Dammit. Dammit. Dammit Shitfuck Dammit!
I’ve lost my golden opportunity, folks. My non-existent dream of become a big-time blockbuster screenwriter has vanished into thin air. Granted, I honestly never had any desire to be a screenwriter, though I did mention to a screenwriter buddy of mine three years ago this very idea, which I wrote about just last week, for anyone that was paying attention:
The one idea I’ve always imagined, should I ever decide to give up the movie reviewing business and sell out to become a screenwriter, is now more or less moot. I had visions of a Happy-Madison/Will Ferrell style of movie that revolved around an air guitar band that played mostly ’80s bubble-gum metal. Somebody like Sandler or Vince Vaughn would play lead air guitarist, and in order to save their music store, they had to win some sort of National Air Guitar competition in the end (with judges like Slash, Sebastian Bach, and Dee Snider — you know they’d do it). It was going to be awesome, and there’s already a documentary on air guitar, so I’d just blow-up the idea into a complete, sell-out formulaic underdog comedy. Win!
Well, fuck me in the ear and wear my brain as a condom. The hell if Hollywood ain’t gone and stole my idea. Not only that, they hired a couple of hack screenwriters to pen the script, Mike Lisbe and Nate Reger, who wrote a couple episodes of “Just Shoot Me.” Dammit, originally, I had plans to write my script with Seth and, combined, we’re far more attuned to the glam rock scene of the ’80s than these bastards. Their movie, Air Guitar, like the script that I had envisioned, is based on the documentary Air Guitar Nation. Justin Theroux (Tropic Thunder) is set to produce.
All of which is to say: Fuck my life. I could’ve been somebody a movie website would’ve talked shit about if I’d pulled the trigger earlier. Eat me in the ass, Hollywood, you idea stealing earwax fiends.
Shit. I could fucking cry.