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Tuesday, January 16, 2001
Movie Star
By Paul Ford
In the morning, I brush with Fame.
My friend said, wake up, I got a digital video camera, and an editing computer. I'm going to make movies with you as my star.
Sure. Is it that I have a sort of big handsomeness? I ask. Is it my sort of cockeyed charm? My rich, deep voice?
No, he replies; it is that when you wear that green hat you look retarded, and I want you to wear the green hat and come over and smear hamburgers on your face while I strike you with a dowel. From there we'll improvise.
That sounds like fun, I said, and I went straight to the station.
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