In the beginning, there was the Word.
I took the Cherie Currie album and walked right out the door, right up to Kim Fowley, and I pushed it in his face, interrupting his conversation, and I said, point blank, “Did YOU rape her?”
If in Orwell’s 1984, the future is “a boot stamping on a human face—for ever,” our present is one in which our bosses make us lick their boots, and then trick us into thinking a few dirty coins make this not a misery, but a privilege. We shouldn’t be using James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhall to make it look, even in a minor way, like that’s something that can be reworked into a positive.
“Best Songs that Sound Sexier with Scottish Accents?” Now, that I’d want to read!
If the film loving community of Tulsa could bring some of this energy back home, foment it, and keep it, perhaps someday we might not need to go abroad to appreciate our own film history or to champion it from out of state.
If you ever wondered what my interviews look like without my fascistic editing process, read this.
It’s up on the L.A. RECORD site.
I wrote one of my personal favorite dating articles for Jazzed this week, and published it today–and it’s about cool hiking spots in L.A.!