Neil Crone - Enter Laughing

Where you Bin, Laden?

What do you think of the latest Osama Video? Personally I'm going to hold off of purchasing it until the Box set is available. I didn't even really listen to the content of this one. I couldn't get past the dye job. Osama must have stock in L'Oreal as well as Kalashnikov these days. It just made me laugh. Here is a guy who has basically held the western world by the short and curlies for the past six years, yet he feels he needs to dye his hair before he can appear on television. I wonder how long he made the film crew wait while he sat in his trailer eating M & M's with all the blue ones taken out? Osama's gone hollywood. Of course another part of me still wonders if the guy is really even alive. I mean, what's with the grainy video? Here's a guy with more money than Carters has pills and he can't afford a broadcast quality camera? There are phones with better resolution than that. I wonder if the picture were really clear would the jig be up? Who knows? What I do know for sure is that the Victor Mature wannabe in that video looks like a ponce.

Scary drive home

Good fun tonight. I've been filming 'Eating Buccaneers' a comedy written and directed by my buddy Bill Keenan. I play the pilot of a small aircraft that crashes carrying an advertising team. The comedy comes from watching these people try to work together to survive. It's a very funny movie. As a result of the crash, my character is covered in an enormous amount of gore, so much so that it's actually hysterical. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, even after the make-up girls have done their scrubbing and rubbing, I still look like a walking disaster. I was coming home from filming tonight, looking like the walking dead again, and I had to stop in a long line of cars waiting for a construction delay. You should've seen the look on the flag girls face as I pulled alongside her. I didn't know whether she was going to faint or throw-up. She'd obviously radioed the girl on the other end though, as when I passed her she stared like it was Elvis behind the wheel. I laughed all the way home.

No more close shaves

Okay, I really hate to harp...but then again, that's kind of what I do. They took my shaving cream...again! For the second trip in a row, coming out of Regina, the security people took my container of Body Shop Men's Shave cream. Now, I love this stuff. It's the best shave I've ever had. The first time it was confiscated, I suppose I could understand it...I mean, rules are rules and I wasn't aware...I didn't have it in the little plastic bag, which mysteriously renders whatever terrorist toxins it may contain, harmless...go figure (and yes, I know I'm overworking the elipses here, but I'm riled...). This time around though, I had the foresight to put it safely into the miracle bag. Still however, it was confiscated. "Too big" said the security lady. "Did you want to just go back downstairs and check the whole carry-on bag in?" Yeah, like that would be effortless. "Keep it" I told her, "Give it to some needy security person". I know, I was running a high risk of a full body search at this point, but I was pissed. Not so much at her, she was only doing her job. I was pissed at the gigantic tail that since 9/11 has been wagging the dog. Because of a few insane zealots and governmental administrations that peddle fear like it was FDR's New Deal, Shaving Cream has become a bio-hazard. I give up.

The need to connect

Some people just really need to connect, I guess. I was walking out of my hotel this morning, minding my own beeswax, and as I stepped through the Hotel entrance, I passed an elderly gentleman walking with a cane. I turned to him and bade him a 'Good Morning'. He smiled and returned the greeting...and then he began to talk...and talk...and talk. We walked for blocks (very slowly mind you, I had to adjust my vigorous morning gait for his caned shuffle) he talking, me listening and nodding my head occasionally. He seemed to be going my way. He was an interesting guy and his conversation, remarkably, was all about how to 'set' a pair of dice in your hand to get the desired roll you were looking for. Don't ask me how one gets from 'Good Morning' to setting dice. This guy was obviously bursting with this information and I just happened to be the first target to launch at. Anyway, he talked and talked all the way to the coffee shop I was headed for. I thought I'd politely say goodbye at this juncture, but he wasn't finished apparently, and followed me inside even standing in line with me while I ordered my coffee and listened to more about dice. At this point I was heading back to the Hotel and we finally parted company, and, although I could already write a small book on Dice Setting, I am sure there was much more this old guy would've loved to impart. Funny, isn't it? It occurred to me, after the first couple of blocks that this guy wasn't really as interested in filling me in about Dice as much as he was about just connecting with someone. That's why I stayed with him. There's no guarantee that some day I won't be in the same situation.

Slow and steady wins the race.

I've said many, many times, that I am very happy, ecstatic really, about the arc of my career. I am on a very slow burn, going for the really long ball, the wide, long trajectory...and that is okee-dokee with me. Witness the sadness surrounding Owen Wilson's life lately. Life in that stratosphere is not easy, nor is it particularly healthy for most people. I've rubbed shoulders with enough 'movie stars' to have acquainted myself with the 'dysfunction' that is part and parcel with quick fame. Living under the microscope really puts the zap on people's heads. Celebrity is a particularly addictive and remarkably destructive opiate. When it comes thick and fast, it's virtually impossible to just say no to it.
Which is why I'm glad it's never come thick nor fast in my case. It has come,(what little of it that actually has arrived) slowly and parceled out by the eye dropper. And, as I say, that is just fine and dandy by me. I know myself. I know, that had I ever had fame thrust on me in the manner of an Owen Wilson, I would fare no better, and probably worse. They'd find me naked, walking down Rodeo Drive, with a ferret on a leash...or something like that. It wouldn't be pretty.
I love my life. I love my wife and my beautiful children and my little town and my little, lovely career...just the way they are.