Reel Suite: August 27, 2008

Good afternoon, everyone.  I guess.  Who gives a shit, really?  If it sounds like I'm depressed, I am.  It's almost Labor Day and the office is a ghost town.  It's just me and Tomoko and we're doing Kamikaze shots.  I'll tell you why I'm depressed in just a minute.  First, as f'ing usual, I have to apologize for last week's remarks.  Like a mother-f'ing pussy.
 
I got calls from former Mannix and Carter Country staff writers, who apparently are still alive.  I also received vitriolic e-mails from them.  In the hopes of not receiving any more, I hereby retract my description of them as "hacks".  I sincerely apologize to TV viewers 55 and older for calling them "less than desirable" (my mom's entire trailer park shut down my voice mailbox).  My apologies go out to ABC, CBS, Disney, Fox, NBC Universal, Sony, and Warner Bros., all of whom vociferously admonished me for referring to them as "age-ist sons-of-bitches".  Rah-rah old writers.  Woo-hoo.  You f'ing win.
 
I've been in a funk since hearing the news that Kara DioGuardi would be added as a fourth judge on American Idol.  My concern is twofold: from a financial standpoint and on a personal level.  First of all, it's no secret that the Idol juggernaut has been destroying the competition on Tuesday nights.  Now they want to "young-ify" the show to increase their already monumental ratings.  The word is they seek a 20% increase in their market share.  If that transpires, it will virtually sound the death knell for MBS' Jesus, Mary and Joseph, which is already hanging by a thread with its 1.5 average rating.  The Wednesday night edition of Idol is also kicking the ass of MBS' Corporate Veal, which at least pulls a 60 share among viewers employed in the Macro-robotics industry.
 
Secondly... ok, deep breath here... c'mon, Kurt get it together... alright.  Kara and I used to be roommates/lovers.  (Wait, I have to do another Kamikaze... Tomoko's bringing it over now... yeah, that's good...)  We met while taking classes at a Hollywood songwriting academy in 1991.  I had an apartment, was low on cash and was looking for someone to share the rent, but it was just a one bedroom with a bunk bed.  Kara thought it would be fun, so she moved in.  We'd stay up late drinking wine coolers, then crawl into our respective bunk beds, where I would regale her with poignant stories from my youth.  About lost love, April rain and emotional black holes.  These stories touched her deeply.  So much so that one night she climbed down from the top bunk and threw herself at me.  We enjoyed unprecedented passion.  Over the next six weeks, she wrote 243 songs based on the things I told her.  She'd sing them to me like an angel.  We'd hold each other and weep, pledging to stay together forever.
 
Then one day she told me she'd run out of ideas for her songs.  I tried desperately to come up with more stories from my past, even fabricating a few.  But she saw through the artifice.  That night, as I lay in the bottom bunk, I could hear her in the bunk above, boning some guy who had the saddest f'ing love stories I'd ever heard.  I had to wrap the pillow tightly around my head.  Worst night of my life.  He didn't seem so sad the next morning when I was making them breakfast.  As a matter of fact, when Kara left the room, he winked at me, grinned and said, "Oh yeah, baby..."  Then he strutted out of the kitchen, stroking his crotch.
 
Thanks to Kara, I can't listen to pop radio.  I'd have a nervous breakdown.  No Jonas Brothers, no Ashley Tisdale, no Bo Bice, no Nick Lachey.  All of whom sing about the pain that I literally experienced.  Now I'm going to have to disconnect my TV, because every Tuesday night I would know she's there, she's right there.  On Fox.  Killing me softly.
 
Whoa, the Kamikazes have really kicked in.  Shit, Tomoko's gone.  I may need someone to drive me home.  Is Lloyd Grohl still on the lot?  Maybe he could drop me off in Van Nuys on his way to Bel Air...
 
Oh, nobody's f'ing here!  F you all!  F Paula and Randy and that gay limey judge!
 
But Kara, come back to me.... please... I'll give you more of my pain....