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Turdstasis

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karlrove_2So I was all set to write a post about Joseph Lindsey’s new piece on how Ronald Reagan’s ghost helps Dick Cheney be a good power forward, or something, when, in the course of the painstaking research that goes into each and every quality post at AB:MC, I lighted upon something so shocking, so hilarious, and so fucking raw that I was hesitant to post about it, even though I knew I must.  

Posted below, in full, is the synopsis of the novel Joseph Lindsey is currently shopping, now that those nefarious liberals have totally ruined his glorious movie career:

TURD
Life to the right of Hollywood
by 
Joseph Lindsey

Clinton Feast leans to the right of most his peers, and as he stands on the cliff of an extended youth about to be pushed into his thirtieth year he’s accomplished no more than the ability to breathe in and out. With a spare bicycle tire beginning to form just under his navel, he’s a down-and-out and out-of-work actor. Fired by his talent manager to focus on a gay client who plays a singing alley cat on Broadway, and dumped by his PETA friendly girlfriend for a more inspiring relationship with a dog, he’s a flaccid thespian convinced his greatest review will come in the form of a New York Times obituary. 

That is, until Clinton reluctantly accepts the lead-role in “Turdmorphosis,” the small indie film that tells the tall tale of a Wall Street broker whose greediness festers into overwhelming guilt and shame, until he wakes one morning as a living, breathing, walking, talking turd. With his real-life feelings mirroring that of the prosthetic crap-wrap suit he‘s forced to squeeze inside of to play the fecal role, Clinton plunges himself into his work and is ultimately embraced by Hollywood with an Oscar nomination. 

Its then that things get weird. It’s a presidential election year and Clinton has a dirty little secret, he’s a Republican. The risk of him being outed as a member of the GOP, and a thespian who voted for W. once before, threatens his shot at international fame as he’s set to play Captain America in a summer blockbuster. 

Armed only with a knitted hemp bracelet with the acronym W.W.M.D. (“What Would Mickey Do?” Mickey Rourke that is.) and his ability to weave the real world through an imaginary screenplay in his head, Clinton is forced to find his own transformation inside a sewer of silicone injected and sequined wrapped global know it all actors, agents, producers, publicist and fans.

Set to the back drop of the Bush/Kerry elections amidst the Iraq war, as seen through the lens of Tinsel town, Clinton Feast is a modern day retelling of Kafka’s “Metamorphosis.” It’s a scathing satire on Hollywood hypocrisy that takes a huge wipe of celebrity royalty, flushes them down the toilet and doesn’t replace the paper roll when done.

I, on the other hand, have begun work on a novel where Franz Kafka rises from the grave, moves to Washington, D.C., and assembles a crack heist team, Ocean’s 11-style, in order to steal the nuclear football, thus allowing him to exact proportional vengeance on a world that has so mistreated his legacy.

You might find such a premise outlandish, but I promise you it has more grounding in reality than the idea that Jospesh Lindsey’s career was destroyed by liberals and not by, you know, sucking.

Also, Mickey Rourke would beat your ass for being such an idiot, that’s WMWD.

On a positive note, Lindsey’s BH bio promises that the he will updating his blog with podcasts of the novel.  Prepare for some close-reading posts in the future!

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Written by dieblucasdie

April 5, 2009 at 6:13 am

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