It’s been a while since I regailled you with a story of Rex Chatterman (by the way…how the fuck do you spell regailled? I checked like 50 places [well…two…] and none of them knew how to spell it…of COURSE it’s one of those words that instantly gets lit up on whatever spell check software you happen to be using…home many words are on those spell check software things anyway…like 36? Crist…talk about the dumbing down of America).
Anyway, I keep thinking of finding a purpose for Rex (not that that’s my business…but it’s the type of thing you think about).
Rex sort of reminds me of Marv from Sin City…actually he more reminds me of what Dwight says about Marv from Sin City. I can’t remember the exact line, but it’s something about how Marv was born in the wrong century…if he’d been born hundreds of years ago they would have thrown him beautiful women like (and then he says a name, but I can’t remember the name, the important thing is that the girl who was playing the girl who the name belonged to in “Sin City” was Jessica Alba…who’s never been quite as great as she and everyone else seems to think she is…but Oh well).
Obviously, Rex isn’t quite as mashed up as Dwight…and heck, I haven’t even seen him in like three years now…so maybe he’s as frickin’ suave as Daniel Craig these days (although I hope not) but the thing that Rex DOES know how to do is organize a group of people and force them to have a good time despite what they might be wanting to do for that evening.
Seriously folks, when given the choice between happiness and being a bored ass shitstick filled with misery…most people reach right for the handle.
Rex used to be in charge of his fraternity and in the special world I’m going to talk about tomorrow, I was envisioning the type of writer retreat type place I want to establish in Peru someday. I’m going to need a guy like Rex there to be the “Master of Ceremonies” (he’s going to torture people for wearing white pants before labor day, and the punishment will be to make them watch every single episode of “The Prisoner” [the old version…not the new bullshit version with Jesus in it]).
The thing is…after doing this for about ten or fifteen years…I think Rex might acquire the ability to disappear! Seriously, you frickin’ become your job after a while…I’ve noticed it with too many other people. Teachers become asshole know-it-alls (the second you’re comfortable being a teacher you should fucking quit asshole…because EVERY year you should learn more than the students and if you don’t then YOU’RE the problem…NEVER them), police officers…well they get bad, doctors start cutting everyone up (seriously..watch a doctor eat a piece of steak sometime…it’s chilling), the list goes on and on.
I don’t know what happens to writers…maybe it’s because there AREN’T any real writers out there. There are a couple posers who write at bullshit coffee shops or something…but there aren’t any guys who actually make any money at it. Heck….NOT making any money is PART of it! Writing is about banging your head against the wall and maybe…just maybe…after a hundred years of ranting like a deranged lunatic you might accidentally say something stupid that everybody mistakenly believes is brilliant thus bringing you all kinds of attention and utterly destroying your ability to ever write anything good again…it’s a sad cycle.
So…Rex needs to be the dude at my resort with some girls and shit who handle the day to day tasks…he’d only be called upon to make some massive judgement and when that happened the girls would lead whoever it was who was to be judged to his room and he’d be sitting there in like a tinfoil Komono…except it’d be made of solid gold…but it would have been died to be like a Camo color so you couldn’t even tell it was gold…and he’d be sitting on a pyramid of velvet cushions or something, and they’d explain the whole situation to him and he’d just nod ever so subtly with a, “why are you even telling me this shit…don’t you realize that I am all knowing?” look on his face, and when the girls were done he’d simply say, “leave us.” and with that command the guy to be punished would leave the room and Rex would be left with the servant girls to create all manner of wild animal and jungle noises (you fucking know what else? we’d need a private TUNNEL from the temple to the Jungle even if it were like 5,000 miles long, so that we could just slip off and hit the rainforest for an afternoon if we wanted to).
So, to start all this Rex…you can tell every single one of your Facebook friends to follow this blog either by Networked blogs or with Blogger follow or any of that shit. I mean seriously dude, I have more faith in you than anyone else, we have to build an EMPIRE!!! Start figuring out how you can make it happen.
Justify my faith in you my son…