Magic Johnson's brutha

After a couple of months on the job doing airport runs for dog food executives and associate producers, I got the call for my first celebrity pickup, Malcolm Jamal Warner, the son from the Cosby show. Didn't know what he was up to these days but I was mildly intrigued and relieved my first foray into the Show time would be a low maintenance seeming dude. He was so low he ended up canceling before I got there but now I had stepped up into the bigs, maybe just as a seldom used reliever and send me back down to the the minors or not, I was a player in the game. Sheeeet.

I can't remember who my first celeb actually was, probably a tv actor from some show I'd never watch and possibly had worked on as an extra. (Due to a financial and synaptic crisis, I dropped out of film school in Manhattan and presumed I could parlay my 16mm skills into a crew gig in LA. I had been forewarned that Hollywood was all about connections, "It's not who you know, it's who you blow", but figured I would finesse a path through all that pedestrian bullshit. Had I only better tits. Worse, I arrived under a serious cloud of charm depletion. As such, I took employment as a 'background artist' on some of the lamest films and sitcoms of the year, which is about anything produced in the biz lately, along with an endless supply of delusional misfits as co-workers and lunch companions.) But the first celeb I was really excited about was Magic Johnson, in fact the only other one who gave me such an unbridled thrill was Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Sadly, she was another canceli.
The Johnson residence sits inside a gated ghetto for African-American millionaires off Mulholland and when I pulled up he was standing next to his personal Rolls limousine and sharp looking chauffeur. I jumped out and ran up to him like a little kid and his enormous hand engulfed my own. He stopped me before I could blurt out Magic with a drawn out, "It's Earvin". Just a frickin giant; you wouldn't expect the Shaq to be any larger.
Then he and his slick driver start telling me over and over "He's coming out" in tones that turn my childlike expression to one belonging on some chump who finally realizes he's playing the sucker in a game of three-card Monte. I eye my driving comrade with a what's-this-about? expression and he just grins and jumps into the Rolls while he and the magic-man speed out of there before He could make it out of the house. I ended up driving Magic's jive-ass brother all over town in an old stretch the undersized brother managed to keep filled with bunches of aging, inebriated, sistas into the wee hours. And you know he stiffed me, right? Still, a pretty likable guy. Not an ego case like the usual studio prick for a change.

more stalling

Someone hipped me to the fact that there are gobs of blogs featuring celebrity blather and gossip so getting hits on this site is not going to be easy. Worse, it brought me to grips with the inescapable truth about the inescapable nature of this trite site, a denial without ever having had a chance at sustainability. Or accountability, whichever.

We’re going to get to the dirt in due time but let’s start off on the high road and coast down from there, low gear, breaks squealing around sharpest curves and bleeding ever so gently.

What you have to look forward to: death, taxes, global warming, more death, insight into the unknown yet fascinating world of the well suited yet lowly limo driver, a few labor gripes and issues, Hollywood liberals!, working class stooges, industrial sabotage, and heap-fulls of player hating. Now go find something to wipe your saliva from the screen. Now!

Can a brutha get a mission statement?

This is not meant to be an outlet or mechanism focused on trashing celebrities, although any of them who do get offended in the process have only to gaze into any number of many feverishly arrayed and ever present mirrors to find the guilty party. True, no right thinking person should give a damn about these people but there they were, and so was I. Plus, they are the one part of the greater community each of us has some access to and connection with, however limited or appreciated that may be. But mostly this will be about me and my problems, which are many and mostly fact based along with whatever random meanderings my spastic imagination construes.