Posts Tagged ‘Three Men and a Baby’

Previously: Aside from sounding like the double feature of a Beverly Hills police booking session, I had no idea what the hell she was thinking of. Three Men and a Warrant, maybe. But this? I was really starting to hate bus travel.

And now: I had no stomach for this. Between Ginger’s and Kippy’s attempt at becoming a topic on TMZ, I had a notion to trash every theatre I came across. Maybe the lack of a showcase for their delusions would send them a message that no one was interested, least of all me. But of course, I was wrong again.

Unbelievably, Sling Blade – The Musical found a backer in some former cultural czar, one Zoltan Kovach, from a small country located in the previously Soviet bloc. Turns out Zoltan, a former musician among other things, was a big Billy Bob Thornton fan and thought the musical version would bring new life to the story and Billy Bob’s career. Great, a showbiz type filled with altruism. Yup, we’re in a downward slide towards theatrical mediocrity. And old Z was giving it one more huge shove further into the abyss. I’m sure it’ll be on Netflix before too long. I never saw that one coming.

5107654694_e599b2051d Zoltan performing one of his renowned 22 hour drum solos with his punk-groove band, Snot.

As if that wasn’t enough, Ginger gets a call from her agent, yes, she had an agent! Didn’t see that one coming either. This agent must have absolutely no eye for talent much less one for gender. It appears Ginger was so convincing, to him at least, that he thought he could score some points with the “lady” by finding a producer for this abomination. Seems these three actors were dying to do a film together, but short of making The Expendables: Part 11, nothing was out there for them. Until this producer showed up. Wait for it, wait for it… yes! It’s Zoltan! Talk about a hat trick. What are the chances? About the same as running into Ginger on this friggin’ bus!

6858007097_e7153c5f90 The Expendables – Part 11 tryouts.

Ginger is my brother,  er, sorry, sister, after all. And I do feel a very small sense of familial responsibility for her. Very small. But I don’t want to see her get hurt, so I pull out my iPad and do a little research on Zoltan Kovach. Seems like Zoltan is everything he says he is…and more. Of course! Why wouldn’t he be?

Mr. K’s past is quite a colorful one punctuated by numerous stints in various gulags. I could hardly wait to see his sticker-festooned luggage, “I saw Solzhenitzin!” and the like. Good times, good times. His crimes, or as he was later to describe them as youthful indiscretions (youthful? he was 70 at least!), included but were not limited to faux vodka, bogus Kroger cards (really?), artificial caviar, and the management of the ill-fated Yugo Racing Team. Not to mention his dubious websites promising anything from a veritable fountain of youth to build your own spacecraft. He was anything if not ambitious. Too bad he was a lying, thieving crook…and those were his good traits.

4670256250_fed0d8e2b5One of the Racing Yugo’s in a familiar pit stop.

On the other hand, and you always had to watch out for this as it seems Zoltan’s hands were predisposed to wandering onto one’s body parts and/or into their pockets, he did have one or two redeeming qualities.

The first, well the only redeeming quality, was his ability to score the best Kazakstan weed. It was probably its influence that made these “artistic” endeavors seem worthwhile. What the hell else could it be?

Previously: I had to get off this bus soon or someone would soon find someone with a snow globe buried in their head.

And now: I had the distinct impression that Ginger was about to unleash the kind of idea I was running away from. And damn it, I was right. Where are the days when an drug-induced stupor made you immune to such crap, or at least made you feel that way? I tried to crawl under the seat but the bag from the lady behind was already occupying that space. I tried to feign death, but Ginger saw right through that, threatening to administer mouth-to-mouth if I didn’t cut out the act. I was so screwed.

“So, Fog, don’t you just love it? Isn’t it so cute?”

5318539141_dc8782bdd7            You decide.

Yeah, cute in the way an ebola virus is cute. Cute in the way a festering boil is cute. No, not cute at all. “No, Ginger, it is not cute. Keep it or give it away to someone who cares.

Ginger just sat there and pouted. That wasn’t cute either. It was rather disgusting, truth be told. Her teeth matched her name. But she still was my brother, or sister, whatever.

“Fog… you never cared for me much, did you?”, she bleated. Yes, bleat. She was that kind of a girl or whatever.

“Ginger, I always loved you… in my way. That’s all I’m capable of. Leave it be.”

“But Fog, I do need to talk with you. Meeting you on this bus wasn’t just an accident. It was fate. I need your help,” she bleated once again. This was getting old fast.

“My help? What for? You had the operation. What now, a tummy tuck?” Yeah, you’re right, I wasn’t very sympathetic. I was pissed though.

“Fog, please hear me out. I’ve just got an important gig and I need your guidance,” bleating yet again.

“Jeez… what is it this time? And please, no more bleating, OK?”

2674906984_c74407129a Bleaters. Any resemblance to Ginger is purely accidental.

She started to bleat again, but caught herself mid-bleat. “I, I, I’m sorry. But I’ve got my first job as a casting agent and I’ve got this really big gig. I want to make sure I make the right decisions.”

“And you come to me?” What the hell is wrong with you?” I’m not very hospitable. The last time I helped Ginger out was when she had been arrested for forcing bogus Watchtowers on unsuspecting pilgrims. It wasn’t so much the bail money as it was the fact that I had to he;p her dispose of those copies. She wanted to continue “evangelizing” but the judge had ordered an injunction against it. We had to turn it in to a recycling plant. There was no silver lining to that.

“OK, what is it this time,” I relented. I should have never relented.

“Fog, this is just what I always dreamed about. They’ve asked me to cast the remake of Three Men and a Baby. Isn’t that great? Wait until you hear who I’ve signed. I just want to make sure I didn’t go overboard on this.”

Oh no, Ginger, how could that ever happen? It never crossed my mind. “Spill.”

“This is going to be incredible. Obviously, I couldn’t get the original cast, Ted Danson, Tom Selleck, and Steve Guttenberg. But I did even better.” The bleating had started all over again.

Be still my heart. “OK, Ginger, who? I’m all aquiver.”

“OK, OK, you won’t believe this, but here is the new cast. Nick Nolte, Gary Busey, and, wait for it, Mickey Rourke!”

3625722062_6e9fcfc422 Why not?

Aside from sounding like the double feature of a Beverly Hills police booking session, I had no idea what the hell she was thinking of. Three Men and a Warrant, maybe. But this? I was really starting to hate bus travel.