Tag Archives: Aaron Sorkin

Dammit, Aaron Sorkin!

20 Jul


Bought a new toy today.  Because I’ve earned it.

The Newsroom: Season One.

…My direct quote, as the first episode end credits started to roll:

“Fuck you, Aaron Sorkin.  I love you.”

…And I do.


After all these years.


…And ever.


…I need to leave and go be obsessed with episode two now.

I know you understand.


Nine Hours

16 Dec


I totally cheated on my boyfriend, hardcore, today.


…I dunno if it’s worse and counts for more by the “day” or by the “event” or by the separation of the amount of “years” in between, digging up old wounds. But either way, there I was, making a TOTALLY conscience decision (nine times, to be exact), to have a passionate affair with someone else…forsaking him for the second time after finally getting over the last betrayal, seven years ago.

This is my confession.

I feel a letter, is the least I could offer, in explanation and is what he deserves.  He deserves to know the full, unvarnished truth.  And its a useful prop after the words are done being read…to print it out so you can ball it up, or shred into a zillion pieces, or set fire to, or all of the above (which is honestly, the way I would prob’ly go.) 

So here it is:

Dear Aaron Sorkin & “Newsroom”,

First of all…It’s not you, it’s me. 

It isn’t your fault that I was seduced so easily by that one trailer they ran on the internet, before you had even aired.  After all, the creative team you were flashing with that stellar, sexy smile, included luminaries of so many lovers from my past.  I knew I would be gone on you in an instant, and only the lack of an HBO subscription kept me from total, succinct, obsession. 

…Even still, I confess to driving by your house, upon occasion, pressing my face to the car window, to watch your every move of beauty and action through internet-posted episode teasers and season wrap-ups. 

…I googled your pictures, savoring them like a kind of really classy porn. I’d post them on my computer (at home of course, because your sexiness was too much to risk during working hours.) And glory in the newest teaser clips and extended YouTubes…forcing me lap at a glass of wine, while moaning, and french kissing my pillow, just to help ease the unholy desire you would unleash.

With all of this steadfast dedication (to the extent that I was monetarily able), how COULD you but expect me to be then: forever faithful?

Believe me when I say, that I am equally as shocked as you are at this so sudden alteration in my affections. I’m usually so steadfast with my adoration. Ask any of my 16 other boyfriends, to whom I have been utterly faithful, well into double-decades.


…Most of my lifetime dedicated to the aching, heart-stirring, squelching, passion-filled, kind of internet-stalking that makes that one diaper-wielding Astronaut look like a total amateur.

“This feels awful-horrible. I wanna puke all the time. I cry at movie-clips. I wanna curl into a ball at every speech of rejection, of every misguided argument, of every death…filmed in slow motion…in the snow…in period costume…with music just absolutely slobbering out shrieks of horrifying grief and pity with every note. I feel like total shit. THIS. IS. LOVE!,” (I have often thought, time and time again.)

…And I truly believed it was. And it always would be. And nothing would ever stop that.

(Except for that one time, seven years ago. Which we decided that you forgave me for, and we’d never speak of again.)

Look: I loved “Studio 60″…and I frequently make out with it to this day…but “30 Rock” turned out to be this really hot cousin of yours I met at that party that one time, and I sorta had a fling with it (for until it ends this season)…but then you decided to do a guest spot on it after “Studio 60” got killed, and I sorta took that as your “blessing” (in a way) for me, signifying it was okay to move on and love again.

So I did.

…And see, then last week the Golden Globe nominations came out…

…And this one show I’d never heard of before was on the list…

…And it’s reviews were things like, “better than ‘Mad Men'”…and, “This is what ‘Newsroom’ SHOULD be!”

…And it’s not like I really “believed” all that was said, but I confess that a quick, innocent, search was pulling up a lot of drooling beauty and concept-love. Plus, you KNOW how I get around men who talk in accents…

I confess, I video searched, clip-watched, and asked it out for a drink.

…And even just in previews, it was charming and witty and sexy and smart…and we both have this big thing for whiskey in common…and then it seemed like maybe the lunches and late night flirts over drinks, might possibly be going further than either of us had intended…

…Until, squirming my stocking’d feet in my high heels beneath the nightclub table, found myself accidentally lighting up a virtual cigarette.

I smoked the FUCK out of that unfiltered tar-stick.

Then we steamed up the windows a little, when he dropped me off at home after our first real episode date…

…And when he walked me to my stoop…well…

Long story, short: We “schtupped.”

And he was reeeeeeeeally good.

…He looks even better outta the beautifully tailored, period suits then IN ’em.

(And who in the hell would have guessed that was even possible?!)

…With like this amazing rejuvenation turnover time, that allowed immediate follow-ups through all of Season One…

(With only occasional pauses to bring more food to the pillow-strewn, heavily-sexed room, in between.)

He was an animal.

…And after finally finding and ramming (pardon the explicitness) through the first three episodes of Season Two, I laid back totally exhausted. Which was fine, cuz by that time he was totally spent.

After nine hours, I suppose even an epic-sexer, runs out at some point.

It was only then (shamefully), laying in the arms of my lover…the whole house reeking of food and word-period-visual sex…that I once again thought of you.

You: my first loved in the genre, and my (now) forsaken.

…Which is why I felt that I needed to stay awake long enough to write this to you.

Do with it as you wish.

It was certainly not meant to pain you further.

…I’m confident that we will find one another again…the world (after all) is a small place, really. And I’ve loved you for so long…in all your previous artistic incarnations, that our history will always be a sweet one for me. And I thank you for that.

But I have to tell you: I sorta bought Season One at noon today, in hard copy, from Amazon.

…The wedding is on December 24th.

We both hope you will wish us joy.



The Hating Of Politics

19 Aug


Listen, it’s election time again.  And I hate it. 

…I hate the pander, I hate the smacks, the “he said, she said,” the always negative bent.

It really bums me the hell out to see this Country relegated to a half-assed season of “Survivor,” every time an office opens up; To be forced to watch the High School ridiculousness of lying, cheating, reputation-killing antics from our collective nominees. It’s a kind of frustration requiring far better political writing technique than I have at my immediate disposal.  So, “It sucks a lot,” is just gonna have to do it for you.

…Ads are everywhere. We’re absolutely flooded with them from cell phones, internet, radio, TV, mailings and people with clipboards outside of every major shopping center.  And they’re never positive ones about changing the world for the better, preserving rights, fixing the economy, boosting education, or solving world hunger. Why not?!  Politics in this country has turned into some freak-show Darwinian shit-sling-a-thon, where the candidate who throws the most wads of feces and gets them to stick, wins. (Thus rendering all others virtually extinct.)

Its like: survival of the shittiest.

…You know what I wish?

I wish politics could be like an Aaron Sorkin show. 

I would TOTALLY get behind that. 

Smart.  Educational. Forward-thinking, with the best of intent. And willing to admit the occasional fuck up.

…It isn’t about “talking points,” weaving eternal riddles, and participating in endless debates.

…It’s not about “waiting for the right moment” to break down prejudices and fight for equal rights.

…It’s not just a bunch of burocrats stirring up shit, and standing around yelling things. 

Nobody just stood still in, “The West Wing!” 

Not ever!

…Those people couldn’t even eat a sandwich or drink a cup of coffee at their desk in good conscience! There was this whole thing invented about it, even, called “the walk and talk.”  They’d start in the Roosevelt room, bypass the cubical farms, turn left at the second hallway, cross the foyer and BAM! be in the press room within fifty seconds; (and would have prevented three wars and eradicated two epidemics while they did it.)

…Maybe Tommy Shlamme and Sorkin could go to DC and give lectures on how to do that.

…Maybe they could get everyone to stop wasting our time and just ACCOMPLISH something.  It’s why we put them there.  How can they not get that?!

The power is present.  They’re kitted out with more resources than a Boy Scout troop on a camping trip. That’s the frustrating part.  Those people we have elected could actually do a “solid” in repairing things, right now, and prevent more evils from turning up in their place.  They can do more to heal the world before lunch each day, than any other collection of people on the entire face of the planet.

Think about that. 

It could happen. 

It COULD happen.

…But it almost never does.

There IS no President Bartlet, you guys.  And we just have to live with that. Leo won’t be in the sit-room to help strategize or calm down political fevers…nobody is as cutely arrogant with the smarts and political savy of Josh,  or stone-sober tough love of Toby…and inspirational speeches to the masses with soaring symphonies played underneath them, are a thing of the past.

…There are no witty and smart Republicans that pop up from time to time with valid points and sensible solutions, anymore. Democrats will always be wishy-washy, too worried about pissing someone off with their actual principles. And the two major political parties are NEVER gonna agree on ANYTHING. At all. Ever.

It sucks, but it’s the truth.

So deal with that. 

Then go line up at the polls.

…Sorta anti-climatic, ain’t it?

Really wish there was a way to fix that.


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