CALL ME SNAKE

Some time ago, I wrote about a nifty film I'd just seen called "3:10 to Yuma," which came out 50 years ago. I don't normally do that sort of thing but this taut little drama stood out from the crowd.  I must have been onto something because that same movie has been remade and is now a big new picture starring Russell Crowe, Peter Fonda, and Christian Bale. Was it just a coincidence or are the Hollywood producers reading this blog?

On our annual drive to New Hampshire each Thanksgiving, Mr. Mike's is a welcome half-way point, an oasis on a day of closed McDonald's and abandoned donut stands. On the drive north, as if in a dream, I think I saw two Mr. Mike's though the second one was a bit of a blur and perhaps apocryphal. My wife's aunt thinks she saw a second one, too, though she can't swear to it. On the return trip to Boston, earlier today, my mother-in-law claims to have seen three Mr. Mike's, which comes as a complete shock to me (the driver). I could only swear to one and figured there could only be two, at most, along our long-familiar route. Yet she, a woman who is not prone to hyperbole, claims to have seen a third. As to how many we'll see on the next journey, only time--and visual acuity (which may be in short supply)--will tell.

The thing I love most about PARADE Magazine (among the many things I love about PARADE Magazine) is that you can learn things from it that you cannot learn anywhere else. For instance, in yesterday's issue there was a fascinating discourse on Amanda Peet's hair color and style on the TV show "Studio 60," which came close to being cancelled after a very brief run. "Amanda has the new look for brunettes," a Hollywood "hair maven" commented. The style is called "paneling," which evidently creates "the rich patina of wood panels." I didn't know this. In fact, I had no idea that so much thought and foresight went into a TV program. I don't watch the show personally, but the article has made me think that if they had put as much effort into the scripts as they did into Amanda Peet's hair, they might have actually produced a show that people want to watch.

Many years ago, an L.A. friend and I wrote a screenplay, a romantic comedy. While we were shopping the script, I contacted an accomplished (Academy Award-nominated) screenwriter I knew vaguely through college, to get advice on how to make a deal. Midway through our conversation, he said, "Sorry Steve, can I put you on hold? I've got Steven Spielberg on the other line." I told him that was OK, we could talk later. I was used to that sort of thing, being told that Steven Spielberg was on the other line. Anyway, there was always tomorrow. Or the next day...

Looking back now, I can't remember if we ever did have that follow-up conversation. I think not. In any case, a few years ago, Spielberg came out with a movie (a bomb, I gather) that was awfully close to our story--so much so that another friend told me: "How come Spielberg made your movie?"

I doubt that he did. A guy like that probably has no shortage of ideas, and even if he did, there'll always be an endless supply of people trying to tell him THEIR idea (trying to make it HIS idea). Still, I can't help going back to that phone conversation many years back, when both Spielberg and I were talking to the same guy. At the same time. Almost on the same line. In the end, of course, my movie was never made. Spielberg's was and, speaking objectively, I'm sure it sucks. But it's out there in video stores and mine just remains a stack of papers, sitting in a box, collecting dust. Of course, that's what happens when the two Stevens go head to head. Because in Hollywood, there's still only one. Well, maybe two if you count Soderbergh. (Sorry Steven Segall. Please don't karate chop me, as I'm still smarting from the body blow the other Steven already dealt me.)

Mitt’s on the stump again. Rather than allowing the state to provide security for Iran's former president, Mohammed Khatami, during a scheduled talk next week at Harvard University, as is customary and would seem prudent, Romney--a presidential aspirant playing to his party's far right (which is about as far as you can go)--has vowed not to spend a dollar of taxpayer's money "to support a terrorist." The dean of Harvard's Kennedy School of Government, which is hosting the September 11 event, claimed the school is standing by its decision to invite Khatami to speak. According to the Boston Globe, the dean said that "decisions on whether to invite political figures with troubling records are made on a case-by-case basis." Speaking of "troubling records, it makes me wonder: What would the Kennedy School of Government do--and more importantly, what would that grandstanding Romney do--if George W. Bush was invited to speak at Harvard instead?

Years ago, a mediocre movie came out called "Bad Influence" about an innocent, played by James Spader, who comes under the sway of a psychopath, played by Rob Lowe. Many years later, my talented younger cousin has come under the sway of a mediocre blogger. He claims said mediocre blogger (me, not to be too boastful) inspired him to start his own blog. I don't want to claim too much credit for this fateful decision. You see my cousin used to be quite a productive member of society. He accomplished things: started restaurants, struck deals, gave pithy quotes to newspaper reporters--a lowly class he used to be part of. What's more, he just became a father, entailing a level of responsibility that even this successful businessman and employer cannot yet fathom. So why is he risking all that and starting a blog--one of the greatest time-wasters yet invented--at this of all times? I don't know. It seems my family is holding me responsible for this misstep, but they're not talking to me about it. So I can only imagine what they're saying. And thinking. About one rotten apple (as the old Jackson 5 song would have it) now threatening to spoil the whole darn bunch.

I'm an innocent. I've had my hand in a number of books (whatever that means), but I've never written a novel. (Maybe a novella, if you stretch the definition.) So it's clear I don't know the first thing about it. I thought novelists wrote the books themselves. I had no idea there was such a thing as "book packagers" like Alloy Entertainment (with 17 New York Times bestsellers in 2005!) that actually write (they say "package") the books for you. All this came to light for me--and for many of you, no doubt--when stories surfaced about the poor Harvard undergraduate who apparently was overly zealous in "internalizing" the novels of another author. (Perhas the Harvard girl should have picked a more obscure writer?) The question now is whether that other author--the one who "externalized" it rather than "internalized" it--wrote the books herself, or did she leave the prose to the pros at Alloy or similar firms?

Dick Cheney addressed the media (question: is FOX NEWS really the media?) on Wednesday, expressing contrition over having mistaken his friend for a quail and then pulling the trigger. (With friends like that, who needs enemies?) It was one of the worst days of my life, said Cheney--the new poster child for the "gang that couldn't shoot straight."

What a shame. Cheney had a bad day on the ranch. I really feel for him. And what about Whittington, lying there in the hospital with birdshot lodged in his heart? How do you think he'd rate the day?

The Hopkinton, Massachusetts man I wrote about earlier, Neil Entwistle, has been upgraded from a "person of interest" regarding the murder of his wife and daughter to an outright suspect. Authorities believe they've found the gun used in the killings (though I'm still waiting for forensics on that) and now they've found evidence that Entwistle did internet searches on murder and suicide. (Note: Be careful what you search for!) The latest theory is that he planned a murder-suicide but quit halfway through the job.

Which brings up one of my pet peeves: "murder-suicide," a trend apparently on the rise that I deplore. So the guy had some financial difficulties. Why did he think killing his wife and daughter and then, presumably, himself would make things better for them?

Here's another thing that I deplore: Every time there's a violent death in the family, who's the first suspect? The father. Why? Because of jerks like Entwistle, that's why. I'm not a proponent of suicide by any means, and it is a horrible societal problem. But maybe a guy like that should have just killed himself. I say that if you're really intent on murder-suicide, kill yourself first. When you finish that job, you can see about the others.

I never met Coretta Scott King but I wonder what she'd think about having President Bush deliver a eulogy for her. What have his policies that favor rich (and predominately white) people done to further the causes of racial equality that she and her husband championed? How has the gutting of social services for the poor under Bush's watch helped black people or the nation in general? Maybe the organizers of the funeral could have told the president: "Thanks for the offer, but we'd rather have our friends speak here today." I don't want to make light of Mrs. King's death, but perhaps she's lucky not to have lived to see the day when George W. Bush spoke at her funeral.