The Scum of the Earth

When I was young, "Two-Face" was the name of a not-particularly-attractive villain on the kick ass "Batman" kids' cartoon.

As I matured into a furry young adult, however, 'two-faced' came to describe a great bulk of the people with whom I associated, from seemingly upstanding classmates, to back-stabbing friends, to two-timing boyfriends (Oh, the boyfriends.  More like boyenemies if you ask me).

I quickly learned that people are horrible creatures and instead sought the company of squirrels.

And after two years of seclusion, (or rather, "squirrel-clusion"), my cynical old heart had once again softened and I was ready to re-enter the human world with the understanding that young people are quite often stupid, act stupidly, and do stupid things because their mushy brains haven't fully developed.  Surely all that stupidity would fade away with age.  I buried my past fears of social interaction like squirrels bury their acorns and was genuinely excited to work with adults in the career of my dreams.

...And no sooner had I begun my journey into the entertainment field than my excitement had spiraled into sadness, disappointment, and frequent urination.  Like squirrels digging back up the acorns they had buried, I unearthed my misanthropic attitude of yesteryear and stuffed my cheeks with it for safekeeping.

Had I somehow traveled back in time to the days of acne-ridden teenage angst in high school?  No, that's impossible.  Time machines won't be invented for at least another couple months.  Which means, quite simply, people are even worse than I remember them to be.

And seriously, what's up with that?  Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn't it?  At least that's what I was banking on.  Well, that and this incredible get-rich-quick program I once purchased from an infomercial I saw in a hypnagogic daze at four in the morning.  (Speaking of which...why haven't I quickly gotten rich??  I'm going to have to examine the warranty on that thing...) 

This business is like a collection of ego-maniacal hypocrites just waiting to trample over you to get two steps ahead.  Much like a supercilious driver in a shiny new sports car who zooms by at 70 miles per hour in a 35 zone, cutting off seven cars and nearly turning an unsuspecting pigeon into road kill, only to be the first to arrive with a screeching halt at a red light.  It's pointless and it makes the guy look like an idiot.  And he knows it, but his pride will never let him admit it.  Instead he'll greet you with his favorite finger as you slowly creep up next to him at the same red light in your used-but-still-kicking jalopy.

From the cheap talk to the oozing desperation to the utter disregard for integrity, this gig just really ain't my thing.

But then again, it seems there isn't a field out there devoid of jerk-offs, a-holes and [if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all].  It's not like I'm going to be canceling my LA Casting subscription any time soon to pursue the noble occupations of a lawyer or a stockbroker.

So I guess it's safe to say that while there are undesirables lurking in every office, this field has the one of the greatest concentrations of slime buckets in a single area, and I'm unfortunate enough to be right smack in the center of it all: Hollywood. 

So what is it about the entertainment business that attracts some of the smelliest scum of the earth?

I'm gonna go with power, control, the feeding into one's vanity, the social aspect of meeting all sorts of eager, impressionable people, the excitement of not being confined to a regular 9 to 5, the ease with which one can create a dazzling new persona, lust, and loneliness. 

As everyone in their right mind knows, no matter what kind of fancy, elaborate facade those in this biz put forth, the majority of us are living with disabling levels of insecurity.  Just sit down to a meal in any San Fernando Valley restaurant and you'll see what I mean.  You know that balding guy in the corner table reciting a monologue at ear-splitting decibel levels to his bored-looking female companion about his time on set with Tom Cruise?  While he's trying to broadcast to the entire population of restaurant patrons that he's a bad ass Hollywood hotshot, what he's actually accomplishing is alerting the public that he's an insecure chump trying to get laid while going through a mid-life crisis.  

....And let me tell you, it's not a very pretty sight....

*shudders*

And while being constantly surrounded by a bunch of self-centered creeps can be more than a bit disheartening, the good news is, once you can recognize scum when you see it, you also gain the ability to spot pure gold.

While many can paint themselves pretty and call themselves golden, there are only a handful of the real thing in this town.  They're really hard to come by, so once you find someone of the real variety, you'd better hold on to him or her like you'd hold on to your post-meal gas while interviewing for a job.

Luckily for me, I've panned a couple pure-gold nuggets amidst a river of murky scum.  Without them, I'd surely go nuts.

I mean, even more nuts than I already am, of course ;)