but mostly bill pullman
It’s official.I’ve received my best e-mail ever. Here it is, in all it’s glory:
Thursday, July 15th, 1999 The Hollywood Hills
Bill Pullman here. The other night I was cleaning my massive Hollywood mansion and I reached under the Chippendale armoire (circa 1841) to find a huge residual check for the video release of Zero Hour (1998) which I vaguely remembered casually dropping under there a few weeks earlier during an important phone call to my agent Dick Yorn at ICM. Anyway, when I reached under the armoire, instead of finding said huge check, my well-shaped hand touched something cold, wet, and soft — sort of like Marlon Brando swimming off his private island (a joke Pamela – Marl and I are great friends). I didn’t investigate the substance further; I could only describe it as “squishy”. So, in efforts to discover what unknown mass was fouling my Persian cat Marty’s crawlspace, I did a Web Search for the word “Squishy”, and I came upon your little “site”.
Being mostly unfamiliar with the Web, due to the fact that I’m usually on set getting paid to act, I was a bit curious. I read a few entries and I have to say, I laughed. Me. I laughed. And as I laughed I tilted my head a little to the side like I do and my eyes creased in that adorable way they do. You know… the way I charmed the pants off Sandy in …Sleeping. Well, you might not know this about me Pamela, but I like to throw you “starving actors” a bone every once in a while, so I decided, just like that, to get you hired for a nice supporting part in my next film (it’s a secret right now, so, shhhhhhh!). And as I was dialing the very famous director (rhymes with Squeelberg), I came across an entry disparaging me. Me! Mr. Loveable! Mr. Everyman! Mr. Bill (Lake Placid See I Don’t Take Myself Too Seriously But Can Still Be Effective In Creepy Pieces Like Lost Highway Even Though It Didn’t Make Any Money And Was Totally Incomprehensible) Pullman!
“Stupid Bill Pullman,” you say. Oh yeah? Well, stupid Pamela!
Do you even comprehend the breadth and scope of my talent, Pamela? Comedy? Yup. How about Ruthless People? Sibling Rivalry? Spaceballs? Drama, you say? Oh sure. The End of Violence, anyone? Yeah, that’s right. I worked with Wim Wenders. Uh-huh. I bet you can’t even pronounce Wim Wenders. Or how about a little film called Independence Day, you might have heard of it. I’m talking Casper, baby! I’m so damn good, this is how good I am: when I kissed Ellen DeGeneres in Mr. Wrong ? I got an erection. That’s how good I am, honey. Sure, all my scenes were deleted from The Thin Red Line, but you didn’t even have any scenes to be deleted in the first place! I may be on the cutting room floor, but you’re on the… um… er… the floor of some stupid day job where you have to work because you’re poor, so there. And don’t forget Arachnophobia (oh, wait, that was Jeff Daniels, wasn’t it ? I get us mixed up sometimes too. Probably because I’m “stupid!”)
Well, Pamela. You see, though I am a very rich man and have it all, I do not like to be made fun of. And I really am sorry that you didn’t like Zero Hour. Perhaps it was a bit over your head. Maybe we should have added some skits about pedophiliac priests. Now that’s comedy!
Maybe I’ll check out your little show next time I’m in Austin. Oh yeah, that’s right, I never go to Austin… because Austin is boring!
I really must go now. I have a meeting at DreamWorks, then rehearsal for an episode of Oz I’m directing, and then later I’m doing Leno. (The show, not the man. ?See, Pullman can be funny too. Pullman = Funny.)
Take care sister. You just keep right on talking shit.
Way more famous than you,
PS: Oh, but even though Eddie Vedder and I are quite good friends and do cocktails at SkyBar whenever he’s in town, I have to admit, he does sound a bit like Goatboy.
I just sat back and laughed for like, ten minutes after I read this. Now I am debating whether or not to contact Mr. Pullman and let him know that his piece of crap film was actually called Zero Effect or not. And don’t shoot the messenger, but if you’d like to see some of his other work, you can find him here.
And we all know this isn’t the first Bill Pullman backlash letter I’ve received…
Hey, is everyone still wondering how that reimbursement check is coming from Aspen? Well, according to my insurance sources, I should have that money in two to three weeks! This is so exciting to me because after I was told thirty to forty-five working days and then it didn’t come and I called they told me it would be another thirty to forty-five working days. After that time had passed they said that the reason I didn’t get my money was all my fault for listening to what they told me to do, so for my punishment it would be another thirty to forty-five working days. After that time had passed they said that they could send me just a little bit of it, which is what they did, but the rest of it would take thirty to forty-five working days. Then I was told that the money was just out there somewhere, and if I made a big stink about it, I wouldn’t get it at all. Now I found out that they never filed it correctly in the first place and that it’s their fault I haven’t gotten the money yet and it should now be two to three weeks.
Moral of the story:
If they think that it’s your fault because you’re telling them they screwed up: thirty to forty-five working days.
If they can’t find your money because they screwed up: the money is just around somewhere and I shouldn’t worry and if I complain it won’t turn up at all.
If they can’t give you your money because they never even filed the claim in the first place even though you’ve faxed them your receipt four times in almost five months: two to three weeks.
It really is amazing. It’s like my older brother stole my allowance and he’s trying to find a good excuse not to give it back because he already spent it on comic books.
So, there’s this thing called A Blair Witch Journal, and it’s pretty neat.
I just realized that if the above sentence had been closed with an exclamation point, it would have looked like it was just ripped from the pages of The Mighty Kymm.
I got a call yesterday from someone in “Polaroid Stories”. It turns out that part of the research going into this play is to volunteer to help with homeless teens. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve always wanted to do some sort of volunteer work (I’m really interested in recording for the blind… they used to have that here in Austin, but I don’t know if they do anymore), but I always found myself too busy to do anything. Now we’re going to take a workshop to know how to talk with these youths, and then we… I don’t know yet… I don’t know if we’re counseling or feeding them or going to Astroworld, I don’t know. I’ll find out more in about a week or so.
Oh, and next week I’m on a business trip Monday and Tuesday, so I’ll be scarce until Wednesday. Don’t freak out.
This is so disjointed. I’ll tell you why– I was outside in the woodsy area where we have our smoke breaks around here and it’s kind of raining outside and I was reading the end of Hannibal, when I realized that I didn’t have my badge to get in. I was locked out. Stuck outside in the rain with a scary book in the woods with only a cup of coffee to survive. No one came by for close to half an hour. No Blair Witch, but there were some strange noises.
Really, I shouldn’t even be typing. My thoughts are all over the place.
I am not sure what to do right now. Next week I may have the opportunity to go to New Orleans, a place where I’ve never been before, or stay in town and go to a class being taught by none other than Billy Blanks himself. He’s teaching a Tae-Bo instructional and workout. For thirty dollars I can be there live when he says, “Double Time!”
Never been to New Orleans.
Never met Billy Blanks.
Never really fantasized about New Orleans.
Hallucinated about Billy Blanks.
New Orleans would be fun.
Billy Blanks could be painful.
I’d remember New Orleans.
Billy Blanks probably would never even look at me.
I’d be with friends in New Orleans.
I’d be with masochists at Billy Blanks.
New Orleans would be an adventure.
Billy Blanks would be a good story.
I could get drunk in New Orleans.
I could get kicked in the face at Billy Blanks.
New Orleans is for a weekend.
Billy Blanks is for two hours.
Possible good Squishy story.
Probable good Squishy story.
New Orleans has voodoo.
Billy Blanks has some sort of mystic power to make me keep kicking when I’m dying.
New Orleans might have me take my shirt off.
Billy Blanks would have me work my ass off.
Doesn’t seem to be much of a decision, does it? It’s not really mine to make. I’ll just know more in a couple of days. My next couple of weeks are like that. I don’t really know what’s happening right now, but I’ll know more in a week or so. My Aspen money, Polaroid Stories, the trip, Billy Blanks, rehearsal… all up in the air.
All I know is that a lot of people like Bill Pullman.
Oh, and by a very special request, I’ve written some Panty Haiku for Underwired.
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