I know, I know: Why does the most famous Italian American on Earth wanna play a poor Jewish milkman? First off, Italians, Jews? Tomato, to-matzo. Love the Jews. Dig their whole bag. Got lots of Jewish friends too, like my agent and my lawyer and my other lawyer just for dame stuff. Plus, Sammy Davis Jr. Also, I hear your director, Norman Jewison, is a Protestant, which is kinda like meeting a guy named Johnny Catholic who turns out to be a Buddhist (but who cares is my point—we’re all just people!).
From an early review of Clouds:“Picture a pristine morning sky. Bright. Azure. Full of possibility. Now add some obese floating sheep. Oh, I’m sorry—did I ruin the mood? Ladies and gentlemen, meet clouds: amateurish puffs of mediocrity better suited to a child’s scribblings than our heavenly firmament. Some artist types may posture that clouds add texture, depth, and a note of majestic melancholy. Posh. These are the same anhedonic killjoys who claim that a beach picnic isn’t complete without sand in your sandwich. And, speaking of ruined picnics, did I mention that clouds are from whence come rain, thunder, lightning? That’s right, folks—these flying sheep can kill you. This critic prefers his flocks where they belong: back on the ground. Zero stars for clouds.”
Seems every other day, I got hit men, con men, made men, trigger men, bag men, button men – you name it – tellin’ me how they stored a stiff in a meat locker only for an extreme heatwave to cause rolling black-outs, and both the corpse and 700 pounds of beautifully-marbled Japanese Wagyu wind up spoiling rotten! Such a waste.
Please allow me to elaborate upon my request: Can you imagine what it feels like to wake up one morning and suddenly your name is universally synonymous with death? Today’s New York Times headline (“Carlhobbes Is Coming to Kill You!”) had an exclamation point. Have you ever seen an exclamation point in a New York Times headline?
Today, I woke up at the crack of dusk and downed two cups of three-day-old joe, trying to wipe away the cobwebs of last night (courtesy of a certain speakeasy that shall remain nameless, lest the cellar smellers raid it!). I was set to have a casual chew with an old Chicago chum, Georgie, so I decided to dress down—three-piece tweed suit, cap-toe oxfords, crimson pocket square, and my brown felt derby hat.
Page 54: We love that Rosie has a mischievous dog, Tugboat, who’s always making trouble for her love life! (Note: Maybe the entire film can instead be an animated family movie about Tugboat’s hilarious high jinks? Might be easier to physically produce at this point.)
“Distract Me from Grim Reaper and His Gleaming Scythe” = Do something charming and adorable (i.e., get muzzle stuck in fuzzy slipper; “Who’s a little slipper-face?!”) to momentarily make me forget that Death is all around me, closing in on all sides, remorseless and inescapable…
1) Six months into the treatment, what physical changes have you noticed in your child?
Okay well, we noticed changes almost immediately. Within a few days, his face looked different. My husband and I had seen the “Before and After” photos in your commercials, but frankly we’d assumed those were exaggerations (a.k.a., BS—sorry, but that’s what we thought). How much of a “miracle pill” could your product really be, and how quickly? We’d done some research and knew that the “modifications” were often more gradual, subtler than advertised. But the truth is right away, certain physical traits associated with our son’s genetic condition—abnormalities—started disappearing. Just like in the commercials.
After his son is born with lifelong learning disabilities, the co-creator of the hit TV series ‘How I Met Your Mother’ has a reckoning with the terms he was careless with, too.