On the Road...

There is something so soulfully unsettling about the disappearance of Air France Flight 447.

In this era of GPS and Flight Tracker, we are lulled into a false sense that not only do we know where we are at all times, but most unimportantly, people following us on Twitter know instantaneously when and where we eat a Twix bar.

Objects don’t vanish, we tell our children—especially really big planes with over 200 denizens from France, Brazil, Germany, Italy and America.

But sadly, they do, and with our mouths agape, we slowly realize that as we try to control and track our direction, our location, or purpose, the twin sisters of fate and destiny may have other plans for us.

Simply put, chuck the GPS, relishing life’s rudderless journey each and every moment, for knowing your location, does not always predict your destination.

As our first child, we love our first feature, "Table for One".

Although it debuted to laughs at a 1999 film festival in NYC, it never really caught fire with the masses--perhaps we were too close to it, thought it was way funnier than others did, or maybe it was our failure to properly market the film while bickering (medically known as "FPMFWB"), that led us to reject the paltry offer(s) and exile it to my closet. In some ways, we began to mirror the characters in the movie (what movie?).

Originally titled "Goodbye Spaceship Al", "Table for One" was penned by Howell J. Malham Jr and I. Originally produced by Flatlander Films, the film was directed by Wileen Dragovan. In 2006, additional scenes were written by Frier McCollister, then directed by me and reedited by Jane Hamilton of Stone Road.

The original team has now moved on to new lives and more lucrative projects--but there is something timeless, innocent and very funny about our first-born. Perhaps by letting her loose in the interwebs, she will find the larger audience she so rightly and richly deserves.

Please enjoy the film at its final resting place here.

 Απολαύστε!

Here we go--mask hysteria is about to strike: a local school a mile from our home is now closed due to possible SWINE flu; tomorrow, I leave to direct a shoot in San Antonio--where cases are popping up like summer pork rinds; my kids are sniffling, my wife sanitizing and the dog is snickering (the bitch can't get it).

What should we do?  Where should we go--CVS or Walgreens, who has the more stylish face mask with the most protective fiber?

As the mask makers, hand sanitizer producers and mass media stick this pig for all it's worth, a little bit of history might help.

Assuming the worst-case scenario, and this blossoms into the Spanish Influenza of 1918 (aka "La Grippe") that killed 30,000,000 worldwide (eeeek), it is interesting to note that with over one billion infected during that pandemic, the death rate was between 3-5%. Conversely, the survivor rate was 95%-97%.

I recall my Grandmother, Alice "Nonie" McCollister, chatting about those dark days--she was 90 pounds and wore a thin frame her entire life.  And as a young girl, she was the only one in her family who did not contract it--she took care of everyone (sans mask), and all survived.

The point--relax.  If you get it (and at this point, Gary Coleman has a better chance of winning an Oscar), it’s going to suck big time, but you can beat it.

So pull off your mask, put your hand in your mouth and gobble up that yummy pork sango--a 95% survival rate sounds pretty good to me.**

**For my pork producing clients, that is meant as a joke.  We all know eating a fried pork sandwich won't give you Swine Flu and kill you--it will kill because its a fried pork sandwich.  I am sure you appreciate the clarification.

In the cacophony surrounding the stupid as Carrot Top decision to fly Air Force One (and a cadre of gas sucking F-16s protecting nothing) around Manhattan, is the most inane fact of this misadventure.  The Air Force was collecting a new file photo of the plane.  What?  I'm sorry, the most photographed plane in the world needs a file photo?  Are they looking to rent it out on Craigslist on the weekends?  With the current state of the suckconomy, with people really hurting, our government wasted millions of dollars and freaked out most of Southern Manhattan, all for a file photo. Oh dear, oh my.

As the Chicago Tribune Company continues to choke on its high pursuit of callowness (The Red Eye, please), management just can't seem to button its shirt right.   Multiple paper redesigns, slayoffs, mismanagement, hubris, bankruptcy, and the suckconomy, have led to the code blue condition of this once great company.  I don't want it to disappear, but like a dying grandmammy, sometimes I wish she would choke on her afternoon Werthers and end it all.  But in the interim, perhaps the online editors of the Chicago Tribune could make it easier to sign up for a flipping subscription--I know its so hip to keep the subscription sign up link a secret, but perhaps they could follow the lead of the Wall Street Journal and make its placement a bit more obvious.

Cheers,

Charlie

Professional Video Production, Multimedia and Marketing