The Guys Get Shirts

It's quiet.

Too quiet.

I keep trying to get up the gumption (which is hard, since I had a gumptionectomy in 2000 -- it was benign, thanks for asking) to do a couple of post ideas. But the truth is that I'm burned out from working a few projects the last little while.

I also have to crash out a pilot for a last-minute hush hush project for next week. That should make Christmas Dinner fun.

A couple days back I had a phone-driven pity fest over "Notes" with a fellow writer friend that left us both collapsed in laughter. Somehow it devolved into what kind of notes they would have given the Marx Brothers... my favorite was, "Hey, we haven't heard from Harpo for a while. Can he say something so we know he's present in the scene?" Reminds me of the best line that Gilbert Gottfried got off about Jean Doumanian, SNL's notorious "worst producer everrr..." She's the kind of woman who would look at the Marx Brothers movie and talk about how great Margaret Dumont was.

Now if you really, truly want to intellectualize the notes process, and take some of the "why are writers the only ones who need to go through this" sting away, you could go this great post at the Artful Writer.

But if you need something more...visceral...to convince you that maybe you don't have it so bad...visualize being in Paul Anka's band.

I slice like a %#$#@ing hammer, man. But that's just the kind of integrity kick that I'm on.

Yeah, well. That's the best I can manage for now. I'm gonna have a wee whiskey and enjoy a bit 'o Alan Partridge before the sweet release of sleep.

Enjoy the puttin up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace.