WTF is up with Bad Stuff?

OK!  What the HELL is up with bad things getting popular?  I'm sure Florence Foster Jenkins wasn't the first.  She was, as you might know, a terrifically bad singer with a large following.  Today on facebook, I was turned on to a song called "Shine" by a band called Final Placement.  Watch the video and try to pull your eyes away from this train wreck. 
I enjoy a good train wreck as much as the next guy but I have to ask: what about all the GOOD stuff out there that no one sees/watches/tells their friends about?   Is the only way to have success to suck harder than a souped-up shop vac?
The Florence Foster Jenkins thing upsets because the was produced/presented at Carnegie Hall in New York -- and thousands of people paid to hear her caterwauling.  The cost of the the abortion could have funded how many Midsummer Night Dreams?  How many talented but as-yet-unknown playwrights, musicians, dancers...
The Final Placement video must have cost something to film and edit, yet no one said, "No.  I won't do this video because there are so many more deserving bands who can't afford one."  The money spent on that video could have funded how many student shorts? 
The part about consuming crap-as-art, for the masses is this: we feel superior to the poor under-talent we're watching.  So we watch some more, feel good about ourselves and get on with our lives while the people who paid for the horrible show/video/movie/TV show watch the numbers soar.
The worst audition I ever did was one where I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I did well.  Other people I respect were there too and confirmed that I was better than everyone who auditioned for that part.  Then the director, who ignored me, brought up an actor who didn't really even get the timing, the feel or the humor of the scene but had the lines memorized and used props and LOVED it.
Now, this director has a position, a board and a budget to spend and, because the company is not-for-profit, it is in the public trust.  This means that it must serve the community in which it operates.  I ask you - how does it serve a community by producing what I produce at about 8:30 every a.m.?
The money.  THE MONEY!  I WANT THE MONEY.  I can produce shit as well as anyone in my town and probably the next three counties!  I can garner good reviews.  Why it is that I, whose shit is better (I know this because nothing I've produced has become a viral phenomenon) can't get the thousands of dollars I DESERVE to to ART that is BETTER than...
OK.  Whew.  Thanks for reading (you may now feel superior to me).

It's Official

Lawyers have found me to participate in a class action suit against several television production companies regarding age discrimination.  The suit alleges that most TV studios and producers discriminated on writers over 40.  They sent me a letter, ostensibly, because I am a writer who is over 40.

A writer. 

I did not, to my knowledge, submit anything to a television studio in the five years that qualify me as what the television studios and some agencies think is too old to write.  So I won't be participating.  But a law firm in Washington DC thinks I fit the bill enough to send me a letter.
Of course there are two classes of claimants: 1) Television writers over 40; and 2) Writers over 40 who want to write for television.  That's me!  But how did they find me?
My guess is that they saw me play Milt Fields in Laughter on the 23rd Floor.  That or they knew that I live within 200 miles of Hollywood and that means I have a screenplay.  Or, they read my last play - OK my only play - produced and thought that it was a better TV script.

Either way, I'm a writer!  It's official.  I'm not participating in the suit but I feel better submitting to all those TV studios as "Kevin Six, over 40 so WATCH IT, SUCKERS!"

Kevin Six

Annual Valentine's Day Story

Cameron’s Chocolateria

The New Chef

By Kevin Six

Cameron Sweet fidgeted in his seat.  It was Friday afternoon and Miss Price was droning on about geometry.  But all Cameron could think about was his exciting after-school task.

As the namesake of the town's best candy shop, Cameron had borrowed his Uncle Antoine's surname for business purposes – and it didn't hurt his popularity.

"Hey Cam-uh-Mr. Sweet," said former bully Donny Twittle, as the final bell rung, "what'cha doin' after class?" A group of kids was descending on Cameron, as they always did at this time, to accompany him on his weekly taste test at Cameron's Chocolateria.

"Not today, guys," announced Cameron, "we're interviewing a new chef."

It seemed that every dessert chef in a 100-mile radius had sent samples for the Sweet family to taste. The three finalists were to be interviewed at the shop today. Uncle Antoine was busily arranging candies in the cases when the bell over the door rung announcing Cameron's entrance.

 "Are we ready to make our most important decision to date?" asked Uncle Antoine.

"Yes," said Cameron as his mother entered from the kitchen.

"I'll be happy when we get a new chef," said Darla Sweet, "I had no idea how difficult it was to make-"

 "The world's finest chocolate!" chimed everyone.

"That's why we're hiring a new chef, dear sister," said Antoine.  "We need you in the office managing accounts!" Though the store was closed for the afternoon, there was quite a crowd gathering. A change this monumental was quite exciting in this small town.

 The first two interviewees looked like dessert chefs and seemed rather boring to Cameron's mind. The third and final chef to be interviewed was different in many ways. Firstly, she was a woman, second, she didn't look like a chef but more like a high-fashion model -- and third, she was considerably more attractive than any woman Cameron had ever seen, except his mother.

The discussion continued over dinner at home. Ms. Kinsey had what Uncle Antoine called "an almost radical approach to chocolate making," and Cameron's mom wondered aloud if the rest of the staff would be distracted by her. But Cameron liked her – mainly because she treated him like a member of the management team instead of a child, so he spoke up.

"I think she's neat.  She doesn't treat kids like they're dumb and she's nowhere near as pretty as you, mom."

"Her chocolate sample was the best," Said Darla. Antoine noticed a growing diplomacy in his nephew, which would be good for business as the years progressed.

"Then it's decided," he said.

The proof of Ms. Kinsey's success was in the pudding, and the pies and of course the truffles, which were selling better than ever in just one week on the job. She kept her recipes secret but the list of ingredients, which Darla had some difficulty ordering, were nothing if not strange: paprika, raw cocoa leaves, nettle and wormwood were some of the ingredients. And the names!  Ms. Kinsey suggested the strangest names, which, after tasting seemed to fit perfectly.  Names like, Avarice, Burning Desire, Man Back, Die For, Zowee and, Cameron's favorite, Tough Stuff.

The strange names, ingredients, and higher prices (shipping was to blame) actually increased sales.  So much so that the Sweets and a fleet of clerks, assistants and kitchen helpers just to meet demand.

Ms. Kinsey ran the shop like boot camp but no one seemed to mind.  She was just so nice about it.  Ms. Kinsey also had an odd habit of dabbing sweat off of the worker's foreheads.  "We wouldn't want that in the mix," she'd say after surprising someone with a swipe of her red handkerchief.

A strange thing was happening in the neighborhood of Cameron's Chocolateria.  It could be said that there were more dates beginning, culminating and, in some cases, taking place at the chocolate shop than ever before.  And it seemed like there were just more people going on dates.  Even Mr. Miller the butcher and Miss Groaning the librarian were dating.

Most of the marriageable bachelors, however, were seeking ever bolder and more ingenious ways to gain the attentions of the new chef Ms. Kinsey.  There were almost daily deliveries of flowers, perfume and ham (it was a small farming town after all), which Ms. Kinsey always accepted graciously. But she never seemed to do anything but, cook, eat and read cookbooks. Her evenings were spent creating ever more ingenious and strange creations.

It had to happen and finally it did. Mr. Abernathy, a man with a good complexion who seemed to know how to dress himself asked Darla on a date and, after a family conference, she accepted.  It had, after all, been three years since Mr. Smith had passed on in the war and Mrs. Sweet was the second most eligible woman in town.

Uncle Antoine agreed to accompany Darla on her date. "But who will watch Cameron?" asked Darla.

"I'm old enough to take care of my self!" said Cameron, who was to turn 11 next May.

"Almost but not quite," the voice of Ms. Kinsey startled the family conference in front of the Dine, Dance, and Delight display.

Ms. Kinsey's comments usually startled.  It was either because she was announcing some new concoction featuring pineapple, pepper and plumeria (a best seller), or finishing someone's thought. "Actually I need Cameron's help on a new, top secret recipe." The silence was thick. 

Finally Uncle Antoine broke it with, "Capital idea!"

The shift changed promptly at six on Friday. The night crew did a huge business until midnight selling sweets with names like Naughty Neighbor, Sneak Away For a Bite and some others that Cameron didn't understand but that Uncle Antoine always snickered at when he set them out.  At 6:05 p.m. a nervous Mr. Abernathy came to pick up Cameron's mother.  Antoine and his date Miss Price arrived a few minutes later and all were off for a ride to the next town.

"I think you handled Mr. Abernathy quite properly," said Ms. Kinsey back in the kitchen.  They were under orders not to be disturbed; Cameron was the first and only person allowed to witness what Ms. Kinsey called "the creative process."  It seemed boring and even a little painful to Cameron who'd been stirring a thick dark melange for a long time. 

"What do you mean, Ms. Kinsey?" 

"I think you let Mr. Abernathy know that you are, or soon will be, a man to be reckoned with.  You were polite but showed him that you wouldn't stand for him mistreating your mother." 

"How…how'd you know that?" Cameron was indeed feeling exactly that same feeling when he met his mother's escort, "and how did I show him that? I just shook his hand." 

"It was the way in which you shook it.  I'm sure he got the message," said Ms. Kinsey.  Cameron wondered what he'd just heard but it made him feel pretty cool so he let it go. 

"Cameron, it's almost time for the secret ingredient.  Are you ready?"  Cameron was actually a little nervous as Ms. Kinsey took a large beaker out of the refrigerator.  He was more nervous because the beaker seemed to be smoking.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Only the most important ingredient of the most important recipe I shall ever create." If this were a movie, thought Cameron, I'll bet the music would be a little spooky right now.

"What's in it?" he asked when he regained his composure.

"First, wouldn't you like to know what I'll call it?" Cameron was getting strange feelings running up and down his spine.  "It shall be called The Opposite of Fear," announced Ms. Kinsey.

"What is the opposite of fear?" asked Cameron.

"Don't you want to know about the secret ingredient?" Suddenly, Cameron's interest was on the beaker, which Ms. Kinsey was tipping into Cameron's bowl. It turned the mostly chocolate a dark, passionate red.

"Yes."  Said Cameron.

"Recognize the color?" asked Ms. Kinsey. It was an oddly familiar color, thought Cameron. 

"Can we taste it? 

"No.  Not until I'm gone," said Ms. Kinsey.

"You're leaving?" Suddenly Cameron didn't feel so well.

"Let me tell you about the secret ingredient. But you must swear to tell only the love of your life this secret I'm about to impart to you." 

"How will I know-" 

"That you've found the love of your life? You will know."  "Now, continued Ms. Kinsey, "Cameron, you may have noticed that I have a silly habit of wiping the brows of the workers-"

"The red handkerchief!" Cameron couldn't help interrupting but it was the exact color of the concoction he'd been stirring.

"Excellent, Cameron. The secret ingredient comes from the handkerchief." Cameron was looking a little pale at the thought of many months' worth of sweaty brows. "Don't worry, Cameron, I distilled it. I believe you told me you read about the distillation process in school."  Cameron nodded and his color returned.

"Distilled sweat?"

"Not everyone's sweat, Cameron.  Sometimes people don't have fun at work."

"Like cranky Mr. Jackson and unhappy Pearl Sweeney?"

"Exactly. I never dabbed their brows.  Only those who were happiest, those who love their jobs." 

"But what-" 

"What is the distillate?" finished Ms. Kinsey. "Love, Cameron. When you produce sweat from a labor of love, it can be brought out, magnified and used to make-"

"A love potion?" Cameron was horror struck.

"I will leave soon and soon after that you will change your mind about love, Cameron. Besides, no one can make a person love someone they don't.  But one can increase the love that is there." Cameron was even more horror struck.

Cameron's Chocolateria had a record year for sales and the whole town seemed happier and healthier, which was something considering the amount of sweets they were ingesting. There was a grand party to send off Ms. Kinsey, who entrusted more than one secret recipe to Cameron Sweet. At the party, Cameron could have sworn that Jessica Cooper was looking at him strangely. Ms. Kinsey just smiled and winked. 

The days grew into weeks and months but every so often, someone would ask Cameron about the bright red batter in the freezer and every time Cameron would answer, "Maybe Christmas, maybe New Year, probably Valentines Day."

A Valentine Theatre Experience

Don't forget to get your lover some dirty theatre for Valentine's Day.

Erotic Shorts

February 11-14

20 erotic shorts

directed by

ashley hollingshead

Dirty? Sexy? Thoughtful? Funny? Sexy?

20 hot little numbers penned by authors from pdx and beyond.

All shows 8pm $10-15

@ eff Space

#14 333 NE Hancock, PDX

February 13

Super Saturday short Shorts Stravaganza

funraiser and dance party

Afer the show strap on those sassy short shorts and dance the night away with the WTC. Erotic baked goods, raffles, and booty shakin tunes all at The Dunes.

10pm $5 or $3 if you rock your shorts

@ The Dunes

1909 NE MLK, PDX (around the corner from eff Space)

People Are Trying to Hijack This Blog

Got me some cyber cops looking at a spam site that's trying to sell software by spamming this blog.

Coming Soon

My Play The Art of Love is coming soon.  For more information, see the website:
www.PlaysAboutLove.com