“The American musical is dead,” claims Michael John laChiusa. While you and I may not agree, his taxonomy of faux, parody, real, and jukebox musicals is useful to us writer types.
Why don’t they just let me live?
Rumor has it that there have been a number of complaints about John Byrd. He’s insensitive, he’s uncommunicative, he doesn’t know his boundaries, he doesn’t know how to color coordinate or share his feelings or ride a moped. That sort of thing.
Interestingly, none of these complaints have been directed to John Byrd. They have been directed to other people who know John Byrd, but not to John Byrd himself.
John Byrd would like to take this opportunity to point out that John Byrd is solely responsible for John Byrd’s behavior. Ergo, if you have a problem with John Byrd, John Byrd strongly recommends that you discuss the concern directly with John Byrd rather than with John Byrd’s friends or relatives or in-laws or co-workers or drinking buddies or the guy who lets his cat take a dump on John Byrd’s lawn every 6:30 in the a.m. All these other people (here I include the cat as a member of the human race, even though it is not) have no particular authority or claim on John Byrd.
John Byrd welcomes and encourages all forms of commentary and advice on improving John Byrd’s relationship(s) with you, your friends, your relatives, your in-laws, your co-workers, your drinking buddies, and all other members of the human race. (Here I include the cat as a member of the human race, even though it is not.) If you provide John Byrd with said commentary and/or advice, John Byrd promises to work diligently to become a better friend, servant and companion to you and the people most significant to you in your life.
The rest of you assholes can go fuck yourselves.
You’re gonna go to the record store
Dave Kellum wants to sell you a bunch of movie tchotchkes. If you buy something, please buy something with the NorMat 4 logo on it. No, I won’t get any money from it. It would just make me feel good.
Well the FCC won’t let me be
INT. THEATER - DAY
Four high-school kids -- Chuck, Sarah, Bill and Eddie --
shuffle about in togas on stage. They are surrounded with
fake bushes, and a double door hangs from the back wall. One
hand on his chest, Chuck declaims.
CHUCK
For worse than Philomel you us'd my
daughter,
And worse than... Progne... I will
be reveng'd...
Mister Dimples runs on stage, wearing a bow-tie and tapping a
clipboard with a pencil.
MISTER DIMPLES
Cut, cut! Kids, I'm sorry, but I
must stop this play immediately.
SARAH
Is there a problem, sir?
MISTER DIMPLES
I should say so, Sarah. I see that
you have seven bushes on stage
here.
CHUCK
Yes, sir, we made them ourselves --
MISTER DIMPLES
I'm sorry, Chuck, but the Texas
University Interscholastic League
rules are very clear on that point.
Section one-zero-three-three, part
C, clearly states: there are to be
no more than six self-supported
bushes, each not to exceed two feet
wide by three feet high.
SARAH
Oh, jeez, sir, we totally forgot
that rule!
The kids murmur in assent.
MISTER DIMPLES
One of these bushes must be removed
before your play can commence.
CHUCK
No problem, sir --
Bill and Eddie grab a bush and drag it off stage.
SARAH
Okay, sir, if we can just start
again?
MISTER DIMPLES
Tut-tut-tut! I notice that there
is a double door hanging from the
back of your set?
CHUCK
Oh, yes, sir, my dad helped me make
it!
MISTER DIMPLES
Now, Chuck. Section one-zero-three
three rules clearly state that the
basic set includes doors suspended
from standard, single door frames
only.
CHUCK
But, it's our door, sir -- we
worked all night on painting it --
MISTER DIMPLES
Unfortunately, if I let your play
have double doors, then I have to
permit every play to have double
doors. The state of Texas won't
permit that.
The kids grumble softly.
CHUCK
C'mon, guys, it's okay. Can you
two take the door down, please?
Bill and Eddie shove the double door behind one of the wings.
SARAH
Mister Dimples, it seems like there
are so many rules we have to follow
to produce our play.
MISTER DIMPLES
The rules do things like prohibit
profane references to... a deity.
SARAH
You mean G--
MISTER DIMPLES
Shh!
(sotto voce)
Yes!
(normal voice)
The rules are there for your
protection, Sarah. We are financed
by the taxes your parents pay. By
the way, you're not doing a play by
Edward Albee, Samuel Beckett,
Thornton Wilder, Eugene Ionesco,
David Mamet, Eugene O'Neill, Peter
Shaffer, Neil Simon or Peter Weiss,
are you?
SARAH
Well, no, sir --
MISTER DIMPLES
Good, good!
CHUCK
Sir, what's wrong with those
authors?
MISTER DIMPLES
Those authors are universally
banned from the list of approved
plays. If we offend the moral
standards of the community, we
might lose funding. We might have
to cancel the University
Interscholastic League! You
wouldn't want that, would you?
KIDS
No, we wouldn't want that, I didn't
think of it that way, etc.
MISTER DIMPLES
Now, which playwright did you
choose?
SARAH
Oh, we chose Shakespeare, sir!
MISTER DIMPLES
Good, good! All works by
Shakespeare are on the U.I.L. list
of approved plays. Which play are
you doing?
CHUCK
Titus Andronicus.
MISTER DIMPLES
Good, good! That's a very
impressive-sounding play. I
believe you're fully in compliance
then! Whenever you're ready!
Mister Dimples walks off stage.
CHUCK
For worse than Philomel you us'd my
daughter,
And worse than... Progne... I will
be reveng'd,
And now prepare your throats!
Chuck pulls out a huge butcher knife and slices the throats
of Eddie and Bill. They stagger about, gushing gallons of
blood.
CHUCK
Lavinia, come receive the blood!
Sarah catches some of the blood in her bucket.
CHUCK
Let me go grind their bones to
powder small,
And with this hateful liquor temper
it!
Chuck cuts off Eddie's head with the butcher knife.
CHUCK
And in that paste let their vile
heads be bak'd!
Chuck throws the head into the bucket. Mister Dimples runs
on stage.
MISTER DIMPLES
Children, stop, stop!
CHUCK
Sir, we cut the dual rape scene --
MISTER DIMPLES
For the love of all that's holy!
Stop the play!
CHUCK
But, sir, it's Shakespeare!
SARAH
Sir, we're following all the
rules of the Texas University
Interscholastic League...
Mister Dimples thinks.
MISTER DIMPLES
I cannot reconcile this logical
contradiction!
Mister Dimples's chest explodes in a shower of sparks. He
collapses. Sarah and Chuck walk over to him and inspect him.
SARAH
A robot!
CHUCK
I knew it all along.
Exeunt.
But I know what I am and I’m glad I’m a man
INT. THEATER - DAY
A large, empty, dimly lit theater. A director and a staff of
go-fers shuffle papers in the darkness of the seats. John
stands alone on stage and fidgets under a spotlight.
DIRECTOR
John, is it? Let's take the
monologue on page thirteen.
John thumbs through a script.
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
He's asking you to read for the
lead role!
ID (V.O.)
Oh, shit. He wants you to read the
gay sex monologue.
JOHN
Page thirteen, got it.
DIRECTOR
Whenever you're ready.
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
It's only an audition. Relax.
Take a deep breath. Focus.
JOHN
"Oh, I love it when you touch me
like that, Frank --"
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
You found humor in the moment!
Keep going --
ID (V.O.)
You're going to hell for doing this
audition.
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
No! You're doing great --
ID (V.O.)
Dude, the director totally wants to
pork you.
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
Focus!
JOHN
"Oh, yes, baby, service it, service
it --"
ID (V.O.)
You sound like a gas station
commercial.
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
I'm in the moment!
ID (V.O.)
You're in a bad gas station
commercial. A bad gay gas station
commercial.
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
There is no such thing as gay gas!
JOHN
"I work at the sex clubs --"
ID (V.O.)
You change the oil filters?
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
Focus, focus! Positive thoughts!
ID (V.O.)
Gay gas!
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
Gas cannot be gay!
JOHN
"When I was a kid I'd service
myself while the other boys watched
--"
ID (V.O.)
Gay gas porn! Service with a
smile!
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
Art! Human condition! Personal
conflict --
ID (V.O.)
Gay gas porn gay gas porn!
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
In the moment!
ID (V.O.)
Fill 'er up!
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
I'm acting! I'm a character,
dammit!
ID (V.O.)
Welcome to Gay Gas! Check that
oil, mister!
SUPEREGO (V.O.)
Shut up!
DIRECTOR
Thank you --
ID (V.O.)
No, you shut up!
DIRECTOR
Thank you!
JOHN
What?
DIRECTOR
Thank you very much, John. We'll
call if anything comes up. Can you
send in the next one, please?
I’m all decoded now, I think you better go
Jul 1 23:14:50 partygirl sshd[19154]: Accepted password for upload from 64.95.232.90 port 39152 ssh2 Jul 3 07:57:14 partygirl sshd[4373]: Accepted password for upload from 81.18.87.179 port 1859 ssh2 Jul 3 11:30:30 partygirl sshd[5391]: Accepted password for upload from 81.18.87.179 port 4646 ssh2 --
And with that, a skript kiddie in Romania, working from the rdsnet.ro subdomain, broke into johnbyrd.org . He installed a subdomain scanner and ssh brute force tool into a hidden directory called “/tmp/ /.of” and he began dictionary attacks on other machines.
The style of compromise is highly specific.
The attacker at 81.18.87.179 is running Windows Terminal Server 2003. The box is probably being controlled remotely by the attacker.
I’ve nuked the offending account and taken countermeasures, but he’s still knocking at the open ports, trying to get in. If you’re the attacker, give up on this box and move on, or I’m going to hit back.
I will be there just as soon as I can
Nurn, my father-in-law, walks down the corridor of the Assisted Living Center with us. He has prepared us, told us: there’s not a lot of Grammy left to visit. She is frequently disoriented. We walk by a dwarfish, toothless woman spouting random syllables, a thin little asexual bag of a person slumped to one side of a chair, and a nurse with a tray of little cups of pills.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“There,” says Nurn, pointing at the person we just passed. “That is my mother. I didn’t recognize her.”
Rabbi Goldberg turned and pointed at the wall behind him. The text of the letters were two stories high, gold plated on the side of the chapel. “And now, let us speak the words that have given comfort for thousands of years.”
“Should we just let her sleep?” my wife asks.
“Perhaps,” says Nurn.
The nurse walks by, sees us gawking. “Rose! Rose Kalikow! You have visitors!” She turns to us, a half smile. “She’s a little hard of hearing.”
“We know,” says Nurn.
Grammy Rose’s milky eyes open. Her hands are thin, twisted leather gloves. One hand is wrapped around a walker. Inside the basket of the walker is a photograph cube covered with baby pictures of her children and grandchildren, faded to pastel shades by decades of light.
The rabbi intoned, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”
“Hello, Mother,” says Nurn. He kisses her. My wife and I do the same.
“Oh my, hello. Oh,” she says, grinding slowly awake. “Oh, where are we going?”
“We’re not going anywhere,” says Nurn.
“Oh, it’s lovely to see you, dear,” says Grammy. “And Jodie,” she says, touching my wife’s face. “Jodie, you are here. Oh, my cup runneth over.”
“I’m Mandy,” says my wife.
“Yes,” says Grammy smiling. “Jodie. You are so beautiful. Where are we going?”
“We came here to see you,” says Nurn.
The congregation joined in, quietly. The rabbi spoke, “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.”
Grammy smiles. “Well. Now. We have to celebrate!”
We all laugh. My wife says, “Yes, I think that’s a great idea.”
Grammy says, “Let’s go out and have some ice cream.”
Nurn says, “You want some ice cream, Mom?”
Grammy pauses.
All the eyes in the room traced the words on the wall. The voices were subdued. “He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.”
Nurn says, “I’ll go get her some ice cream.” My wife goes with him. I see them talking to the hospice nurse.
I hold Grammy’s hand and smile at her. “Oh, hello. My boy. To be visited by my son…” She touches my face. “My cup runneth over. That’s all I can say.”
The rabbi recited, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”
I say nothing and smile.
Grammy says, “All the people here, let me tell you. At this place. They never get visitors. No one visits them. But to be surrounded with your family. To have your loved ones with you. I have only one thing to say.”
The rabbi said, “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil.”
Grammy says, “My cup runneth over. That’s all I have to say. Now what are you studying?”
I smile. “The piano,” I say.
Grammy says, “Oh, I love the piano. My children. They are so talented.”
Nurn returns. He has a small styrofoam cup. He yanks off the cardboard top and spoons out some chocolate ice cream. He feeds it to his mother, who smiles. After a few bites she takes the ice cream and feeds herself a few more bites. Then Nurn takes the ice cream and finishes it himself. I take the empty cup and spoon.
Grammy looks up and says, “Let’s have some lobster!”
We laugh. “Yes, let’s!”
The rabbi nodded and said, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” I stepped forward, around the pew, to the center aisle.
“I’ll come see you later,” says Nurn. I kiss Grammy again.
“Ah, it’s lovely,” says Grammy. “My cup runneth over. That’s all I can say.”
We walk down the hall. As we enter the elevator, Nurn tells us, “I’ve spoken with the hospice nurse. It will be painless.”
The star of David was on the center of the box. It was unsanded, rough beneath my palm. Five men joined me and placed their hands on the box as well.
As we leave the Assisted Living Center, for some reason I still have the wooden spoon in my hand.
With a bit of the mind flip, you’re into the time slip
From: Shane Ruggieri Sent: Thursday, June 02, 2005 2:32 PM To: John Byrd Subject: Re: Halloween 2003 photos
Hey John,
What a crazy night! I forgot about some of these shots…must have been the 8 or 10 cranberry vodkas…
I do remember that…ouch…
Live well,
Shane
—
Shane Ruggieri
Production * Animation * Post * Print
Better than watching Geller bending silver spoons
EXT. EXPENSIVE COMPANY PARTY - NIGHT
A small concert stage in Los Angeles, being rocked by Jimmy
Eat World. Well-dressed white folks sway and boogie as
searchlights fill the sky.
JIMMY EAT WORLD
Next up, we have! From Incubus!
Brandon Boyd!
Kimberly screams and jumps up and down as a hard-rock din
cuts through the crowd.
KIMBERLY
Oh my god! Oh yes! Brandon! He
is so hot!
Kimberly bumps into John. John smiles.
KIMBERLY
'Scuse me! Oh my god he is hot!
JOHN
What?
KIMBERLY
He is hot!
JOHN
Who!
KIMBERLY
Brandon! Brandon Boyd!
JOHN
Who's he?
KIMBERLY
The singer! Incubus! He's hot! I
would totally kiss him!
JOHN
I wouldn't!
KIMBERLY
What!
JOHN
Yeah, he's hot!
KIMBERLY
I'm Kimberly Antonym, what's your
name!
JOHN
John!
KIMBERLY
What!
JOHN
John! John Pseudonym!
KIMBERLY
Good British name! Which booth are
you in!
JOHN
I'm not in any booth!
KIMBERLY
What!
JOHN
I'm not in any booth! I just
wander the show floor and meet my
friends and talk to them! I
mingle!
KIMBERLY
What!
JOHN
I mingle!
Kimberly smiles.
KIMBERLY
I work for the trade show! I'm an
account exhibit manager! I work in
West Hall!
JOHN
What!
KIMBERLY
West Hall! West Hall!
JOHN
Yeah, West Hall!
KIMBERLY
I hope you don't mind that I said
he was hot! I'm just being honest!
JOHN
No, he is hot!
KIMBERLY
Yeah!
JOHN
Okay, I'd kiss him!
KIMBERLY
What!
JOHN
I agree, he is hot!
KIMBERLY
Did you say you'd kiss him?
JOHN
No!
KIMBERLY
Yes, you did!
JOHN
I was joking!
KIMBERLY
Here, have a drink!
John takes a swig from a tumbler.
JOHN
Jeez, what is that?
KIMBERLY
Vodka and Coke!
JOHN
What!
KIMBERLY
Vodka and Coke!
John smiles and nods.
KIMBERLY
Oh my god!
JOHN
What!
KIMBERLY
You have totally great teeth!
JOHN
Thanks!
KIMBERLY
I mean, your teeth are so straight!
Wow!
JOHN
Thanks! I try!
Kimberly takes a swig of vodka.
KIMBERLY
I would totally go to bed with him!
JOHN
Yeah!
KIMBERLY
Yeah, he's hot!
JOHN
That fact is established!
KIMBERLY
What!
JOHN
I understand! You'd totally go to
bed with him!
KIMBERLY
I would totally go to bed with him!
JOHN
And when you're saying you'd go to
bed with him, you really mean,
you'd go to bed with me, right!
KIMBERLY
Yeah!
JOHN
So you're asking me to go to bed
with you!
KIMBERLY
What!
JOHN
You're asking me to go to bed with
you!
KIMBERLY
Yeah!
JOHN
Why!
KIMBERLY
'Cause you're hot! I'm just being
honest!
JOHN
I'm married! Happily married!
KIMBERLY
What!
JOHN
I'm married!
KIMBERLY
You said you were single!
JOHN
What!
We’ve got thrills and shocks, supersonic fighting cocks
At the Summer Consumer Electronics Show in 1994, one particular SNES title on the show floor was being completely ignored, and I had the chance to examine it in some detail.
That SNES title was “The Flintstones: Treasure of Sierra Madrock.” Heck, you remember that one, don’t you?
Or maybe you don’t. Around 1994 there was a huge surplus of mediocre me-too licensed games built around similar recycled 2-D scroller engines for the SNES and the Sega Genesis. The 1994 Summer CES show floor had plenty of them. The basic game play mechanic was well known: you are the licensed character, you run to the right, you jump, you have a short-ranged attack, and you pick up powerups which give you ranged attacks. Bad guys move in predictable patterns except for a boss at the end of the level.
The designers of “Treasure of Sierra Madrock” did not require deep knowledge of their previous title, “The Flintstones,” in order to enjoy their new work. You jumped over the rocks, you punched the snakes.
Anyway, I had no competition on the CES show floor to play “The Flintstones: Treasure of Sierra Madrock.”
Everyone else was playing 3DO. In 1994 the 3-D revolution hit the industry like a tsunami and the sidescrollers all washed away. With the launch of the 3DO and the Jaguar in 1993, then the PlayStation in 1994, the 2-D scroller game mechanic got very dead very quickly.
Fast forward to the Mongolian cluster fuck of E3 2005. Between meetings, I wandered the West and South Hall and I did my level best to ignore the tits and the subwoofers. And truth be told, there were a handful of shockingly beautiful games out there.
This E3 2005 will be remembered as The E3 That We Decided In Our Hearts To Buy An HDTV. In particular, Top Spin 2, an Xbox 360 title by Indie Built, stood out as a tennis title with some great attention to shadows and character detail. Also on Xbox 360, Activision’s Call of Duty 2, done by Infinity Ward, got their building and sky textures just right in the demo level, and the result was a first-person shooter that will sell next-gen systems.
In the PS2 department, Capcom’s Clover Studio showed Okami, a stylized “nature adventure” that incorporates elements of Japanese calligraphy with an updated Viewtiful Joe engine. You take control of a sun god, embodied in a wolf. You can call down spells, painted on the screen by a vast Japanese brush as time is frozen; leaves and blades of grass flicker brilliantly about you. Beautiful. Won’t sell, but it’s still beautiful.
Around a third or so of the titles on the E3 2005 show floor fell into a category that we will refer to as the Formula. The Formula involves putting your licensed protagonist character in a third-person perspective view, Mario World style, and letting him wander around outdoors. He has a short-range attack that he uses against the bad guys, and he has a long range attack that typically works with short-term powerups, and the camera floats behind his head like a balloon on a leash.
There are several technical problems with the Formula. First, you will notice that, due to the camera angle in the Formula, we constantly look down on the protagonist from the ceiling, a few feet behind the character. This means that the majority of screen real estate is taken up by the ground. And the ground is in severe perspective, so unless you do some fantastic mipmapping tricks or procedural texturing, either your ground looks pixellated, or your world is small. You have to get your memory from somewhere. Second, the camera always seems to want to do the wrong thing in a Formula game. Typically it drags along behind the character until some bad guys come along, at which point it hops back to get the bad guys into frame. Going around corners or reversing directions during a fight sequence typically causes camera conniptions.
Those issues are surmountable, but this one is not: at E3 2005, there were just too many games that depended too heavily on the Formula.
PS3 and Xbox 360, supporting HDTV and HD-DVD, are coming out within a year. And as of this writing there is a bunch of licensed games for the old platforms that follow the Formula.
It’s Summer CES 1994 all over again.
Supply and demand will sort this out. I suggest that, come E3 2008, you will see very few Formula games on the show floor. Something better is coming.