Everything came to a head five years ago today. To summarize a brutally long story -- one that required 17 pages to explain adequately -- I spent almost a year writing a 200-page screenplay for a group of people I had known since 1982, only for it to be stolen by the very individuals who introduced me to the project. Needless to say, I was irate. You already have a good idea of how pissed I was if you've heard the infamous Mel Gibson tapes.
Durwood Fincher could not have spun half as well as they did. The men of that family have no conscience.
Durwood Fincher could not have spun half as well as they did. The men of that family have no conscience.
I must've written one helluva script because these people, for whom I exhibited more respect and trust than they ever deserved, went above and beyond to keep the whereabouts of my work a closely guarded secret, which was compounded by a network of Pavlovian dogs -- my closest confidant included, much to my chagrin -- who evidently refused to believe that such a Stepford family would commit this unnerving act. Yet because infinitely worse tragedies occur everyday, I will abstain from rambling any further. My only advice: don't be shocked by anything that anyone does, ever.
"The bands of the wicked have robbed me: but I have not forgotten thy law."
-- Psalm 119:61, KJV
Illegitimi non carborundum
1 comment:
People suck.
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