on the RADIO. RADIO.

NPR invited me to come speak on their show The Business. I have to tell you, the craft services were shit. I think they had a vending machine. I had to take some pasta out of the fridge, with someone's name on the container. Sorry, Marcie. The directions to set were crap too, I walked all over the campus for an hour, and then the producer tried to dock me for being late. A call to SAG backed him off, but he just jumped to his next persecution -- my wardrobe. They had asked me to bring several different changes, and I kept saying "but this is radio, who cares?" I showed up in a yellow pants suit and they had to deal with it.

I sit down at the mic to do the interview, and I hear myself in the headphones. It's a special NPR Flem microphone that makes you sound like Garrison Keillor with a head-cold. Every bit of mucous lodged in your throat suddenly gives you character. I can't believe how freakin' erudite I sound on this mic and make a mental note to steal it when the interview is done. I already have one of those lil' speakers you can wear like a fanny pack, and my dream of constantly being amplified in life moves one step closer.

The interview goes really well and fast. He treats me like I have something to say and next thing I know I'm saying it. I try not to reveal things that will end my lucrative extra career, and I protect the integrity of every second, and second-second-second assistant director I ever had the pleasure of doing a cross for. The producer mocks me on several occasions, but I already have several SAG violations that should get his set shut down, so we'll see how far his sarcasm gets him. The actual host of the show was too much of a pussy to come down and deal with me.

The Producer checks that he's got it all, and then I'm wrapped. I asked for an NDB, but he shuts me down. Also no voucher. I tell him I should get a smoke bump, but he sez that's just the Santa Monica fog. The producer promises to let me know when the show will be aired. He sez I'll be featured prominently in the show, and I say if I am, then they'll have to pay me at a day player rate.

Of course, last week the show airs and no call. I had to find out by friends who said they heard a weird version of me on the radio. I go to the website playback (I'm at 18:25 into the program, instead of leading the program like they promised: http://www.kcrw.com/etc/programs/tb/tb060501pellicano_wiretappin) and realize they've edited my entire section. All the funny stories I told about opium & gay bath houses are gone, and you just hear me crabbing that I didn't get to put croutons in my soup on Garfield III. They've also digitally replaced some of my dialogue with the computer voice from 80's answering machines. This is all actionable, and I've got several calls into Alan Rosenberg right now. I read in his SAG bio he was a champion backgammon player before becoming our president, so KCRW will be having some medieval-shit happening on their ass!