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Thursday 29 June 2017
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A MOGUL’S MEMOIR

A MOGUL’S MEMOIR

I must have been 3 years old when I saw my first film—some bullshit about a talking rodent—ever since then I’ve been involved in one way or another with what we generously call the business, or showbiz for those who prefer to drink champagne out of fluted glasses. 

I’ve been working on entertaining you assholes like it was a cure for cancer. I’ve given up all my dreams in making your dreams come true. There isn’t anybody who isn’t somebody who wasn’t a nobody who I made into a somebody and anybody who tells you different is a nobody.

Who told Stanley ‘the elevator doors opening are creepy but what if they were full of something? Blood maybe?’ ME

Who told JCVD post-modern irony is in, ‘look what it did for Arnie in The Last Action Hero’? ME

Who gave Michael Bay his Big Boy’s Book of Explosions and Homophobia for his 8th birthday? ME

Who told George Lucas that 1930s racial stereotypes were HI-Larious? ME

Who introduced Lindsay Lohan to the works of Jacques Derrida? ME, no wait. Actually that was Charlie Sheen.

I partied with Kubrick; got rat arsed with Malick on Jaegermeister and ate pot noodles with Mikey Caine. So for all the inside gossip, the green lights, the sequels, the remakes, the reboots, the franchises, the scandal and hoopla, this is the only blog you’ll ever need. You can also follow me on twatter. 
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