Transplant Rejection...or my misadventures in La La Land.

Transplant rejection occurs when a transplanted organ or tissue is not accepted by the body of the transplant recipient. This is explained by the concept that the immune system of the recipient attacks the transplanted organ or tissue. This is expected to happen, because the immune system's purpose is to distinguish foreign material within the body and attempt to destroy it. - Wikipedia

In the early 90's, Hollywood staged an unofficial boycott of NY by just deciding not to produce anything here. Unofficially, the reason they weren't shooting a damned thing in NY was because some of the Unions' contracts had expired and the studios wanted concessions. Since they could simply claim they hadn't greenlit any pictures for NY, there wasn't anything official going on like a strike or a lockout...just no work to be had. I wasn't in a Union at the time, but if there are no pictures being produced somewhere, there's no work for anyone.

In early 1991, I decided I'd pick up and move to L.A. I was young, eager and had a fairly respectable resume to show around. It turned out not to be a perfect match. If I were the diplomatic sort, I'd probably say, "L.A., it wasn't you; it was me", but no..."It was you, L.A."

Sign #1: When the weather tells you you're going the wrong direction...listen.

In early March, I had a moving company pack up my apartment in NY with instructions to put it into storage in L.A. until I'd found an apartment there. I intended to drive cross country in my trusty Honda CRX and stay with my brother in Orange County while looking. While driving across Oklahoma, I encountered a windstorm, head-on. For about two hours, I couldn't get the car to go faster than 35mph in spite of having the gas pedal floored. The west coast was pushing me east long before I got within spitting distance.

Sign #2: When the world tells you "Get the fuck out of here" within hours of your arrival...listen.

I arrived at my brother's house on a Saturday afternoon and quickly found myself in the backyard drinking beer, alternating between the pool and the jacuzzi and waiting for something delicious to come off the grill. It seemed like an auspicious welcome.

The phone rang about 3 hours after I got there and it was for me; I'd left the number on my answering machine in NY. The call was from someone I knew wanting to know if I could be in South Carolina on Monday to start work on a movie. Uh...you betcha! On the one hand, finding work that quickly was excellent; on the other hand, was someone telling me I didn't belong in L.A.?

Sign #3: You have trouble with the whole system of finding somewhere to live in your newly chosen home.

So I spent a few months working in South Carolina and then went back to L.A. and immediately set forth looking for an apartment. Things are different in L.A. If you want a new apartment in NY, you go to a realtor who shows you a bunch of places and then you pick one and you pay the new landlord a few months of rent up front and you pay the realtor a fee equivalent to a month or so of rent and then you're broke but you have somewhere to live and everyone is happy. In L.A., realtors don't handle rentals. You drive around looking for signs and you call people and they make an appointment to show you the apartment a week from Tuesday and it's rented to someone else long before you get a chance to see it. Or maybe you do get in to see it promptly and you decide you like it but you didn't know you were supposed to bring a briefcase full of cash, so you run to the bank, but by the time you get back, someone else who knew about the briefcase full of cash beat you to the punch and already has a moving truck backed up to your apartment.

Sign #4: Your new home scares the living shit out of you and calls you a pansy all at the same time.

Eventually, I found an apartment and got all of my crap moved in. One night, I was awakened at around 2:00 a.m. because the whole place was shaking. OMG IT'S A FUCKING EARTHQUAKE! The place shook for a little while and there wasn't any damage, but I had more than a little trouble getting back to sleep. The next morning, I expected to see big headlines on the front page of the paper -- nope, nothing. On the 5th page of the local section, there was a little note about a "tremor" that had hit with its epicenter in Culver City. The earthquake that scared the crap out of me was, evidently, an utter non-event by Angelino standards.

Sign #5: The cops almost arrest you and won't even tell you why.

I made a point of not subscribing to the paper when I moved to L.A. I figured I could walk three blocks every morning and buy a copy at the 7-11 down the street. One morning, I'm walking to get my paper and a cop on a bicycle flies up to me, jumps off his bike and grabs me. Next thing I know, I'm spread-eagled on a lawn and I'm in cuffs and this cop is screaming at me in Spanish. I keep trying to tell him I don't speak any Spanish and he does that thing where he speaks louder and slower -- in Spanish-- and thinks I'll figure out what he's saying. (I honestly don't know why it didn't register on him that I was speaking perfectly fluent English back at him.) Anyway, while all this is going on, a couple of police cars show up and now there are 5 cops there and I'm in cuffs and nobody is saying a word to me in English and I hear one of the cops talking on his radio. Apparently, they've got the guy they were really looking for a couple of blocks away.

At this point, they uncuffed me and...they left. Nobody said a word to me...they just left.
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During my 2.5 years living in L.A., I worked in South Carolina, Minnesota, Maine, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, New York and in Oakland, CA. I worked five days in the Los Angeles metropolitan area. Two days were as a P.A. on a reshoot for The Cutting Edge. Three days were scouting locations for a music video (for some band I've completely forgotten). The assignment was to find an Italian villa where the company could do an interior wet-down. That was kind of cool. I found a vaguely Meditteranian house that had quake damage and was scheduled to be torn down. It's actually a lot of fun to shoot in a house where nobody cares that you're blasting fire hoses at the walls or dumping 55-gallon barrels of water down an ornate staircase. I have a distinct memory of having a grip walk up to me about 6 hours into the day (a day filled with wanton destruction of a gorgeous house), who wanted to know if it would be OK for him to nail a pigeon to the wall. I suggested he use a sledge hammer.

I never did get the hang of living in L.A. Things were just different there. If you wanted to go to a decent restaurant, you had to make a reservation a week beforehand. In NY, if someone doesn't have time to bother with you, they'll just tell you to fuck off -- to your face. In L.A., if someone doesn't have time to bother with you, they'll give you an appointment three weeks from tomorrow -- and then they won't be there when you show up. In L.A. if you sat in the smoking section of an empty restaurant (remember smoking sections?), the next couple to walk in will request the table next to yours and then bitch at you for smoking. One of the only ways to meet people in L.A. is to hit them with your car. If you encounter another person while walking down a sidewalk, (yeah, I know, it's unlikely but it happens), the other person will have no concept of walking anywhere but on the dead center of the sidewalk, forcing you to step aside. Another thing--and technically this isn't really L.A.'s fault,-- but I had spent my entire life within 20 miles of an ocean. And like the moon pulls the tides, I had a sort of proprioception that told me I was heading north when the ocean was on my right. That great sense of direction doesn't work in L.A.

Eventually, I decided I was never going to fall in love with L.A. and if people wanted me to take airplanes to get to work, there were perfectly good airports in NY. When I had moved to L.A. I had a stoop sale (that's what we call them in NY), and my books sold as quickly as I could put them out...75¢ per paperback, $2.00 per hardcover. I had a yard sale when I was preparing to leave L.A. I couldn't get rid of books even at the end of the day when I put up a sign saying, "Free -- Take Them". I sold a broken T.V. (with a sign that said, "Does Not Work") for $30.00.

UCF: Saving The Playboy Bunnies!

First we were a government funded cabal, for which I was never paid, thank you very much. Now, we're saving the Playboy Bunnies.

You guys never tell me shit!

Actually, it's the other UCF and they're actually saving an endangered sub-species of rabbit. I deem us excellent by association (even if there's no association whatsoever).

I-Guana?

Hey! Guess what! I'm gonna be in the Great (not so white right now) North and Vince has invited me to be a guest on his radio show, end of the road radio on WELY. I'm going to try to make it in time to be on, but the Gods of Travel will have to cooperate.

Will I make it? You'll have to tune in (listen live with the link above) to find out. Listen this Sunday night at 7:00 p.m. Central Time. (For the geographically challenged, that would be 8:00 p.m. on the East Coast, 5:00 p.m. on the West Coast, 6:00 p.m. in the Rockies and some damned time I can't figure out in Alaska, London and/or Bangkok. Actually, I think it might be Monday morning in Bangkok by then. And it'll be something:30 in Newfoundland. Hey, I didn't draw the time zones...obviously.)

My Neighborhood Turned Irish While I Wasn't Looking!

I have to admit, I'm a little bit pissed off about getting scooped on this little item. Especially, since I knew a couple of weeks ago that this was coming and I was waiting for the awning to go up. Oh well. I still think it's pretty funny.

(I probably won't be going there all that much, even though it's owned by a cousin of my buddy at The Cheap Cigarette Store -- you know, the one who has the chutzpah to wish me Merry Christmas on Hannukah even though he's a Muslim! The new store is almost two blocks further from home!)

It's The Pitch Me A Spinoff Contest!

I've been promising you guys a contest and here it is! Last night, I posted a (somewhat lame) episode of CSI: Camelot. You're assignment -- should you choose to accept it-- is to come up with your own spinoff ideas for a show that's on now or was ubiquitous enough in the past. I'm going to suggest some shows, but you can create a spinoff from any show that is 1.) well known, 2.) already has at least one spinoff, and 3.) annoyed you because some (or all) of the spinoffs pissed you off.

Potential shows for spinning off:

CSI (of course)
Law & Order
All in the Family
Star Trek
Stargate
The Cosby Show

The Rules:

1. Only shows that already have at least one spinoff are eligible for spinning off.

2. In keeping with Rule 1, The Simpsons is a spinoff from The Tracey Ullman Show and doesn't have its own spinoff. (i.e. not eligible.)

3. This contest will remain open for a little while since I'm going to be doing some traveling soon. ENTRIES WILL BE ACCEPTED UNTIL 10:00 a.m. (EST) on Monday, July 13, 2009. The WINNER WILL BE DECLARED on Friday, July 17, 2009.

4. ENTRY FORMAT: Your entry can be practically anything. Write a script (it doesn't have to be long...just enough to convey your idea). Create an ad for the show. Make a cartoon of the show. Describe the pitch meeting. Send a video tape of you and your friends acting out a scene from the show. Whatever you want!

5. JUDGING: Obvously, the judging will be subjective. Many (I hope) will enter; Most will lose! I'll be the chief judge. In addition to myself, I'll be choosing a panel of judges from the people who post such lame entries that they don't have a snowball's chance in hell of winning. (Note: Please don't just tell me you want to be a judge. At least have the decency to submit an entry that's so lame it doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell of winning.)

6. All entries should be posted as comments in this thread. I'll keep linking back to it at the top of the blog so it's easy to find. If you have pictures or video, please post them as a link. (I'm think that's the only way you can post them, but some of you are geniuses and showing up my internet skilz won't score you any points.)

7. Not that I think I'll get inundated here, but you may submit a maximum of two entries.

8. THE PRIZES: I promised movie schwag and movie schwag I'm providing.

FIRST PRIZE will (of course) go to the best entry. Your very own nifty-as-hell reusable metal water bottle that was provided to the crew of the movie SALT, which just completed filming! Suitably embossed on one side with the name of the movie and serendipitously embossed with my name on the other side. (OK, the bottles are made by Nathan Human Propulsion Laboratories.)

THE LOSER PRIZE will go to the lamest entry (in my sole judgment.) This one only has my name on it sucker!

Here's some pictures.



You're encouraged to invite your friends and enemies. Now go get creative!

CSI: Camelot

Arthur ran to Merlin’s hut, slipping in the mud as he climbed the shallow slope. Arriving out of breath, he found Merlin stooped over a body resting upon the trestles…clearly a dead body.

Arthur, while gasping for breath, said, “I came as soon as I heard.”

“This one’s in no hurry”, Merlin responded while turning toward the door. “Clearly, he’s been bludgeoned by a club. See how his head is stove in on the right side”?

“Yes”, Arthur replied, “but there’s dimpling present. I don’t think a club did this work. Meritius”, he yelled out the door, “come in here immediately.”

Meritius entered the room pushing a barrow filled with a variety of heavy implements. Arthur began sifting through the pile, pulling some out for closer inspection. Finally he held a war mace, testing its heft at the end of its chain. “This, I think, is the weapon we’re looking for. See how the contours match”, he asked holding it next to the dead man’s gruesome wound.

Merlin joined him and agreed, “Yes, you’re right, but this is only circumstantial. We need proof positive.”

“Proof positive, you want? I’ll give you proof.” Without warning, Arthur swung the mace with all his might. Meritius went down like a tipped log. Merlin looked and saw that the wound was, in fact, identical.

“Fine Arthur, I believe that’s the weapon. But we’re no closer to finding the killer.”

“Ah, but we are”, opined Arthur. “You fail to notice the one difference between the wounds. I am right handed and struck Meritius swinging forward. The wound, you can see, indents in a clearly upward motion. Your victim has the wound on the right side as well, but with the indentation moving downward. We’ll need to conduct further experiments, but I think our killer is left handed and struck downward with a backhanded motion.”

Merlin looked closer and said, “I believe you’re right, but how can we be sure?”

Arthur hollered again. “Chrisantia, come in here” Chrisantia came through the door and Arthur immediately swung backhanded with his left hand, dropping her before she’d taken two steps into the room.

“Yes, yes”, Merlin said. “This wound is more identical.

“It is, isn’t it”, said Arthur. “But there are no left-handed men in the realm. So clearly, we’re looking for an evil sorcerer who can mimic the motions of a left-handed warrior.”

Merlin hesitated while he thought and then said, “People have commented that Prius’ horse seems to gallop while making no noise. They say they’re not even sure it’s running! And I saw with my own eyes, a blood spot in an egg he cracked last week. He must be our sorcerer.”

Arthur said, “As usual Merlin, you’ve solved the crime. Prius will be burned at the stake tomorrow at dawn. I don’t know how we’d get on without you.”

“No, no Arthur. Without your dedication to the scientific method, I never would have put the pieces together.”

With that, Merlin clapped Arthur on the shoulder and they sat down to the roast chicken at the foot of the table. Arthur said, “Mmm. This is quite tasty. Good thing there are only the two of us here with it being so small.” They both chuckled and dug in.

Tune in next week when Arthur and Merlin only have to execute 36 serfs to identify the distinctive marks left on their beheading victim.

How Much Does It Cost To Have An Elephant Run Into A Lake? A Whole Lot More Than You'd Think!

In 1992, I went to Oakland, CA to work on Made in America. The Location Manager had been promoted to Asst. UPM and I'd be something between an Asst. Location Manager and a full-fledged Location Manager. By the time I arrived, much of what I'm about to relate was already set in motion. Note: On reading this a second time, I realize it might be taken as me trying to dodge responsibility for something. The truth is, I'd love to be able to take credit for making this one work...but I can't.

The movie centers on Nia Long discovering that her mother, (Whoopi Goldberg) has been hiding from her the fact that she's the product of artificial insemination. She goes off in search of her biological father (aided in an early movie appearance by Will Smith), and discovers that Ted Danson's character was the donor. Hilarity ensues! (Actually, it's a cute movie and managed to gross about 6 times it's production budget. You could do worse with a rainy afternoon.)

Anyway, Danson plays Hal Jackson, a stereotypical overexcited car dealer. His "schtick" is that he regularly appears in his shlocky commercials with various animals. A running joke through the movie is that something usually goes wrong in the course of shooting the commercials. The script had one commercial where Jackson would be riding an elephant and something would startle the elephant, causing it to stampede down the street with Jackson along for the ride. The scene would end when the elephant ran into a nearby lake.

The relevant part here is that when they were scouting for Jackson's car dealership, they wanted to find it in close proximity to some body of water. And while the car dealership does have a few interior scenes, most of the scenes took place on the lot, so the exterior was a more important consideration. Eventually, they decided on building a facade (with a couple of workable interiors), on a parking lot two blocks from Lake Merritt in downtown Oakland.

Here, look! Could that work any better?

Close proximity to a body of water. Enough streets to get as much stampeding as you could want or compress the action to get him to the lake quicker. The lake was in a city park and the City of Oakland was being extremely cooperative, so everything looked great. They started building the dealership.

At some early stage, they had the Elephant Wrangler and the Stunt Coordinator come and scout the location to make sure everything would work for them. It was quickly agreed that there should be a ramp built just below the surface of the water so the elephant could charge into the lake gradually and have solid footing throughout the stunt.

This may have been a little more complicated than anyone had originally envisioned, but not really a huge deal. This wasn't a no-budget picture and you budget for stuff like that. So drawings were drawn and engineered to handle being submerged in water and supporting 7 tons of elephant. As soon as possible, they went and had meetings with the appropriate city authorities and folks from the Parks Department to get permission to procede. During this meeting, a new complication was discovered.

Here, look at the lake when we zoom out a bit.



No problem yet. We just wanted to use a tiny piece of this largish lake. It's all within the City of Oakland.

But zoom out just a tad more and what do you see? Is that a little river flowing out of the south end of the lake? And does it connect the lake to the Oakland Inner Harbor Channel?


And, oh crap! does the Inner Oakland Harbor Channel connect to San Francisco Bay? Why, yes it does.

And what, precisely does all of this mean for us building an itty-bitty ramp in an itty-bitty corner of a lake entirely within the City of Oakland?

It means the lake is tidal...which means the water is under Federal Jurisdiction. Suddenly, the idea of pounding footings for the ramp into the lake bottom is going to require environmental impact studies and a plan for its removal and soil samples for the lake bottom. It didn't really matter what all that would have cost (a butt-load), because the estimated timeline for doing the studies and filing for the permits would have taken too much time. If permits were issued at all, they wouldn't be issued until a few months after we were supposed to wrap the movie.

Nobody was happy.


The solution, which wasn't all that cheap, but, at least, only required the City's cooperation turned out to be digging a pool of our own next to the lake...an infinity pool, if you will.

Sample photo stolen off the internet to remind you what an infinity pool looks like next to a real body of water. To enhance verisimilitude, please envision murky water with 6" of visibility and lots of "stuff" floating on the surface.

Since we weren't allowed to have any impact whatsoever on the lake itself, including ever having any of our water (clean) mix with the lake's water (nasty), we had to build a coffer dam at the lake's edge before we even began digging the pool.

And then we shot the scene. And then we drained the pool. And then we filled the pool with the dirt we'd pulled out in the first place. And then we removed the steel coffer dam. And we never got any of our (bad) clean water into their (good) polluted water.

It's a good scene, but a pretty short one when all is said and done.

When you're wondering why it costs so much to make a movie, this is one of the many answers.