The Mogul’s story is something of a saga unto itself and a work in progress. It all started one day when the Almighty snuck up behind me and said, “And just where do you think you’re going?”
“Uh, Ukraine,” I said. “I’m gonna marry one of those hot women over there and die fat, dumb and happy.” At that He asked me why I don’t consider Hollywood instead.
“Hollywood!?!,” I said. “Well, you will die there but it will be skinny, broke and miserable.”
“No dummy, that’s not what I meant. Didn’t you say you had an idea for a movie, a black comedy about the Bush administration and the War on Terror?”
This was true, I did have an idea, thought it was a good one and worth doing but for someone else, someone younger, someone trained at UCLA or USC, that kind of thing. Bottom line I was very much set on my own plans anyhow and thus dead set against this idea.
“It’ll never work!” “I’m too old!” “A snowball’s chance in hell!” “I’m a Man of the Cloth, for Christ’s sake,” (literally). “I’m not trained for that,” etc. I gave Him every excuse in the book.
In fact it turned into one big long, nasty, knock-down, drag-out argument that went on for almost two years. Nevertheless the Almighty persisted (and insisted) that He had “plenty of contacts” there.
Eventually I wore Him down to the point where one day He lowered His voice and said to me in the most sheepish way, “Truth be told, I’ve been wanting to break into show business Myself for some time now. I’m tired of derivative portrayals and besides, I’m getting a lot of angry emails from James Earl Jones and Morgan Freeman. Something about getting typecast.”
“Hmmm,” I thought. “OK, I’ll do it under one condition—that You let me be Your exclusive representation in the industry and give me 15% as Your manager.” “Deal,” He said, and off we went. I figured with a big name client like Him at least I could eventually become a mogul, which sounded even more empowering than Lord of Bruiser. I also thought He would attract other big names as well.
Well, that’s exactly what happened. One night I’m up on Mulholland Drive at this little park overlooking the Valley, when out of the corner of my eye I see this huge dinosaur to the northeast. He turns the corner on a mountain overlooking Burbank, takes one look at the place, shakes his head and starts lumbering back down to Hollywood Boulevard.
“My God,” I said. “That’s…
(a certain famous mutant dinosaur who goes by a name that cannot be mentioned for copyright’s sake but who has been known as having a great predilection for tearing up Tokyo and other major cities. For legal purposes asserted by a very jealous corporate owner in Japan, neither aforesaid dinosaur’s name, nor photograph, image, audio, graphic, drawing, or any such reproduction shall be expressed or displayed but shall be henceforth referred to as The Lizard Whose Name May Not Be Uttered.)
“…that guy, my childhood idol!”
Hollywood is like that. Magical. Famous people everywhere. An altered state of consciousness. A craven business atmosphere. You know.
So I quick, jumped in my car and hightailed it down to the Kodiak Theater. After fighting off bears left and right, I made it to the top of the building where he could hear me talking to him over the din down below.
Well, long story short, he told me he was tired of his bad boy image and was needing an major reinvention. So I signed him up but surreptitiously under the radar so-to-speak, given that company in Japan.
Now It’s Really Getting Magical
So now I had two very big names of two very big guys on the roster. The third one came about one night as I was making the trek up the holy hill to Universal City Walk to watch a movie. As I was passing the parking structures, I hear this “Pssst” over to the side. As I wiped the spray off my sleeve, I look up and there’s this big ol’ T-Rex standing there.
“I hear you hire lizards,” he tells me. I told him, “Well, I have one. A very big one.” And that’s when I recognized him.
“Wait a minute. Aren’t you that T-Rex that starred in Jurassic Park?”
“Why, none other,” he replies.
“Dude. That scene where you ate the lawyer in the outhouse? That was iconic. Pure movie magic. Almost inspirational.” At that he folds those floppy little arms of his over his chest and says, “Well to tell you the truth, I gave Spielberg that idea.”
No sooner had he said the name Spielberg when he suddenly starts to curse and swear. “That blankety-blank Spielberg. He promised me lots of future work and I haven’t heard a thing from him for what, 15 years now? Just stuck here on this lot scaring kids part time during the summer season.”
So I sez to him, “What’s your name?” He says, “Edgar.” I said, “Edgar?!” He says, “Yeah. Edgar the Thunder Lizard, it’s my stage name.” I tell him, “Dude, you gotta lose that name. Doesn’t do a thing for you.” So he tells me, “Well, that’s my birth name and…and I gotta be true to myself.”
So I told him to call me at my office Monday morning.
Later that night as I was driving home, again I got to thinking. “Hmmm. The Lord God Almighty, The Lizard Whose Name May Not Be Uttered, and now, Edgar the Thunder Lizard!, seriously. All the same, this could be the makings of a pitch meeting dream team.”
As I began to refine the idea in the days ahead though, I realized a number of things. God is usually too busy sustaining all reality to be available for a meeting, and The Lizard Whose Name May Not Be Uttered is just way too big. In fact, if I get him even near the NBC Universal Tower for instance, he may be tempted to just push it over altogether. And what with the problems they’ve been having lately that would be cruel and unusual, not even worth the juicy tabloid publicity it could generate.
So I decided probably just Edgar alone was sufficient. Well sure enough, the next time I set up a pitch meeting I stipulated that it must be in an airplane hanger. (Edgar would never fit into an elevator anyhow.) So I march into the meeting, my associate in tow. The suits are all sitting there and I sit down and look around. I then lift up my hand, snap my fingers, and Edgar promptly eats two or three studio lawyers.
The sight of him dragging these terrified guys off into the corner to bite and devour has two major effects upon the rest. Number one, it obviously leaves them bereft of counsel and therefore completely lost. Number two, they sit there in a catatonic state, staring into the distance.
At that I pass my hand in front of their eyes—nothing. So I just shove that contract over their way, tell them “Just sign here, here and here. Don’t bother with the blanks; we’ll fill them in for you.” It’s like slick magic.
On A Roll
The fourth client I picked up was…
(a certain famous rodent who will go by a name that cannot be mentioned for copyright’s sake but who has been known to have a home in Burbank Hills and is the reputed gang leader of a bunch of toons terrorizing said city. For legal purposes asserted by a very protective corporate owner in same, neither aforesaid rodent’s name, nor photograph, image, graphic, audio (ugh!), drawing, or any such reproduction shall be released but shall be henceforth referred to as The Mouse Whose Name May Not Be Uttered.)
I ran into him as he was leaving a 7-11 on Verdugo and Hollywood Way, getting into it with the Iranian guy behind the counter. Long story short, we struck up a real rapport and he confided to me his disgust with his current management which he claimed at times keep him locked up, tortured and mind-controlled in an undisclosed black site somewhere in the basement of one of their buildings.
So I signed him up too. I feel honored to have him and the other three on board but I must say, family photographs are a real trial trying to get everyone to fit into the picture without losing sight of the little guy.
To find out any more insider baseball about my relationship to these stars, you will just have to buy a copy of my book, Hollywood Cool And How I Attained Unto It, coming out just as soon as I can recall from memory all the chapters I accidentally deleted one day and didn’t have backed up.
And so came to be my life as a Hollywood Mogul, whom I have dubbed The Part-Time Mogul, candor and humility compelling me to do so. This is simply because everyone in this city wants to be hyphenated but no one can find the time for anything. Thus the use of “part-time” is a cutesy yet empathetic little way of expressing both frustrations at the same time.
Thus far are the multiples of Lord DonnieBob. Even so and amen.