Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator (ludickid) wrote,
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator

Harnessed Ephemera

1. Due to 'scheduling issues', which is a polite phrase for 'Leonard being a lazy motherfucker', the next issue of the High Hat has been delayed. All of you who are awaiting word on pitches you've made, you'll get it (and deadline info) this week; and if you'd like to pitch to this amazing magazine but you never have before, please think about doing so now: highhatsubmissions at gmail dot com.

2. The weekend: uneventful as always. Finished reading a decent novel and am starting a good one; got a huge pile of DVDs from's annual megasale, which kept me recliner-bound for hours. Got some housework done, helped out my mom with some stuff, and picked up a few small freelance gigs, but didn't do as much work on my novel as I hoped, and slept waaaaaaay too much on Saturday. My health is all over the place lately, but I don't have any insurance, so HA HA HA, welcome imminent death. Depending on the disposition of some projects, I may have a free weekend coming up, and hopefully I'll be able to get some shit done like I need to.

3. "Crudulak". This is a new curse word I have invented for use when describing things that are annoying in an Eastern European sort of way, or when describing things in an Eastern European sort of way that are annoying. It is royalty-free.

4. In my alternate identity as Dr. Horace Shit, I am a lowly paid and highly experienced music writer. I am also that thing in my normal identity as Leonard Pierce. In fact, next month -- July 2007 -- will be the 20th anniversary of my first paid writing gig, which was, of course, a music review. So, ask me anything about music. You are getting a sound professional opinion here, and I will only make things up if they are funny.

5. Idea for a sitcom pitch: Airplane Hangar Hospital. This is a contemporary, hip medical drama, featuring an ethnically diverse cast of attractive, nubile, sexually active young doctors, nurses, administrators, patients, and insurance company representatives. They engage in witty badinage and torrid love affairs when not taking part in life-or-death struggles on the operating table. Unfortunately, the hospital at which they work, despite its popularity with patients due to its hip design and hotcha staff, was built by a band of traveling hobos with no medical training whatsoever, and is located in an abandoned airplane hangar. Thus, once an episode, someone recites a variant of "I'd love to be able to help you, Mr. Halloran, but this hospital is in an airplane hangar!" A surefire summer-replacement hit.

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