Giving Thanks

"Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)"

So I'm heading into work the other day and I pass by the boss's Range Rover -- when I say "boss" I mean our CEO, the guy who founded the company -- and I wondered if anybody ever thanks him. Not just the regular kind of "thanks" for holding the door open or passing the salt, but a more all-encompassing "thanks" for creating a successful company, providing people with jobs, and generally improving the economy. Obviously he didn't do it all out of the goodness of his heart; he's made a pile of money for himself. But, without his hard work and marketable ideas, I might not have a job right now. And that would suck.

So, thanks, dude.

While I'm at it, I should thank the woman who hired me for the job, too. She is my actual "boss-boss," and she came through for me when I really needed it. Again, she wasn't acting completely out of charity, she had a position to fill and needed someone she could rely on. She could very easily have hired someone else, but she knew I needed the gig and kept me in mind until something turned up. She also let me work around my screenwriting schedule, which is something I very much need to stay committed to.

So to her, I also say: "Thanks."

Then there's the guy who recommended me for the job in the first place. True, I dropped a few hints here and there. Some would say begged and pleaded. He made sure the boss-lady knew I was still interested and available and helped me get my foot in the door. He's still got my back now that I'm on the inside, keeping me in the loop with the producers I'm hoping to work with.

Yeah -- thanks, man.

And I know I've mentioned it before, but it bears repeating: I really appreciate my screenwriting group. This summer they helped me work through a rewrite of one of my scripts that has enabled me to revive some interest in it. And it's not just the writers in the group, but the actors too. They helped me see things that I didn't know were there, and some things that weren't there but needed to be. It was a huge help.

Thanks, guys.

I have, and have had, some pretty cool co-workers who allow me to bitch and moan when I feel the need to vent. Of course, I do the same for them. Most jobs seem to be like that -- people help each other through the rough spots by simply nodding and understanding, or sometimes chiming in or making a joke. It seems like a small thing, but without such commiserators, most of us would not last more than a few weeks at our jobs. Some of these office-buddies have remained my pals, long after we are no longer co-workers. And they still let me bitch and moan when I need to.

Thanks.

Old friends can be pretty cool, too. Sometimes, nobody but old friend can fix a bout of bad craziness with a simple reminder of where you came from or a well-aimed reality check. It's hard sometimes to stay in touch with your old friends as the years fly by. But a short phone call or even a funny Facebook post from an old friend can really bring you back home.

Many thanks.

Nobody, however, can bring you back home like your family. My sisters, who are so different, both continue give me insights and perspective that help keep me grounded and at the same time open my mind to possibilities and potential. They also show me examples of strength and wisdom that make me proud to know them. My brothers-in-law provide some needed guy-energy to the mix, because no matter how awesome my sisters are, it's still nice to know there's a man around to lift heavy objects and say things that are really obvious. My parents, meanwhile, offer unfailing support as well as a constant source of inspiration. They encourage me to pursue my dreams while reminding me of the little things that matter most. And they say some really funny shit.

I can't thank them enough.

My niece and nephews totally honor me by making me feel like I am still "cool" enough to hang with them. They also fill me with hope, just knowing there are such good people out there to face the weirdness that undoubtedly lies ahead. My niece's husband adds a wonderful new wing to our little family and enjoys the eminent distinction of being good enough for my niece.

Thanks, kids.

The more I think about it, the more people there are to thank. I'm not sure I can ever thank them all. If I ever gave an Oscar speech, I'd be up there for days. Just this week, a friend invited me over to share Thanksgiving dinner. Same thing happened last year, and the year before. I know I said "thank you," but somehow that just doesn't seem to be enough.

Or maybe it is. As long as you really mean it.

Uh-oh, they're playing the exit music, and I just know I'm forgetting someone...

I'll try again next year.

Thank you.

Vanity

You're so vain... you probably think this blog is about you.

Vanity often gets a bum rap. It is even considered one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Which is pretty bad. But, when you think about it, without Vanity, what would become of civilization, as we know it? Without Vanity, would there be any world leaders? Doubtful. You don't get to be a world leader without thinking that you are pretty special -- and convincing others to think so, too. From Julius Caesar to Naploeon Bonaparte, Attila the Hun to Jabba the Hut, Mahatma Ghandi to Glenn Beck, the great leaders in history all have one thing in common: Vanity.

The same is true for science and the arts. Did Pythagoras come up with his famous theorem purely for the love of math? Of course not. He wanted to have something really awesome named after him. Same goes for Charles Darwin, Albert Einstein and Louis Pasteur. Pasteurization, by the way, is a confusing term. I mean, don't all cows come from pastures? So isn't all milk, in a sense 'pasture-ized'? I'm not saying it's deliberately misleading -- I'm just saying Louis didn't think that one through.

As for the art world, surely every great work of art is, by nature, an act of Vanity. Tell me you don't have to have some pretty big stones to paint a picture of God on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Or write a poem about your journey through the nine circles of Hell. Or make a 3-D movie about a planet filled with 10-foot-tall, blue-skinned Rastafarians who ride on flying dragons?

Serious Vanity.

Science teaches us that Vanity is a good thing. According to the Law of Attraction, if we imagine ourselves desirable, the Universe will reward us with high-cheekbones and positive cash-flow. Whereas, if we succumb to the victimizing philosophy of Humility, the Universe will in turn afflict us with bad hair and a lack of fashion sense. This is why good people are always pretty and bad people are ugly. It is, in fact, why movie stars are better than regular people.

True, there are many who believe that Humility is the proper path. Most often, though, you will find that these people are merely losers who need an excuse for their inability to play sports or get a date to the prom. I myself have fallen into the morass of abject Humility, believing that I were no better than anyone else, deserving only of my 'fair share,' willing to sacrifice my own comfort and pleasure for the so-called Greater Good. I wandered through the desert of self-denial for years, thinking that, by living simply and not seeking attention or reward, I was somehow leading a life of Virtue.

But what is Virtue? Is it not a Virtue to be loved and admired? Is it not a Virtue to be successful and happy? Is it not a Virtue to be awesome? And did my life of pitiful mediocrity provide me with any of these things?

Of course not.

So that is why I have come to embrace Vanity and all it has to offer. And not just to embrace Vanity, but to celebrate it as well. To paraphrase one of the great fictional heroes of our time:

The point is, ladies and gentleman, that Vanity--for lack of a better word--is good. Vanity is right. Vanity works. Vanity clarifies, cuts through and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Vanity, in all of its forms--has marked the upward surge of mankind. And Vanity--you mark my words--will not only save Teldar Paper, but that other malfunctioning corporation called the USA.

I know that last part doesn't make any sense out of context, but it sounds cool.

As way to kick off my newfound commitment to Vanity, I am organizing the Rally To Restore Vanity, to be held on Tuesday, November 2nd, 2010. On that day, over a dozen people will flock to Hollywood to take part in a day-long program of festivities which is guaranteed to be literally fantastic.
I realize now that November 2nd also happens to be Election Day. But, trust me, when I originally chose the date, I really had no idea of its cultural or historical importance. I was being guided by my Inner Voice, on whose counsel I base all of my most important life choices. When I learned of the significance of the date, I realized that it was truly an inspired coincidence -- if indeed a coincidence it was! For what better occasion to celebrate Vanity than on the day of one of our biggest national popularity contests.

Now, at this point you may be thinking: 'But dude, how can I make Vanity work for me?' And herein lies the sheer beauty of Vanity, because, when it comes right down to it, I really don't care about you.

Divine Comedy

The Sage who provokes laughter is more valuable than a well.

What is comedy? Essentially, comedy is what's "funny." So, what's funny? In the movie The Sunshine Boys, a retired vaudevillian named Willy, played by Walter Matthau, has this to say about what's funny:

Alka Seltzer is funny... Words with "k" in them are funny... Cupcake is funny. Tomato is not funny. Cookie is funny. Cucumber is funny. Car keys. Cleveland... Cleveland is funny. Maryland is not funny. Then, there's chicken. Chicken is funny.

Some things, however, can be funny to some people, but to others... not so much. For example, many people believe that Adam Sandler is funny.

But he isn't.

A friend of mine used to say that he could tell whether someone was smart if they laughed at his jokes. I myself have always used comedy as a way of unfairly judging people. I like making people laugh, and I like being around people who are funny. If someone can make me laugh, I usually like them. If they get my jokes, I love them.

I once dated a woman who wanted to be a stand-up comic. We met at a seminar for comedy writers and she seemed funny. By which I mean she laughed at my jokes. After we'd been dating for a few weeks, she invited me to come see her perform at a comedy club. I sat at the front table to provide moral support. She came out to do her set and...

Not funny!

Don't get me wrong, I laughed loud and hard. But I was totally faking it. (Yes, men can fake it, too.) Afterwards, I told her she was great, but deep down inside, I knew that our relationship was doomed. I tried to overlook it and focus on her other fine qualities (she worked at a bar and gave me free drinks) but it was no use. Seeing her onstage not being funny was too much to overcome. Perhaps it would have been different if she didn't think she was funny.

But she did. And she wasn't.

I figured I'd give stand-up comedy a try. It didn't look that hard. But the joke was on me -- turns out it was both awesomely terrifying and immensely satisfying. Mostly terrifying. The satisfying part is that you get to find out first hand if your jokes are funny. Fortunately for me, my jokes got laughs. The gut-wrenching, mind-numbing, paralyzing fear was bad enough. But to stand up there and have nobody laugh would have been sheer torture.

I decided I was better suited to writing. Less stressful. So, a friend and I co-wrote a play called Leading The Blind, about a couple who meet at their friends' wedding and end up getting married -- meanwhile their married friends are in the midst of a divorce and trying to talk them out of it. We held a staged reading of the play and I found that I much preferred anonymously sitting in the audience while trained professionals did all of the heavy lifting. Writing for actors was definitely the way to go.

Not long after that, I began writing screenplays. Only problem is, unless some miracle occurs and your screenplay gets made into a movie, you don't get to see how it plays in front of an audience. Closest I could get was some screenwriting software that "reads" your script out loud using an electronically programmed voice that sounds like Stephen Hawking on Quaaludes. It's funny, but not in a good way.

The first five screenplays I churned out were comedies. Basically, they are all about slightly geeky guys who get mixed up in dangerous situations and wind up meeting beautiful women who want to have sex with them. I thought I had invented my own genre, but it turns out that the genre already exists. It's called: Every Unsold Comedy Script Ever Written. I sent them around and got some good feedback here and there. But unless I could be in the room with the people who were reading my scripts and actually see if and when they were laughing, I couldn't really tell if my jokes were working. And the idea of me sitting there watching them read my script tended to turn most people off.

But now, after years of writing for an audience of one, I belong to a writing group that holds weekly script readings. There's no better indicator than the sound of a roomful of people laughing (or not laughing) to tell you if your script is funny. Or not. Just last week, I brought in one of my old comedy scripts for a reading. The actors did a fine job, as always, but after a somewhat subdued reading, several people asked me if it was, in fact, a comedy.

Awkward pause...

At least now I know where I stand. Time to go back and "punch it up," as we say in the biz. I got some good notes from my fellow writers to help guide me. Of course, you can't really tell someone how to be funny. I'll just have to go with my gut.

And put in a bunch of words with "k" in them.