An Open Letter to BMG Music

Dear Sir or Madam,

In my younger and more vulnerable years (aka earlier this year), I decided that it was finally the time to give a music club a shot. Liking both music and clubs, BMG Music Club seemed like a natural choice.

In addition, I was looking to expand my broadway musical cds collection, and your assertion that I could get 12 cds for the price of one seemed like an extraordinary offer. I carefully read the documentation, and it looked like there were no strings attached, other than having to pay shipping for each cd.

So, I signed up, and I received my 12 cds for the price of one.

Life was good. I had enriched my collection without having to empty my bank account. Plus, I got to be in the club. I never received word about a secret hand shake, but I assumed that this was just because you were busy.

However, something funny started happening. I received an additional cd that I had not requested with a note that read, you can either pay us for this cd or you can send it back to us. The note that gave me this information also said that if the packaging that I needed to open to see this note was unopened, you would pay to have it shipped back to them.

Touche, BMG. Touche.

So I, questioning why I should be loyal to a club that would have me as a member, sent this cd back to you with a tersely written note that expressed my extreme displeasure with this service, and requested that A) you remove me from the club, and B) you change my mailing address. I was planning on moving, and I wanted to avoid the events that might transpire from correspondance going to the wrong place.

I spent the next few days relaxing and thinking about how glad I was that I narrowly averted that crisis.

But you, BMG, you had another trick or two up your sleeves.

On the day before I was set to move, I received another cd. I was livid, but I didn't have the time necessary to go to the post office, and, in the haste of packing, the cd ended up in a box that was then moved to my new apartment. The cd remains in that box to this day.

A month later, I received a forwarded letter that contained an invoice that had been sent to my old address saying that you would remove me from your club (that wasn't much fun to be in, I must say), but that I needed to pay for the cd that I kept. As I am not a fan of just about any music that came from the 80's, you can imagine my pleasure at looking at the statement and realizing that I had managed to purchase a $26 dollar cd entitled "80's Gold."

What I found humorous about this was that you had only honored one of my requests in my letter. You took me out of your club, but you did not update my address. I can only assume that this is due to the fact that your business shadily makes money on late fees by sending invoices to incorrect addresses.

Shame on you, BMG. Shame on you. My conclusion is that your business is made up of vikings whose only goal is to pillage and plunder unsuspecting club members.

It is for these reasons that I, in a brazen act of futility, wrote on the memo line of your check, "For Cleverly Foiling Me." In a similar act of futility, please notice that you also got the Supergirl stamp, because, really, who likes Supergirl as a super hero?

And so, in conclusion, BMG, please accept my humble offering of $28.80 as my little way of saying, "*$#&$*%&#%&!& you, you @#$#&$*@#&%@%&, in addition to the horse you rode in on."

Yours forever faithfully and truly (though not in a club kind of way),
AC

My Call Back

Though I am now three days away from my call back, and I therefore have a few nagging doubts about reasons they haven't called yet, I was very pleased with how my call back went in general.

I sang my prepared song well. The auditionees even smiled and commented on how good it was.

I sang the song they asked me to sing well. My only gripe is that at one point, the song went into four part harmony, and, not being able to sing four parts, I worked on the tenor and bass parts, when, in fact, they wanted me to sing the soprano part, as that's where the melody was.

And I even did all right with the dance portion.

And, in the words of the immortal Homer Simpson, "Now we play the waiting game...oh, the waiting game sucks! Who wants to play Monopoly?"

Perhaps I should have included with my headshot and resume a copy of my open letter to another theatre group in the area, and let them know that the offer also applied to them.

All in all, I really think that I have a shot at this. We'll see if I get it.

Michael A. Diaz-Piedra III

I signed up for the 2996 Tribute Project a few months ago, which was meant to commemorate those people that died in the September 11 attacks by having 2,996 people write about those people's lives today.

Here is one of their stories.

Michael A. Diaz-Piedra III was born in Cuba. In 1960, shortly after Fidel Castro's rise to power, Michael's parents (who were wealthy plantation owners) took him, his brother, and his sister and fled the country. They spent a year in Florida before eventually settling in New Jersey. It was Michael's dream to return to Cuba and reclaim his family's land after Castro's reign ended.

After Michael graduated high school, he went to Rutgers University where he pursued and achieved a degree in psychology. He later also received his M.A. in Business Administration.

One of his interests in life was the military. He collected uniforms from different armed forces from all over the world. When Halloween or the occasional masquerade party came around, he particularly enjoyed dressing up in one of his costumes.

This is a man who found joy in his life.

Michael also had a flair for the romantic. On the day that he proposed to his wife, he surprised her at work by picking her up in a vintage Jaguar which took them to a romantic dinner that was specially serenaded by violinists. Michael had four children, two of which were young adults and two of which were 6 and less than one year old at the time of the attacks.

This is a man who found joy in his family.

In addition, Michael was also something of a scholar. He had an article published in the Disaster Recovery Journal that was meant to encourage those who worked in disaster recovery planning (he was the Vice-President of Disaster Recovery Planning for the Bank of New York) which he considered to be a thankless, yet, very necessary and vital line of work.

Consider the last lines of his article:

"Our goal is to put all negative aspects of the job behind us...What a job this is, what an adventure! What a challenge!"

These are the words of a man who found joy in what he did.

I wonder how many people who have been faced with the task of trying to inititate systems for recovery from the 9/11 attacks have read Michael's words. I wonder also how many have been encouraged by them. Even in his death, the need to do what he had a passion for doing lives on.

As we never forget the 2,996 people who perished in the 9/11 attacks, let us remember the joy that Michael A. Diez-Piedra III found with his life, his family, and his work.

May all of us be as fortunate in our own lives.

EDIT: Since posting this tribute, I have been in touch with Michael's sister, Anna. She had a couple of memories in particular that I've asked if I could share here. Here is a portion of the first email that she sent me:

"...Anyhow, you certainly captured the truth of his life—joy. He thoroughly enjoyed life, family, and even work. The thing is, he found and created fun in just about every situation. Sometimes he lived large, but most times he found fun in small things. For example if he had to get into work early, he made sure that he and his staff met for a big breakfast (featuring his favorite—french toast slathered in syrup). He kept lists and photos of things he wanted and focused on his hope to obtain things he liked. He brought his wife daisies every week. Every week. So, joy, for sure is what he was about."

And here is the body of a second email:

"Dear Brian: Absolutely post my comments.

"Mike's first marriage was when he was 21 and he had two children, Monique about 28 and Cristian 26. His marriage to Kelly was when he was in his early 40's. He married this beautiful younger woman, Kelly, and started a family with her. He was "over the moon" with her and he thoroughly enjoyed his kids. He was, in fact, a big kid at heart--probably one of the most important qualities humans should never lose, but most do. Kelly tells me that every night when he came home from work he would get on the floor with the boys and wrestle, etc. while she got dinner ready or took a break. With the baby it was more the hold'em up in the air while the baby laughs type of thing. He got them out of her hair on the weekends too--and I never once heard him complain as some father's seem to, on the contrary he thrived on it.

"You know Brian, people often do say of those who've died, "oh he was great", "what a guy", etc. and I guess it's probably true. You say he sounds remarkable and the awful truth is that you're right, we just didn't quite realize it while he lived. It's not that we're revising history or glossing over his faults--he had some for sure like everybody else. It's just that he was so unique and goofy, and eccentric and different from us more serious folks that we didn't see these qualities as gifts to us! Only when you go to a family party now and there's nobody to greet you wearing a "love boat captain" outfit or his last party where he was ironically, wearing a "sheik of arabique" type of outfit, do you realize the loss of fun and joy.

"Just one last thing about this to illustrate. My reaction when we drove up and Mike was on his front lawn in a purple/silver turban, three quarter length purple brocade jacket, black high boots over riding pants was to say something like, "holy --- what the eff is he wearing now?" I felt a bit embarrassed. It wasn't a costume party it was his boy's summer birthday party... why can't he dress like normal people? He not only didn't care what anyone thought, he had a great time, and kids surrounded him like bees on honey. So, you tell me, who was the jerk? Yeah, I know.

"Recently I have recaptured my youthful enthusiasm and playfulness, my hopes and dreams. I can tell you I'm so much the happier and joyful for it--highly recommend it. I'm not yet wearing costumes, but you can never tell what might happen!

Mike was my oldest, big brother, and I love him and miss him deeply. Thank you again for helping keep the memory of the souls that were murdered, alive."

My Call Back Is Tomorrow

My call back for The Gr*nch is tomorrow, and I must say that I am really looking forward to it (asterix added to avoid googling).

I suspect that more of the directing team will be there, as they asked me to sing the same song that I sang at my audition. If this is so, that will likely mean that director of the show will be there, and he is a pretty big deal. The man has directed stuff that has gone to Broadway, and he's won Tony awards.

I'd give his name, but I'd hate for somebody googling it to end up on this page and find me talking about my misogynistic audition song, and for them to therefore assume that I hate women and then send me a tersely worded email asking for an apology or else they'd work to get me kicked out of the show.

I suppose I can rely on the veil of anonymity that comes from maintaining a very clever alias...heh heh...but I suspect that anyone who really tried could figure out who I was.

Wow. My hands are already getting cold and clammy. I'll let you know how it goes, probably on Tuesday; I already have a post lined up for Monday that is a little more serious in nature.

Four Word Film Review

I heard about this site on the radio this morning, and I found it quite amusing, so I thought that I'd share it with y'all.

The site is called the Four Word Film Review, and it includes movie reviews in four words are fewer. The reviews are viewer submitted, so if you naturally try to reduce ideas into the smallest space possible, this is your opportunity to do so with movies.

However, as I was dinking around, I found that another AC had already registered. I am appalled! Doesn't he know who I am?

I'd track him down and ask him to change, but he's already submitted thousands of reviews, and so I assume that my requests would fall on deaf ears.

But you all know who the real AC is, right? Of course right.

Oh, and while I'm at it with the links post, let me offer this link. It is a website that includes mailing addresses of some of the executives at Fox. While it is likely too late to make a difference, please consider writing a letter to each of these folks in an effort to get Arrested Development, the funniest show ever to play on tv, back on the air.

I will be sending my letters in the next few days.

My Fair Lady

Rehearsals started for My Fair Lady last night. I think that it's going to be a pretty good show. We read through the first act, and all of the characterization that I saw going on was really great.

The original choreographer that we had had to leave the show, however, and so we had a new choreographer last night, which meant that we had to do some dancing for him so that he could see what we could do.

It should be noted that there was a list that went out with the original cast list that listed which people were expected to be dancers and which weren't. However, many people have left the show since the original cast was announced. Nevertheless, you can imagine my surprise when, as they were reading those people who were expected to be dancers, I heard my name being called.

Really? Me? Do you understand that a potato with two toothpicks for legs would look more natural dancing than I would?

After I got over the shock, the choreographer showed us a simple routine. I followed it pretty well, and I did it well when we were doing it as a group. Unfortunately for me, they then asked us to do it in groups of three.

My group was the first to go.

The first time that they asked us to do the routine, I hit every step. In fact, I did so well, that the choreographer asked to see it again, this time with me in front of the others. It was the second time that, much like a Greek tragedy, my hubris got the best of me and I forgot just about all of movements.

I was not asked to dance again.

It's probably for the best.

Kiss Me Kate

A friend of mine graciously let me borrow the dvd of Kiss Me Kate after I pleaded with her long and hard to do so. Upon receiving the coveted prize, I glanced upon down, and found the following to be the cover:

I'm sorry, but this is just about the naughtiest film cover that I've ever seen! Look at how he smiles with fiendish glee at the prospect of giving that woman a smack bottom!

This film cover raises so many questions. Why is she being spanked? Why is he so happy about it? Is he really the woman's father, though he appears to be about the same age? If so, is administering the spanking an act of discipline? If so, again, why is he so happy about it?

Maybe this movie is nothing like what I figured it was about. I'll report my findings after a thorough analysis...a very thorough analysis.

If

I was reminded of this poem last week as I was helping tear down the set for Godspell.

Thank you A Beka Books for making me memorize this poem in the seventh grade.

If by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream — and not make dreams your master;
If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone.
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on’;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!

Holy Delusions of Grandeur, Batman!

THEY WANT ME FOR A CALL BACK!

inhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhale

MISOGYNISTIC SONG ASIDE, THEY WANT TO SEE ME AGAIN!

inhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhale

WOO-HOO!

Pizza Gone Bad

What if, when food had been left out for too long, instead of it going bad in the sense that if you ate it it made you sick, it went bad in the sense that it liked to engage in petty crimes?

For example, I imagine a person would be woken up in the middle of the night with this conversation:

*Knock Knock Knock*

AC: Wuh? Who's there?

Pizza: It's me, the pizza. You left me out.

AC: Dangit! What do you want?

Pizza: I need some dough so that I can impress the spaghetti sauce. Let's go knock over the liquor store.

AC: I'm not sure I wish to engage in that type of activity.

Pizza: Well, you should have thought about that before you left me out.

AC: I hate you, Pizza.

Pizza: I hate you too, AC.

At the very least, I think that this type of crime drama could run in syndication on the UPN. What else do they have on there anyway?

Why I Will Be Punished

I was recently at 7-11 purchasing something to imbibe. I brought my purchase to the counter, and I started to pay with my debit card.

Everything was going smoothly. As I swiped my debit card, I marveled at how simple it was to pay for things without actually having any money.

Unfortunately, my daydream came crumbling down when she grabbed the receipt to rip it off and give it to me, and the printer broke open. She tried to fix it for nearly a minute, during which time she employed the time honored fixing techniques of the forcibly closing as well as the age old technique of hitting. She was unhappy with the machine, and rightfully so.

During this time, I stood there politely and waited.

She did finally get the machine put back together, at which point she tore the receipt off and handed it to me.

I said thanks, and I proceeded to walk out of the store. As I was leaving, I saw a trash can, and, without even thinking, took the receipt and threw it away.

It wasn't until I was all the way outside that I stopped, realized what I had done, and said aloud, "Dude, you're a jerk."

How the Audition Made Me Nervous

Let me tell you what I expected last night. I expected to walk into a room where there was one piano player who I did not know and two to four people with an average age of 45.

What I got was one piano player I kind of know, but didn't know if he knew me, and one 24-25 year old attractive female.

It was at this point that I reconsidered singing the song, "Where Is the Life that Late I Led" from Kiss Me, Kate, largely due to the fact that it included the lines,

"I've oft been told
Of nuptial bliss,
But what do you do,
At quarter to two,
with only a shrew to kiss."

For what it's worth, I sang the song pretty well, but I'm disappointed that, due to nervousness, I found myself shifting around a little bit from time to time.

Oh well. We'll see what happens.

If this were myspace, I would put that my mood was excited.

A Note from the Management

I have my audition for The Gr*nch tonight, and I am very, very nervous. This exemplifies itself in my body by turning my hands icy cold

So, if any of you ever notice I have cold hands, it doesn't mean that I have a warm heart. It means that you scare the already used for nutritonal purposes former foodstuffs out of me.

But, back to topic, if any one sees this and wants to shoot some happy thoughts my way at about seven thirty tonight, it would sincerely be appreciated.

Yours truly,
AC

Little Miss Sunshine

When I first saw advertisements for this movie, I was intrigued. Steve Carrell as a suicidal, low-key scholar? Greg Kinnear as the father of a dysfunctional family? References to Nietszche?

As most of these are not standard Hollywood fare, I wondered how this movie would work out. Don't get me wrong, the movie looked like it would be hilarious, but I wondered just how it would all work.

Let me tell you that it all works wonderfully. You can slap me on the tush and call me an ancient Greek if you like, but this movie, which I figured would just be an opportunity for laughter, had me in such a cathartic state that I was crying for joy and laughing with how the characters chose to handle their pain.

The movie's big message, at least for me, was that, yes, sometimes life is so difficult that you want to slit your wrists, and, yes, fundamentally, a lot of life seems exceptionally absurd, and, yes, sometimes those people closest to you are the ones that you want to push away, however, the fact that even the best of us have the capacity to lose those things which are of greatest value to us should enable all of us to be the occasional idiot if it will show someone that we care about just how much we love them.

This movie refined me. I am better for having seen it.

p.s. This movie featured an actor whose name I cannot find as the emcee for the beauty pageant. This actor was one of the actors that I saw last week at the Groundlings theatre in LA. I nearly wet myself when I realized that it was him. The man is hilarious, although this bit part, by nature of its being a bit part, doesn't show just how hilarious he is. If he sold a product, I would have no choice but to purchase it out of love for him.

UPDATE: With a bit of help from and a great big thanks to the eagle eyed thany, we have found the elusive actor. His name is Matt Winston and he is hilarious. He also apparently appeared on an episode of Friends, which I'm sure the gf will love to hear as we ***coughshecough*** are currently rewatching the series.

Godspell

Godspell closed last night to one of the most responsive and excitable audiences ever. For some of the numbers, the audience honestly cheered more loudly than I've ever had something I'm in cheered for before. It is this feeling that is the drug of choice for actors; well, unless that actor is Robert Downey Junior, in which case the drug of choice is usually heroin.

It is one thing to say that the show was excellent, which it was. Every single person in the cast was excellent, and I can't really say enough good things about them. The little bits of personality added to every moment of the show made it as real and authentic as could be. However, it is quite another thing entirely to say that nearly every single event that happened with show people outside of the show was positive. I can count on one hand without using most of my fingers the times that something didn't go over well.

This show was and needed to be a positive experience for me.

I've said it before, but I really would have loved to do this show for several months if not longer. Unfortunately, that's not how summer shows work.

Looking back, the show was an incredible example of how people who all work towards a common goal can discover fulfillment in their work.

And I was lucky enough to find some of it myself.

Pluto No Longer a Planet

And, in the saddest news of all from the last couple of days, scientists have decided that Pluto is no longer a planet.

This is sad for school children, as I imagine that Pluto, being a cartoon dog, is one of the favorite planets. I imagine that this is also a sad day for the ancient Greeks or Romans (one of them, I'm not sure which) as Pluto was their god of the underworld.

Although it's slightly off-topic, I will not stoop to making Uranus jokes, as this is a classy site, and one that, I imagine, upper-class British people read while they are drinking tea and talking about the gold exchange rates, and I wouldn't want to offend them.

However, what I would like to do is to point out that I, as I am sure we all do, feel a little bit smaller knowing that there is one less planet in our solar system.

I mean, it even has its own moon! What are the scientists even looking for? I say, if anything has its own moon, it should be a planet.

I will again avoid the obvious Uranus joke.

That is all.

The Groundlings

Wow. I laughed harder at the Groundlings show last night than I have for a long, long time.

The show is all improvisational comedy, with the audience being prompted for certain things at the beginnings of the two "acts," such as "Name something that you do with your hands," and "Name an interesting bumper sticker that you've seen recently." Once the group has two or three ideas, they go on to create a story trying to utilize the themes that they have been given.

For example, the bumper sticker that the person in the audience spoke up about was, "Well behaved women seldom make history." This led to a series of skits which featured a young Susan B. Anthony in the early stages of her marriage. At one point her "husband" made a remark to a group of people that were displeased with young Susan that, "We B. Anthonys are a good people," which was a pretty funny line in its own right, but then somebody spoke up, as if to correct him by saying, "We ARE Anthonys are good people."

All in all, it was a hilarious evening, and well worth the drive, especially since ticket prices were only ten bucks a piece and the gf was paying. I know that they are more expensive on weekends, but I think that that's due to the fact that they frequently have guest stars come in and work with them. According to the website, a couple of weeks ago, they had Lisa Kudrow of Friends fame come in.

My only caveat is that there was a good deal of swearing and some fairly adult situations, so it might be best to leave the kiddies at home. Other than that, I cannot emphasize how funny that group of people was. You should go check them out.

The Groundlings

The Groundlings are a group of improvisational comedians who perform at a theatre in the northern part of Los Angeles. Many of their alums go on to work for Saturday Night Live, which, incidentally, does not have open auditions.

Thanks to my girlfriend, I get to go see this group tonight. I am prepared to be very amused.

And in an update from yesterday, I did believe the hype and I have purchased the video game. If you're a loser and you know it clap your hands, clap clap.

On a Much Less Somber Note

Madden 2007 comes out today for PS2.

Although video games have caused me personal harm in the past, I have to say that I stand waiting slightly slack jawed, as if to suggest that my IQ is in a dead heat with the IQ of a turnip, and with only half as much personality.

From what I've seen, the graphics are amazing. The players even react and move differently than one another, based on how the actual people move in real life.

I mean, there was even a pay-per-view special the other day based entirely on this game.

How can I not purchase it?

Wait a minute...I can't help but feel that I'm believing the hype, and as my old friend AC always says, I shouldn't believe the hype.

Oh well. Bestbuy.com, here I come!

On Leading Worship

The music pastor of the church I go to has been out of town for a couple of weeks, and so, a couple of weeks back, he asked me to lead worship. I said that that would be fine.

Unrelatedly, last Sunday, a letter was read at the end of the service which included the head pastor's resignation.

Many people were surprised at this, myself included. Pastor Mark is a thoroughly reasonable, level-headed guy. While it seems out of character for him to resign, he had explained a few weeks ago that he was dealilng with some personal issues with his extended family, and so I can only assume that these were weighing on him heavily.

While I do not know of all the ins and outs of whatever prompted him to make that decision, yesterday morning I caught a glimpse of what I believe may have been part of it.

As I was up in front of the congregation leading the singing and playing the guitar, I couldn't help but feel like a phony. Now, while I have my various issues that I deal with, it's not like there's some big "sin" monkey on my back, hurling feces at everyone.

I felt that way because, though I may have been the most qualified musically, I can't believe that I was the most qualified spiritually.

And for a religion that, ideally, firmly believes the idea that it's not the outside of the cup that makes it clean, but the inside, I couldn't help but feel that I was doing a disservice to my fellow Christians, to the church, and to God.

What's my point? I can only imagine that for someone who is in charge of providing spiritual guidance to people every week that this feeling that I just had a taste of could have proved overwhelming.

Our pastor is not inadequate or fake or phony or any other synonym you want to throw in there. He has proved himself to be steadfast and strong both spiritually and personally, and I wish that he would continue being the pastor. All I am saying is that self-doubt can happen to anyone, and I think it affects those in ministry service more heatedly than it affects other people.

I don't know the real reason why the pastor left, and, frankly, I'm not really sure that I want to know. However, I do feel for him as what he must be going through is so intense that I can barely fathom it.

Good luck, Pastor Mark. You're in my prayers.