Zelig

First off, talked to a Hollywood Death Cab dude who got busted. Apparently he was blabbling about himself on the tour too much. Turning the entire tour into a history of his career in show biz. Oh boy, I can see that. He's the Zelig of Hollywood Death Cab, anytime someone tells a story in the break room, he has to top it with some tale of his derring-do. Someone was talking about Michael Jackson the other day, and Zelig claimed he had been to Neverland Ranch. Had a sleep-over. He was an adult, however, so Michael did not find him attractive. This Hollywood Death Cab Guide claims he was in Pippy Longstockings, but I can't find him on IMDB. I did find someone named "Trey Parker" (not the South Park one), and the real Bill Pullman and Ann Margaret. Hmmm. I'm sure there's an explanation for our Hollywood Death Cab Zelig not being there, changed his name, etc.

The guest complained that Zelig mentioned himself about "ten times." Zelig took issue with that number. He was putting stamps in a stamp collecting book, the whole time he calmly told me of his dressing-down. The boss had asked Zelig not to comment on his career anymore while in the Death Cab.

Now, for today's insanity. One day before I have a call-back to be in the musical revue at Not Your Berry Farm called "Uptight and White," I got to play Elvis. I was promised an Elvis suit. When I arrived on set, however, I found that I was booked to be a dogshit Elvis, the real Elvii had brought their own gorgeous suits. They gave a bunch of us these halloween costume, wrapped in a package, two dollar Elvis jumpsuits that looked like shit. Well, fuck it, I thought. I'll become dogshit Elvis, Poor Elvis, Fucked-up and Not-give-a-fuck Elvis.

I pulled on my stretchy Elvis pants over my shorts, decided not to strip down to my boxers, cuz there was no place to really stow my shorts and personal items. This turned out to be fortititious. I looked like an Elvis in diapers, and I started calling myself Diaper Elvis. I introduced myself to the three Elvii of the Apocolypse, the dudes with impeccable costumes, and actual credentials. One was a Legend's Elvis in Vegas. I told them "There must be a limited number of Elvii in the circle."

"Yes, there is," they Elvised in unison. Embarrased pause, as they looked at my sad get-up.

"Can I join your circle of Elvii?" I said.

"Oh son, would you want to?"

"The circle might break, boy!"

"well, hell ..."

"I consider myself Diaper Elvis," I said when they gave me a chance to talk.

One started calling me "DE." Apparently among Elvii, to distinguish, they use your most notable feature, and abbreviate. Thus "ME" is Mole Elvis, he has a big nasty mole on his chin. "CB-E" is Colostomy-Bag Elvis, he still does Elvis, depsite his innards failing. I was in good company as "DE."

"Who's gonna change you boy," said one of the Elvii.

"Things have gone kinda sour for me," I said. The boom mic was overhead for all of this, I hope it ends up in the show, but I have no faith in these producers. They seemed hack, and not really aware of what was funny or odd, but going for the most obvious laffs, easy set-ups. Having the flying Elvii land with their parachutes, etc., it was all hokum used in movies before. Although, one of the flying Elvii nearly died in front of our eyes. He was coming in really fast, and off-angle. He nearly clipped this tree on the lawn. It would have cut his head off. Fucking nuts, people all just clapped like ha-ha, wasn't that cute. I'm thinking that dying for a reality show dressed in an Elvis costume is a great comedy death, and one that should make St. Peter open the gate for you just on the hilarity of it.

Then I asked the star of the show, a washed-up music producer, if his accountant, Eking Slatter was coming. He gave me a blank look and told me my outfit sucked. Eking Slatter was an accountant I worked for who did tons of work with this producer, but, I FORGOT, he was on the other side! He was trying to GET money out of this record producer, not working for him.

The record producer lived in a fortress in Malibu. Even looked like he had gun turrets to shoot intruders. His records were of the lowest common denonimator, but they sure made him a lotsa different denonimations of currency. His kids seemed like dumb-dumb spoiled brats, think Bill and Ted. They should have his fortune squandered in no time. He had a sign on his gate, with a picture of a fierce dog that said "I can run to this gate in three seconds. Can you?" His front yard was easily a football field, and his house was built upon the hill, so that it overlooked the Pacific, even though the base was nestled in a canyon.

Apparently the record producer's kids were in the show, as was his sexy-mamma wife. She WAS a former lover of Elvis, thus our whole Elvis theme. They had set up a faux Elvis memorabilia show for her, and they invited real-life Elvis fans of Southern California to come see the show. They staged some fights between the record producer and his kids, and then they staged the Mom being surprised by the show her kids had thrown for her. Jesus, I know it's hard to manufacture reality TV, but you would have thought they could have tried a real surprise on her. I can't believe this won't play totally fakey. Even on reality TV, I've noticed if it's overly set-up, you can feel it. Those shows don't last. There's gotta be some germ of true human emotions in there.

The record producer guy needs to learn the first lesson of improv: "NO closes doors." When he was talking to me, and I was trying to get him going, he denied my reality. By this time I had picked up a football, and was saying I was "Football Elvis." FE. "Hey, I'm football Elvis," I said to him.

"Well, you don't look like Elvis," he said. Negative comment again.

"Well, I know, but that's why I'm football Elvis, I need a niche."

"Yeah, well Elvis never played football."

At this point, he's destoryed the improv. If he had expressed his incredulousness as "Did Elvis ever play football?," I could have riffed on about fake football deeds of Elvis. It would have been silly and funny. But, his NO has shut down the dialogue.

"Does it matter?" I ask. I really don't have much room here now. He walks away. But then, he sees me again tossing the football (it was just a random football an extra brought. I decided to make it my prop. I think the extra was jelly-ous too. He said that he always brings it to sets in hopes of differeniating himself. whoops). So now, record produer asks me,

"Hey F.E., hey Football Elvis," he says, to throw the ball to him. He drops it.

"Nice hands," I say, "back to the line for you." One more time the record producer walks by me and asks me to throw him the ball. I start singing in Elvis voice "I said Hut, Hut, Hut." Sing again "I'm gonna throw that ball."

"Please, don't sing," he sez. Ha ha. Not sure the placement of the boom mic on this, but I hope they got it. I like my football Elvis character. I make corny football poses in my Elvis costume. I always thought this Ram's quarterback looked a lot like Elvis: Roman Gabriel. I also thought that Lee Major's looked like the 70's Elvis.

I was camera hogging all day, it was easy, the assistant director's were too bizzy trying to talk up various cute malibu girls running around, so we were free to sneak on camera whenever we wanted. For some unknown reason, some marketing tie-in-synergy-shit reason, McDogshit's is here catering the event, with McDogshit's billboards and signs up. I walk up to the table and say "I'm Supersized Elvis." They laff. Obviously no one from too-far-up the corporate ladder is here, as that term is kryptonite to them now. Then I patted my gut and sang "Elvis needs fries, Elvis needs fries, Elvis-Elvis-Elvis-Elvis needs fries." Had some McDogshit's, like an idiot, and had tummy trouble immediately afterwards. I never learn.

There were real-deal Elvis fans there, at one point the record producer's brats started quizzing a fans about Elvis. "Who was his karate instructor?," and this fan knew his name. In fact he said, "which one?," and listed off several instructors. The production company had set out dresses that the Elvis gal-pal wore, they had one of his cars. This shit is not in-expensive, so the producers were definately spending some money. For the dime-suit Elvii, they gave us real money on completion. A Grant in hand, and off the grounds of the mansion.