my latest test shoot (update)

A couple weeks ago my hand modeling agent submitted the following test shots to The Zill Company for consideration to be the first face of male finger cymbals:

They passed.  My hands didn’t, “provoke the desired emotional aesthetic”…  which is code for, “The peacock finger placement and harsh lighting that your photographer – Anton – pushed on you ended up robbing your hands of their healthy hue and masculinity that we so desire.”  So there was only four things to do:

1.   Hand tan

2.  Break into Anton’s studio

3.  Take my own self hand portraits

4.  Submit the new test shot to my agent

I think you’ll agree that the new shot has more of a strong, masculine flair that projects vitality and fine motor skills.

Now, we wait… again…

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statement cookies

I’ve grown increasingly disgruntled with my local Chinese establishment… not for the heaping helping of toothsome Chicken and Broccoli that I look forward to on a thrice/monthly basis, but for the fortune impostors they – or their vendors – have been sticking in my cookie.

For years, I’ve petitioned fortune cookie writers to take more chances, and to be more specific with their personalized predictions.  I’ve implored them to select exact dates well into the future so as not to be confined by truth and fact – feeling it unfair to hold them to a higher standard than news media – when entertaining us at the end of a meal with fantastic feats yet accomplished.  Instead of taking this advice, and filling my head with yarns predicting, “You will be debauched by a pair of non-blood related Estonian Victoria’s Secret model cousins in your crappy studio apartment on February 13, 2016,” I was recently left with, “Your mind is creative, original, and alert.”

Boring.  Debatable.  And most importantly… NOT a fortune.  Mister Dictionary – not an overly excitable but very accommodating British bloke – states that to tell someone’s fortune is to, “inform someone of future events in his or her own life.”  There is no future event or power referenced in the only surviving memento from last night’s dinner.  There is no prognostication of Robin Hood-type pirating adventures in a corporate-run world government in 2023.  And there is most definitely no mention of scantily clad quasi-kinfolk debauching me in my apartment in 2016 (that one would be laminated and tucked into my wallet).

Instead I was left with a statement… which is something stated… which could be a fortune… but might not be.

I don’t ask for much.  But I demand a fortune in my fortune cookie… or call them what they’ve become… statement cookies.

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staring contest

I keep losing.  I should stop.  It’s not polite… or productive.  But I’m stubborn, and competitive.  I’ll definitely start trying to stop… and stop stopping to start… after I eat.  I can’t start to stop, and stop stopping to start on an empty stomach.  Mmmm, fresh strawberries.

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wasting time

Given the preponderance of proof I’ve been forced to scrape from the bottom of my afflicted soles over the years – and the seemingly fresh, daily deposits I’m obligated to navigate – I was surprised when I came upon this city sign officially pronouncing the act’s illegality.  Failure to responsibly clean up after pets has always been a covert douchebag-y social offense, but this happy happenstance made me realize it was one with actual legal recourse if I could find a way to improve the overall effectiveness of poop patrol in the city of (fallen) angels.

Now, I’m not suggesting we reallocate the LAPD’s already under(wo)manned workforce from solving murders, rapes, and robberies to looking out for uncollected dog leavings, but I am suggesting we find a way to make the law more effective.

Since most crime is about the opportunity cost of the illegal activity, I thought it’d be prudent to start by finding out if the fine adequately deterred future crime.  I called the Hollywood Police Station… who directed me to the Los Angeles Superior Court… who dumped me on Los Angeles Animal Services… whose switchboard was experiencing technical difficulties.  It seemed like no one in LA was on doodie.  I should have just looked up the information on the internet to begin with, but I had never discussed dog defecation – or excrement from any animal for that matter – with professional law enforcement, and I felt like this was my once in a lifetime opportunity to do so.

After scouring the web for thirty minutes I found the most recent listing (2002) for Los Angeles Municipal Code SEC. 53.49. DOGS – DOG DEFECATION TO BE REMOVED BY OWNERS:

“It shall be unlawful for the owner or person having custody of any dog to fail to immediately remove and dispose of in a sanitary manner, by replacing in a closed or sealed container and depositing in a trash receptacle, any feces deposited by such dog upon public or private property, without the consent of the public or private owner or person in lawful possession of the property, other than property owned or controlled by the owner or person having custody of such dog. The provisions of this subsection shall not apply to a blind person being accompanied by a guide dog. Notwithstanding any other provision of this Code, every violation of any of the provisions of this section shall be an infraction, punishable by a fine of $20.00.”

Twenty bucks!  Sure, times are tough.  Twenty bucks is twenty bucks, but it’s not enough to curb the undesired activity, or generate substantial revenue.  A good fine does both.  The dog defecation municipal code does neither.  If you combine the twenty dollar fine with the lottery-like odds of getting caught, there is no incentive for people to follow the rules.  That’s why my three pronged initiative builds off increased fines with an entrepreneurial legislative mechanism to dissuade the rich and stupid that are immune to simple monetary penalties.

My proposal will catch perpetrators more efficiently and effectively, while attacking their wallets and – maybe more importantly – their social currency.  The second phase of the initiative is to install small cameras in highly trafficked public areas most affected by dog droppings.  The cost of the cameras, and the additional officers required to police the measure will be more than offset by the revenues generated by the increased fines and the third phase of my strategy…

… selling the video syndication and licensing rights to the county’s new library of fresh, caught-in-the-act comedy content. Besides partnering with YouTube on its own dedicated channel, Guess Who Let The Dog Out,  Los Angeles County also stands to make a tidy sum by exploiting their videos through additional film, television, video, and mobile agreements as well.

This backend revenue stream comes with the aforementioned social benefit, too.  In a town where even the richest and most powerful have monumental self-esteem issues, the threat of exposing embarrassing moments to the entire world will make them more carefully contemplate the full ramifications of their (in)actions before acting (or not).

So what do you say, LA?  Let’s make policing dog defecation more effective and prosperous… or drop the pretense of giving a sh!t altogether.

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newfangled novelty necktie

I hiked upon this sign yesterday and instantly knew I had strenuously stumbled across the next jewel in the Spencer’s Gifts novelty crown…the CAUTION RATTLESNAKES necktie (although for proper human sexual innuendo the tie should be cautioning people in the area of a singular rattlesnake).  As I am not a tailor, or a seamstress, I’d be happy to share my good idea fortune with someone who is talented in this area.

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my latest test shoot

My agent called, and said that The Zill Company is searching for the right hand to be the first face of male finger cymbals.  Apparently, they want to be the maiden firm in the burgeoning male belly dancing market by producing cymbals with enhanced tone, volume, and resonance ranges generated by the increased force customarily yielded by the digits of male dancers.  I have no clue as to the validity of these claims of male dynamism so please don’t shoot the hand model (or do,  if you’re a company looking for the perfect hand for your next campaign!).

Since they are looking for the inaugural face of male finger cymbals they don’t have packaging featuring a male hand yet.  The female hand was however, very helpful in giving me inspiration for my personal interpretation of the hand character I would eventually portray in the shoot.

My photographer, Anton, decided to go with a bold, monochromatic vin rouge backdrop to bring out the moon-lit tones of my hand.  We workshopped a few concepts before deciding to “peacock” my middle, ring, and pinky finger to highlight the duality of man through the raw power and grace of the male form.

I think it’s safe to say that we nailed it from both angles.  Now, we wait….

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fine he(ART)

Critics say that the young girl is “playfully” struggling with Cupid to avoid love’s arrow in Bouguereau’s A Young Girl Defending Herself against Eros.  Looks to me like she’s trying to fend off a love sick, naked man baby that crept up on her with intent to poke while she prepped for a soak.  But what do I know.  Times and customs change.  I’m sure numerous cave chicks dug being whacked with a club…if it was by the right caveman.

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my Wine Association of America campaign

Ultimately failed to broaden the appeal of wine, and proved universally ineffective in attracting new sampling.

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today’s mission statement

limit the suckage