5 Snowglobes Do Not a Renaisaance Make

It's pretty difficult to imagine what it must of been like living in turn of the century Austria. Not this century. No, it's pretty easy to imagine the Austria of 2000, a discoteque and lederhosen stores every block. People drinking coffee. Mountains.  I'm referring to early 20th century, specifically Vienna. Austrians would influence the world immensely over the next few generations. Sigmund Freud was finding out how truly flawed we are, yet not finding out that most male's don't hate our Dad's because Oedipus; Our Dads are just dicks sometimes and so are we. Adolf Hitler was probably getting the shit kicked out of him because the other 12 year olds at school were wise enough to know what complete abomination he was. Mozart was dead but still cool, and a dude named Erwin Perzy was trying to make light bulbs brighter by surrounding them with water.*
*Because I'm a bad writer, this won't matter till much later.

The world we live in bums me out daily. Sometimes hourly. I know it's been much worse, but I feel like our "leaders" are too stupid and corrupt to adequetely represent the interests of their electorate and as a result we are suffering. I feel like the Golden Rule is something parents haven't been teaching their kids for about 25 years or longer. I think we don't respect each other or our surroundings. Tonight however, I think I'm getting a handle on one of these carmudgen cliches that bothers me so.
Today I brought some Christmas stuff home for my adorable holiday-loving wife from a wonderful antique bookstore which had closed and was giving away it's remaining inventory.
This place had officially been going out of business for about a month. I had never really been a regular customer because their stuff is really nice, old and fucking expensive. But a month ago, I noticed a sign in the window, "Store Retiring, Everything 50% Off." This wonderful antique bookstore now received this cheap bastard's undivided attention. I went in, saw several antique books and notepads I adored. I bought them and had lunch with a friend. I went back after finishing my bran muffin and saw some jewelry I knew the previously mentioned adorable wifey would enjoy. We had an anniversary coming up, so I bought them. At the checkout counter earlier I had noticed a beautiful miniature Complete Works of Shakespeare published in 1873.
A little backstory: I have wanted a complete works since I was 15. I even asked for a set for Christmas that year. I didn't get one come Christmas morning, but guess who did? My sister. (She helps manage a Marriott now. Way to know your kids, Mom.) How much irony goes into making the first Complete Works I own to be too fragile open and too small to read? That has to be at least 9 Irony.
But I digress....

So having dropped over $800 in there a month prior, today I felt perfectly fine vulturing through what this little formerly wonderful antique bookshop had left inside it. All the antique books were gone, but they had some other neat stuff. I'm a scavenger, so my day was made as soon as I walked in, but I walked out even happier. I got some brass Duck head bookends, a great pillow, a hodge-podge of postcards, a cool tiny christmas tree, a Father Christmas doll and 5 tiny snow globes. 5 snow globes. Not incredibly ornate, almost 2 inches in diameter with a plastic base but with detailed and beautiful depictions of different Christmas themes inside and a trademark on the bottom.The glass enclosure is hand blown. The difference between them and the standard, made in china snow globe you see in Big Lots is tiny and infinite at the same time.

Remember that whole Austria at the turn of the century bit? It's now much later.

Remember our pal Edwin Perzy? Our buddy the Perz was trying to make light bulbs brighter by putting reflective particles in water surrounding a light bulb. Didn't work. However he did notice that those reflective particles made a cool effect when settling to the bottom of the glass. An effect which reminded one of falling snow.
So flash forward to today- about 110 years later, when I acquired 5 small snow globes bearing the Perzy family trademark. HE FUCKING INVENTED THE SNOW GLOBE. How many of you scoundrels bought cars from the same company that invented them?
NONE OF YOU SCOUNDRELS.
In the strange and fantastical life of Me, this was an astonishing and wonderful event. And what these previous 5 paragraphs are about, and my lamentation, is this:
Those 5 snowglobes are almost completely worthless.
It's a shocking conclusion to me. But I asked myself, How much could I sell them for at a garage sale? At the antique bookstore they have the ideal demographic to buy unique crafts. They had sold these things for about $36 each. The world wide web has them for sale at a similar price. What would the angry Eastern European guys who argue while walking down my street everyday pay for them? How about my meth head neighbor? Or even a trained garage sale enthusiast? $5? $3? Yet how many people will pay the same 3-5 dollars for a cheap, chinese piece of shit at Wal Mart this year? Thousands, Tens of Thousands.
And that's why we are completely and totally royally fucked up.
Technology has made us lazy and stupid. Somewhere after the industrial revolution, in between the developement of the microwave oven and the iPhone, we stopped giving a rat's ass about the shit we throw in our houses and more specifically who made it. We lost the proper way of valuing our possesions. Before assembly lines, what mattered most about goods was a) who made it. b) did they know what they were doing, c) how did they make it and d) what quality materials was it made of?.
All of these things were apparent in the value of the item and we were better off for it. Creativity and Craftsmanship meant many years in business, perhaps beyond your mortal life itself. People respected all of the effort, talent and dedication it meant to create what we put in our houses. The value of item was not just based on the result but also on the process of which it was made. Think about today. We admire certain creators. Look at Steve Jobs. But we don't respect who makes our shit. They're faceless and unimportant. A snow globe is a snow globe. But it's not.
My snowglobes tell a story. They remind me that human life has flourished because of creation and craftsmanship. They will be just as wonderful in 100 years because they're made well, by people who value and care about their work. The cheap ones from Big Lots probably won't. It's completely plastic and probably filled with a more buoyant than water space chemical which will break down the oil based polymers it's made of and destroy a sea turtle hatchery.
They won't tell stories, they'll get thrown out and will end up in a landfill or incinerator or a turtle beach and we will have wasted more of the limited resources this planet has given us. Because they're shitty products and why should we care about shitty products?
It feels like we as a society are a hungry monster devouring the fruits of of the labor of faceless slaves who we don't care about because we will never see them. Who do we value? Currently it seems we value bankers. People who make money by...making nothing except money. No stories in making nothing. No progress.
Perhaps I'm wrong. I'm Southern Californian born and raised. I hope it's better out there. I hope folks in older, simpler parts of the country still value the little amazing and wonderful crafts we've created as people, not as hands on an assembely line. Heck, maybe some kind soul out there would pay $36 bucks a pop for my snow globes.
That'd be about $180, which would be sweet. I could use another Xbox.

Meeting Mr. Mayhem

Larry Corsa to C R

AUDITION TOMORROW!

Chris Reed

role of Head-Red

11:15 AM

Tuesday, 5/18/2010

NOTE: This is an episodic about a motorcycle club, The Sons Of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Original, or SAMCRO for short.

SONS OF ANARCHY, Episode #304, "Home" Episodic Network: FX Episode 304 AFTRA

Executive Producers: Kurt Sutter / Art Linson / John Linson / Dave Erickson Director: Guy Ferland Casting Director: Wendy O'Brien, CSA Casting Associate: Chris Gehrt Location: Los Angeles Shoot Date: May 25 to June 3

[HEAD-RED] In his 20s, Caucasian, this redneck tweaker who deals crank leads a group of violent men to rob Honey...GUEST STAR (17)

[DOCTOR] This doctor at a convalescent home is sensitive to a new patient's pain...CO-STAR (28)

[FILTHY PHIL] 20-35 years. A future prospect who hangs around the SAMCRO clubhouse. Should be able to ride/have license...RECURRING (34)

First off, I didn’t have a license.

What you’re looking at is the message I received on May 17^th 2010. It was my 2nd wedding anniversary. I went home and tried to find an episode of SOA to watch. It wasn’t on Netflix streaming yet, it was barely legally online at all. I found episode 201 on Amazon, bought it and gaped open mouthed at the screen as Gemma got raped by Henry Rollins. (Spoiler Alert?) 

This was the beginning of my life with SAMCRO.

It’s been fun to look back at this message and some of the others I got around this time. I had absolutely no clue what was happening around me. I barely remember my first day on set. Katey was the first person I met whom I recognized. She was sitting in the makeup chair next to mine getting her cleavage scar applied. She was kind and gracious. I was desperately trying not to look at her boobs and get fired the first day.

That meeting was an indication of what was to come. Every person I met, cast or crew, producer or PA, made me feel at home. Each experience was more surreal than the next, as these people at the top of their game each went out of their way to make me feel welcome. This was how it was for my 3 years on the show. They are all true professionals and I only wish I got to work with each of them more.

Getting killed off a show is a weird thing. Everyone sees you survive the previous season so they assume you’re still working well into the start of the new one. I’m sure somewhere in my contract it says I ain’t allowed to say anything, so I only informed my closest friends. At least they got to enjoy dropping inside jokes about exploding heads every opportunity they got, as with losing any job- especially the best one you’ve ever had- laughing helps. I’m just glad the episode finally aired.

To the fans of SOA: Thank you. I’ve had nothing but positive experiences encountering you guys and I appreciate the kindness. Charming is a gnarly place this year, buckle your seatbelts.

I hope you enjoy the rest of my ride through this crazy business. There may be no more Filthy, but I’ll find a way to get in your houses unannounced. In the meantime you can find me on twitter, facebook or instagram. Hell, I may even have more time to write on this blog.

Two weeks after I got capped by that bastard Timmy Murphy I went to North Carolina and filmed an episode of one of my favorite shows, Eastbound and Down. It’s in the middle of their season and is fucking hilarious.

So watch it.

I sing. It’s…….awful.

 

 

 

Heroes and Humans and Hurt

I was 13 years old when I considered killing myself. I know I am hardly alone in this regard, being a teenager generally sucks for everyone, but middle school was particularly rough on me. My school required uniforms, white collared shirts and blue shorts/pants. It was a particularly rough financial period for my family and I have always been a tough person to buy clothes for. So not only was I a fat kid, I was a fat kid with grease stained shirts and very short blue shorts. In other words: a perfect target. My 8th grade year I had zero friends, hung out in the library and tried not to stand out anymore than I naturally did. I would go on the school computers, open up the Paint program and draw digital representations of me killing other students, myself and scenes of war. If this was a few years later in post-Columbine days, I might have been expelled or arrested.
Instead I became more and more isolated in school. I had a GPA of 0.29 my first semester. 6 F's and 2 D's. I had a couple of friends older than me in high school so after school who I could go play video games with them, but from 9:30-3 I hated my life. I truly have no idea what would of happened if I hadn't asked my mother one day after school "Does it hurt to stab yourself?" My mom didn't respond, so I elaborated in a manner I prefer not to share. She stopped the car almost immediately and told me not to ever talk like that again, that she loved me and that it hurt her very badly to hear me talk like that. Then she bought me a Jumbo Jack, because apparently life lessons are more easily digested with loads of trans fats and refined sugars.
I love my Mom.
I never thought about offing myself again. Because I knew the impact it would have on those I loved.
Today I caught shit on Twitter for labeling suicide "selfish" in the wake of Junior Seau's suicide. I'm trying to deal with Seau's death. To understand number 55's influence on a boy growing up in 1990's San Diego, you only need know that I will never have to look up how to spell his name. He is as big a part of my childhood as Tony Gwynn, Bill Clinton or Michael Jackson. Today he shot himself in the chest and died alone in Oceanside, where he grew up and played high school football. He IS San Diego. He IS the San Diego Chargers. And he was selfish for taking that away from everyone who loved him.
Four years ago I was working at a Fishing Tackle/Gun Store. I hadn't done a play in a while, I didn't have any dedication to getting better as an actor and wasn't motivated enough to get out and try. I thought being an actor would maybe happen, but I was likely to end up running a Sportfishing boat, a highly unappealing but easy scenario.
Then my friend Jeff, one of the funniest, most talented and awesome people I had ever met shot himself in the head. It's hard for me to understand Jeff's impact on me. He once duct taped me to a chair in a playful mutiny against me, his stressed out lighting designer. We spent an awful lot of time together. We once talked our way out of a surefire DUI for him, in a car with no registration or insurance. Then, this being the BFB era (Before Facebook), we hadn't spoke for a while. He had gone to New York, to perform and be awesome. I had stayed in San Diego, to sell Springfield 1911s and cut Albacore. When he died, I felt like he had taken something special from the world. Out of everyone I met up through college there were 4-5 people I thought were going to "make it" and make a living entertaining people. I was one. Jeff was another. Losing him made me feel like I was wasting what I had learned and the only talent I had been born with. I went back to class. I auditioned. I worked at my favorite theatre in the world and got on TV. Jeff would have done better. He was a star. 

Selfishness is defined thus:
devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one's own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others.
You can decide for yourself if Suicide falls under this definition. For me it does. I'm not attacking the ones I have known or you have known who have done it, but it is an inherently selfish act and one way to prevent it is to understand that fact. Maybe if Junior or Jeff would of thought about those who loved them they would still be with us. Our world would of been better with them here.
I would of gladly told them the same thing. Or bought them a Jumbo Jack.

KONY 2012 and why it bothers me.

Being a cynical person can be a lonely existence. Such is the case for me amongst this whole Kony 2012 campaign. First of all, twitter peeps, this has nothing to do with the fact I sometimes appear on TV. TV may be the only reason why I have as many people follow me as I do, but I've had these same feelings about many viral causes that have come and gone dating back to when I was filleting Albacore and selling shoes for money. The only difference now is that I can make a lot more people despise me. I'm a guy who hates getting invitations through facebook, generally can't stand social media's attempt to make me build a virtual farm, slaughterhouse, or castle, and loathes when the masses gather around a cause most never bothered to learn anything about until it was all over the goddamned Internet and their favorite celebrity chef retweeted it.
It is through this distorted, mangled lens that I view the Kony campaign. Do I believe that Joseph Kony is a horrid excuse for a human being that should be doomed to the 12 circles of hell and have his soul raped, tortured, and tormented for eternity? Yes. Do I applaud the actions of those who do all they can in trying to highlight his crimes and bring him to justice? Of course. Everyone does. And here's where I get annoyed:
When these things blow up on the net all I can see is the mindlessness by which these phenomena spread like wildfire. This is great when you are trying to merely spread awareness. Like if there is an outbreak of the monkey virus and you need to duct tape your windows to keep from getting it. What's not great is that most people only bother to learn about an issue when it's trending on twitter then act as if it's a mission sent from directly from God to them, and they must convert everyone by posting it on their wall and getting all up in my business. Fact is 90% of these assholes won't remember what fucking country Joseph Kony terrorizes in 2 weeks. They'll go back into whatever cyber-catatonic state they live in and will be bothering me about another cause they really, truly don't care about.
Folks, I don't know what difference this campaign will make. If their goal is only to raise awareness, Invisible Children has accomplished that tenfold. If this awareness leads to pressure on the international community to bring Kony to justice - President Obama made it a priority months ago, even commiting US troops and no one said a fucking thing.  Here's a link with a Rush Limbaugh bashing bonus http://mediamatters.org/blog/201203070006 - then the people behind Invisible Children deserve the Nobel Peace prize, a chapter in every history book detailing their achievement, and a three month orgy with every model in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. But if this campaign is to bring awareness to the Invisible Children organization in order to raise them money so they can make more heartbreaking videos and only spend 32% of that money towards services that directly benefit those they advocate on behalf of - http://c2052482.r82.cf0.rackcdn.com/images/737/original/FY11-Audited%20Financial%20Statements.pdf?1320205055 - then I WOULD RATHER SEE THE INTERNET RALLY BEHIND OTHER GROUPS THAT ARE MORE EFFICIENT. That's it. That's my distorted reasoning and why I can't get behind them 100%.
This may make me a complete asshole, I understand that. I hope I'm just a cynical douchebag and, because of this 30 minute video, a terrible person gets what he deserves and Invisible Children gets richly deserved accolades and satisfaction of truly changing the world for the better. That is my preferred ending. But if not, if my skepticism proves true and the world forgets and jumps on board the next trendy cause without accomplishing anything, do me a solid and leave me out of it. I've got a printer that isn't going to plug itself in.

Awards Season aka Cool, Something Else In the Mail to Look Forward to Season

As a full fledged, full paying member of the Screen Actors Guild, this month I will be voting on the SAG awards. This will be my first year doing so, and folks boy am I excited. Not because I am in any way, shape, form or galaxy close to being up for anything anytime soon (I'm pretty sure the Razzies only do Film, and Film ain't exactly lighting up my phone). Not because I like award shows themselves (although a commercial I was in did air during the Oscars 2 years ago, so Suck it Streep!). I find them remarkably self indulgent, over the top and pompous (unless Gervais is hosting, then it's only slightly less all of those). I am excited, friends, because of the tiny bit of satisfaction I get at feeling like a part of the club.
You see, I start getting these envelopes in the mail. About 9 x 12, Manilla sealed with tape sent from Studios and Production Companies. Some padded some not, containing DVDs and a poster pretty much begging for me to consider voting for their film, their actor or their productions teams. These envelopes are very similar to the countless envelopes I have sent to Agents, Managers, Casting Directos and Producers containing a headshot, begging for an opportunity to join the ranks. It's a small bit of indulgent satisfaction, the feeling I get from controlling a tiny, microscopic stock in their game for prestige and gobs and gobs of money. It's nice. Now the mail isn't just home to the bills, junk, ads that keep pouring in or the far fewer but conversally awesome residual checks. Now I get little presents from the big shots, as they unload millions of dollars into a process that pads both budgets and egos, and at the same time doesn't necesarrily recognize the best work this industry puts out.
It's a weird, confusing game. But I'm glad to have my tiny part in it. So to all the folks with power and shows who send me these DVDs and have made it possible for me to receive them at all by hiring me, my DVD acceptance speach is brief:
Thanks.

UPDATE!! Filthy Phil's Photo Frenzy....

Due to the demands of my tech savvy fans, I've set up a a paypal account for those who would like a photo sent to them. Here's the info....

The account email is: filthyphilsphotofrenzy@gmail.com

Please include a message about yourself, which charity you'd like to support and your twitter handle if you have one.

The requested donation for those on Paypal is 26.50, the extra 1.50 is to underwrite my postage fees.

Hope this helps. The response has been great so far, you guys have been keeping me busy. Thanks a bunch and Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Filthy Phil's Photo Frenzy

Want me to send you an Autographed 8 x 10 photo? Very simple....

Step 1

Stamp and Self address a Legal size envelope, usually manila colored, and fold it into a regular letter envelope.

Step 2
On a separate sheet of paper, write who you would like the photo signed to, a little about the person, even if it''s you, and your twitter handle if you have one. I want to know a little about the person because nothing it lamer than the standard non personal personalized signed photo. If you just want it signed, that's cool too.

Step 3

Write a check or money order that WILL NOT BOUNCE and make it out to either Operation Homefront, the USO or Make a Wish Foundation in the amount of at least $25. Sorry guys, need to give a little to get a little here, but I promise these groups kick major ass.

Step 3

Send it all to:

Clumsy Intruder Productions
5062 Lankershim Blvd #412
North Hollywood, CA, 91601

Step 4

Put my ugly mug on a wall in a week or two.

I'm hoping to raise a humble $2500 for these groups, so I've got about 125 photos. If the demand is crazy high, we'll figure something out. But I want you all to know I really appreciate the support and encouragement I've received this year, and I hope this is an adequate way to show such.