I Don’t Have The Time To Make Up A Title For This Stellar Article. You Understand.
By Jonathan Goorvich
Hello. My name's Jonathan. I work in Hollywood. For Hollywood. This fact alone already makes me better than you in a number of ways.
Obviously, I’m a busy man with far more important things to do than write an article for this bullshit “magazine,” so I’ll make this quick.
I feel it’s safe to say that I make more money than you. In fact, I calculated the other day that from the time I left my desk to take a shit to the time I came back, I made more money dropping the kids off at the pool (so to speak) than a vast majority of American’s do in an hour. Think about it.
To some people (like you), film is art. To me, it’s a business. That’s why I’m successful and you work at a coffee shop. Yes, yes, I know, you’re working on a great screenplay. The next “Pulp Fiction.” Right. You and I both know that your screenplay will be a bitter reminder of your failure anyway. Even if, by some cosmic fuck-of-a-chance, your piece of shit lands on my desk, I, with my infinite power and wisdom, will indeed turn your garbage into art. That’s right: I’ll give it to my four-year-old niece to finger-paint on. Because I swear to God, she has more talent than you… and none of your pretension and entitlement bullshit.
This business is not about creativity. It’s about giving people what they want. And people, with the exception of me and inclusion of the tall, thin, smoking hot, big-titted blonde I banged for sport last night, are stupid. People are sheep. I sell a product for a living, a drug – and you are my junkie. So, 1.) Thank you for my new BMW 760 Li Sedan, and 2.) You will always be a junkie. Remember that.
You know what? I like you. I like you and I don’t know why. That’s why I’m going to help you. I’m going to show you a hot treatment. If you don’t know what a treatment is, google it. I don’t have the time or energy to explain. This little puppy landed on the desk of every Hollywood hot-shot hustler (including myself, of course) a few months back and started a fierce studio bidding war. I won that war. I’m good at what I do and I fight dirty… but believe me, my conscience is cleaner than a French prostitute’s poop-chute. You can eat off it. So if you want to be a big Hollywood filmmaker or writer, take some advice from my new wunderkind Jay Schandemonier (author of this killer treatment). THIS is the kind of shit we’re looking for…
Eunice Kennedy Shriver in…
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SOUL FOOD – (working title)
By Jay Schandemonier
Eunice, a wannabe socialite wife of an archeologist is hungry for money, power and fame. Her husband is married to his work, and is sometimes unfaithful. Eunice is tired of coming in second… Her husband hasn’t discovered what he promised to – what brought them out to Egypt – a find that would make them MILLIONAIRES. She is getting impatient. Her husband finally uncovers an Egyptian tomb. As he works late one night, she visits him. She is taken by all the JEWELS of the tomb and an unexplainable force causing almost blind greed. The two have a violent argument which results in her, regrettably, murdering her husband in the tomb and stealing many of the jewels – biggest of all, a gaudy gold necklace, which she drapes around her neck.
She becomes CURSED by the robbed Pharaoh and is literally falling apart – decomposing. She sees an Egyptian prophet who tells her of the Pharaoh’s curse. The prophet shows her literature of how she must suck souls through the Pharaoh’s BEJEWELED STRAW (through human belly-buttons) to stay alive. She does this several times – to people weaker than her – people she can take down – the old and the ill. It helps slow down her decomposition, but it’s fleeting. She is literally the undead. She needs bigger, stronger victims. She enlists the help of the dude who played Willow in “Willow” and Steven Seagal – her hired goons. Willow is fighting a losing battle with cancer of the face and has been promised eternal life as soon as Eunice has sucked all the souls she needs. Seagal agrees to help, as he is Willow’s big, dumb, powerful ox, faithful friend… and secret LOVER! They go off to hunt strong, athletic souls for Eunice to feed on as she deteriorates in her tomb/throne room.
As luck would have it, the summer Olympics is being held in Egypt – this is a jackpot of souls for Eunice. Among the Olympians is a young gymnast, the front-runner to defeat RUSSIA at the PUMMEL-HORSE (which is important because our story takes place during the Cold War!). Traveling to Egypt to watch the pummel-horse competition is a very patriotic Chuck Norris. What the young gymnast does not know is that she is Chuck Norris’s estranged daughter who he has yet to introduce himself to. He plans on introducing himself, however, upon her winning gold and defeating Russia.
Eunice’s goons start collecting OLYMPIANS for her to feed off of – German, Nordic, Russian, Canadian – knowing that they will soon follow in the footsteps of immortality. But when they capture the young gymnast, things get PERSONAL for Chuck Norris. Chuck, and a team of rag-tag US Olympians, set out to defeat Eunice and her goons – each using their special talent (i.e. the weight lifter lifts the giant stone doors of Eunice’s tomb). It is truly a battle of life and DEATH.
As a team, Chuck, his daughter and the US Olympians defeat Eunice (breaking the bejeweled straw and leaving her to whither away), kill Seagal, but leave Willow alive only to take him to a Swiss doctor to treat his face cancer.
Chuck finally reveals to the young gymnast that he is her father. He and his team of Olympians earn medals of honor in a ceremony held by the International Olympic Committee. The young gymnast returns to the pummel-horse to take home GOLD – for the USA and, more importantly, for her dad.
You smell that? That’s fucking money in the bank! There it is, sports-fan, HOLLYWOOD GOLD. You bring me some weepy coming-of-age tale of a boy and his father canoeing cross-country to discover themselves and I, along with the rest of this town, will shit all over it. But if you bring me something like “Soul Food,” we’re in business, baby! I’ll throw money at you like it was confetti. HOORAY!
So take off your fruity beret, throw out your fountain pen and dream journal, get your head out of your ass and “create” something actually useful.
There you go. I gave you the trough, now fill it with gruel and watch those fat, disgusting sows come gobble that shit up.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a power lunch at the Ivy with Scott Baio and Jerry Bruckheimer to get to. God, it’s great being so awesome.