mmm...BAR-B-Q cat...mmm...BAR-B-Q mouse

we shot an industrial a couple weeks back for a terrific restaurant chain.
they're known for an ad campaign that utilizes cows pleading for their lives by proffering the persona non grata of chickens.
it's run by devout southern baptists who don't work on sundays. because the bible says so.
we shot on a sunday.
something else the bible says:

O jerusalem, jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! (matthew 23:37)

i bet the slaughterhouse constantly stages this comical scene - protective mother hens gathering chicks right before they get stamped into sandwiches.
another thing the bible says:

and whether it be cow or ewe, ye shall not kill it and her young both in one day. (leviticus 22:28)

the polite thing to do, i guess. it doesn't apply to chickens. in fact, the ingredients of said chain's breakfast bagel include (among other things) eggs and chicken. that's baby chickens cooked up along with adult chickens and smothered in cheese. 'cept on sundays.
the industrial we filmed was a guide to dealing with thieves. i didn't audition for the role. they called me. they had the perfect part. thanking them and hanging up i thought 'i bet it's a thin, weaselly dude'.
the script reads:

"FINGERS" JOHNSON is a SLIM, LITTLE WEASEL, with a SLIPPERY LOOK, DISPOSITION, & VOCAL DELIVERY.

that's me.
during the shoot, a friend of mine phillip d had this line to deliver:

However, Leon's entry was a very rare occurrence as you'll see next in my little presentation called "Gettin' in the back door!"

we all laughed. a lot. each time phillip said it. the director hollered at us. the baptists weren't amused. they said it wasn't funny.
wasn't it?
my character was part of the plan to break in. we were all excited by the prospect of "fingers" slipping in through the back door.

exquisite corpse

a mighty spectrum of the most powerful symbols on earth. each diligently researched (the ninja turtle: ate arugula. in a cardboard box. the fish: ate microalgae. in a toilet. the dollar bill: disappeared. in a flash. the woman: gave life. without words.) and recreated for the unflinching camera eye.

merely...

..a man

let's say i'm burnt beyond recognition. one way to identify my body is to look at the big toe on my left foot. there's a rock in it. an unmistakable dark spot. it's been in my toe since childhood.
let's say i've been dismembered. on a beach. the left foot washed out to sea. the best way to identify me at this point is comparing my head to my headshot-resume. or find the credit for taming of the shrew with the georgia shakespeare festival*. i lost a tooth during that show. pry my lips apart with a bottle-opener. the right central incisor may look real. but it is a fake. i pretend that it's a real tooth.
let's say i've fallen into a meat-grinder. feet-first. no rock, no head. my last action is reaching with my right hand to the heavens for help that will never come. for dramatic effect, the machine gets unplugged. this hand is all that's left. a pile of ground me below. peel this hand open and you will find three alloy metacarpal bones. they were broken and replaced while i was looking for acting work in hollywood back in 2001. that place is dangerous.

*three words that do not belong together

rolo compadre

last week and this week i did a couple of 'dramatizations' for the FM fanfare known as the regular guys. which are a dot org and a pole smoke away from being the regular guys. fans of their show know they have a DUI segment that uses actual police audio from arrests. funny stuff, like a drunk stuttering motorist and his sympathetic stuttering arresting officer. for whatever reason, they can't always broadcast the original. yesterday i recorded with a real cop. to add realism to the bit, they encouraged profanity. i had permission. i unloaded a steady stream of SOB's and em effers on him. which will be bleeped out. officer tony was so revved up he told me i should make fun of his bald head. so i called him uncle fester for the remainder of the arrest.
now i have a friend in the industry. if i should find myself handcuffed in the backseat of a police cruiser, i'm gonna test his sense of humor. i bet they're all that kewl.