I'd like to give some rough musings on what folks consider one of the actual classic films of the 1990s (maybe a little too late, maybe not), even though I've only seen it once, years ago, and don't remember all that much about it.
Thelma and Louise, originally, were basically just a pair of browbeaten, no-hope Texas housewives who had gotten just plain fed up with all the poo-butt luck each of their lives had thus far handed them. Most especially, they had gotten it through a profoundly corrupt (and masculine-oriented, to crazy excess) society, which would beat them into the dirt whenever they aimed not only for any accomplishment, but even ambition, of their own. This was in no small part from their freeloading dirtbags of husbands, each of whom never believed in either Thelma or Louise as people, leading each of these ladies to wonder why they had married men like them in the first place.
Needless to say, after a certain length of time, those two women just couldn't take any more such luck.
So they proverbially broke out, going on a multiple-county crime spree, just to stave off their pent-up frustrations, and screw whatever society thought, or especially their old men. Thelma and Louise became wanted fugitives, for armed robbery and reckless endangerment, and even murder. They really let the system know in the process of it all where it could take its opinion of such "ordinary little ladies" as them and shove it up; in fact, when the law had them cornered, and those two decided—in fact, happily—to drive off the edge of the Grand Canyon, you could tell that for them, it was well worth it all. We've all heard of the Angry White Male genre that was so popular around the early Reagan years. "Thelma & Louise" is the one and only example we might ever need of the Two Angry White Chicks genre.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Sunday, September 16, 2018
Vanity-published novel (hopefully) turned into screenplay.
I promised I wouldn't talk about writing issues for a while, and it's only been a month, but then, this is the blog of Samuel Ridings, Author. I guess I would've either made a great politician or a really sucky one, depending on your wing.
One major mistake I made just before my breakout as Ross S. Simon (maybe by a couple of years) was fall hook, line and sinker for a vanity-publishing scam in which I paid a three-and-a-half-thousand dollar "editing fee" to have see print this novel I wrote which needed heavy restructuring, anyway. It was an episodic piece about late-1960s generational strife entitled "A Peace of the American Pie." I tell no lie.
I believed my "publishers'" promises right to the end, even paying an additional fee for 25 copies in hardback of the edited novel for myself. While I still give those away as gifts here and there, I can't believe I would have had my head stuck so far into the clouds of optimism, even around about ten years ago, as to expect the best from the swindlers I was dealing with. You'd think the sound of that "editing fee" would have set me running.
Well, I would like to think it's not too late. I'm trying if I can to turn "A Peace of the American Pie" into a screenplay that I could one day direct myself as a movie. While this may seem too ambitious, I'm just doing it tentatively, in case there's no real hope, but I would like to think I can legally find my way around anything that the scam artists think they've ruined the novel for me regarding, since I never learned too much about what happened to it with them. Did they really take my money and run? I wonder if they'd try to sue if I tried to make the film.
Wish me luck. I want to know that for "A Peace of the American Pie," it's not too late.
One major mistake I made just before my breakout as Ross S. Simon (maybe by a couple of years) was fall hook, line and sinker for a vanity-publishing scam in which I paid a three-and-a-half-thousand dollar "editing fee" to have see print this novel I wrote which needed heavy restructuring, anyway. It was an episodic piece about late-1960s generational strife entitled "A Peace of the American Pie." I tell no lie.
I believed my "publishers'" promises right to the end, even paying an additional fee for 25 copies in hardback of the edited novel for myself. While I still give those away as gifts here and there, I can't believe I would have had my head stuck so far into the clouds of optimism, even around about ten years ago, as to expect the best from the swindlers I was dealing with. You'd think the sound of that "editing fee" would have set me running.
Well, I would like to think it's not too late. I'm trying if I can to turn "A Peace of the American Pie" into a screenplay that I could one day direct myself as a movie. While this may seem too ambitious, I'm just doing it tentatively, in case there's no real hope, but I would like to think I can legally find my way around anything that the scam artists think they've ruined the novel for me regarding, since I never learned too much about what happened to it with them. Did they really take my money and run? I wonder if they'd try to sue if I tried to make the film.
Wish me luck. I want to know that for "A Peace of the American Pie," it's not too late.
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
A biting commentary on The Anniversary.
Well, the Big Anniversary...the Bad One...has rolled around again. We can never forget what happened on that day, seventeen years ago, can we folks? In New York, in what used to be a big couple of towers, nearly three thousand people, civilian and otherwise, found out—against their foreknowledge—that they had been invited to the biggest—and most unorthodox—barbecue in human history.
But, putting aside all snotty comic innuendo, I should instead delve into the philosophical aspects of the dreadful event. The apocalyptic attacks at least taught us all sorts of healthy things about ourselves—things that we only forgot later on. That Day taught us to respect our freedom—which we later forgot. It taught us to guard the valuable aspects of our land—which we later forgot. It taught us to better understand each other as Americans, to listen more responsibly to what our leaders have to say, and to not take anything for granted that we still had to our nation's name—WHICH, SURE ENOUGH, WE ALL LATER FORGOT. What's wrong with us?
I'm sorry. I've been angry at people for the longest time, just for who they are. I've been convinced that people are never going to understand me, and that it's something I can never learn to accept. I've never been a people person; in fact, exactly the opposite. I just got the idea, from America's attitude a little bit under seventeen years ago, that I could make friends better. If it turned out I was wrong, and I think it did, I do not want to believe I could be blamed. I'm one of those who would just like us all to get along.
But, putting aside all snotty comic innuendo, I should instead delve into the philosophical aspects of the dreadful event. The apocalyptic attacks at least taught us all sorts of healthy things about ourselves—things that we only forgot later on. That Day taught us to respect our freedom—which we later forgot. It taught us to guard the valuable aspects of our land—which we later forgot. It taught us to better understand each other as Americans, to listen more responsibly to what our leaders have to say, and to not take anything for granted that we still had to our nation's name—WHICH, SURE ENOUGH, WE ALL LATER FORGOT. What's wrong with us?
I'm sorry. I've been angry at people for the longest time, just for who they are. I've been convinced that people are never going to understand me, and that it's something I can never learn to accept. I've never been a people person; in fact, exactly the opposite. I just got the idea, from America's attitude a little bit under seventeen years ago, that I could make friends better. If it turned out I was wrong, and I think it did, I do not want to believe I could be blamed. I'm one of those who would just like us all to get along.
Monday, September 3, 2018
An honest look back upon John McCain.
I'd like to discuss, just a little bit, how I remember Senator John McCain. Don't get me wrong, it's understandable how we're mourning his passing last week, but I believe it's only fair that I explain the truth as I recall it, without trying to be too harsh.
McCain did run for President a decade ago. However, he was one of those billionaires with too many GOP political connections, and—so it seemed, and perhaps it was all too true—nobody who had any intelligence or ethics—most especially after eight years of Bush—wanted any chance in hell of him in the White House, in particular compared to Barack Obama.
Still, McCain had his ambitions. And there were a lot of people, for some reason or another, who were kicking themselves for not voting for him, some time into Obama's Presidency, probably mainly because Obama himself seemed the "perfect" scapegoat for our economic horrors of the early 2010s. Well, I believe John McCain did at least want to contribute something to America. He would've had the first woman VP, Sarah Palin, who seemed mighty popular on the ticket in '08 for a while, anyway. And Palin—and The Donald on top now, needless to say—are Tweeting their sorrow over McCain's loss. I know he was an honorable American in certain ways. Even little kids on top financially still have the need for dreams of growing up to be President.
So I can just say, rest in peace, honorable John McCain. You at least tried. That's what counts.
McCain did run for President a decade ago. However, he was one of those billionaires with too many GOP political connections, and—so it seemed, and perhaps it was all too true—nobody who had any intelligence or ethics—most especially after eight years of Bush—wanted any chance in hell of him in the White House, in particular compared to Barack Obama.
Still, McCain had his ambitions. And there were a lot of people, for some reason or another, who were kicking themselves for not voting for him, some time into Obama's Presidency, probably mainly because Obama himself seemed the "perfect" scapegoat for our economic horrors of the early 2010s. Well, I believe John McCain did at least want to contribute something to America. He would've had the first woman VP, Sarah Palin, who seemed mighty popular on the ticket in '08 for a while, anyway. And Palin—and The Donald on top now, needless to say—are Tweeting their sorrow over McCain's loss. I know he was an honorable American in certain ways. Even little kids on top financially still have the need for dreams of growing up to be President.
So I can just say, rest in peace, honorable John McCain. You at least tried. That's what counts.
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