Hello, everyone. I'm Sean Crespo, a chronically depressed and
even more chronically unemployed comedian, actor, and comedy writer-- what they
call a "Triple Placebo" in the biz. Recently, I was given free rein
by a children's television production company to come up with a few ideas for
kids' shows. Not sure how to proceed in this new field of writing, I was assured,
"Just write what you know," by the company exec who had decided to
hire me after reading just two pieces of mine, which he had managed to dig up
from my days at a humor magazine whose name I shouldn't mention here out of
respect, but which rhymes with "National Lampoon."
Give up? It was the Mational Hampoon, a small publication
from just outside of Ottawa that fell into disrepute after going to court for
its 400th title infringement lawsuit. If you get a chance though, go rent "Mational
Hampoon's Panimal Mouse" starring Lon Delushi and Tim Matheson-- that guy
has no scruples; he'll work for anyone.
The two pieces in question-- and I think this is important, because
someone in kids' TV decided I was right for kids' TV based solely on these pieces--
were as follows:
1) A sketch called "Rape Crisis Hotline for Animals"
where a crab dials in and clacks responses out with his pincers to inform the
hotline attendant he's been abused by a man with a sharp stick;.
2) A fake Triptik I wrote for the A.A.A.A., a.k.a. the American
Automobile Association for Agoraphobics (motto: "THE JOURNEY OF A THOUSAND
MILES IS NOT SAFE") where the directions eventually lead the Triptik requester
at one point to "MERGE into TERROR" then later on to "NOT waste
time opening automobile door because the MOON IS FOLLOWING you. LEAP headfirst
through windshield. GO GO GO. (.0001 miles) HUDDLE in POOL of own FILTH. Now
QUAIL for 10 minutes. Welcome home!"
Based on these two pieces, if I were that executive, I would
sooner post bail for the Neverland Ranch's boy wrangler (yes, I said that) and
hire him to write a children's show than pay me to write anything
for anyone under the age of 45. Nevertheless, talent begs to be used, so I,
Sean Crespo, a desperately poor out-of-work actor/writer/comedian, decided I'd
take a crack and "write what I know."
***
Pitch #1: A 27-year-old unemployed actor realizes
he's never going to make it and shoots himself-- through the temple, to make
sure it's a clean shot. His best friend is a talking, thinking Casting Director.
Upshot: They passed. They didn't elaborate on
why, but my guess is they felt the idea of a "thinking casting director"
wasn't realistic enough.
Pitch #2: A 27-year-old unemployed comedian
is forced to ply his trade in the lucrative open mic circuit. After years of
anonymity, he tries to kill himself out of shame, but he's stopped by a kindly,
talking Leno monologue who teaches him to settle for less.
Upshot: Again they passed. They didn't elaborate
on why with this one either, but I bet they felt the Leno-monologue character
would alienate the grandparents of the kids we'd be trying to get to watch our
show. Fair enough.
Anyway, I had one last idea in me...
Pitch #3: A 27-year-old unemployed comedy writer
is approached to write children's TV show ideas. His first two ideas are rejected
by a small-minded executive, but his third idea is hailed as genius and bought
outright, points on the gross to be specified later. Unfortunately, the comedy
writer's best friend is a kindly, talking .357 Magnum bullet. Their friendship
proves to be short-lived after the bullet decides to leave his home in the revolver
and move in with the writer, through his eye socket. Then the CSI: Make-Believe
Land cops show up to solve the murder of the comedian, and along the way,
they all learn some valuable lessons. Airs after "Blue's Clues."
Upshot: I thought I had a ringer with that one.
Alas, they did not, as they say, "bite." It just goes to show what
a volatile and unpredictable business this is. Oh well; their loss.
In a clichéd and cruel twist of fate, Sean
Crespo recently found employment as a part-time nanny and is now forced
to watch children's TV for at least 7 hours each day. He prays for death hourly
and with clockwork precision. Is it 12 already?
