This Is Not A Hoax

Sorry that this month's newsletter is a few days late. (Not that anyone besides my Mom would notice.) But I've been battling a virus recently... No, not that virus -- although I am still battling the mystery virus that has had me walking around like a zombie with ADD for the past two months. The other virus I've been battling lately is even more insidious. That's because it's a computer virus.

Now, before you get worried, rest assured that I have completely rid my computer of this diabolical infestation, thanks to the help of my computer savvy sister Cindy who sent me a little program specifically designed to wipe out the so-called "klez" virus. Thanks Sis.

The klez virus is actually kind of ingenious, not only does it get into your email file, but it also infects your anti-virus software, causing it to shut down. That's why you need the special klez-fix program to wipe it out. Then you have to remove and replace your infected anti-virus software. Who comes up with this nasty stuff?

According to my friend Erika, it's all those geeks waiting in line to see Star Wars.

This klez virus got into my hard drive and started sending out emails that pulled lines of dialogue from some of my screenplays and put them in the subject line and then included entire screenplay files as attachments! I realized this was happening because I received one at my email address at work. The sender was random, but the subject line was strangely familiar. And when I looked at the attachment, I recognized one of my own screenplays!

In a way, it is kind of impressive, but why go through all this trouble just to create random irritation? Why can't all of this computer-geek knowledge and ingenuity be harnessed for the benefit of society, instead of for the purpose of perpetrating childish pranks?

How, you ask? I have a few ideas:

The NRA virus - this virus would get into the bank accounts of the National Rifle Association and reroute all funds to the National Endowment for the Arts. How hard could that be? NRA gets changed to NEA, no big deal.

The Al-Qaida virus - this one's a little trickier, it would have to track all of those terrorist emails that the NSA has picked up and trace them back to the source. Then it gets inside the terrorist's computer, waits for the terrorist to fall asleep and creates a massive circuitry overload that shorts out the computer and causes an electrical fire that burns down the terrorist's house. Now that would be an impressive virus, not to mention patriotic.

The Chain-Breaker virus - this one is the most beneficial to society of all. This virus would seek out anyone who forwards an email that contains either:

A) A cloying series of reasons to feel "blessed," coupled with a threat of bad luck to whomever fails to "share" the hokey sentiments with at least five other suckers.

B) An absurdly illogical "promise" that Bill Gates and/or Santa Claus will pay cash money to anyone dimwitted enough to forward said "promise" to all of their equally dimwitted friends. By using highly sophisticated email "tracking" software designed by psychics, Bill and/or Santa can tell whose been naughty and whose been nice and reward them accordingly.

C) A "warning" that every household product in common use today contains enough toxins to completely wipe out the human race or at least cause a nasty rash that won't go away. These bogus "warnings" are often accompanied by helpful links to websites that offer special "all-natural" products that contain nothing whatsoever.

Anyone who forwards these such emails will be instantly targeted by the Chain-Breaker virus which will erase the offender's hard drive and then replace every file with illegal porn, while at the same time contacting the local FBI office and providing them with a complete dossier of the subject along with samples of the objectionable material. Let them see how it feels to receive unwanted and offensive crap via the Internet!

If any of you know any computer-geeks, hackers or overly-enthusiastic Star Wars fans, feel free to pass along my ideas to them. I believe these kids are simply looking for an outlet for their energies and talents. Let's give them something to be proud of! Let's give them a reason to become a part of society instead of an anathema to it. Let's make this cyber-community a wholesome place where honest, red-blooded Americans can go about their business, using their computers for decent and good-natured purposes like peeking into coed dormitory shower rooms or arguing about how many times Captain Picard broke the Prime Directive on 'Star Trek - The Next Generation.'

Please forward this email to five other people within the next five minutes. If you do not, you will be visited by a plague of festering boils.

Have a blessed day!

For information on DHMO, a widely used yet completely unregulated chemical compound that has been shown to be linked a wide range of human diseases, and possesses tremendous physically destructive capabilities, please use the following link: http://www.dhmo.org/facts.html

Stay clean, everybody.
Love HWD

You Always Believed in Something

I've been asleep for the past four days. I had gum surgery last week and the next day I entered into some kind of energy vortex like the ones they have on Star Trek, where no matter what you try to do, the warp engines just can't produce enough power to get you moving. The only thing left to do is to shut down all systems and drift forward on short bursts of impulse power. (Star Trek marathon on cable this weekend.) So I cashed in a couple of sick days and went horizontal.

Ever since I got back from D.C., I've been dragging my ass around like it was made of lead and my head was full of sand. I spoke to my doctor this morning, just before visiting my tax advisor, and he said it sounds like I have a 'viral syndrome'. This is not to be confused with the 'China Syndrome' in which a nuclear meltdown burns a hole through the earth's core and out the other side, nor is it in anyway related to the notorious 'Vinyl Syndrome' which is characterized by the refusal to purchase digitally recorded music of any kind and the steadfast belief that no good music has been released since 1978. A viral syndrome is some kind of mysterious disease that can only be cured by lying around for days watching videos and drinking lots of chocolate soy-shakes.

About the only part of my brain that remains operational is the part that likes to make up stuff. While lying in bed half-awake/half-asleep for hours on end, the semi-coherent babbling of my internal monologue starts to develop irritating repetitions that echo in my brain over and over threatening to rob me of what little sanity I have left. So, I write them down and call them "songs".

This particular song started out about someone who represented a certain kind of passion and hopefulness that I always admired. As I added verses, I discovered that there were others who shared that spirit and who have served as examples of how I would like to live my life, if I could only stay awake long enough to try.

Anyway, two people in particular are currently giving me inspiration: they happen to be my sisters. Susan is preparing to celebrate the 10th anniversary of The Buttonwood Tree, the bookstore/art gallery/performance space/cultural mecca she founded and has nurtured from seed to blossom. Cindy is in the process of completing her master's degree after having sacrificed her career goals to raise a family and then been plunged back into the work force as a single mom and starting all over from scratch.

It's cool to have a dream, and I think my sisters are pretty cool for believing in their dreams.

Here's a song for them.

You Always Believed in Something

When the party ended
And all the walls came down
You just kept on dancing
Around and around

After the flood was over
And everything was dry
You stood upon the mountain
Expecting to fly

You always believed in something
When all was said and done
You always believed in something
For everyone

In the dead of winter
When spring was far away
You were looking forward
To a brand new day

All along the highway
That stretches to the sea
Two of us were hoping
To be free

You always believed in something
When all was said and done
You always believed in something
For everyone

You looked so high
We thought you would never die
But I was still waiting for the fall
And if we try

To live without all the lies
It might have been worth it after all

As the fog was lifting
We stood at the gates of dawn
You wanted the moment to linger
On and on

And if there is a future
Where all our dreams come true
It might not seem so distant
If I could be with you

'Cause you always believed in something
When all was said and done
You always believed in something
For everyone


Now it's time for my nap.

Love, Rich

The Golden Dickie

Last week at about this time, I was sitting in a pub in Silver Spring Maryland with my good friends Dave and Kevin. I was in town to attend the D.C. Independent Film Festival. Kevin drove down from New Jersey for the occasion and picked me up at the airport on his way. Dave was playing local host and had brought us to one of his favorite hangouts to toast the occasion with a pitcher or two of beer. It was a great start to a great weekend and made me realize how lucky I am to have such great buddies.

But enough about those two, let's get back to me. Yes, Saturday, March 2nd was the World Premier of Dante's View at the Visions Theater in Washington D.C. Despite the cold weather, persistent rain and early showtime, the turnout for the event was underwhelming. Sharing the bill with two bush league short subjects and a boring, self-indulgent documentary didn't help matters. Nevertheless, when Dante hit the screen, the sacred darkened space of the cinema was transformed into a world of bold imagery, hypnotic music, riveting performances and shamanistic storytelling. The lucky few who were there to witness the event left with lives forever changed in ways that they may now only dimly perceive.

One audience member called it "brilliant," while another gushed "it was pretty good."

Strangely, I was completely unmolested by mobs of passionate female film students as we left the theater and headed off through the rain in search of more pitchers of beer. Fortunately, however, I was able to recall an old Adams-Morgan haunt from the days when this same neighborhood was my stomping ground, a place called Millie & Al's, and there we did at last find beer.

I spent the rest of the week checking out some of the competition at the festival, visiting with Dave and his family and digging up some ghosts from a past life that has been all too-well preserved. I saw a couple of short films that really impressed me, including one called Copy Shop that is nominated for an academy award. But for the most part, I felt they had a long way to go to match the blazing intensity of Dante's View.

I also managed to catch a wicked sore throat, possibly having something to do with the cold, rainy weather and pitchers of beer, and spent much of my time wandering the streets in a kind of semiconscious delirium in which the murky past, the fantasized future and the slightly unreal present mingled into one long semi-autobiographical waking dream.

On Thursday night, Dave accompanied me to the awards ceremony, by which point I was so groggy that I thought I was going to pass out during my acceptance speech. Luckily I didn't have to make an acceptance speech, as I wasn't being given any awards. I didn't mind too much though, the short that did win is also nominated for an academy award and there were plenty of other shorts that cost a lot more than mine to produce and didn't win anything either.

I did have a speech prepared, however, and I felt like I deserved something special for writing, producing, directing, shooting, editing and now marketing my very first movie. So, I decided to give myself an award. I picked out a suitable trophy: a five-inch high, gold-plated replica of the Washington Monument, which I am awarding myself in a ceremony held later this week (as soon as it arrives in the mail). Since all the cool awards have nicknames, I have decided to call it "The Golden Dickie" or just "The Dickie" for short.

And now, if I may...

First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who worked on the movie, especially Jon, Ivana, Patti, Linda, Mike, Blake and Dimitri. They all did so much more than their credits suggest and this award honors their achievement as much as mine. I'd also like to thank my friends for their support and encouragement, particularly my brothers in the Mariner's Gate who believed in me and taught me how to believe in myself. I'd like to thank my family for their faith and enthusiasm, my sisters for their loyalty and hope and my parents for their trust and patience. Finally, I'd like to thank myself for never giving up even when there seemed to be no reason to continue, and for having a dream and working to make it come true. That's what this award is, a dream come true. And no matter how many other awards or trophies I might receive, the Golden Dickie will always be the first in my heart. Thank-you.
At this point, the band is playing the theme song from Dante's View and a really tall blonde babe with fake boobs is taking me by the arm and leading me off the stage...

I guess I haven't completely gotten over my delirium, but what the hell -- if you can't live a rich and fulfilling fantasy life, what's the point of living in a fantasy world at all?

Most of all, I'd like to thank all of you, the little people -- you know who you are. Each and every one of you deserves a Golden Dickie of your very own.

Did I forget to thank the Academy?

Love,
Hollywood Dick