Had I been a better production assistant, I’d have reminded myself to brief all parties involved on the exact nature of what we were about to do. As in, before we did it. Not while doing it. My bad.
For the time being, therefore, although “Bratwurst” is shot, edited and in the can, odds are even that it will remain in the can indefinitely. On the other hand, odds are equally even that it will premiere this coming Wednesday at Fusion and run thereafter in the September issue of fête. Tomorrow’s preview screening will tell the tale.
So while we’re waiting for the jury to come in, all I feel comfortable showing you is the six-second clip embedded here of death chewing a human soul. Yum.
Yesterday, I found myself engaged in political conversation with a friend, one more conservative than not, who believes that Mitt Romney is the cure for what ails us. I offered that our elected officials aren’t the people who run our government anyway. “You mean the Illuminati?” he asked in that jovially derisive way that friends have of telling you that you’re cracked but harmless. So I left it alone. I should do that more often.
God bless my little cat and her tiny, razor-sharp claws. I’m almost okay with the prospect of picked upholstery. Almost. But not quite.