Bread and circuses.
Give the people what they want, right?
What, me pander?
Hey, I'm no saint.
So, when I write these blogs about mean show business people, my "ratings" seem to spike. I mean, people love to hear about people who aren't so nice and the things that they do. I'm the same. I love to grab the Enquirer's issue on "The Meanest People in Hollywood!" or "Hollywood's Most Hated Stars!" or "The Hate List of Hollywood's Most Hated Haters!"
Give the people what they want, right?
What, me pander?
Hey, I'm no saint.
So, when I write these blogs about mean show business people, my "ratings" seem to spike. I mean, people love to hear about people who aren't so nice and the things that they do. I'm the same. I love to grab the Enquirer's issue on "The Meanest People in Hollywood!" or "Hollywood's Most Hated Stars!" or "The Hate List of Hollywood's Most Hated Haters!"
Say it ain't so Marie!
Also, is Tucker Carson really a "Hollywood Star"? Doesn't he live in New York? Or do they mean that he's a "star" who Hollywood hates?
Do I hate Tucker? Hate is a very strong word; but then, it isn't. I mean, "I hate onions on my burger" and "I hate your motherlovin' guts" contain that same word; but have very different meanings. I severely dislike him and everyone else he works with, for reasons anyone with a brain can see. But hate him and his Fox and Friends? No. They're not worthy of my most extreme emotions. They'll get their mysterious ways-payback-bitch-slaps; and oh, won't that be nice to watch.
But, let's shake that off, because I wanna keep this fun. The following events actually happened to me but the names have been changed to protect enjoyment. Knowing specifically who the perp in this story is would kill the fun. It's more interesting to try to figure out a "blind item." If you've been reading my blogs, it's probably pretty obvious who it was; but I'll never tell...
Also, is Tucker Carson really a "Hollywood Star"? Doesn't he live in New York? Or do they mean that he's a "star" who Hollywood hates?
Do I hate Tucker? Hate is a very strong word; but then, it isn't. I mean, "I hate onions on my burger" and "I hate your motherlovin' guts" contain that same word; but have very different meanings. I severely dislike him and everyone else he works with, for reasons anyone with a brain can see. But hate him and his Fox and Friends? No. They're not worthy of my most extreme emotions. They'll get their mysterious ways-payback-bitch-slaps; and oh, won't that be nice to watch.
But, let's shake that off, because I wanna keep this fun. The following events actually happened to me but the names have been changed to protect enjoyment. Knowing specifically who the perp in this story is would kill the fun. It's more interesting to try to figure out a "blind item." If you've been reading my blogs, it's probably pretty obvious who it was; but I'll never tell...
Once upon a time there was TV show host and a Paramount Studios page.
I was the page. A page is an underling who wears a monkey suit and directs the audience where to sit. An usher, basically. There are lots of other duties; but mostly it comes down to ushering.
The host might've been a high profile one at Paramount or maybe not. Maybe it was John Tesh, who had a show in the 90's. Maybe it was Jay Leno (Paramount Pages were sometimes loaned out to other studios). Maybe it was Chevy Chase (so much for this blind item...I'm giving you all the names!). Perhaps it was Dr. Phil. Maybe it was Keenan Ivory Wayans. Or Dennis Miller... or fill in the blank. Like, who didn't have a talk-show at some point? Okay, it was actually Leeza Gibbons. No, it wasn't. She was wicked nice.
Let's make up a name. A real corny sounding, old-school Hollywood sounding TV show host name. How about "Jackie P. Freeling"? I like that. Heeeeeeeerrrrrrreeeeee'ssssss, Jackie P.!
I was the page. A page is an underling who wears a monkey suit and directs the audience where to sit. An usher, basically. There are lots of other duties; but mostly it comes down to ushering.
The host might've been a high profile one at Paramount or maybe not. Maybe it was John Tesh, who had a show in the 90's. Maybe it was Jay Leno (Paramount Pages were sometimes loaned out to other studios). Maybe it was Chevy Chase (so much for this blind item...I'm giving you all the names!). Perhaps it was Dr. Phil. Maybe it was Keenan Ivory Wayans. Or Dennis Miller... or fill in the blank. Like, who didn't have a talk-show at some point? Okay, it was actually Leeza Gibbons. No, it wasn't. She was wicked nice.
Let's make up a name. A real corny sounding, old-school Hollywood sounding TV show host name. How about "Jackie P. Freeling"? I like that. Heeeeeeeerrrrrrreeeeee'ssssss, Jackie P.!
Actually, that's a picture of the last person I should've picked. Mike Douglas was probably the best talk show host ever. Truly kind, interested and open-minded. So of course, he's the most underrated. I mean, I don't know if he was mean. Maybe he was. But I highly doubt it. He actually listened to people when they talked; unlike say, Mr. X or Miss Z who are just waiting for a gap so they can hear their own voice.
At the Jackie P. Freeling Show there was a live audience. We've all seen the basic talk show set and how it seats an audience. Stadium seating, two aisles, around two hundred seats, maybe more.
At the Jackie P. Freeling Show there was a live audience. We've all seen the basic talk show set and how it seats an audience. Stadium seating, two aisles, around two hundred seats, maybe more.
Jackie P. Freeling would sometimes go up into the audience to do a "bit." You know, like an audience interview or some other hilarious shenanigan(s). But one fine day, during a commercial break, an audience member got up out of their seat, sauntered down the aisle with something in their hand, walked onto the stage and right up to Jackie's couch to hand him their script. I don't know if they were removed from the premises by security; but Jackie was apoplectic afterwards. It seemed as though he blamed the pages for this incident, even though it is not in a page's duties to try and stop ballsy and/or psycho people. A page's job during the taping is to take anyone who needs to go, to the bathroom.
But Jackie was not happy. Oh, no. He wasn't at all. That's when the velvet ropes got put up.
But Jackie was not happy. Oh, no. He wasn't at all. That's when the velvet ropes got put up.
So, where the aisles met the floor, which had previously been an unimpeded egress/access to the stage, little red velvet ropes were put up and pages were posted at the ready on either side of the stage. Pages had heretofore not been posted to these positions; but now they were. They were called "The Rope Pages." Duh. And during Jackie's monologue, when he might or might not spontaneously shoost up the aisle for some shenanigans, the page had to crouch down next to the rope and be ready to lower it. And then, raise it again when Jackie returned to the stage. The rope was only like, a foot off the floor. And there was no set distance regarding how close Jackie got to the rope before the page lowered it; but the rope had to be down if he got to certain point. It was a guessing game for the page. And a game of cat and mouse for Jackie. Which I found out the day I was first assigned to be The Rope Page.
"I'll tear youse meeces to pieces!!!"
I'm the meece in this scenario.
Now, I'm an amicable person. Amiable too. I am not, however, particularly obsequious. And if I find myself in the presence of someone I feel thinks I should be obsequious, I become even less so. I'm egaltarian. I don't believe in all this "you have to pay your dues" bullshit. If you're a good worker and talented and kind, I think you should be fast-tracked as quickly as the next person. Many people do not agree with me. Many people try to hold other people back. Many people want to keep other people down. Why? Insecurity probably. I think Jackie P. might've been insecure. Also, jealous. Why would a big deal talk show host be jealous of a humble page? I don't know. But it's a vibe I got, as I crouched by that rope, waiting for Jackie P. to approach. And he did. So, I lowered the rope. Then he backed up a little, so I put the rope back up. Then he frowned at me: this quick-silver, only perceptible to me, frown. Why was he frowning at me? This was my very first interaction with him. I was clearly trying to do my job and facilitate his needs; needs I was trying to assess on the fly.
This word is thrown around a lot and I can understand why some people would call "bullshit." But I'm rather empathic. I do not refer to myself as such; but it's a fact. I naturally intuit people's emotions rather instantaneously. I feel what someone is feeling when they're feeling it.
I'm the meece in this scenario.
Now, I'm an amicable person. Amiable too. I am not, however, particularly obsequious. And if I find myself in the presence of someone I feel thinks I should be obsequious, I become even less so. I'm egaltarian. I don't believe in all this "you have to pay your dues" bullshit. If you're a good worker and talented and kind, I think you should be fast-tracked as quickly as the next person. Many people do not agree with me. Many people try to hold other people back. Many people want to keep other people down. Why? Insecurity probably. I think Jackie P. might've been insecure. Also, jealous. Why would a big deal talk show host be jealous of a humble page? I don't know. But it's a vibe I got, as I crouched by that rope, waiting for Jackie P. to approach. And he did. So, I lowered the rope. Then he backed up a little, so I put the rope back up. Then he frowned at me: this quick-silver, only perceptible to me, frown. Why was he frowning at me? This was my very first interaction with him. I was clearly trying to do my job and facilitate his needs; needs I was trying to assess on the fly.
This word is thrown around a lot and I can understand why some people would call "bullshit." But I'm rather empathic. I do not refer to myself as such; but it's a fact. I naturally intuit people's emotions rather instantaneously. I feel what someone is feeling when they're feeling it.
Consequently, it causes me to put up walls to a certain degree. I have often been told that people's first impressions of me were that I was "aloof." And I can't say that's not true. But it's not aloofness born of indifference. It's actually a kind of shyness; and those protective walls from other people's emotions, which can overwhelm.
So anyways, back to the ropes.
I'm picking up this intense negative vibe from Jackie P.; almost like he hates me for some reason. So now I know he is purposely moving back and forth in front of the rope to see what I do. Not to test me; but to (and let's just be blunt here), fuck with me. Why is he doing that? What have I ever done to him to deserve this kind of treatment. So, I go into laser focus mode, which requires me to more or less ignore him and concentrate on his feet and the rope, which seems to enrage him even more. All this while he's delivering what is supposed to be a lighthearted and fun interaction with the audience. Talk about compartmentalizing.
Have you ever had a bully? If you did, did you wonder why they picked you out of the crowd? Like, why you? Or, why me? When you did nothing to deserve the bully's wrath? Well, let's be logical about it. You caught their attention for some reason. They noticed you. You registered on their field of interest. Ergo, they are interested in you. So, why are they so interested in you? Because you have something they want. Or that they lack. Or perhaps, they're positively attracted to you but they can't admit it due to some psychological and/or sociological circumstance. So, the interest/attraction can only be expressed in negative terms. Like a wedgie. It's like when little boys run up to little girls they're attracted to and hit them; because for whatever reason they can't express the positive attraction. Maybe, on some level, Jackie P. was attracted to me. Like physically and/or romantically. THE HOTS. Call it what you want. Yes, I got that vibe too. I mean, there were some intense vibes coming off that man directed at me. Why? I can't answer that. But they were there.
So anyways, back to the ropes.
I'm picking up this intense negative vibe from Jackie P.; almost like he hates me for some reason. So now I know he is purposely moving back and forth in front of the rope to see what I do. Not to test me; but to (and let's just be blunt here), fuck with me. Why is he doing that? What have I ever done to him to deserve this kind of treatment. So, I go into laser focus mode, which requires me to more or less ignore him and concentrate on his feet and the rope, which seems to enrage him even more. All this while he's delivering what is supposed to be a lighthearted and fun interaction with the audience. Talk about compartmentalizing.
Have you ever had a bully? If you did, did you wonder why they picked you out of the crowd? Like, why you? Or, why me? When you did nothing to deserve the bully's wrath? Well, let's be logical about it. You caught their attention for some reason. They noticed you. You registered on their field of interest. Ergo, they are interested in you. So, why are they so interested in you? Because you have something they want. Or that they lack. Or perhaps, they're positively attracted to you but they can't admit it due to some psychological and/or sociological circumstance. So, the interest/attraction can only be expressed in negative terms. Like a wedgie. It's like when little boys run up to little girls they're attracted to and hit them; because for whatever reason they can't express the positive attraction. Maybe, on some level, Jackie P. was attracted to me. Like physically and/or romantically. THE HOTS. Call it what you want. Yes, I got that vibe too. I mean, there were some intense vibes coming off that man directed at me. Why? I can't answer that. But they were there.
Back to the rope.
The game went on. Up with the rope, down with the rope: up, down-down-up-down-down-down-up. Then one last up and I sat back on my haunches. He steps over the raised rope, giving me the stink eye to end all stink eyes. He'd won, I'd supposed. And then he goes and talks to someone in the audience like he's Mister Nice Guy. Mr. Laffs. Mr. Funn! Boy, did he have them fooled. I lowered the rope and then he pointedly went down the other aisle.
Here was another set of rules at The Jackie P. Freeling Show: NO ONE FROM THE GENERAL STUDIO AUDIENCE WHO IS A V.I.P GUEST OF MR. FREELING'S WILL BE ALLOWED ON TO THE STAGE FROM THE SEATING AREA. ALL GUESTS OF MR. FREELING MUST REPORT TO THE SOUNDSTAGE DOOR TO BE ALLOWED ADMITTANCE.
Guess whose job it was to enforce this inviolable rule?...you got it...the Rope Page.
The game went on. Up with the rope, down with the rope: up, down-down-up-down-down-down-up. Then one last up and I sat back on my haunches. He steps over the raised rope, giving me the stink eye to end all stink eyes. He'd won, I'd supposed. And then he goes and talks to someone in the audience like he's Mister Nice Guy. Mr. Laffs. Mr. Funn! Boy, did he have them fooled. I lowered the rope and then he pointedly went down the other aisle.
Here was another set of rules at The Jackie P. Freeling Show: NO ONE FROM THE GENERAL STUDIO AUDIENCE WHO IS A V.I.P GUEST OF MR. FREELING'S WILL BE ALLOWED ON TO THE STAGE FROM THE SEATING AREA. ALL GUESTS OF MR. FREELING MUST REPORT TO THE SOUNDSTAGE DOOR TO BE ALLOWED ADMITTANCE.
Guess whose job it was to enforce this inviolable rule?...you got it...the Rope Page.
Now, the Rope Page was not necessarily stationed at the rope when the taping wrapped. Generally yes, but possibly someone else. I'm not sure if my disastrous stint at the rope was the same day as the V.I.P. "event." I don't think it was...
Anyways, I was at the bottom of the stairs on the aisle, house left. I had a list of everyone who was a guest and was able to go backstage to visit Jackie P. Oftentimes, these people would've watched the show from the general audience area and then come to the lip of the stage, where, as per policy, they would be instructed to exit with everyone else and then report to the soundstage main entrance where they then would be escorted backstage. This rule was iron-clad and immovable, supposedly, since the "take a look at my script" event. So, on this given day, a group of people approached me. They were VIP friends of Jackie. They were on the list. I checked. But they were not allowed to go backstage via the route they were attempting. I informed them of this. I politely explained what they needed to do. Someone in the group shouted to Jackie and waved.
"Hey MOTHERFUCKER (meaning yours truly) let them through, stupid!" He was on a hot mic. The audience was mostly still there. What he said went over the loudspeakers. I sighed and let them through. I could feel his stink-eye on the back of my head. Everyone was staring at me like I was some kind of monster.
Anyways, I was at the bottom of the stairs on the aisle, house left. I had a list of everyone who was a guest and was able to go backstage to visit Jackie P. Oftentimes, these people would've watched the show from the general audience area and then come to the lip of the stage, where, as per policy, they would be instructed to exit with everyone else and then report to the soundstage main entrance where they then would be escorted backstage. This rule was iron-clad and immovable, supposedly, since the "take a look at my script" event. So, on this given day, a group of people approached me. They were VIP friends of Jackie. They were on the list. I checked. But they were not allowed to go backstage via the route they were attempting. I informed them of this. I politely explained what they needed to do. Someone in the group shouted to Jackie and waved.
"Hey MOTHERFUCKER (meaning yours truly) let them through, stupid!" He was on a hot mic. The audience was mostly still there. What he said went over the loudspeakers. I sighed and let them through. I could feel his stink-eye on the back of my head. Everyone was staring at me like I was some kind of monster.
Strangely, I was not really all that embarrassed or mortified. Jackie was the one who came across as the monster. A good two hundred people saw the real Jackie that day. He was obviously someone you couldn't please or "win" with. Having grown up with someone who used elliptical logic as a way to get his way had prepared me for this sort of situation. In retrospect, I suspect that Jackie was (and is) a true narcissist. Narcissists are never happy, even when they attain everything they want. They need to destroy what they get because deep down they are so insecure they feel they don't deserve it. It's self-sabotage. And when they sabotage their own lives, they get to blame everyone else. It's truly pernicious.
I wonder if the statute of limitations still stands on this incident. I mean, could I like, call Paramount Human Resources and report the incident, almost 30 years later? You know, "Oh, I suffered intense PTSD from this hate-speech and can only now bring it into the light..." Could I successfully sue? Settle out of court? What would be the going rate for being called a "motherfucker" in public? Let's make some lemonade out of this fucker, Mother!
Well, how about I put this anecdote in my pot-boiler tell-all: I, A Page: Confessions from the Hollywood Gen-X List. ?
This book is going to rip the lid off the the habits of Hollywood habitues! Those habits being primarily shopping and golf-cart etiquette.
Which brings us to the real question: why do we love people who do hateful things? Why do we love to hate them? Or hate to love them. Why do the activities and attitudes of awful people seem so much more compelling than those of people who are kind, constructive and gentle? Like, we can binge watch entire blocks of shows featuring people doing the most horrible things, like murder, and watch it all day. But if a FRONTLINE episode about Mother Teresa airs, we start getting fidgety and reaching for the remote about fifteen minutes in.
This book is going to rip the lid off the the habits of Hollywood habitues! Those habits being primarily shopping and golf-cart etiquette.
Which brings us to the real question: why do we love people who do hateful things? Why do we love to hate them? Or hate to love them. Why do the activities and attitudes of awful people seem so much more compelling than those of people who are kind, constructive and gentle? Like, we can binge watch entire blocks of shows featuring people doing the most horrible things, like murder, and watch it all day. But if a FRONTLINE episode about Mother Teresa airs, we start getting fidgety and reaching for the remote about fifteen minutes in.
Is it because most of us are good; or at least try to be good and when we see other people being bad and benefitting from it we wonder if we should too? Maybe. But I don't know the answer.
Maybe Alexis Carrington does. Remember how obsessed the country was with her? "TV's Favorite Woman You Love to Hate!"
Maybe Alexis Carrington does. Remember how obsessed the country was with her? "TV's Favorite Woman You Love to Hate!"
Ironically, Joan Collins, who played Alexis, seems like she is a very nice person. But it's all relative I suppose. I'm sure Jackie P. Freeling was nice from time to time. But leopards don't often change their spots. They can, however extend and retract their claws, depending on the mood. And the meeces. And I washed that dude right out of my hair long ago...right?
Ciao for now.
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