Chuck Lorre Productions #365

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FOOD, PETTING AND PLAYING PRODUCTIONS #365

An odd thing happens after you've seen your name in print over and over again. It becomes detached from your sense of self. The shipping label no longer has any relationship with what's in the box. The experience is sort of like when you were a kid and you'd quickly repeat a word untill it had no meaning and was just a funny sound. It's disorienting when that happens to your name, but after awhile, surprisingly, it's actually quite liberating. There's your name in an article or some blog, and then, far away, in some other place - or no place if you're feeling zennish - is you. Another way to look at it is to imagine a soul or spirit rising up from a corpse. Everybody is standing around the dearly departed, signing his praises or bitching about him, while his "ectoplasmic body" is hovering near the ceiling and yelling "hey, I'm over here! I'm not that. I'm somewhere else." (or, zennishly, nothing else.) Of course, aside from the family dog, no one can hear or see him. They're all fixated on the body. The name. Which brings up an interesting idea. Dogs don't know our names. They see the real us, sans moniker. If they think anything when we walk into a room, it's probably something like, "Hey, it's food, petting and playing"

This is hands down my favorite yet, mainly because of the dog part... Chucke Lorre you amuse me.

Chuck Lorre Productions #364

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"On behalf of the producers of The Big Bang Theory I want to take this opportunity to thank our intrepid office staffers: Jen D'Angelo, Anthony Robinson, Jess Ambrosetti, Gary Torvinen, Tara Hernandez, Charlie Back, Robin Green for their tireless efforts and ridiculous devotion to the building of the Lego Death Star seen in tonight's episode. You are all now part of television history, although that will not be reflected in your paycheck."

That thing is FREAKING AWESOME! It's far superior to this one

Chuck Lorre Productions #363

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Was there an original thought to be thunk? Or was he forever doomed to be an emulator, or worse, a regurgitator? And if he was, so what? Doesn't every college sophomore majoring in English because they have no freaking clue what to do with their life know that disdaining the derivative is the height of unoriginality? more importantly, what was the likelihood that he could keep writing without landing on even one declarative sentence? And why did he use the idiot word "thunk"? Is he actually an idiot? Or is he wildly clever? Will we find out one day? Who knows? Who cares? Should he continue trying to write a vanity card when he has a raging flu and is so heavily intoxicated from potpourri of over-the-counter cold medications that he keeps referring to himself in third person?

Probably not.

-Chuck Lorre

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She was the kind of woman who said, "I hope this special day is infused with beauty and light and that all your hopes and dreams crystalize into a loving reality emanating from an equally loving universe." He would have been more comfortable if she just said, "Happy birthday."

He was the kind of man who said, "Whenever I see one of those tired, middle-aged balding schmucks pushing a baby carriage down Montana Avenue behind his thirty-year old, yoga-fied, Pilate-sized, armoire shopping, second wife, I can't help but feel a wave of pity for the poor, toad-like bastard." She would have been more comfortable if he just said, "I don't really want more kids."

She was the kind of woman who said, "What difference does it make if I've slept with rock stars, movie stars and sports legends? You measure up quite nicely to all those guys." He would have been more comfortable if she just said, "Stand sill while I stab you in the heart with my intrauterine device."

He was the kind of man who said, "I'm a worn-out, emotional wreck who's incapable of anything resembling warmth, love and intimacy, but I have a lot of money and you'll never want for anything." She would have been more comfortable if he just said... NO, actually she was entirely comfortable with the way he put it.

-Chuck Lorre

 

Note, 'crystalize' while this isn't entirely wrong I, and most spellcheck dictionaries, prefer crystallize but hey he's the one getting paid the big bucks.

-Ryan Mercer

 


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Miscellaneous Show Biz Tips

Never forget that taking a bow and ducking are essentially the same thing.

The reason you suffer is because you think your identity and worth as a human being are inextricably tied into your career. Don't think that.

Success has many parents, and even more lawyers.

They're paying you a lot because they're killing you.

Don't grow too attached to your agent. Like a beloved spouse, they come and go.

If you want fair, go to Pomona September 8-26. Wear comfy shoes.

It's not true that if you believe the good reviews, you must also believe the bad ones. The bad ones could have been written by mean, stupid people who hate your success.

Act like your job is the most important thing in the world, but never forget that it's ultimately meaningless. All we are is dust in the wind, yada-yada-yada

-Chuck Lorre

Chuck Lorre Productions #359

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Okay, I'm just gonna say it out loud. There are times when going crazy looks attractive. And I'm not talking about becoming charmingly eccentric. I've already got that covered none ways to Sunday. No, I'm talking about purposely emigrating to the land of lunacy. That special psychological zip code where The Ancient Laws of Behave Yourself mo longer apply. My "reasoning" is simple. It takes a great deal of effort to sustain a conservative, trustworthy persona. Surrendering that effort would involve, from a Freudian perspective, a conscious dismantling of the super ego-that part of the psyche entrusted with enforcing parental and socially approved actions. And therein lies the allure of going full frontal wack-a-doodle. The constant energy required to pass as normal would suddenly become available for doing and saying whatever pleases me in the moment. Imagine it. The id and libido completely unbound by any and all mortal or cultural restrictions. Hmm... Probably won't need the shrink anymore... might need a lawyer.

-Chuck Lorre