Director Andrew Niccol’s “In Time” opens with  a lot of promise and no small amount of tension, thanks to a terrific premise. Unfortunately, the narrative sputters and misfires in the second-half, but as a political allegory, by design or accident, we are treated to a damning look at what our culture and country might look like should Obama and his fellow leftists continue to prevail.

The year is 2161 and some years ago, due to fear of over-population, scientists not only discovered a genetic cure for aging, they implanted a clock in the forearm of every newborn that counts down the years, hours, minutes, and seconds you have left before you die. No one ages a day after they turn twenty-five, but once that birthday hits, you’re given a year to live. That is, unless you’re able to earn more time. Where Will Salas (Justin Timberlake) lives, a working class ghetto called Dayton,  your choices are limited to manual labor, begging, and crime.

Will’s not alone, either. In Dayton, the average person won’t survive the day unless they can earn more time. Here, a cup of coffee costs you four minutes, a bus ride two hours, and the rent a couple of weeks. Time is this nation’s currency, and with the cost of living always going up, it’s a hand-to-mouth existence for the half-million or so residents who live with their mortality constantly hanging over them and in the knowledge that something as mundane as missing a bus can mean you count down to zero and die on the spot.

The whole world isn’t like this; in New Greenwich, for instance, life is good. The average citizen has 347 years banked (some have millions) and most live in the kind of opulence we see today in Beverly Hills. This power and wealth is something these very few hang onto through control and manipulation. For instance, it costs years to cross the roadblocks that separate Dayton from Greenwich, and with the use of storm trooper-like police officers called Timekeepers (and the criminals they let run wild), no one in the ghetto is allowed to improve their station in life or to bank any real time.

As the saying goes, for one to be immortal, many must die.

Through a truly selfless act, a humane act in a place where humanity is in short supply, Will ends up with  a century and change from a man who tells him the truth about how the system is rigged to ensure the population growth is kept under control. It’s not that coffee and bus fare is more expensive today than it was yesterday due to the laws of supply and demand, it’s that those prices are manipulated in order to create invisible ripple effects that that keep the right number of people dying.

—–

Driven by this knowledge, his newfound century, and a personal tragedy, Will can afford to make his way into New Greenwich, which he does with the intention of blowing the lid off the whole thing. It’s among the profanely rich that Will meets a Time Baron’s daughter, Sylvia (Amanda Seyfried), and it’s also here that what had been a tense, fascinating and smart plot goes completely off the rails.

A disappointing plot, though, does not change the fact that “In Time” is a shockingly conservative film. The filmmakers might have thought they were making some kind of statement about the top 1%, and I suppose some could argue that “In Time” is an indictment of capitalism, but there is no capitalism in this world — just a godless society, genetically manufactured to control a population-growth problem (something only the left sees as a virtue) that doesn’t appear to exist. In fact, for a story that takes place in an urban environment, the lack of people is a noticeable part of the barren landscape.

What we are presented with is a two-tiered society where the ultra-elite live like kings while the rest are given no opportunity to better themselves. That’s not capitalism; that’s socialism. It’s the monstrous vision of Planned Parenthood founder Margaret Sanger’s eugenics institutionalized. In other words, this is big government, left-wing social-engineering personified, where oppressive equality is enforced by an elite few who don’t hold themselves to the rules they create.

Moreover, the dignity of the individual means nothing here, and God has been scientifically engineered out of the equation. Good heavens, the super rich even quote Darwin to justify their depraved indifference and the story presents immortality as something unnatural. In fact, the only sign of God that exists is in the form of a squalid mission in Dayton that selflessly gives LIFE to others.

“In Time” might not be a very good film, but if you want a peek into the mind’s eye of Barack Obama and his army of secular leftists who worship at the feet of oppressive equality but see themselves enforcing this “virtue” from the Hollywood Hills, this is about as close as you’ll ever come.

“In Time” is available at Amazon.

Why does the Hollywood Reporter say this as though it’s a bad thing…?

Sticking to its simplistic, patriotic origins, where a muscular red, white and blue GI slugging Adolf Hitler in the jaw is all that’s required, Captain America trafficks in red-blooded heroes, dastardly villains, classy dames and war-weary military officers.

With the MSM , patriotism is always “simplistic” and/or “jingoistic.” You never read reviews that say, “simplistically angsty” or “simplistically brooding” or “simplistically dark.”

Yesterday in the comments, someone quoted someone who said something the effect of “angst is much easier to write than nobility.” And this is very, very true. The same is true with sincerity over irony and inspirational over nihilism.

This approach to patriotism is all a lie, a ploy from the Left to turn what really is simplistic and lazy (nihilism, angst, irreverence, irony) into “art,” when just the opposite is true. What the Left despises about themes that lift the human spirit is that they’re more often than not, conservative themes — themes of self-sacrifice, selflessness, fidelity, manhood, bravery, and nobility. Whereas darker, simpler themes or a complete lack of theme, appeals to the all-about-me, chaotic narcissism that so defines the Left.  

Mock everything + respect nothing = A Leftist

It’s just a fact that not coming off as corny when you want to inspire and appeal to the better nature of the human spirit through sincerity, is extremely difficult and requires real skill in the departments of writing, acting and directing. All this angsty brooding, however, requires little skill and no courage of any kind to attempt.

The same goes for patriotism. You can certainly overdo love of country in a way that makes your audience cringe. But to pull it off in a way that inspires and works takes no small amount of talent. On the other hand, irreverence towards the flag  requires no skill whatsoever.

As an actor or writer, which do you think would be most difficult to pull off successfully: A moment where your character throws out a mocking salute towards the American flag or a moment where your character stops and salutes the flag with complete sincerity.

There’s no doubt in my mind which one of those moments is the most “simplistic.”

I’m hearing good things from people I trust about “Captain America.” More to come on this…

“Entertainment Weekly,” which (I think) Nikki Finke hilariously and accurately describes as a magazine for waiting rooms, has come up with ten ways to save the movies. Most of the ideas are just warmed over warmed-over ideas we’ve all heard a hundred times before, but #3 caught my eye:

3. Stop killing us with your popcorn.

A 2009 study found that a single medium-size bag of popcorn from the Regal theater chain contained 1,610 calories and 60 grams of saturated fat. Add in a large soda (350 calories) and some Reese’s Pieces (1,200 calories for an eight-ounce box), and you’re taking your life in your hands. John Fithian, president of the National Association of Theatre Owners, insists theaters are just giving moviegoers what they crave. ”When people go to the cinemas, they want to escape — from their diets, too.” Still, popcorn shouldn’t have to come with a warning label. Some theaters, mostly in upscale neighborhoods, have been offering healthier, higher-quality concessions.

Why are Lefties always so eager to strip us of our own personal choices (unless that choice is for taxpayers to fund sucking unborn babies through vacuum tubes)? And this is coming from someone who doesn’t eat junk at the movies. Popcorn and soda at my age goes right to my hips. But is my self-discipline unique? Am I a better person person than the elites looking down on us from Mount EW? Okay, well, most of us are because we believe in liberty, but my point is that if I can control myself, anyone can. And who is EW to control others for their own good. Sorry EW, there’s no such thing as second-hand popcorn calories, so there’s no second way to skin this cat.

How can the same Left in favor of euthanasia have such a thick stick up their backsides over nachos?

The movies are all about escape, about treating yourself, about getting away and forgetting about life for a couple of hours. If some bitter, hopelessly skinny control freak wants to munch on celery stalks while Margot goes to the wedding, no one’s stopping her. And if some lard-assed, video game-addicted, basement dweller wants to chow down on the gigantor tub of buttered popcorn while transformers rumble, who cares.

This is still a free country.

Right?

As a retired Air Force veteran, I viewed this movie from a slightly different vantage point than one who has never served in our armed forces. And I loved every minute of this fast-paced, heart-stopping, riveting movie…silently cheering on the small platoon of courageous Marines, led by 2nd Lieutenant William Martinez (Ramon Rodriguez), sent out on what seemed like a suicide mission to rescue a few stranded civilians in Santa Monica before the Air Force was to completely level the entire city that had fallen to a devastating alien invasion.

What was originally reported to be meteors falling into the ocean along the Los Angeles coastline (as well as the coastlines of 20 other major cities around the world) was quickly determined to be a well-orchestrated invasion of a massive force of seemingly impossible-to-kill aliens… and they were everywhere… annhilating everything and everyone in their path.  As I watched the fast-paced, chaotic, and gripping action unfold, I often found myself holding my breath and sitting on the edge of my seat — myheart racing wildly, pulling for our heroes.  It has been a long time since I’ve been to a movie that left me exhausted like that, in a good way.

I appreciated how they introduced each member of the platoon and gave us a little insight into their frame of mind just prior to their embarking on this terrifying mission, setting the stage for some of the heart-wrenching actions and decisions that occurred throughout the movie.  It made them more real to me, as real as the stories and situations faced every day by our men and women deploying overseas into hostile combat zones.

The main hero of the movie, Staff Sergeant Nantz (Aaron Eckhart), was very convincing as a tough, no-nonsense, war-weary Marine.  In spite of having just gotten his retirement papers signed — a man who was struggling with some demons from his past (something not uncommon to our brothers and sisters who have served in a war zone) — SSgt Nantz displayed the kind of leadership, ingenuity, courage, selflessness, and compassion commonly found in the members of our military, most especially in our Marines, who are always on the front lines … and go where few dare to go.

I love that the movie producers hired members of our Marine Corps to serve as Technical Advisers during the filming of this movie to ensure every shot rang true to how Marines operate in battle and that the cast members had endured three weeks of intensive Boot Camp where they had no mobile phones, no television, no internet and no contact with the outside world.  They all slept in the same big tent, ate rations together, and acted like a cohesive Marine unit, wearing 40 pounds of gear at all times and staying in character between takes.

That rocks.

Coincidentally, I found myself relating to and rooting for the tough-as-nails Tech Sergeant Adriana Santos (Michelle Rodriguez) who was in Air Force Intel (I spent my 20 year AF career in this field), and kicked ass with the military hardware (pictured below with an M4A1 carbine).  Never fired one of those but have no problems handling an M-16 or a 9mm.

I thoroughly enjoyed the intensity and suspense of this movie, never knowing what to expect next.  Yet, according to Ebert:

“In a good movie, we understand where the heroes are, and where their opponents are, and why, and when they fire on each other, we understand the geometry.  In a mess like this, the frame is filled with flashes and explosions and shots so brief that nothing makes sense.”

 Clearly he has never been on a real battlefield.  War is hell.  And in today’s largely asymmetrical conflicts in the Middle East, it is every bit as chaotic and unpredictable as depicted in this movie.

It is no wonder the critics on the left panned this movie the way they did.  It is a pride-filled drama that highlights true heroism, military might, camaraderie, friendship, and forgiveness.  There were some very poignant moments in the movie that made my eyeballs sweat a bit and the popcorn hard to swallow having to negotiate its way past the large lump in my throat.  My heart swelled with pride at how these fine warriors took on every unpredictable, dangerous situation they encountered with uncommon valor — fighting for their families, their homes, their country.  They showed what true heroes are made of … and it made me think of all our brave men and women currently deployed who face unknown dangers, not knowing if they will ever see their loved ones back home again. 

God bless them.

I couldn’t help but notice some parallels in this movie to what we are experiencing right here in our own country.  These Marines faced an unknown, ruthless enemy who wanted our resources and were bent on destroying anything and everything standing in the way of achieving their objective.  There was a scene where one of the civilians being rescued, a young boy named Hector, told his father “Maybe we should try to talk to them.  Maybe they just want to be our friends”.  Sound familiar?  Sorry.  That doesn’t work when the enemy wants you dead…at all cost.

Honor, courage, service-before-self, love of country, and faith (love the close up shot of one of the Marines’ Bibles and the highlighted words “Through Christ comes freedom.”) …all things foreign and distasteful to the left and all the more reason for you to head to the theaters and enjoy.  As a strong proponent of promoting conservative art (music, films, etc.), I enthusiastically recommend this movie.  Go see it.  Let’s make it #1 for the third week in a row!

P.S.  And to our brothers and sisters in the Corps (the “ps” is silent for those who don’t know) …Godspeed and Semper Fi.

Which shows you how naive the anti-war left is. if you actually believe a president will not go to war, because HE PROMISED YOU! – then you’re like every girl on Rock of Love.

Hopelessly disappointed.

And high as a kite.

People who campaign on peace, often wage war in office.

They’ll just drag their feet a little longer, which is what Obama did.

But I support the President because I try to be consistent on military matters.

And to be fair, so are some on the anti-war left.

Compare the currently angry Michael Moore to those lefties who, after reaming Bush for 8 years, are now oddly silent on Obama’s war. That’s kinda weird.

Anyway, after Obama’s behavior toward Egypt, he had little choice. Avoiding Kaddafi, after kicking a meeker Mubarak out the door – would smack of weakness.

But here’s why bombing Libya may be good: for forty years we’ve had to deal with Gadaffi’s vile mug. It may not be a “vital interest” to “get” him – but it’s justice.

Think of all the crap he’s done to innocent people, including Americans.

Lastly, the action angers the right people.

I dislike the anti-war movement because we, as humans, are all anti-war. It creates a false opposition: that the rest of us are PRO-WAR.

But we’re not.

I’m pro military. It’s the high speed rail with actual, awesome purpose.

More important, if the anti-war movement succeeds, evil all over would increase, because without threat of punishment, the brutal will blossom. And inevitably, America falls.

Which, to the left, is better than putting up a fight.

And if you disagree with me, you’re worse than Hitler!

Tonight:

Tucker Carlson!

John Devore!

Jedidiah Bila!

Yes, it’s cheesy. Yes, for a very long time it devolved into a teenage soap opera. And yes, it’s written with the subtlety of a car wreck… but it’s about how Clark Kent becomes SUPERMAN. How can I not watch that?

The series has ranged from “decent” to “awful” to “OK, that was kind of cool” over the course of its nine year run. It started out fairly family friendly, but as time went on succumbed to the typical CW temptation of adding some female skin, sexual situations and even one episode that was as close as they dared get to one of the Saw movies as far as gore. I’ve never missed an episode, and as far as I can remember they always stayed away from politics.

Until this (supposedly) final 10th season.

Before I go on, let me say that I’m fully aware that superhero stories have been used as allegories for what happens in the real world – it’s well known that in the X-Men comics that mutants living in fear represented gays. Marvel Comics’ Civil War saga (conceptualized and written by well known Leftie comic book scribe Mark Millar) about the “Superhero Registration Act” in which superheroes had to reveal their secret identities to the US government and go to work for it was a reaction to the War on Terror (or as it’s now known: “The disagreement with those who shall not be named”) and the Patriot Act.

But Smallville always steered clear of all that (stick with what works with your target audience: teenage romance and angst).

Back in spring 2008, series creators Alfred Gough and Miles Millar decided to leave the show. They’d completed seven seasons, and despite the press release-type statements, the real reason they left was never known. For season 8 and beyond, the highest ranked staffers on the show stepped up to produce it. That season wavered between good episodes and not, but season 9 turned out to be one of the better seasons of the entire run with Clark really getting into the whole superhero thing, appearances by the Justice Society (Star Girl and Hawkman’s costumes notwithstanding).

However, now, in its 10th and what is supposed to be final season, a definite political agenda has crept into the show. It started out fine with the season premiere episode, but in the second episode (entitled “Shield“) they introduced a character from the comics named Cat Grant. Here she was portrayed as a typical Conservative woman as seen through the distorted glasses worn by a Liberal: She was naive, arrogant, judgmental, and annoying as hell in a squeaky clean way. She referred to the fact that superheroes should “come out of the shadows (i.e. closet)” even though she thought they were obviously “bad.”

I was annoyed but thought, eh, maybe I’m reading to much into it.

The following episode, entitled “Supergirl” opened with an obviously “bad” radio talk show host (made to seem like Michael Savage, Glenn Beck, etc.) talking about the evils of these super-powered vigilantes (read: illegal immigrants) and how they must be stopped, etc., etc. He’s taken over by a super-baddie and fans the flames of fear and hatred against super-vigilantes. Oh, he’s religious, too.

Second episode in a row… maybe it’s NOT just my imagination.

Now we’re onto the next: “Homecoming.” In this episode, four minutes from the end, Oliver Queen (aka Green Arrow) goes off full-on into a liberal talking points speech – talking about oil money greed and putting up a barbed wire fence to keep out people that just want a better life. Granted, the comic book character has always been portrayed as a Liberal, but he’s been on the show for 3 1/2 years and this is the first I’ve noticed it.

Yeah. Something is definitely up.

And last week’s episode, “Isis” – where I cringed at the return of Cat Grant who was her pleasant self once again. I suppose the writers figured that they were being too subtle for the typical Smallville fan, so in this episode they actually had her say “I will never understand liberals.”

Of course I’ve gotten into arguments with readers on my own site over this – but even some of those who at first were saying “aw, come on, you’re reading too much into this” are starting to say “What the hell – can they knock this political crap off?”

Of course at least one irony found in this situation, is that while the staff of Smallville is all for using super-powered vigilantes as allegory, I’m pretty sure they’d be the first to cry foul at the thought of real-life vigilantes stopping crime, just as I would guess they’re against allowing citizens to protect themselves via the second amendment – you know, the one that makes you and me “super-powered” against an overpowering adversary. Of course this is all speculation on my part… *cough*.

I emailed the press contact for the series, and at the time I’m writing this have yet to receive any sort of reply regarding a change in tone or staffing on the show that might explain this.

Take 31 – C.A.A. Come. And. Accept.

We walked the length of a carpeted football field, past some sort of Buddhist waterfall, through an automated Starbucks machine zone and then to an elevator that on all four sides was a fish tank. My escort waited for me to enter, followed behind me, then with his back to me pushed floor number seven. Hypnotized into a stint of free association by the fish that circled me like some sort of marine park amusement ride, I could feel the gooey ooze of my mind begin to take hold. As the elevator continued to rise, the tiny speakers above the aquarium pulled me from my hypnotic state by what sounded like a public service announcement. It went something like this, “Hello and welcome to CAA, Creative Artist Agency, the most powerful name in entertainment representation. You should know that some of our current clients have films opening this weekend, and you should go to the Cineplex and see them. Here is a short list for you to memorize and tell friends…

…Ralph Fiennes in The Cherry Tomato Picker, Julia Roberts in the remake of The Sound of Music, Brad Pitt as Al Gore in Hanging Chad, the Al Gore Story. And look for Nicholas Cage in Champagne Supernova, the story of a disenfranchised American struggling to become a French citizen in Champagne, France. For a complete list of client films, and to see if you are eligible for a free matinee pass to see any of the films mentioned in this announcement, ask you agent’s assistant for further details.” Then with an auctioneer’s sort of tone and pace, the announcement finished with: “CAA employees, family members, house-help and landscapers are not eligible for free movie passes. Thank you for choosing CAA as the representative to your working future in show business. This CAA announcement is brought to you by Carl’s Junior.” Just as this little bit of information finished, the elevator stopped on the seventh floor and the doors swished open.

“Are you Kavel’s assistant? Should I ask you about movie passes?”

“No, I am not Kavel’s assistant, thank God. But I’m sure Jeffrey, who is, can get you anything you like. This way please.”

We walked a hallway that bustled with activity, phones ringing, faxes faxing, people working behind computer screens, others thumbing through People magazine and all while sipping Starbucks in a mode of work.

I was escorted into a large white room with the vacant feel of an Ikea display. Nine Frisbee-sized Swiss Army clocks representing the time zones of Los Angeles, New York, London, Nashville, Beijing, St. Louis, Calgary and Stockholm circled the room. A large photo of Paul McCartney and Lenin, the communist leader not the co-singer, hung on opposing walls, the plant in the corner was very large and very plastic, and a red crescent moon-shaped microfiber couch with a matching footstool in the shape of a star was placed deliberately in the center. It was either an old Soviet Union installation work of art, or it was this Hollywood agencies way of honoring Muslim freedom fighters being  tortured by the CIA in secret prisons all over the world by saying, “See, we respect your religion, and here’s a fifty-thousand-dollar microfiber crescent moon couch and star shaped footstool to prove it. Please don’t behead us.”

Instructed to have a seat on the footstool, I was told that the team would be with me in a moment. Deafening silence filled the room as I sat and waited for what felt like a lifetime but couldn’t have been more than five minutes. The door opened and a lanky young man, dressed in a red velvet blazer with a Ringo Star haircut, entered with a swish in his walk that could’ve stirred a frappuccino. He stepped up to me, handed me two free movie passes and said, “I’m Lord Kavel’s bitch; anything you need you call me. Never ask from Lord Kavel what I can get you first. I’m the gatekeeper. You may call me Jeff, Jeffrey, or little worker Bee. Ciao.” He did a sort of backwards swishing walk, opened the door, and spun out.

Slouching into the microfiber footstool I felt the beginnings of a nap coming on when the door again burst open and in walked nine perfect human specimens, all dressed in black designer outfits. These nine perfect human specimens breathed under haircuts that surrounded their cultural facial leanings that hinted at the fact that each may be a representative from the nine time-zone-clocks that held the room together. As if choreographed by Bob Fosse or Paula Abdul with a touch of chemically altered crazy, they all stopped in front of the microfiber couch, sat, and crossed their legs in unison. They sat looking me over like a piece of meat, or, like an old Soviet Union art installation.

Five men, four woman. No one said a word.

My agent Kavel entered, placed his hands on my shoulders, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Don’t worry about them.  I know they look like a bunch of high-end pricks that can eat trout from a county river and crap sushi onto a plate in Beverly Hills, but trust me, they’re all the right people for you. They’re either all gay or they’re Jews.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take them anymore. Prime example. Sean Penn calling for the arrest of anyone who tags dictator Hugo Chavez as a dictator. That must now include the mass arrest of the entire leadership of the OAS, which just slammed Pennhead’s hero El Chavista on his horrific human rights record. I will say it: that statement is as un-American as it gets, and is dictatorial in itself. Those are fighting words, IMHO. Tell me where I’m wrong.

Then we had Tom Hanks effectively saying that the Japanese and Americans wanted to destroy each other only because they were different breeds of racists. That intellectually vacuous statement not only slanders America’s most honorable record in the war against a genocidal Imperial Japan, it slanders the sacred memory of every US service member who fought and died in that conflict. As a Navy veteran myself, and the son of an Army veteran of Normandy Beach on D-Day? Fighting words.

And now, actress Megan Mullally believes that Jay Leno’s attempts to attract red state viewers is “insane.” Is it? Gee, I thought Hollywood studios, networks and creative film artists sought the widest audiences possible. Aren’t we all Americans here? I guess not, huh? How do all you red staters feel being effectively declared insane by the esteemed Dr. Mullally? Fighting words? I believe it is time they are met head on and challenged. My answer? Impact statements. By that I mean Americans making a punitive statement to said Tinseltown offenders to let them know just how numerous and offended we are. We accomplish that through temporary one-time boycotts of the offenders’ projects.

Here is The Plan. It is too late to make an impact statement on the premiere of the Hanks/Spielberg HBO series The Pacific. But it is not too late to make a statement on Episode Two next Sunday night. Here is how we let Mr. Hanks know of our rank offense at his fighting words re the Pacific War. This Sunday, don’t watch it. For one night. Don’t even TiVo it. Then next week, everybody tune it in whether you were going to watch it or not. The ratings dips and jumps will send a very clear message. If it helps, think of it as being The Joker for a Day. Be an Agent of Chaos in the ratings! That work for ya?

I consider that a very balanced yet powerful response. As to Mr. Penn, he has four upcoming film projects, none of which has an official release date. One is Fair Game, the story of Joseph Wilson and the Valerie Plame “scandal.” No impact statement necessary there. I’ll bet five-to-one that film is DOA at the box office. Bush-bashing is so yesterday. No, the only juicy prospect in Mr. Penn’s future is the Farrelly Brothers’ reboot of The Three Stooges. I say totally avoid the film on its release weekend. Give him a taste of what rectal cancer at the box office feels like. Make him scream.

As to Ms. Mullally, there doesn’t seem to be much of anything of hers at IMDB that won’t collapse financially or ratings-wise of its own accord. You can beat a dead horse, but what’s the point? Perhaps that’s why she said what she did. You know. Get in good with Sean Penn and Tom Hanks. I’ll keep an eye on Ms. Mullally and any impact statement-worthy projects she may get attached to.

I never forget fighting words. Ever. And I will do my part. I fully intend to contact every major US veterans’ organization on the matter of The Pacific, and will recommend they make an impact statement of their own this coming Sunday. Will you do your part? Is missing one TV show or opening weekend at the box office too much to ask in response to fighting words by those creative film artists most concerned with the project’s financial and viewership success?

Lastly, a blackly comic punchline. A spec script I have been laboring on for eighteen months, my fourth, is finally wrapping this week and going to market after rewrites based on coverage. That’s why I’ve been mostly MIA as of late. I know. Alex Perez, aka Hollywood Scab Writer, probably has a better shot at the Biz than I will after this. But I’m a writer. I write. Telling me to stop writing is like telling a charter NAMBLA Member in Good Standing to lay off the young boys. It ain’t happening.

I may have to move on to another field of writing in the end, but at least I take a clear conscience with me. I also take with me a huge, loving and most supportive family, lots of great  friends, and a lot of most promising young people I have befriended who adore me as I do them. I even have today’s Oscar Schindler for LGBTs and some real gay advocates on my side via my reporting on the LGBT human rights horrorshows in Iran and Iraq. Not like the professional fakes at HRC. Larger point being, I am an Army of One. I may never get rich in Hollywood, but I will never be poor with all I have, either. In point of fact I am already rich, and there is nothing Lefty Hollywood can do to hurt me in the slightest. What’s another word for nothing left to lose again? I’m sure our Founding Fathers knew.

I also have a bit of a fan base here at Big Hollywood. Love you too, Jimmy Arone! It is we who are are the true Hollywood rebels now, with clear ideals and senses of mission and purpose. It is the Lefty Hollywood establishment that is totally fucked, ideologically floundering and completely out of touch with the American people.  All I’m saying is that it is time to lay down some dope smacks as fighting words demand. Can I get an Amen, some tuned-out TVs and deferred movie attendance on that?

I opened TimeOut NY magazine this morning and saw that I was featured in their “Essential New York” issue. Excellent. I’m overjoyed, as most performers are when they get some press. Now among the other nice things in their profile, they said this:

“He’s the only conservative Republican comedian who’s actually funny.”

Now, what do you think was the first thing I did when I saw that in print? Defend the honor of Evan Sayet and Steven Crowder? No.

My act is personal, not political, and those are two different things, unless you believe what it says in that dog-eared copy of “Our Bodies, Ourselves” on your ex-girlfriend’s bookshelf. But since Andrew invited me to “come out” on this site last year and air my (comparatively moderate) center-right views, the word has gotten around to some of my fans and associates that I might be playing for the other team. I’ll be at a showbiz cocktail party and someone will playfully say, “I heard a rumor about you…” They’re not trying to be mean or McCarthyite-they genuinely like the idea that they may have a right-wing acquaintance. It’s fun for them! But then they want to pick my brain. “How did it happen? Was your dad a minister?” They begin to introduce me to their friends as “their favorite Republican.”

I usually respond the same way I did yesterday when the TimeOut NY profile came out–I immediately Twittered, blogged and Facebooked, “For the record, I am a registered independent.”

Why this reflex? Why do I rush to portray myself as an “independent?”

Two reasons:

1. It is true. I identify with no political party. I have a clear set of views about the way the world works best, and at this moment the people with an R next to their name do less damage to the things I hold dear than the ones with a D. I didn’t say “no damage,” just less. (Even though I am one, the politicians with an I next to their name often tend to be a little flaky. Sorry, guys.)

2. Most of my fans and colleagues identify themselves with the Left, and people in show business personalize their political affiliation to the point that anyone who believes differently is seen as lacking common decency and compassion. You’ve got to get past that somehow, and it’s hard to do that in a few short sentences. Which is probably why so many conservative entertainers just keep their mouth shut.

In most cases politics and art together do not interest me. I didn’t go to see Benicio del Toro in “Che,” and I wouldn’t go to see Kelsey Grammer in “Goldwater!” So I don’t do politics in my act. I’m in the business of communication. I want to play to everyone, not just people who are like me. It’s easy to find your audience niche and play to it (“Get ‘R Done!”), but where’s the challenge in that? It’s not gutsy, edgy, or artistic. But political comics on the left rarely admit the same about their own habit of preaching to the choir. I remember doing a show at a hip Avenue A club in NYC shortly after 9/11 and the guy on before me said “I know I’m not supposed to say this right now, but I think our President is an asshole.” Applause.

What? You mean you’re willing to go after George W. Bush in the East Village? Why, you’re another Lenny Bruce! Way to speak truth to power!

When I rush to portray myself as independent, I’m not backing away from anything, or trying to hide my beliefs. I’ve chosen to put myself in the public eye, and I’m trying to communicate with them, which is nearly impossible to do when people’s reaction to certain buzzwords is to shut down, tune you out, and change the channel to someone who is more like them.