Handsome

Yes. Yes he is.

So, Yeah, It Was a Scam

So as you may already have guessed, this radio talent thing is a total scam. I am proud to say I did not, in fact, pony up any money, despite being such a pussy.

I roll up to this sketchy building in Hollywood about 15 minutes early. As I sit down in the waiting room, this nice young guy, about 20 with corn rows, tells me they just brought everyone back. I poke my head into the reception area and ask if I can go back to the meeting. The guy working reception is kind of a dick, but he leads me back to a small drab room with about 30 chairs, and maybe 15 other people sitting around. A Ken Burns documentary about the history of radio is playing. No one is talking.

After 45 minutes of this, this nicely dressed guy named Tony comes in to the room. He's about 45 years old and has a lovely voice. He spends the next hour pumping us up about how awesome it is to work for his company, which is called American Radio Network. He reminds us several times that they've been in business since 1968. Tony does a lot of audience interaction, and you get the feeling he's been doing this shit for a while.

Tony then plays us this awfully produced short video about how the "system" works. The guy on the video looks like Emeril LaGasse and reads off a sheet of paper without looking at the camera. Shit looks like it was made around 1985 or so. Lots of star wipes and freeze frames.

The scam, I mean system, works as follows: you can either be an "independent producer," which Tony is totally pushing for, or you can be on "Guaranteed Employment," where you can work for the company in the way that Tony sees fit. And I'm guessing he sees fit to make most people "assistants," which according to their memo is the lowest paid position at 8 bucks an hour.

The Emeril lookalike tells us all the exciting opportunities that are just around the corner. To show us what he means, we watch a few quick clips of all the amazing people who have benefited from the ARN. My absolute favorite is this dumpy looking British chick with a GIGANTIC old school microphone, cornering a very confused and somewhat irritated Quincy Jones at some event. She asks him how he's doing, and he says alright. CUT.

American Radio Network claims to run a show called "Kaleidascope" [sic]. Quick searches online reveal that this show maybe plays on one AM station in Riverside for one hour every night. From like 2-3 in the morning.

Anyways, the first time we get to ask questions (which is one hour into his presentation, on top of the 45 minutes I already spent watching the fucking documentary), I raise my hand. Tony calls on me.

"So is there any point at all where I have to give you money, Tony?"

"Excellent question, excellent question, what's your name?"

"Dave."

"Excellent question, Dave."

Now I should mention that there is this awesome old guy in the crowd who was REALLY enthusiastic about Tony's presentation, and every time Tony asked one of his slam dunk questions, old guy would blurt out something wrong and funny.

"So the main way we make our money here at American National Radio is what, anyone?" Tony asks.

"Profit!" the old guy shouts.

"Yes, ok, sure, but looking for something else, anyone?"

"People!" the old guy shouts.

"Right, we make our money with people, ok, but what is our revenue stream?"

"From the profits!" old guy yells.

"Right, from advertising. Very good!" Tony says.

Then he goes into a 15 minute answer about how advertising works. The effect is hypnotic. As he calls on someone else, I realize he didn't answer my question. That Tony is a crafty guy.

So at this point they call us back, three at a time, to read some copy into a microphone in a little studio. Tony gives us some pointers on how to read it. He tells us that the ellipses mean to take a pause, that underlined words get extra emphasis, and that when it says "MMMMMMMM" you are supposed to make a yummy sound, not to read a bunch of M's in a row.

They tell us that we just need to walk in, sit down, and start speaking into the microphone. I get the funny feeling that they may not be recording us at all, but I keep my mouth shut. At this point in the "meeting," there still hasn't been any mention of a fee, so maybe if nothing else I can record some shit in a studio for free, right? Doesn't sound that terrible.

I go into the studio, rattle off the copy in my rich, vibrant baritone, and come back in and sit down. I turn on my phone to see what time it is. Almost two hours have elapsed, and I have some shit to do. I am eager to leave, but Tony is adamant that there is some very important information coming in his "Q&A" session, and it would be a shame to miss it.

After everyone has cycled through the "auditions," Tony has his two assistants (bored middle aged guys, one of which was the dickish receptionist) come in and pass out some memos. And after two hours, lots of pumping up, and about 20 laugh out loud outbursts from the old guy, we finally get to it: He tells us to call back tomorrow to see if we've been accepted, and then we'll need to come to an orientation, which has a $40 fee ("to cover Orientation costs") OR we can give them $98 (as a "deposit") and get a Press Card!

What kind of event actually accepts American Radio Network Press Cards is beyond me, but I'm guessing it ain't the Oscars.

So for all of you who, like stupid me, have been duped into going to this dog and pony show, DO NOT FORK OVER MONEY TO THESE PEOPLE. While there is a possibility that you will be able to record something on their ancient equipment, you will have to pay for it. You will not be earning a living, you will not be advancing your career.

Remember that nice guy with corn rows I met when I first came in? Well two hours later, he's still in the waiting room, but looking a little more depressed, and keeps looking at his watch and looking for someone to talk to. I get the feeling that he's come in for his first recording session, and is finding that Tony is less enthusiastic to help him out now that he's got his $40.

American Radio Network is a scam, pure and simple. Real jobs don't ask you to pay them. Remember that. But don't take my word for it, check out what these guys have to say:

http://www.somethingawful.com/d/awful-links/awful-link-2732.php

http://boards.radio-info.com/smf/index.php?topic=26624.0;prev_next=prev

And I am now off to find a real job. Yay.

Nothing Matress Anymore

I love Eagle Rock.

The Radio Break

So I'm going to this audition on Wednesday. I found the link on craigslist, which is a big red flag to me. The last "sounds too good to be true" job listing I found there was for a $30 / hr. internship working in "games and social networking." After I sent an email, they responded with this form letter with some steps to take:

1) Download a game from this website. Play the game for 20 minutes, then write a synopsis and tell us three ways you would improve this game. No problem. Done.

2) Go to this website building website, sign up, and design a simple web site with the tools offered. Of course, this site requires giving a credit card number.

So that didn't work out so great.

Anyways, the radio thingy claims they have a lot of positions for DJs, interviewers, etc. I got an email with a phone number, and the phone number had a voicemail. I have to go to this place in Hollywood where they'll have a short orientation, then have "private auditions." I am wary that I will have to fork up some cash for said audition. And I am such a pussy, I'm afraid I'll end up ponying up.

The Email I Keep Expecting to Receive That Will Turn My Life Around

Dear Mr. Massey,

After countless hours trolling the internet for a savvy, intelligent, outgoing and resourceful person to join our team, I stumbled upon you.

You were not an easy man to find! We first found your name in the box of rejected submissions to McSweeneys.com (They really snubbed you on that "A Bear Holds a Press Conference" bit, but that is neither here nor there). Then, of course, we were very excited to see your nervous, panicked performance at the Improv 101 Friends & Family show at the UCB theatre 3 years ago. You could barely tell you were hyperventilating. The flop sweat and stuttering just confirmed what we were beginning to learn: this man has "it!"

Then, of course, we stumbled upon your series of "Hey, Fuck You" blogs from your myspace page. In a word: Amazing. The way you channel your negativity and bitterness into eloquent and succinct humorous paragraphs is truly a gift. Which led us to your short lived Cincinnati Bengals blog, "WhoDave." The title of that blog alone deserves accolades. Well played, sir.

All of these accomplishments piqued our interest, but we weren't ready to reach out to you yet. So what tipped the scales? That's right, Mr. Massey, it was your production coordinator work on a series of mid-budget reality shows. When we saw that famous guy do that crazy stuff with those contestants, we had to find out who you were. Who the hell is the guy who set up the production office for this show? Who set up the printers for network printing (best I've ever seen)? And for the love of god I have to meet the man who booked those plane tickets to Utah!

Imagine my chagrin when I realized all of these accomplishments are the work of just one man.

We would like to offer you a job, Mr. Massey. It will be primarily voice over work. I know that we've never heard you speak before, but if anecdotal evidence is to be believed, you have a rich baritone that simply dances off the ear drums. We will also ask you to write brash, profanity-laden sketches that will be animated so as to not limit your vision.

For compensation, how does $5000 a week sound? You can start immediately, and you'll be able to take off time whenever you want to go to weddings, bachelor parties, or vacation spots.

Thank you for your time, and we look forward to meeting with you in person (finally!).

Sincerely,

Rich Cool Guy Who Totally Wants to Mentor You

Coca Puffs!

Courtesy of some guy on Cracked.com

Movie Review: Temple Grandin is Better than Your Favorite Movie

Once in a lifetime, a movie comes along that inspires, moves, and utterly destroys your pre-conceived notions about cinema. Ok, maybe more than once in a lifetime. But like once a week. TEMPLE GRANDIN is that movie, and this is that week.

For those who aren't familiar with the source material, TEMPLE GRANDIN tells the true story of an autistic woman named Temple Grandin (played by Claire Danes), who later in life became the talented musician Beck.

After struggling with her autism during childhood, Temple defied the odds and attended college and received her masters of science. She became a respected member of the animal husbandry community, and her revolutionary designs for washing cows and leading them to slaughter revolutionized the cattle industry.

Claire Danes shows incredible balls in her portrayal of Temple Grandin. Remember how Claire was a hipster sex symbol for most of her career? Yeah, apparently Claire was all "fuck that shit," because it's tough to imagine having sex with her after this one.

So Temple has problems interacting with people and suffers from panic attacks when she becomes agitated. While visiting her aunt's ranch in Arizona, Temple discovers a machine that cowboys use to calm cattle during immunizations. This machine squeezes the cow and holds them in place, which has a calming effect on the beasts. Temple is so fascinated by this device that she builds a small scale version for herself. Every time she has a panic attack, she dives into her squeeze machine and it totally mellows her out.

While I must applaud Temple on her innovation and problem solving capacities, I can't help but side with her (first) college roommate, who walked in during a squeeze session, and reasonably freaked out seeing Temple in the prone position inside a mechanical squeeze box. It's all about context, you know?

Anyways, the best scene in the movie occurs when Temple arrives at a ranch to discover that the cowboys have totally fucked up her cow washing apparatus, resulting in the death of three cows. She totally loses her shit, screaming at them for the adjustments they made to her machines. "Cows can't walk on sheet metal!" I imagine it's the scene Claire thought would play before her Oscar acceptance speech. Alas, it was not to be.

But Claire clearly commits to this role, and you have to respect that. Especially because she talks in this very, ahem, distinct voice throughout the film. Although it's difficult to describe speech patterns in text, I will do my best: You know how deaf people speak? The slight mispronunciation, the loud, atonal braying sounds? Like that but combined with wide-eyed outrage and shock at nearly everything.

This speech pattern has become my go-to voice for my daily activities, and I wield it like a broadsword.

Need to spice up dinner? Sprinkle liberally with some Temple Grandin.

Girlfriend stressed out from work? Can I offer you some cattle-related outrage?

Need an edge for that all-important job interview? Let me tell you about my cow washing mechanism.

Watch this movie with your loved one. Next time he or she is pissed off at you, drop some hot Temple Grandin lines and count the time it takes for the tension to melt away. The record is .5 seconds.

Moving right along, here is a list of things I learned from watching TEMPLE GRANDIN:

1) Cows can't walk on sheet metal

2) We would all be better off with David Strathairn in our lives

3) Women can subsist entirely on pudding and jello

4) Folksy ranch journalists will side with autistic women over mean cowboys every time.

5) I totally need a squeeze machine

TEMPLE GRANDIN is currently playing on HBO every 45 minutes.

RATING: 4.5 out of 5