping liens on their planes. Searching their homes. Freezing their bank accounts.<br />
<br />
"Finally, the Cracker Mr. Big and several of his cronies vanished," the DEA Agent said. "Took a while, but we finally tracked them to Haiti, where they had paid off the government for protection. They set up shop again, but this time they had actual cops guarding whole warehouses of their shit. And the Haitians refused to extradite them."<br />
<br />
"Sounds like you were pretty well stuck," I said. "What did you do?"<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent shrugged. "I went to Haiti. What else?"<br />
<br />
Now the tale got doubly interesting. The Agent flew to Haiti and checked in with the police there.<br />
<br />
"I tried to appeal to them cop to cop," he said. "But, it was no dice. I couldn't even get a line on where they lived. I hit the streets, greased some palms, and finally found this nightclub they hung out in.<br />
<br />
"And man, that place was something else. Like one of those hangouts Blackbeard and his pirate crews partied at in Port Au Prince back in the old days. Everything illegal in the world going on in that joint, and they had uniformed cops outside for bouncers."<br />
<br />
"One night there was a big party and I blended in with the crowd and got into the club. Boy, were they going at it. Smoking dope and snorting lines of coke right at the tables. Everybody openly armed to the teeth. Drinking and carrying on.<br />
<br />
"Pawing at naked girls on their laps. Then hauling them out on the floor to dance. It was the wildest scene I've ever witnessed in my life.<br />
<br />
"After a while, they started to take notice of me. Even in the crowd. I figured I was looking too straight. So, I started drinking a little more. And then this pretty girl came up to me - stark naked - and asks if I want to dance with her.<br />
<br />
"I could see out of the corner of my eye that some of the guys were watching me. That's when I spotted the Cracker Mr. Big, who was sitting there with the other guys, a girl in his lap. One of his boys gives him a nudge and then he's looking directly at me. He's never seen me before, but I could tell he was getting suspicious.<br />
<br />
"So, I act all drunk and happy and grab the girl and get out on the floor and dance with her. Dancing right over by their table, as if I hadn't a thought in my head but this beautiful Haitian girl."<br />
<br />
He shook his head at the memory. "It was so damned strange," he said. "I'm dancing with this naked girl who is all pressed up against me, which sure got my blood boiling. Meanwhile, these guys with guns in shoulder holsters are giving me the eye and sending icicles up my spine."<br />
<br />
"What did you do?" I asked.<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent barked laughter. "What else? Grabbed her ass and kept dancing. Let her rub herself up against me. Then it was back to my table and more drinks."<br />
<br />
He said after a while, when the Cracker and the others quit paying attention to him, he figured he'd better get out of there. But how to exit without drawing their attention again?<br />
<br />
"I told the girl I wanted to hire her for the night," he said. "So, she got some clothes - a really skimpy outfit that showed everything. And she had plenty of everything.<br />
<br />
"Then we slip outside and get into my rental car. I wait a few minutes, smoking a cigarette, and listening to the girl chatter in this sexy, Island/Frenchy accent. Pretty soon I see the Cracker come out with some buddies and several girls.<br />
<br />
"They get into a big old SUV and take off. I followed them out of there in my car, not letting on to the girl, and I see where they go. Up this big hill, with a ditch running right down the center, carrying a huge pipe that was busted up and spewing water everywhere. And there's people there, in the middle of the night, with buckets and pails filling up with water and hauling them home. The girl's talking a mile a minute and I'm nodding, 'Uh, huh. Really? Son of a gun.' Like that.<br />
<br />
"Pretty soon I see the SUV get to this huge mansion at the top of the hill. I thought it was obscene. All that money on display with all those poor people hauling water from a ditch.<br />
<br />
"The SUV heads up the driveway, and so I mark the spot and go on past. And, now I know where the Cracker hangs his Ball Cap. I turn around and head back down the hill. But then I notice that those car lights I 'd thought might be following me, really were following me.<br />
<br />
"I pass the car and it's a cop car. After I go by.... In my rear-view I see it make a U-Turn and come back to shadow me.<br />
<br />
"Only thing I could do was go back to my motel. And now, here I'm sitting in this motel with this gorgeous girl who was dancing naked with me only an hour or so ago. And what the hell am I going to do with her? I can't send her away until morning, because I know damned well that Haitian cop car is out there watching."<br />
<br />
He paused, stubbed out a cigarette and a lit another. For a minute, it looked like he wasn't going to continue. The suspense was killing us.<br />
<br />
Chris finally asked, "Did you fuck her?"<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent sighed. "Yeah," he said. "I fucked her."<br />
<br />
"But you were divorced at the time, right?" I said, allowing him to let off a little of the guilt I saw on his face.<br />
<br />
He brightened a bit. "I was," he said. "Wasn't final yet. But we were getting close."<br />
<br />
Chris said. "Good, because Billy will want to put that in the movie."<br />
<br />
The DEA Agent nodded. "Thought he would," he said, resigned.<br />
<br />
"And now you had to figure out how to bust the Cracker and get him and his gang home and in jail," I said.<br />
<br />
He laughed. It was the first real laugh we'd heard from him since the interviews had started.<br />
<br />
"That was one helluva deal," he said.<br />
<br />
"Tell us," I said.<br />
<br />
And he did.<br />
<br />
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<b>NEXT: TRACKING CARLOS LEHDER TO HIS LAIR</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE NEW STEN OMNIBUS EDITIONS</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JLR69tS7YkQkvUr7JPa0C2QQx_Ta470u4JdFK6PxCzF7e3-Hbs4vbTLVNHDM7503N-FMUioXW3GCzsF32HTANjRH9AMuAw6ipIRC3UUb-5ZL1f7tQXMrKE9O-y0oUHWr83jx1TjQGp0/s1600/combine3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JLR69tS7YkQkvUr7JPa0C2QQx_Ta470u4JdFK6PxCzF7e3-Hbs4vbTLVNHDM7503N-FMUioXW3GCzsF32HTANjRH9AMuAw6ipIRC3UUb-5ZL1f7tQXMrKE9O-y0oUHWr83jx1TjQGp0/s320/combine3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Orbit Books in the
U.K. has gathered up all eight novels in the Sten Series and is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">publishing them as three omnibus
editions. The First - BATTLECRY - features the first </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">three books in the series: Sten
#1; Sten #2 -The Wolf Worlds; and Sten #3, The Court Of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">A Thousand Suns. It is available
now. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-Chris-Bunch/dp/1841494933/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288994235&sr=1-1&tag=10xxx10100-21">(Click this link to buy it.)</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> The
Kindle Edition OF BATTLECRY, includes all three books </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">but is only available in the U.K.
and territories. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlecry-Sten-Omnibus-1/dp/B0049U3RCA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1288985693&sr=1-2=allancoleswor-20">(Click this link to buy it.)</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> Coming in November: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">JUGGERNAUT, which features the
next three books: Sten #4, Fleet Of The Damned; </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> Sten #5, Revenge Of The Damned;
and Sten #6, The Return Of the Emperor. In the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> following months Orbit (A
division of Little Brown) will publish DEATH MATCH, which </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">will feature Sten #7, Vortex, and
Sten #8, End Of Empire. Those will be issued as Kindle </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">editions as well. Stay tuned for
details. </span></div>
<b>*****</b><br />
<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
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<b>*****</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Here's the link. </a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">And here's the link to the first episode.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?uq9ccop4h6n6ohf">Aquí está el enlace. </a> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?7v6g6ibh4t3i4zx">Y aquí está el enlace para el primer episodio.</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-62021993005091081862012-09-21T07:37:00.000-04:002012-09-21T07:37:11.383-04:00We Meet Billy Friedkin And The DEA<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The DEA Agent measured us with his cold cop's eyes. "I hope you guys are traveling clean," he said. "If not..." he shrugged... "You're on your own."<br />
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Chris snorted. "Just because we maybe look like Hippie Commie Symps," he said, "doesn't mean we're <i>stupid</i> Hippie Commie Symps."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The DEA Agent barked laughter. "You two don't look like hippies," he said, "but you do look like you take a walk on the wild side now and again."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"If we didn't," I pointed out, "Billy Friedkin wouldn't have hired us to write this movie."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The DEA Agent grinned. "Who do you think Billy will get to play me?" he said. "Redford, maybe? Or Warren Beatty?" <o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "If we promised you Redford, then whipped out a Doobie and lit up, would you still bust us?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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The DEA Agent sighed. "Geeze... Robert Redford," he said. "My wife would be all over me like it was our second honeymoon."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"But you'd still put the cuffs on us," I said, starting to like this guy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"I would," he said. "Although I wouldn't enjoy it... if that makes you feel any better."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Never fear," Chris said. "Only shit we're holding are a couple of hip flasks of scotch in case Jacksonville is dry."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Only on Sundays," the DEA Agent laughed. "And that's just until 2 p.m."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our bags came up on the carousel. We grabbed them, and followed the DEA Agent out of the airport into the steamy Florida air.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I won't name the DEA Agent. He was undercover then, and even if he's retired now, I'm sure there are a lot of bad guys he put away who'd relish eating a cold dish of Revenge on his corpse's chest.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The "Billy" Friedkin I'm referring to is the great director, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Friedkin">William Friedkin</a>; and no, I'm not going all Hollywood on you with the "Billy" business. That's what he prefers to be called.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The movie he'd hired us to write - TARGET: CARLOS - was for Showtime and it was about <a href="http://tinyurl.com/evuqe">Carlos Lehder</a>, who along with Pablo Escobar and the Medellin Cartel, pioneered the modern Gazillion Dollar dope smuggling and murder business.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our nameless DEA Agent was the man most responsible for bringing Carlos to Justice, where he is buried in a federal prison so deep they have to pipe in the sunshine - and that for only an hour a day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The reason we were in Jacksonville, Florida was to interview the DEA Agent, who was tying up the loose ends after a series of Federal Court trials where Carlos and a group of American Good Old Boy associates had been judged Guilty, Guilty, Guilty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you recall from the episode before last, Marc (with a yuppie "c" spelling) Pariser, one of our agents at CAA, had promised to hook us up with Friedkin in return for a favor.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I know, I know... your jaw just bounced off the floor in amazed disbelief that an agent - especially an agent at the infamous CAA - had kept his word.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Well, he did. But in a bassackward way. No surprise there, right? It happened like this:</div>
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FLASHBACK: INT. WARNER BROS. BOARD ROOM - MORNING<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris and I watched in dismay as Suit after Suit filed into the room, each with coffee (or whatever) in one hand, and a napkin-wrapped cruller or bagel in the other.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There was no end to them: You had your TV Suits, your Movie Of The Week Suits, Your Miniseries Suits, your Network liaison Suit, your Production Suits, your Program Practices Suits, your CAA Agency Suits, plus a Three-Suit Business Affairs Team, led by a fat guy with a scabby Friar Tuck dome and a six-inch doughnut bar gripped in his teeth like a cigar. Or, well... you get the picture.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris stage whispered, "There's enough Suits here to start a fucking dandruff farm." <o:p></o:p></div>
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On the other side of the huge board room table, Pariser had picked up on Chris' comment and started to raise an admonishing hand to keep it down... then thought better of it and let his hand flop impotently to the table.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At the head of the table lounged Steven By God Seagal, star of the hour, with his long sheep's face, short pony tail, beady eyes and wearing an unbuttoned silk shirt that displayed a pudgy chest and thick gold chain.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"He's got bigger tits than Orson Welles," Chris whispered.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I don't know if Seagal heard him, but he flinched and rotated his face away. Chris had put him in his place two MisAdventures back <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/09/chris-bunch-versus-steven-seagal.html">(Chris Bunch Vs. Steven Seagal)</a> and he had remained there ever since.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As each Suit entered they stopped to make obeisance before Seagal - who didn't rise. After all, he was the favorite bum boy of Michael Ovitz, uber-boss of CAA and the most powerful agent in the world. Seagal was also a teller of untruths so outrageous that Hollywood Suits hastened to worship at his feet. One by one he was presented by Pariser, and they all shook his hand and giggled nervously at whatever he condescended to say.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My partner was disgusted. He said, "Look like a bunch of groupies lining up to give him a BJ."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fortunately, nobody heard him, because just at that moment the Business Affairs Baldy approached Seagal, removed the doughnut bar from his mouth, balanced it across his coffee (or whatever) cup and shook Seagal's hand, a wide grin splitting his puffed-up face.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Looks like a fucking Cape Baboon," Chris whispered.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Finally, everybody found a seat - as lowly writers we had been shoved into a distant corner - but the meeting did not commence. One person was missing. There was a buzz around the room: Where is he? Why is he late? Should somebody call his girl? <o:p></o:p></div>
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The missing person was William Friedkin, and without him the meeting was pointless, because there would be no project.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, to everyone's relief, Friedkin entered. He paused in the doorway, looking every inch The Great Director. He was dressed casually and wore aviator glasses, which he adjusted with one hand as he looked around the room nodding pleasantly at various Suits.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He saw Seagal, smiled and said, "Morning Steven." <o:p></o:p></div>
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Seagal returned the smile and the greeting, then motioned for Friedkin to sit between him and Pariser.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But Billy had spotted us. His polite smile turned into a wide grin and he announced to the room: "I think I'll go sit with my writers."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris and I had lunched with Friedkin a couple of weeks before and had been impressed. But with those words - "I'll go sit with my writers" - he climbed to the very pinnacle of our admiration.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With that statement, he not only boosted our status, but declared the three of us the only Creative People in a room crowded with expensive suits, power ties and pockets full of beans to count. An aside: The glass ceiling was very much in place - not one woman was to be found among all those Execs. (Q. What's the difference between and a Male Suit and a Female Suit? A. Dandruff)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Somebody from Warner's opened the meeting with the usual blah, blah. Honored to have a director of the stature of Friedkin in their company. Praise for their new action star, Steven Seagal. And a few words about the writing team of Bunch & Cole who had been laboring hard on the project.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then they kicked the ball over to us. Asking first, how long we envisioned the project to be. We had roughed out a movie with Friedkin in our meetings, but before I could say anything, Pariser caught my eye and spread his hands apart. Meaning CAA was on the hunt for a four-hour mini-series, not just a movie of the week.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(CAA perfected the art of "packaging." Meaning, they'd put together a team of their clients - writers, directors, actors, producers, composers, etc. - and strong arm the Studios into swallowing the whole thing. Loosely speaking, this meant CAA got many, many ten percents for one project. That this practice led to the manipulation of their clients and their clients' paychecks - and entire careers - was something Ovitz vehemently denied.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Back to the meeting and the two-hour movie that had just been transformed into a four-hour mini. In my mind I was quickly expanding the story that was supposed to be about the Yakuza (Japanese mafia known for their elaborate tats) invading Hawaii, to an adventure that started in Hawaii, where it remained for the first two hours, then jumped to Japan for the exciting two-hour conclusion.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We'd agreed that I'd take the pitch - mainly because I had lived in the Far East for some years - and Chris would jump in with bits of martial arts and underworld flash.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was a helluva pitch, if I do say so myself, and according to the clock on the wall - which I took occasional glances at - we completed it in a little over seven minutes. Everybody seemed pleased; Friedkin put his hands together, leading the applause from all the others.<o:p></o:p></div>
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All, that is, except for the Scabby Domed Business Affairs guy. Baldy's face was swollen in apparent fury. His two sycophants had started to join in the applause, but immediately ceased and desisted when they saw their boss's reaction.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Before anyone could speak, he growled, "I can't believe that I had to sit through all this shit! What a waste of my God Damned time! I thought we were here to meet on the deal. But, no. I have to sit here and listen to the story! Who gives a fuck about the story? What's about the deal, God damn it!"<o:p></o:p></div>
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Total silence. I felt like shit. I was thinking, Jesus, what did I do wrong? Did I somehow let The Side down? Wasn't I supposed to pitch the story? And if I was, did I go on too long? And on, and on.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris whispered, "Fuck him."<o:p></o:p></div>
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And I think he was about to say it again, but louder, and addressed more personally, but we heard Friedkin clear his throat.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Everyone turned to him - expectant. He was looking at Balding Fat Boy with amusement. "If this was a meeting about the deal, instead of the story," he said, "then it would be a waste of My Time. My lawyer talks deals. I talk stories."<o:p></o:p></div>
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He turned to us and said, "Great job, boys! When we met, it was just a germ of an idea that we discussed. Now, we have Real Story and for a four-hour mini to boot."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Baldy started to say something, but the Warner Bros. Big Shot jumped in with effusive praise and agreement with Friedkin. Baldy, meanwhile, stuffed the whole doughnut bar in his mouth and chewed. Unfortunately, he didn't choke on it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Friedkin tipped me the wink and I realized Baldy's rude comments had been a ploy to get the upper hand on any deal discussions with the director and his team. A ploy that had been turned back on him. Next to me, I heard Chris laugh - and knew that he'd picked up on it too. Well played, Mr. Friedkin.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A week passed. A chubby check for our work thus far on the Seagal mini had arrived, putting us in the best of moods. I think we were working on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Revenge-Dead-Sten-Allan-Cole/dp/1434436020/ref=sr_1_fkmr2_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1318280637&sr=1-2-fkmr2=allancoleswor-20">Sten #5 - Revenge Of The Damned</a> - so we certainly weren't idle. The previous Sten novel, Fleet Of The Damned, had ended in a cliff hanger and our publisher and loyal readers were practically hammering on our door for the next episode.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The phone rang. We were expecting a call from Shelly Shapiro, our editor at Del Rey Books, so Chris punched the speaker button before he picked up. He delivered his favorite greeting: "This anybody with good news or money?" Usually he'd immediately add, "No! Then fuck off." And pretend to hang up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But he was quickly brought up short. Over the speaker phone I heard Friedkin laugh, then say, "God, I loved A Thousand Clowns."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Shit, you're about the only guy to ever get it," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"In this case," Friedkin said, "the question was right on the mark."<o:p></o:p></div>
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"How so?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Friedkin said, "I've got some good news, and some bad news guys. Which do you want to hear first?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Let's hear the bummer, first," Chris said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Friedkin said, "In a little bit you're going to get a call from CAA. Your agent is going to tell you that Warner Brothers passed on the mini-series deal. But, that's not the real story. The real story is that after looking over our pony-tailed friend (Seagal), I had second thoughts."<o:p></o:p></div>
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We got the idea that he thought Seagal was a walking, talking time bomb. He'd worked with the best in the business - Gene Hackman, Roy Scheider, Al Pacino - a whole galaxy of really talented stars. And Seagal would be a definite comedown. So, no dice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But before we could despair, he said, "Now for the good news."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris said, "Shoot."<o:p></o:p></div>
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Friedkin said, "You boys ever see The French Connection?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Of course," I said. Every ink-spattered wretch of worth had seen Friedkin's brilliant tale of "Popeye" Doyle's battle against a mysterious drug lord.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Friedkin said, "How would you boys like to write something similar for me?"<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Far fucking out," said Chris.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>NEXT: DANCING WITH A NAKED LADY WHILE WATCHED BY GUYS WITH GUNS</b><br />
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<o:p><b><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />*****</b></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now passed the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?n6bbbom8dktdnd4">Here's the link.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?n6bbbom8dktdnd4">Aquí está el enlace. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-65516497345570454292012-09-14T07:24:00.002-04:002012-09-15T08:45:16.910-04:00DUMB IT DOWN, BOYS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><b>(NOTE FROM ALLAN: THANKS TO READERS ACROSS THE PLANET LIKE YOU, THE MISADVENTURES PASSED THE 175,000 VISITORS MARK THIS WEEK.)</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>*****</b></div><b>"Working in Television is like coaching football. You've gotta be smart enough to understand the game, and dumb enough to think it's important."</b><br />
<b>.....Overheard at Spago's</b><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b>*****</b></div><b><br />
</b> <b>"Nobody knows anything." </b><b>.....William Goldman</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>*****</b></div><b>(You're) An imbecile, an idiot, a perpetual sap;</b><br />
<b>You've gotta read the directions on a child-proof cap.</b><br />
<b>.....Lyrics from Stupid People by Quincy Punx.</b><br />
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</div>A guy in the audience asked, "What's the dumbest experience you ever had in Hollywood?"<br />
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After Chris and I recovered from uncontrollable fits of heel-kicking laughter and got up off the floor, Chris managed to croak, "Shit, I wouldn't know where to start." He looked at me, "How about you, Cole?"<br />
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I thought for a second, then said, "What about our buddy, Old 'Kiss My Teeth?'"<br />
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That got a laugh from the audience, which was always a good sign.<br />
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The audience in question consisted of about seventy or eighty science fiction fans and fellow felons who had gathered at a waterside club in Port Angeles, Washington to see the "Bunch & Cole Show."<br />
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We had been on a West Coast book tour for a little over a week and during that time we'd traveled by planes, (no trains) and automobiles from the Mexican/San Diego border to the Canadian/Port Angeles border. (Vancouver is just across the bay and is described the <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2011/12/irwin-allens-recipe-for-disaster.html">Irwin Allen's Recipe For Disaster</a> episode.)<br />
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This was our last appearance of the tour and to show you how tired we were, when Kathryn and I stopped for gas outside of town I had signed the credit card receipt - "Best Wishes, Allan Cole." I laughed and tried to explain to the pock-faced gas jockey that I'd been on a book tour and had autographed thousands of books - hence my "best wishes" signing error. Pock Face was not amused and called his boss who demanded to see more ID.<br />
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Despite our weariness the audience had us pumped. The majority were devotees of the Sten series and a goodly number had bought into our new fantasy series - <a href="http://tinyurl.com/4xgf9wb">The Far Kingdoms. </a>We'd spent the evening regaling them with many of the Misadventures I've chronicled here, and despite the lateness of the hour they wanted more.<br />
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Chris said, "Oh, yeah... Old 'Kiss my teeth.'" He turned to the audience. "I'm sure you guys have heard that a few people in Show Biz partake of... ahem... illegal substances."<br />
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Knowing chuckles in the audience. I jokingly admonished Chris, "But only a few. A very few."<br />
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"Riiight!" Chris said, rolling his eyes and breaking everybody up. "Walked in on this other producer, once, who had his head in the drawer trying to get a quick snurf before our meeting."<br />
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I said, "He looked up, shocked and a little scared. And Chris told him - "<br />
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Chris picked it up - "I said, 'Hi, we're from the Los Angeles Times. We're doing a story on drug use in Hollywood."<br />
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"Guy almost had a heart attack," I said.<br />
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Chris raised a finger. "But he bought the story we were pitching. He probably figured it was either that, or..." And he drew a finger across his throat.<br />
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I said, "But, back to the first guy we were talking about. Old, 'Kiss My Teeth.' I'll just call him Hank - he's a nice guy and has cleaned up his act since. Anyway, Hank had a sudden windfall. Something he'd done for American television had been sold to Europe as an actual Big Screen movie and out of nowhere he gets a check for seventy five thousand dollars."<br />
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There were murmurs in the crowd. Chris said, "Any sensible person would have stashed the money in the bank, or invested it. But get this. Hank's business manager was also his dealer."<br />
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Gasps from the audience.<br />
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Chris nodded. "Yeah, his business manger. He'd show up every couple of days to take care of business details for Hank. They'd have a couple of lines first. Checks would be signed for expenses. Then the latest delivery of blow would be made, which the business manager would cover as some sort of write off."<br />
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"As you can imagine, with the IRS partly footing the bill, the snow got pretty deep for our friend, Hank," I said. "So deep that you never knew what to expect."<br />
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Chris said, "One day we came in for a meeting, and he's obviously ripped to the tits. Bloodshot eyes. Gnawing his lip. Sniffling like he's got a bad cold. Jabbering a mile a fucking minute."<br />
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"He said he'd been up all night writing," I said. "Looking at him, this wasn't hard to believe. Then he insisted on demonstrating his genius. He gets up from his desk and goes over to this lectern."<br />
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Chris broke in. "You heard Cole, right. A lectern." He scratched his head. "What the hell was that doing there?"<br />
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"The lectern was new, and obviously expensive," I said. "We'd never seen it in his office before... Anyway, he goes to this bloody lectern and picks up a thick sheaf of crumpled paper, covered with inky scrawls and scratches.<br />
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"Hank tells us - 'I wrote this great love scene. Took me most of the night. I wrote and wrote... all by hand... pen and fucking ink... then tore shit up, and started all over again... Wait'll you hear what I came up with...'<br />
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"And then he reads us this nonsensical scene about the hero of his show wooing a girl he meets. Chris and I really couldn't make heads - much less tails - of it."<br />
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Chris came in: "Then Hank says, 'Now, wait'll you hear this, guys. Our hero looks at the girl, then gives her the biggest fucking grin since grins were invented. And he says, 'Kiss my teeth!'"<br />
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Nervous laughter from the audience. One woman said, "Ewww!"<br />
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"That was our reaction," Chris said. "Fucking Ewww! But Hank is just looking at us. Like, isn't that great? Aren't I a fookin' genius?"<br />
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"He was so screwed up on blow," I said, "he couldn't tell how awful we thought it was. Then, he knocks on the lectern, and says, 'I owe it all to this.'"<br />
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Chris said, "And then he tells us his... ahem... secret. His new method for getting at the real poetic gold hidden deep inside all Real Writers. He says he stood before that lectern all night, writing in long hand until his fingers got sore and his feet got numb.<br />
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"'It was an incredible fucking breakthrough,' he told us. Then, asked, 'And you know where I got the idea?'<br />
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"We said we didn't have the foggiest. And he said, 'I got the idea from Hemingway. He used to write standing up. Used a lectern just like this.' And Hank knocks on the lectern again."<br />
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I pick up the ball from there and tell the audience. "And you know what my partner said? Chris said, 'But, Hank, Hemingway had a bad back!"<br />
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It took a minute to sink in, then the audience erupted in laughter and applause. I heard people muttering, "Bad back! Bad back!"<br />
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After they settled down, Chris said, "Some of the dumb things that happen aren't so funny." He turned to me. "Tell them about the submarine movie, Cole."<br />
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So, I told them. We had an MOW (Movie Of The Week) meeting with a honcho at ABC. I really can't remember the guy's name. Wish I could, because he deserves to have it smeared aloud. The story we were pitching was about the KKK infiltrating the Navy.<br />
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"No, kidding," I told the audience. "It's really been going on. We showed the Suit some stories we'd clipped from newspapers and magazines. About how racists had been getting their tentacles into the military, especially the U.S. submarine service, where there are almost no African-American sailors."<br />
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Chris broke in: "Only about fifty have been admitted since World War Two."<br />
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I continued: "So, we pitched our story. Our hero was a black guy - the boat's new second officer. And his race is a big deal to some of the men onboard. Anyway, violent incidents, including murder onshore, put him on the trail of the leader of the KKK, who is a member of the sub's crew. The blow off comes after an accident aboard the nuclear submarine, when they are all trapped at the bottom of the sea."<br />
<br />
Chris said, "The whole time we were talking, the Suit didn't make a peep. Total poker face. Then, when we're done, he says, 'We'll have to take a pass on that. I like the story, okay. It might even be an important story. But it's not for us.'"<br />
<br />
I said, "We were puzzled. So we ask him, How come? And he says, 'Well, your hero is a black guy, right?'<br />
<br />
"I say, 'Yeah...' "And he says, 'Only black people watch stories about black people. Too small of an audience for a network.'"<br />
<br />
Our own audience was silent. Aghast.<br />
<br />
Chris said, "We had a couple of other stories, but we just got our asses out of there before we smacked him and they called Security on us."<br />
<br />
Time for a changeup: I said to Chris, "How about the War Magician story?"<br />
<br />
Chris laughed. "Perfect," he said. "Shows just how dumb these guys can get."<br />
<br />
"This was an NBC pitch," I told the audience. "Another MOW. One we called 'The War Magician.' And it was based on a true story about a professional magician who was recruited by the British in World War Two to confound the Nazis."<br />
<br />
"It's a damned good story," Chris said. "At one point, the guy made an entire train disappear right before the Nazi's eyes."<br />
<br />
"When we were done with the pitch," I came in, "the NBC Suit just looks at us like we're dopes. And he says, 'Another World War Two story? What's up with you writers? Everybody's coming in with World War Two stories. What's the big fucking deal?'<br />
<br />
"And my partner gives this guy the 'you're the dope' look right back and says..." I motioned for Chris to finish.<br />
<br />
Chris sighed and shook his head, just like he did that day. And he said, "Because next year is the 50th Anniversary of World War Two, that's the big fucking deal!"<br />
<br />
When the audience got through digesting that one I said, "What about the Dennis Weaver story, Chris?"<br />
<br />
He liked that one. "Yeah, old 'Mister Dillon? Mister Dillon?"<br />
<br />
"Gunsmoke," I said, identifying the series he co-starred in opposite James Arness. "And he also did Gentle Ben and McCloud. Both Westerns, or about Western guys."<br />
<br />
"You'd think he'd be the best guy to hear a Western pitch, wouldn't you?" Chris said.<br />
<br />
"So, we gave him a movie script we'd done, called 'The Last Green River.'" I said. "It was about the Mountain Men, particularly about one mountain man and a preacher's kid he rescues from the Wilderness."<br />
<br />
"And Weaver tells us he loves the story - fucking loves it," Chris said.<br />
<br />
I raised a finger. "Only one little change, he tells us. Just one."<br />
<br />
Chris said, "Weaver says, can we 'make the mountain man a vegetarian?'"<br />
<br />
The audience breaks into laughter.<br />
<br />
"No shit, a fucking vegetarian," Chris went on. "Instead of the big campfire scene with the kid and this crusty old mountain man eating buffalo they'd just killed, they're eating-"<br />
<br />
I broke in, "Roots. Yeah, Weaver wanted them to eat tubers the mountain man has dug up on the prairie. And maybe some mushrooms."<br />
<br />
Chris shook his head. "Fuck me! A vegetarian mountain man!"<br />
<br />
They all got a big laugh at the late, hardly great, Dennis Weaver's expense.<br />
<br />
In the back row, Kathryn and Karen were giving us the signal to wrap things up. Time for the show to end. We needed a closer.<br />
<br />
I asked Chris, "What about an EatAnter story? He's always good for something dumbass."<br />
<br />
The EatAnter was Jeff Freilich (See: <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/04/towtruck-boogie-and-eatanter.html">Towtruck Boogie & The EatAnter</a>), a producer we had met on Quincy and had dealings with many times since. Chris dubbed him the EatAnter after the B.C. comic strip character because - well, as Chris put it: "...he's a fucking EatAnter, you know?"<br />
<br />
Chris thought about my suggestion then said, "Yeah, the one about Dark Justice. They want dumb. We'll give them fucking dumb."<br />
<br />
I told the audience, "Dark Justice was a CBS series about a guy who is a judge by day and a vigilante by night." Snickers from the audience. I went on: "Basically, he'd be forced by commie-symp inspired laws to let criminals get off scot-free during his day job. Then he'd do them dirty when he was off work."<br />
<br />
There were groans from the audience. Chris said, "Hang on, that's not the stupid part. The stupid part comes next."<br />
<br />
I said, "We were hired for what the EatAnter, I mean Jeff Freilich, said was a really tricky job."<br />
<br />
"Among other things," Chris said, "we're known for being free-lance hit men." Nervous laughter from our listeners. Probably thinking, with these two anything is possible.<br />
<br />
"No, we don't mean we actually kill people," I hastened to assure them. "But to knock off actors who are regulars on a show. Usually, it's because the producers are making unreasonable demands on the actors, or the actors are making unreasonable demands on the producers." <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/07/silver-bullet-sanction.html">(See The Silver Bullet Sanction.)</a><br />
<br />
"The trick," Chris said, "is to make the part so good that the actor or actress will agree to have their demise filmed. Makes for a better story, and doesn't look weird the following week when a new actor steps in. Anyway, we're good at it. Racked up a pretty successful celluloid body count. So that's why the EatAnter hired us."<br />
<br />
I came in: "The EatAnter had a leading lady he wanted us to eliminate and replace with a new co-star," I said. "The show was shot partly in the U.S. and partly in Spain. It was a financial experiment, and they got tax bennies from Spain."<br />
<br />
"But only if they hired a certain number of Spanish actors and crew members," Chris said.<br />
<br />
"The actress in question," I explained to the audience, "was Spanish. So, her death in the script and the changeover had to be handled just right, or there'd be diplomatic hell to pay."<br />
<br />
"Making things even more delicate," Chris said, "is that the whole project was the brainchild - don't laugh - of a guy whose name I won't mention, but whose initials are Jeff Sagansky."<br />
<br />
"The head of programming at CBS," I added.<br />
<br />
"In other words, one of the Guys With The Really Big Fucking Telephones," Chris further explained. "And the EatAnter was scared shitless that he'd somehow piss Sagansky off."<br />
<br />
"The story we came up with to do the job was called 'Brother Mine,'" I said. "A tale of two criminals - brothers - that we turn against each other. Using the Spanish lady as a honey trap, of course. Except in her case, she loses her life bringing the brothers down."<br />
<br />
"Not a bad story," Chris said, "considering the shit we had to work with."<br />
<br />
"Sagansky liked it," I said, "so as far as the EatAnter was concerned it was solid gold."<br />
<br />
"We write the story," Chris said. "Turn it in."<br />
<br />
"We wait," I said.<br />
<br />
"And we keep on waiting," Chris said.<br />
<br />
"Finally we call the EatAnter," I said, "to ask where the fuck are our second draft notes. He says not to worry, the notes are minimal and we'd get them any day, now."<br />
<br />
"Couple of days later," Chris said, "a messenger comes knocking at our door. He's got a package for us direct from By-God CBS headquarters.<br />
<br />
"We open the package," I said. "There's a copy of our script inside. We take it out."<br />
<br />
"To our surprise," I said, "there's only one God damned note."<br />
<br />
"It's scrawled across the cover," Chris said. "And it is from Jeff Frigging Sagansky, Himself. Head of Fucking Programming For CBS."<br />
<br />
"Only four words," I said, holding up four fingers. "And all they said was..."<br />
<br />
Chris took over... "Dumb It Down, Boys."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypp0LxkcRR194KwF-HnpKNVLfCEYxflxEzUtWIesrforLL07F1CL7633d37FvGysZdTLFwd-41yZSxdRjy0gzUeb4nnVLK_TgohxK1MV6jMYTpykXMQI3fwMYZQIeq05yYhD1V6hjj_U/s1600/bunch_Cole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypp0LxkcRR194KwF-HnpKNVLfCEYxflxEzUtWIesrforLL07F1CL7633d37FvGysZdTLFwd-41yZSxdRjy0gzUeb4nnVLK_TgohxK1MV6jMYTpykXMQI3fwMYZQIeq05yYhD1V6hjj_U/s200/bunch_Cole.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>"Dumb it down, Boys," I repeated. "Direct from the boss of all programming at a major American network...<br />
<br />
"...Dumb It Down, Boys.<br />
<br />
"Words to live by if you work in Hollywood."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>NEXT: WE MEET BILL FRIEDKIN AND THE DEA</b></div><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><b>*****</b></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;"><div><b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpR9Gl4CDQYh_ahCeMMpOX6Z4DLm1_BgCitEmtOsiegOkjrCdDLTCR4Ov1O9G52EMf0YuIszkWYoWfHZcVP1nR7y9mLiAmeXLL0fLORD_Hv1fV6gqyNIO4iX0vbAEivmkSjnlw7MwzA2E/s1600/BookCoverImage_kindle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpR9Gl4CDQYh_ahCeMMpOX6Z4DLm1_BgCitEmtOsiegOkjrCdDLTCR4Ov1O9G52EMf0YuIszkWYoWfHZcVP1nR7y9mLiAmeXLL0fLORD_Hv1fV6gqyNIO4iX0vbAEivmkSjnlw7MwzA2E/s200/BookCoverImage_kindle.jpg" width="133" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b></b></span><br />
<div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now nearing the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>*****</b></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s1600/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s200/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?n6bbbom8dktdnd4">Here's the link.</a> </span></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?n6bbbom8dktdnd4">Aquí está el enlace. </a></span></span></div></div><b>*****</b></div></div></div></div><div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></div></div></div><br />
<br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197112653366237745.post-44443870680009600742012-09-07T07:32:00.002-04:002012-09-07T11:01:52.962-04:00CHRIS BUNCH VERSUS STEVEN SEAGAL<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZc6a3UNc-KhzTyv-inRMgZNyZAdUSaebHKsCexbBqJ_JHAc1OtO4SY-10rtuckmNrnYswSNtIUJYbgvwe8nyPTPnhJeDyrdyuyU8L2kJnMdHfBb-OnAiEyQ3psYBQXsZrg3jIQPHe_8/s1600/steven_seagal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZc6a3UNc-KhzTyv-inRMgZNyZAdUSaebHKsCexbBqJ_JHAc1OtO4SY-10rtuckmNrnYswSNtIUJYbgvwe8nyPTPnhJeDyrdyuyU8L2kJnMdHfBb-OnAiEyQ3psYBQXsZrg3jIQPHe_8/s200/steven_seagal.jpg" width="165" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>"There are three kinds of lies: Lies, Damned Lies and Hollywood Lies." </b><b>(Chris Bunch, with no apologies whatsoever to Mr. Samuel Langhorne Clemens)</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>*****</b></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">The phone rang. Chris picked up. "This anybody with good news or money? No? Then fuck off!"<br />
<br />
But instead of hanging up, he put a hand over the receiver, and grinned at me. He counted silently: one, two, three - then removed the muffling hand.<br />
<br />
"Oh, it's you! Sorry." But his nasty cackle said he wasn't. At full volume he informed me, "It's our fearless agent, Marc - with a "C" - Pariser."<br />
<br />
(Marc Pariser was head of the television department at CAA, which at the time was the most powerful talent agency in Hollywood - which meant the world. For more about this fascinating subject, see: <a href="http://allan-cole.blogspot.com/2012/08/screwed-by-mouse-or-michael-eisner-and.html">Screwed By The Mouse.</a>)<br />
<br />
Back to Chris on the phone: "What's up, Marc?" He listened. Then, "You're shitting me." He started laughing, then stopped, except for occasional snorts of mirth. "Okay, okay, I won't laugh. Tell me what the fuck happened... Okay... Okay..."<br />
<br />
He looked up at me, speaking overly loud, letting Pariser know he was spilling the beans to the room at large.<br />
<br />
"...So, let me get this straight... You got a new garage door opener. Check! But then you went and left the fucking remote along with all your keys in the house. Check! Check!<br />
<br />
"And now you are in the garage, but the kitchen door is self-locking and it did its fucking self-locking job as advertised... and now you can't get back in the house. Check! Check! And Check again!<br />
<br />
"On top of that, you don't know how to open the garage door without the remote, so you can't get out of the garage, either. In short, you are well and truly up the brown creek without a rowing device... I forget how many Checks I'm up to, but am I right so far?"<br />
<br />
More listening... Chris chortling, enjoying the hell out of Marc's plight. Then he asked, "So, exactly by what means are you calling me, Marc? Got a phone in the garage, or something?" (This was at the tail end of the barbaric 80's and cell phones hadn't - gasp - been invented.)<br />
<br />
Another laugh from Chris. "What, the fuck? You got yourself a car phone! Shit, Marc. We know you're a arugula-eating Yuppie, but do you have to be so obvious about it?" He snorted. "Fucking figures. Guy who spells Marc with a wimped-out Yuppie "C" gets himself a fucking car phone."<br />
<br />
He started singing a way off key version of the new Yuppie-mocking novelty song, "Car Phone." (To the tune of "Convoy," the old long haul trucker's anthem.)<br />
<br />
<i>"Car Phone!</i><br />
<i>He's got a bitchin' car phone,</i><br />
<i>He thinks he owns the road.</i><br />
<i>Yeah, he's got a brand-new car phone,</i><br />
<i>He's stuck in the yuppie mode.</i><br />
<i>Since he has a brand-new car phone,</i><br />
<i>You better not get in his way.</i><br />
<i>He's gonna use that car phone,</i><br />
<i>To make his name in L.A.</i><br />
<i>Car phone!"</i><br />
<br />
I was in stitches. Marc apparently was not and was telling Chris that this was a God Damned emergency! And to get him out of the garage, please, before his boss fired him for missing the regular Monday a.m. CAA Power Breakfast.<br />
<br />
Marc's fear for his job made Chris feel sorry for him and so he quit laughing (mostly) and quizzed him about the garage door opener. Then he instructed Marc how to manually operate the thing. A few minutes passed, and I heard a tinny shout of triumph from Marc. Then he was back on the phone, thanking Chris.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, Yeah, you owe me... blah, blah..." Chris said. "Now, before I tell everybody in the whole town what a putz you are... where are we on the job front? I've got ten cats to support (only a slight exaggeration) and we could use a gig."<br />
<br />
He listened. And then listened some more. Finally, he snorted disgust. "You're shitting me. That asshole?" More listening. Several groans later he said, "Okay. Okay. We'll get back to you. I've gotta talk to Cole about this first. "<br />
<br />
Chris hung up. Shook his head, then announced, "Marc wants us to fucking Take A Meeting with that royal fucking blowhard, <a href="http://tinyurl.com/fbdzr">Steve Seagal</a>."<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFXjQpKxWaqumyPRlplCGW99-MN-qQF21pWH2ZjYOwHqluK-jvbYOuGK4IPAUfvG7zdUStDM5T6nxq_LFfnERzloLTGRpHzv_iK3bkf5O8upxRUInfHDxZvlZAvhyvC9poPaTRQB9POg/s1600/Steve_Mike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFXjQpKxWaqumyPRlplCGW99-MN-qQF21pWH2ZjYOwHqluK-jvbYOuGK4IPAUfvG7zdUStDM5T6nxq_LFfnERzloLTGRpHzv_iK3bkf5O8upxRUInfHDxZvlZAvhyvC9poPaTRQB9POg/s200/Steve_Mike.jpg" width="166" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike Ovitz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Seagal, who had no acting credentials whatsoever, was newly famous for his out of nowhere action hit Above The Law. The movie was made for about $5 million and took in nearly $20 million at the box office. More importantly, Seagal was the bum boy of Mike Ovitz, Uber boss of CAA. How Chris and I came to be represented by a little dingleberry like Ovitz is a whole other MisAdventure, which I'll relate down the road. (You may have had the recent misfortune of seeing old Stevie-poo on his phony-baloney cop unreality show.)<br />
<br />
"Is that the same Seagal who has been going around telling everybody that he's a former CIA assassin?" I asked.<br />
<br />
Chris sighed, "Yeah, yeah. That's the guy. The Double Oh-Oh-Fuck! wannabe."<br />
<br />
"Why the hell would we want to get involved with a dipshit like that?" I asked, quite reasonably.<br />
<br />
"As a favor for Marc," Chris explained. "He's trying to help out Richard Lovett with a director they're wooing." (At the time Lovett was a rising young star in the Agency's movie division.)<br />
<br />
"So, what the hell do we need Seagal for?" I asked. "Why not just meet with the director?"<br />
<br />
"Beats the hell out of me," Chris said. "But here's the thing. Marc sort of implied that if we helped him on this he'd put us together with <a href="http://tinyurl.com/3b989g7">William Friedkin.</a>"<br />
<br />
I sat up straight. "No shit?" I said, impressed.<br />
<br />
"I shit thee not," Chris replied.<br />
<br />
Friedkin - The French Connection, The Exorcist - was a director Chris and I admired. Hell, any writer in Town would jump at the chance to work with him.<br />
<br />
"Seagal must have some kind of pay or play deal," I mused. (Meaning, the Studio - in this case, Warner Bros. - had to pay Seagal a bunch of money, whether he starred in one of their movies, or not.) "And CAA is waving that at the director to entice him to sign."<br />
<br />
"That's what I figured," Chris said.<br />
<br />
We fell silent for a couple of beats, thinking. Then I said, "We'd better find out more about what's going on."<br />
<br />
So we called Al Godfrey and made him buy us lunch at Morton's Steak House. Godfrey was wise in the ways of many things, including Agency politics. Hell, he was usually stringing along three or four agencies at a time. Godfrey also had a weekly poker meet with the top money men in Town, and the fact that he regularly won in that bloody pool of sharks had a lot to say about our friend.<br />
<br />
After we finished eating, had some cigarettes going, and were sucking on a couple of drinks, Godfrey asked, "So, who is this director CAA is trying to impress?"<br />
<br />
We said it was a guy named Avi Nescher.<br />
<br />
Godfrey nodded, and said, "He's that hot young Israeli director everybody's talking about. From what I heard, I think you'll like him." He thought a minute, then added, "Before he got into the Business he was some kind of Israeli commando. One of the guys with big brass ones." (In fact, Nescher had been a member of the super elite <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sayeret_Matkal">Sayeret Matkal.</a>)<br />
<br />
I said, "It wasn't the director we were worried about, Al. What about this asshole Steve Seagal?"<br />
<br />
Godfrey sighed. "Aw, fucking hell, boys, he's an even bigger piece of work than you've heard. A real legend in his own mind. But he's got Ovitz behind him for some really weird reasons we probably don't want to think on too long."<br />
<br />
"Isn't Seagal supposed to be some kind of fifth degree Aikido black belt, or something?" I said. "And Ovitz joined his dojo, or something?"<br />
<br />
"Or, something," Godfrey said. "As for the black belt business, I'd give very good odds that four of those five degrees are total phonies, and the first was a gift that he didn't have to do shit for except marry Poppasan's daughter."<br />
<br />
Chris grunted. "He's no fucking Bruce Lee, or even Chuck Norris, that's for sure." Chris had seen the trailer of Seagal's movie and was less than impressed with his martial arts skills.<br />
<br />
Godfrey said, "Like me, he's a Jewish/Italian kid. But unlike me, he's ashamed of the Jewish part. Claims he was raised in one of the tough Brooklyn neighborhoods and is tight with the Wise Guys. But in fact, he was raised in a white bread Buena Vista, California burb, by a nice middle-class couple... His dad was a high school teacher, or something. I think his mom did some kind of medical work.<br />
<br />
"Somehow, in his twenties, he ended up in Japan. Don't know how, or why, but I'll bet it's not a pretty story. Ended up marrying a lady who really is an Aikido star and whose daddy owned a chain of dojos in Japan. Poppasan was stuck with a bum for a son in law, so he put him to work managing one of the dojos. Of course, you can't do that without a black belt, so good old Poppasan wrangled one for the kid."<br />
<br />
Godfrey paused to light another smoke, then said, "After that, he charmed his wife into backing his triumphant return to the States as a big time dojo owner. It was in San Diego, I think - but it went tits up after a few months. Then he opened the one on Mulholland, which just happened to be in plain view of Ovitz when he drove home every night. And that is where Seagal's luck took a big fucking jump."<br />
<br />
"What happened to the Japanese wife?" I asked.<br />
<br />
Godfrey shrugged. "That's 'wife' in the past tense," he said. "Although a few people told me that Seagal might have been married to two women at one time. The Japanese broad and some American." He shrugged. "But, hell, I'm not one to throw rocks at a guy for tripping over his schlong when it comes to women."<br />
<br />
This was true. Godfrey had the incredibly expensive habit of marrying and then divorcing starlets. These days he paid for everything cash, leaving no credit card trail for their lawyers or their shamuses to follow.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, but what's with all this CIA hit man, Gar-Bahge?" Chris asked. "I've heard he claims that he was in a Phoenix wet work team in Vietnam, and a hundred other bullshit things."<br />
<br />
Godfrey laughed. "One of my poker buddies said Seagal brags that he had a secret backstairs meeting at the White House with none other than John Fucking Kennedy. And that he'd personally gone on killing missions to Vietnam under direct orders from JFK. Says he was back and forth to Vietnam throughout the whole war."<br />
<br />
I held my breath. Chris looked like he was going to explode. The one thing he couldn't bear was a guy who made false claims about his military experience.<br />
<br />
Through clenched teeth Chris said, "Why the fuck would anybody believe such incredible lies?"<br />
<br />
Godfrey gave him a look of great pity. "For fuck's sake, Chris," he said, "this whole Town was founded on lies. Any lie you tell that makes you look marketable to the Studios will be believed instantly."<br />
<br />
"And nobody checks?" Chris said, disgusted.<br />
<br />
"What, and find out that it's not true?" Godfrey said. "Where's the profit in that? Look, Chris, in this Town everybody believes any lie you tell, even though they know for a fact that you are lying." He shrugged. "Takes one to fucking know one, and all that."<br />
<br />
A long silence. Then, "What do we do, Godfrey?" My tone was pleading.<br />
<br />
Godfrey shrugged. "Take the meeting," he said. "Nescher's a big boy. He'll know CAA is stroking him. Plus - and here's the main reason - Pariser's going to hook you up with Billy Friedkin."<br />
<br />
Chris nodded. "If he doesn't," he said, "I'll stick his fucking car phone up his Yuppie ass."<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>***</b></div><b>DISSOLVE TO: BEVERLY HILLS - AN ITALIAN RESTAURANT</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Where the Meeting was set.</i></b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRoGnR9uqQVEL86V_pxH49PCGmS2mdJmeDEj4V7L7DZ-r3F9X5lBtd0Nyj8GuvEP86zJusInE6I-vW2u1RU8xPhZo72EgMVc-bo9M5YJ6c9-rh4oDVJCJwyfYD45jNOyjI86QMkqDptk/s1600/steve_CAA_building.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRoGnR9uqQVEL86V_pxH49PCGmS2mdJmeDEj4V7L7DZ-r3F9X5lBtd0Nyj8GuvEP86zJusInE6I-vW2u1RU8xPhZo72EgMVc-bo9M5YJ6c9-rh4oDVJCJwyfYD45jNOyjI86QMkqDptk/s200/steve_CAA_building.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The restaurant was directly across from CAA's new headquarters, at Santa Monica and Wilshire. The building was an incredible testament to the out-of-control ego of Michael Ovitz. Seventy five thousand square feet of office space in three stories, with a 75-foot high atrium. An enormous Ficus tree was transported by ship all the way from Australia to decorate that atrium. The tale of how that huge tree came to find its way to Beverly Hills would fill volumes on wrong-headed corporate economics and even more volumes on Psycho analyses.<br />
<br />
(Chris and I used a science fiction version of that tree and the grandiose building in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Return-Emperor-Sten-ebook/dp/B006MHKZKK/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1346878190&sr=1-1&keywords=return+of+the+emperor+%2B+wildside">Sten #6 - Return Of The Emperor</a> - to illustrate just how fucked up a group of politicians became when The Eternal Emperor was out of town.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, we were a few minutes early to the meeting, as was the director, the aforementioned Avi Nescher. He was a great guy and we hit it off right away. Especially he and Chris, whose shared military backgrounds made them immediate paisanos. We got the idea that Avi knew he was being bullshitted by CAA, but was playing along to advance his own agenda.<br />
<br />
Finally, Seagal came strolling in. He was a big guy - at six foot four he was just a little taller than Chris. For a supposed athlete he was a kind of hefty, with an unseemly roll at his gut. He also had a face like a sheep and wore his hair in a short pony tail. I almost burst out laughing when he shook Nescher's hand, pony tail bobbing up and down like a pudgy ungulate with a tick in its butt.<br />
<br />
I managed to cover the laugh when he shook my hand, then he turned to Chris and although Stevie-poo was smiling, you could tell he was feeling challenged. Obviously, someone at CAA had told him all about my partner.<br />
<br />
His face tightened with effort as he tried to crush Chris' hand, but my partner just squeezed back, grinning at the jerk in that mocking way he had when he was less than impressed with a guy's macho act.<br />
<br />
Introductions over, we repaired to the dining room and the way the maître d and waiters fawned on Seagal you knew he was a big-tipping regular. (We were told later that he had an open tab - with CAA picking up the bills. They said Steve never spent his own money on anything.)<br />
<br />
Seagal spread himself across one whole side of the table, elbows stretching as far as they could - making himself appear bigger, in the manner of a blowfish.<br />
<br />
When a waiter approached to offer menus, Seagal rudely waved him aside. He thumped his chest with both hands, declaring, "In this place, I'M the menu. Anything you want, ask me."<br />
<br />
Ignoring him, Chris gestured to the waiter, saying, "I hear you guys make a great cannibal sandwich."<br />
<br />
Seagal broke in. "It's not on the men..."<br />
<br />
The waiter cut in, "Sure, we can do that, Sir. No problem. Lots of onions and capers, Sir?"<br />
<br />
Chris nodded. "And horseradish," he said. "Nice and fresh." (This was the first and only time I ever saw Chris eat a cannibal sandwich.)<br />
<br />
While Steve sat back, stewing, Nescher and I asked the now beaming waiter about the specials and picked something from the list he rattled off.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqyDWCGEaNWndgoT9qfzlLMwqTNXMDtfpNbDx4IhrQkfQDCrVdHbdaohmWMclaJfrclE0dZiEcunzBlBZrA2ejRc6HPsye1xh5GgIvIIDAO-0N1SKOIomRHVfx-cm-UvNurkDA54EI8ho/s1600/steve_dilbert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqyDWCGEaNWndgoT9qfzlLMwqTNXMDtfpNbDx4IhrQkfQDCrVdHbdaohmWMclaJfrclE0dZiEcunzBlBZrA2ejRc6HPsye1xh5GgIvIIDAO-0N1SKOIomRHVfx-cm-UvNurkDA54EI8ho/s200/steve_dilbert.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Topper In "Dilbert"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Drinks came and after Steve got a couple under his belt he launched into his fabulist act. He asked Chris about Vietnam, but before my partner got two words out, Seagal started in about mysterious Southeast Asian missions he'd undertaken for the CIA.<br />
<br />
At one point he was telling us how he and two members of his team had captured a dozen North Vietnamese soldiers, and led them back to American lines strung together with "det cord" (detonation cord) wrapped around their necks. One false move, Steve said, and he'd have fired the det cord. "...And off with their mother fucking heads."<br />
<br />
Chris casually mentioned the speed at which det cord burns - which although fast, would allow plenty of time for all twelve guys to rip it away and take care of Steve and his mates.<br />
<br />
But, even though Nescher snickered, Seagal didn't get it and continued spinning his tall tales of derring-do. We heard all about the midnight meeting with JFK, where he was personally recruited by the president only a few months before the assassination in Dallas. He made dark hints that he "knew things" about the assassination that were being kept from the ignorant masses.<br />
<br />
And there were stories about his buddies in the Yakuza (the Japanese mob) and the Mafia in New York, and he even threw in a few adventures in the Middle East for good measure.<br />
<br />
So, in a very short period time he had told three guys - me, a CIA brat, Chris and Avi, former commandos - elaborate lies that we were uniquely qualified to throw back in his face.<br />
<br />
Instead, Chris and Avi started playing games with his head. Speaking past him, they "discussed" skills and tactics and weapons that were wholly made up. But, no matter what they said, Steve tried to play one-upmanship.<br />
<br />
If Avi asked Chris if he'd ever fired the "9 mm Bagel," or the M-60 Kibbutz (I'm exaggerating, but not by much), Seagal would butt in and claim that he'd "field tested" early experimental models of the weapons for the CIA.<br />
<br />
Finally it started to dawn on old Stevie-Poo that he was being had. He was already a little in the bag, his features flushed from booze, but his sunlamp tan deepened as Avi and Chris continued their little game.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, he could take no more. Out went the elbows again and he leaned across the table, his face inches from Chris'.<br />
<br />
He said, "You know, I'm a trained killer."<br />
<br />
A wicked grin spread across Chris' face. But he said nothing.<br />
<br />
Growing more frustrated, Seagal raised both hands, displaying them.<br />
<br />
"What would you say if I told you that right this minute I could reach over this table and kill you with my bare hands."<br />
<br />
Chris laughed and said, "That's why God invented the .45, Steve."<br />
<br />
Seagal gaped. A short bark of laughter from Nescher.<br />
<br />
Steve's jaws snapped shut with an audible click and he shrank back in his seat.<br />
<br />
So there the score stood Bunch 1 - Seagal 0.<br />
<br />
And we never had a lick of trouble from old Stevie-poo after that.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>NEXT: DUMB IT DOWN BOYS</b></div><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><b>*****</b></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;"><div><b><span style="color: red;">THE COMPLETE MISADVENTURES: </span></b><b style="color: red;">IT'S A BOOK!</b><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpR9Gl4CDQYh_ahCeMMpOX6Z4DLm1_BgCitEmtOsiegOkjrCdDLTCR4Ov1O9G52EMf0YuIszkWYoWfHZcVP1nR7y9mLiAmeXLL0fLORD_Hv1fV6gqyNIO4iX0vbAEivmkSjnlw7MwzA2E/s1600/BookCoverImage_kindle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpR9Gl4CDQYh_ahCeMMpOX6Z4DLm1_BgCitEmtOsiegOkjrCdDLTCR4Ov1O9G52EMf0YuIszkWYoWfHZcVP1nR7y9mLiAmeXLL0fLORD_Hv1fV6gqyNIO4iX0vbAEivmkSjnlw7MwzA2E/s200/BookCoverImage_kindle.jpg" width="133" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b></b></span><br />
<div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>THE VITAL LINKS:</b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/7elbaan" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">TRADE PAPERBACK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/8x7bqby" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KINDLE.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/buo57lu" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NOOK BOOK.</a><b style="text-align: left;"> </b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102032" style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS. </a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The MisAdventures began humbly enough - with about 2,000 readers. When it rose to over 50,000 (we've now nearing the 175,000 mark) I started listening to those of you who urged me to collect the stories into a book. Starting at the beginning, I went back and rewrote the essays, adding new detail and events as they came to mind. This book is the result of that effort. However, I'm mindful of the fact, Gentle Reader, that you also enjoy having these little offerings posted every Friday to put a smile on your face for the weekend. So I'll continue running them until it reaches the final Fade Out. Meanwhile, it would please the heart of this ink-stained wretch - as well as tickle whatever that hard black thing is in my banker's chest - if you bought the book. It will make a great gift, don't you think? And if you'd like a personally autographed copy you can get it directly through my (ahem) Merchant's Link at Amazon.com. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A34H2EQGF8J7QK">Click here.</a> Buy the book and I will sign it and ship it to you. Break a leg!</b></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>*****</b></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">STEN #1 DEBUTS IN SPANISH! </span></b></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s1600/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlFd1uTT__EhOpKcE8JMduawWEYE-U3qEIh7mNLdM0nb2lok14wuwaxk_8y3vcFqnk1xw43wMaMv5OhYMeqr1vVbDWSixP1PGczYoqo4pyAbKRyVxVHHNrE5cSwWxWnkgoIWNBitsB0M/s200/spanish_Sten_2.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Told in four parts, Episode Two now appearing in Diaspar Magazine, the best SF&F magazine in South America! And it's free! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?n6bbbom8dktdnd4">Here's the link.</a> </span></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> *****</span></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sten debuta # 1 en español! Narrada en cuatro partes, Episode Dos ahora aparece en la revista Diaspar, la mejor revista de SF & F en América del Sur! </span><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Y es gratis! <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?n6bbbom8dktdnd4">Aquí está el enlace. </a></span></span></div></div><b>*****</b></div></div></div></div><div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE STEN COOKBOOK & KILGOUR JOKEBOOK</span></b></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s1600/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0L5ETSwLZKxe5HZa9xw_tWt87Xzx52d62aEpukcUghPqUmdlWnAA98x6uNjH6ipDYUPHvVkXl-7f-NT_kmP5PanzmwolefvqQoRWy3hqAX1q1M_DfXuVcmyCoqi20CM-wXTJ8MKargGg/s200/Cook_joke_combine.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b style="font-size: 12pt;">Two new companion editions to the international best-selling Sten series. In the first, learn the Emperor's most closely held </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">cooking secrets. In the other, Sten unleashes his shaggy-dog joke cracking sidekick, Alex Kilgour. Both available as trade </b><b style="font-size: 12pt;">paperbacks or in all major e-book flavors. <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/colesnewspreviews/best-sf-f-sites/about-sten">Click here to tickle your funny bone or sizzle your palate. </a> </b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://allangcole.blogspot.com</div>Allan Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17393660419513065556noreply@blogger.com0