#41 - Awards Season! - January, 2016

Awards season in L.A. is a funny period of time. We’ve had the Golden Globes and the People’s Choice Awards already. Coming up are the Screen Actors Guild Awards, the Critics’ Awards, the Directors and Producers Guild Awards, then my favorite, the Film Independent Spirit Awards, and of course the Oscars.

Everyone in L.A. both loves and hates this whole time of year.

I am qualified to vote in the Screen Actors Guild Awards and the Film Independent Spirit Awards.

For the record, it doesn’t matter where you live as you read this, anyone reading this right now, could vote in the Spirit Awards. All you have to do is pay your $95 yearly membership fee to Film Independent, and presto, you get to watch free films.

There are so many screenings happening for free, there is not enough time in the day to attend them all. As I write this I could be arranging to screen a dozen films over the upcoming 3-day weekend, but in reality I will skip most of them.

I have no connection to the Oscars, but I’ve talked to several people who do, and they all seem to share a love/hate relationship with the whole process.

Maybe the reason is that in the end it only sort of matters, which means that it also sort of doesn’t matter who wins, who loses, who is ‘snubbed,’ or who is a surprise winner.

20 years ago I worked for two days as an Extra and a Stand-in on ‘Forrest Gump.’ I had an insignificant 2-day job, and none of the important people on that film will ever remember my presence. I was hired to be one of the ‘All-American’ college football players that meets President John F. Kennedy, and when I arrived was also given the behind-the-scenes job of standing in Kennedy’s place while the lighting crew set up the lights. I will go to my grave, though, proudly boasting that I worked on one Oscar winner. But I recently googled the other nominees from that year and discovered what I had forgotten. The far superior ‘Shawshank Redemption’ lost out to Gump, and that is all you need to know about the Oscars. Winning means nothing. Winning probably means you were the second or third best film of that year (in 1969 Stanley Kubrik famously lost the Directing award for 2001 to Carol Reed and the musical Oliver).

I try to take the job of voting seriously. I mean, it’s important to me that Hollywood has some alternative way to gauge success besides the skewed value of box office numbers. But let’s be honest, it is a very flawed system.

I’m not going to name any names, or review any particular film, but I went to a screening recently, my first time inside the posh offices of CAA – one of the top, maybe THE top Agency in the business – at the Ray Kurztman theater (or is it Roy? Jay?). The film was, well, let’s say I just wasn’t buying into it. I thought it was 'okay,' but by no means a great film. I was so disappointed, because I like the guy who wrote the screenplay. I had high hopes for it. I left the screening frustrated at what passes for a 'great’ film.

A few days later the Oscar nominations were announced, and there it was, smack in the middle of the list of nominees for best film of the year.

I twisted my head a little and laughed.

Oh well, whatever, it doesn’t matter. The producers are happy, I guess.

It’s still better to have awards than not.

I’m always surprised at how many people have not heard of the Spirit Awards. I’ve been watching them for years. They happen Saturday, the day before the Oscars, and they’re more watchable because no one dresses up (I’ve always felt that I could never go to the Oscars, because I would be sure to vomit directly on someone’s $20,000 gown).

So….watch the Spirit Awards. Then skip the Oscars. No, wait, Chris Rock is hosting. I guess I could handle watching some of the show to see him.

Just know that there’s one film on that Best Film list that, if it wins, I’ll be laughing at the absurdity of it all.

-Peter Wick

January 15, 2016

#40 - Funny, Sexy Nanobots - Nov. 2015

I was alarmed to read recently that scientists are planning to insert tiny nanobots into our brains in the not-too-distant future.

Ray Kurzweil, who has researched artificial intelligence for years, and now works at Google, has predicted that in about 20 years we will be able to insert tiny robots – ‘nanobots’ – into our brains, making us, in his words, “funnier…sexier…and better at expressing loving sentiment.”

I think it’s interesting that scientists these days are so concerned about being funny and sexy. Scientists have always been the classic examples of nerdy geniuses who are anything BUT funny and sexy. I wonder if this is the scientists’ ultimate revenge; years of being the victim of clever put-downs, the heart-ache of watching the dream-girl leave with the sexier stud, have led the scientific community to INVENT their way to being funny and sexy.

The way it works, if I understand Mr. Kurzweil’s explanation, is that tiny robots from DNA strands will swim around in the capillaries of our brains, allowing us to connect to the cloud. This will give us increased ‘logical intelligence’ and ‘emotional intelligence,’ and apparently, funnier comebacks, and more devastatingly sexy personas.

I wonder if this is just wishful thinking on Mr. Kurzweil’s part.

Connecting our brains to the cloud may certainly give us quicker access to knowledge (“The 1915 Treaty of London? Of course I know which countries were involved”) but will it really give us a funnier comeback when someone insults us?

Sure, you’ll have instant access to the entire database of other people’s clever comebacks. There’s the generic comeback listed on several websites; “Did you hear that? It’s the sound of no one caring” Or maybe you want to go more Groucho Marx; “I never forget a face, but in your case I’ll be glad to make an exception.” Or maybe you want to tap into the more whimsical but biting style of Oscar Wilde; “Some people cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.”

Despite all of this database access, though, I wonder if tiny nanobots will give us the creativity to come up with our own brilliant, original funny line.

As for sexiness, well, this is an even wilder dream on Kurzweil’s part. At the risk of sounding sexist; the vast of majority of men have no clue what makes a man sexy. Do we really believe scientists can program robots for sexiness?

Hold on, something just occurred to me; Mr. Kurzweil doesn’t plan to insert these nanobots into his own brain at all. He plans to put them in OTHER people’s brains. Aha! Mr. Kurzweil you have been found out! You plan to get your revenge on that girl who broke your heart, by inserting pre-programmed nanobots into her brain that will make her fall desperately in love with you.

Why do I see images of a crazy, laughing madman, surrounded by devices and bubbling beakers, screaming manically into the night, in a dark castle at the top of a lonely hill? On the outside of the dark castle, stenciled in crazy-looking uneven lettering, is the simple word, “Kurzweil.”

Peter Wick

November 14, 2015

#39 - How to survive a political campaign year

I don't really want to write about politics. Politics is a trap.

I DO, however, want to make fun of politicians as much as I possibly can, and in the process, help you, my dear reader, find some small sliver of sanity in what is shaping up to be a mostly insane upcoming year of politics.

First, let's identify what the problem is; I don't think it's a stretch to say that nearly all of us, on all sides of the political landscape, share one response....shaking our heads in disbelief at something we just heard a politician say.

We drop our jaws a little, twist our heads sideways, try to find the right balance between anger and laughter, and look at whoever else is nearby, to see if they are as bewildered as you are.

There is a uniquely preposterous tone of voice used by the candidate running for office. Politicians say things that no one in any other facet of life will say. The only way, I feel, to find balance and perspective is to imagine that the person saying the preposterous things, is someone - or something - else entirely.

A few examples (on opposite sides of the political divide);

Whenever Bernie Sanders speaks, imagine that is is KFC icon, Colonel Sanders.

When Donald Trump pontificates, imagine all the same words coming from the mouth of Donald Duck.

Hilary Clinton?....George Clinton (of Parliament Funkadelic).

Jeb Bush?.....Jed Clampit (from Beverly Hillbillies).

This is a start. This will at least allow you to fall asleep at night replaying a more entertaining version of the news than you otherwise would have.

Next, we need to add wrestling to political debates. There's just no alternative. These people need to stop talking, creating 'spin,' blabbering on and on without really saying anything....and...they need to.......fight!

You might expect Trump and Sanders to win that one, but something unexpected is bound to happen. One of the lesser candidates will emerge as an unexpected bad-ass. One of the bigger candidates will be exposed as a wimp.

Wrestling......add it to all future political debates......Do it America!

Finally, since Donald Trump has completed the crossover form 'reality' TV to political candidate, I think we need to go the other direction, and turn the primaries into one long episodes of "Survivor."

Instead of having primaries and caucuses, we should helicopter all of the candidates to a remote deserted island, and let them figure out how to survive on their own. They will have to create alliances and enemies, Each month they will have to vote one candidate off of the island. Whoever is left at the end becomes President.

Wait.......No, check that.....Let's just leave that person on the island and never go back.
-Peter Wick
October 15, 2015

#38 - Social Media has saved the WORLD!

They say the first step toward healing is admitting the truth. Well, world, let's admit it, we're a pretty dumb lot.

This isn't a new phenomenon. Dumbness has run rampant since the first Homo Erectus decided to stand upright, and his dad yelled at him to quit showing off. "Walk bent over, like a normal early ape creature, yu damn kid!"

In the ancient world prior to the advent of social media - you know, the 1990's - dumbness was alive and well. (Two words....boy bands). Now we have Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Google Plus....sorry, my mistake, we don't actually have Google Plus.

The great thing about this era of social media, is that we are living out Mark Zuckerberg's dream of a 'more connected world.' Being connected will save us....from....I don't know what. I was just reading about the person who was so excited about getting a new American Express credit card, that they posted a photo of the card in their Facebook status, not realizing the dangers of posting your new credit card number on the internet for everyone to see....and copy.

Then there was the guy who complained that his Science Teacher was so dumb, he thought the sun was a star. When  someone replied, "That's because it is," he argued forcefully that, "A sun's a sun. A star's a star. there's a difference. Duh."

Reading posts like these give some insight into our society. Don't get me wrong. We are not dumber than we used to be. Our dumbness is just more exposed for all to see.

For example, I was stunned to learn something about disgraced bicycle champion Lance Armstrong that I had not previously known. One thoughtful person posted, "We should all get off Lance Armstrong's back. Sure he did drugs, but he was still the first person to land on the moon." Fascinating! I did not know that!

The examples are too many and too mind boggling to list. ("Canadians are so stupid they think 'Titanic' was a real event, not jut a movie").

Mark Zuckerberg wants to save the third world, by floating wifi balloons around the world, so everyone can have access to Facebook.

Well, if Mark Zuckerberg believes it, it must be true, right?

I don't remember which of these are Facebook and which are Twiiter (Twitter, by the way, is far superior, because I love Twitter). It doesn't really matter. What matters is that someone took the time to ask publicly whether "The Hunger Games" is a true story....failing to account for the fact that it is set in the FUTURE.

There's the person who posted, in full wonderment, "Can you believe this Earth is now 2015 years old? Amazing!"

"Why did they invent other languages? What, like one wasn't enuogh?" This person would be facinated to learn that English is just about the LAST language to develop on the planet.

Or, the girl who asked why Chinese people don't have 'normal' names, like Kathy and Emily.

Or, they guy who was sure the world only has seven countries.

Or........

Forget it, we all get the point.

In closing I leave you with a modified age-old question to consider:

If a tree falls in the woods.....and no one is there to pose for a selfie in front of it.....did it actually fall? If no one posts it to Facebook, or at least Instagram, does it even matter? Or, if it's posted, but by someone with only 40 friends, and no one 'likes' it, did the tree even exist to begin with, or was it just too lame for existence?
-Peter Wick
September 15, 2015

#37 - Abducted!

The 15 minute walk up Rose Avenue from my apartment to the nearest over-priced grocery store (that would of course be Whole Foods) is a colorful and interesting walk. You are sure to be surprised by something along the way. If it's not the giant ballerina-with-a-clown-head on the wall of the CVS Pharmacy, maybe it will be the neighborhood medical pot store, or the stenciled sidewalk art - a sinister looking silhouette of a man pointing up at you with the words, "You love the man," stenciled next to him.

You might be surprised by the shear number of society's outcasts. There's a unique breed of homelessness in Venice, but that's another issue, to be dealt with at another time.

Taped or stapled to the streetlight poles and power poles are the usual posters; a band playing somewhere, a missing cat, a missing dog, a missing person...

It was along these lines that one particular flier taped to a pole caught my attention recently. At the top in bold letters was the word "Abducted!" Below the word was a picture of a bearded 20-something-looking gjuy.

I stepped closer to read the rest of the poster. It stated that this guy was abducted by aliens on a particluar day, at a particular time, in Topanga Canyon. Then it said, "If you have any means of alien contact, please call us," and then it listed the phone number....and that was it.

The poster raised a lot of questions  for me, more questions than it could ever hope to answer.

Did the people making the poster actually SEE their friend get abducted by aliens? Even if you are able to contact these aliens, what will you say to them? Can you negotiate an abductee's release from alien capture? If you can negotiate an abductee's release, how do you negotiate? Do you offer a trade?  Some other human to experiment on in exchange for the return of your friend? If you can negotiate a trade, who do you trade for? Do you look for a volunteer, or do you trade away someone against their will?

I nominate Kim Kardashian.

I plan to contact the President in the next few days and arrange a trade negotiation, in which we give the aliens Kim K in exchenge for the return of whatever-the-hell-his-name-is - let's call him "Topanga Dude."

It's a beautiful trade, the more I think about it. I want to be there when the alien ship comes down through the Canyon trees and touches down gently on the roadway. Then the hatch slides gracefully open. Topanga Dude steps awkwardly out of the space craft, sheilding his eyes from the bright light of the many car headlights. Kim K is then presented to the aliens. She wimpers a little as the government agent pulls her by the arm toward the craft. Several cars away Kanye shrugs and smiles as she is ushered into the craft and the hatch closes.

Moments later the craft - and Kim - are gone, never again to return to Earth.

One of Topanga Dude's friends asks him if he's okay.

"Sure, I guess," he says.

"What did they do to you?" a friend asks.

"Mostly they just made me scrub their toilets," he says. "Oh, and they did experiments on my brain."

"Cool," the friend says.

Then we all get in our cars and go home, never to hear about Kim Kardashian ever again....

...And there was peace on Earth from that day on....
-Peter Wick
July 15, 2015

#36 - The Dude Abides

My sister Keren hasn't called me Peter for more than 15 years.

It was a subtle thing at first.

It didn't fully sink in for the first few years, that she had actually changed my name.

I mean, when someone comes up to you and casually says, "Dude, you forgot this thing," you take the thing and go on with your day.

I don't know if Keren saw "The Big Lebowski" when it was first released in 1998, or sometime later. You could proobably pinpoint the last time she called me Peter to the day before she saw the film.

As the name slowly settled on me it began to change my own view of myself.

To be fair, I may not fit ALL the classic traits of a classic Dude, but in a family of teachers and college professors, I am definitely, by comparison, the Dude of the family.

For example. I failed at choosing a "sensible" career. I have never cared about money (this has had both good and - those who know me will be quick to point out - bad consequences). I have dabbled in a sort of half-assed semi-Buddhist approach to life. I have always bought the cheapest, oldest cars I could find, and driven them until they just stop working, sometimes stranding myself in the middle of nowhere with a broken car. This trait caused my good friend Roberta Orlandi to compare me to her dear departed brother, who she described as always driving a 'broken car.'

I have even, recently, become what is called an ordained "Dude-ist Preist." (This isn't hard to do. You just go to a website, say you want to be ordained, and blammo, you're ordained.) I think I have even, a time or two in my life, said, "Fuck it, let's go bowling."

Keren and I were teammates on a recreational coed socccer team for several years, and there were many times when she saw me losing my cool with a referee (I am always right, Referees are always wrong). Keren would walk toward me and simply say, "Dude." Imagine John Goodman's "Walter" telling Jeff Bridges, "Dude, you're being very un-Dude right now," and I think you see where I am going with this.

When I moved into a new apartment near Venice Beach, California last year, a friend who was helping me move told me, "This is the final step of your Dude-ist journey."

"I don't know," I said. "This might just be the beginning."

So I credit my sister Keren for starting a series of events that has now led to..."It Is What It Is."

The character Zenny Zeller is a Dude.

I wasn't sure what to call him at first. I mean, he's a Dude, but I couldn't name him "Dude" out of respect for Jeff Bridges. There's only one "Dude;" Bridges' Jeffrey Lebowski. But there are many many Dudes in this world. It's not a name Bridges, or Joel or Ethan Coen own, but I have to respect "The Dude" and find another name for my character.

So I settled on Zenny, and I freely and openly admit that the character is influenced by Jeff Bridges' "Dude."

Putting out a new book makes me a little nervous. I am tempted to fret over whether readers will respond to it. I am tempted to worry whether the audience will get the same enjoyment from reading it that I got from writing it.

But when these worries creep into my mind, I remind myself to shrug it off.....you know....whatever happens happens.....It Is what It Is, man...The Dude abides.....

-Peter Wick

June 12, 2015 

"It Is What It Is" has now been published by Azzurri Publishing. Click the image below to link to the Amazon page:

#35 - The Once and Future Sonics

I am a coffee drinker.

And a basketball fan.

And from Seattle.

These three facts combine, this time of year, to cause a churning inner turmoil.

Why?

If you have to ask, you obviously are unaware of the evil that lurks beneath the surface of the beautiful game of NBA basketball.

It has been seven years since Howard Schultz, owner and CEO of Starbucks Coffee (not evil), sold his then-ownership (evil) of the legendary basketball team Seattle Supersonics to Oklahoma's Clay Bennet (very evil). The two men lied to the Seattle media about their intentions ("not") to move the team, all the while encouraged by then-NBA commissioner David Stern (most evil of all) to pack up the beloved team and ship them down to Oklahoma City to take on the new team name "Thunder."

During the years since, Seattle has had to go to court to make Oklahoma City return the 1979 Championship trophy. They have had to get another court injunction to keep the name "Sonics" in Seattle. And perhaps most galling of all, the greatest Sonic of all time, legendary point guard Gary Payton has had to turn down invitations from the evil impostors (OKC) to retire his jersey in a strange city where he never played. Payton (not evil...in fact a shining beacon of GOOD in this dark world) is to be commended for his loyalty to Seattle.

Perhaps a little perspective and background is in order.

The Chicago Bulls of the 1990's were evil. Yes, I am talking about Michael Jordan's 6-time winning Bulls.

By the way, the greatest player of all time has the initials MJ, but he is Magic Johnson, not Michael Jordan.

Anyway, Gary Payton, Shawn Kemp, Detlef Shrempf, Nate Macmillsn, and many other shining beacons of GOOD in the world, coached by the brilliant Geroge Karl, faced the Chicago Bulls in the 1996 NBA finals. People laughed. Most of the world was certain the Bulls would run all over the Sonics. What you don't know is the evil coach Phil Jackson performed several evil, satanic rituals, even sacrificing a wild marmot to the Prince Of Darkness, securing a devastating back injury to Nate Macmillan, thus ensuring that the evil Bulls would win a series that the Sonics WOULD have won, had there not been so much Satanic intervention.

I could go on. I could give you proof (secret photos of Phil Jackson performing ritual sacrifices to Satan, etc.) but I am a forward-looking person.

I have come to terms with my dissapointment in Howard Schultz. For a while after the sale I boycotted Schults' other business, Starbucks, but being addicted to coffee, I broke down, and finally decided I'll buy coffee from the guy. I just won't ever let him own a basketball team again.

I live in L.A. now, where I have been joking with Lakers fans for a few years, "What would you do if I decalred myself a Cippers fan?" Lakers fans laughed.

Secretly, I already was a Clippers fan. Once Chris Paul joined the team, I recognized a Gary-Payton-like talent. When Doc Rivers became coach, I was hooked. When that old racist moron was forced to sell the team to Steve Ballmer (who, being a former Microsoft CEO, has that much needed Seattle connection) I made the commitment. The Clippers are winning and the Lakers are on vacation.

The one thing missing from my basketball life?

The Sonics.

They will rise again. I have faith.

After writing this, I suppose I'll have to answer a lot of questions about calling certain people evil. I will just state once again, these are facts. I can't reveal my sources, but it is well known that Michael Jordan, Phil Jackson, Dasvid Stern, Clay Bennett, Howard Schultz, and whoever else I happen to dislike in the game of basketball, comprise a secret society where sacrifices are made, souls are bought and sold, and the forces of darkness are used to compromise all that is good and pure in basketball.

At least Gary Payton won his championship in Miami with Shaq and Dwayne Wade in 2006.

What's that you ask? Didn't Shaq play for the evil Phil Jackson during a 3-peat by the Lakers? Sure, but, you know, anyone who liked Gary Payton enough to want him as a teammate....can't be ALL evil, can he?

Hm? What's that? Hey, stop asking questions, and just accept what I say.
-Peter Wick
May 14, 2015