Two Hollywoods

About twenty-three years after I told someone spooky I had an idea for a little "spy movie," a guy who may actually know somebody in the Holly-hood took some pages. He said positive things about my writing, so now, 10 million dollar a movie actress types enjoy shopping with threadbare Mr. Hughes at the Salvation Army Store. If we had lunch instead of bogus intrigue, here's what I'd say to her:

"Uh, I saw that movie...what was it called? And, uh, I really, uh...would like to, uh, maybe uh, could we? Is this real? Someday, maybe...uh...Can I have some more coffee?"

Yes, the shock would be too great for my little 145 I.Q. brain after decades of Scr(i)pt and Creative Screenwriting, then going west and being treated like a pariah. Unfortunately, there's no RKO for sale, and I don't seem to ever have much more than $20 dollars on me. Spies like that "cop code" where 20 means location, but have ya'll considered there is something, maybe many things, 200 - 22,000 miles up that know way too much about my "20." "Fight fair, not like rodents" is the Hughes battle cry among the rich and famous.

Moe Howard of the Three Stooges knew that when you toss down the cheese, men & mice will go separate ways, and I find it no "coincidence" grandpa kept them under contract long past their prime, and also not coincidentally, I did see a living color Moe, Larry, and replacement Curly at the drive-in with mom and dad. We made that movie? Holy cow! Seems the Stooges were going to the moon, then grandpa helped send real astronauts, and I get treated like this?

We divert from the prepared text to say I'm mighty pissed at the photo on the inside front and back cover of Call Me Pat: The Autobiography of the Man Howard Hughes Chose to Lead Hughes Aircraft. It should have been on my wall a long time ago, and now it will, or I guess the Thousand Oaks policeman will find an "unidentified body."

More tomorrow, spykids.