Ha! Another fever-dream ride down the white-water river in a leaky raft, this time with a dog. I saw many a dog on set during my Hollywood years, and most were pretty damned good. One the first commercials I worked on was for "Chuck Wagon Dog Food," during which we shot 37 takes of the dog running through a kitchen set in pursuit of ... nothing. This was light-years before the advent of CGI, so the little cartoon chuck wagon he was "chasing" would be added later. But still the director wasn't happy -- he wanted the dog to slip and slide as he rounded the kitchen table, so the prop man sprayed a liberal coating of WD-40 on the floor, and the 38th take was gold.
Then there was the "Bud Lite" spot we shot inside an airport hangar in Van Nuys, featuring Spuds McKenzie, who arrived on set driven by a chauffeur in a black stretch limo. I've no doubt Spuds made more than the entire crew's wages combined that day -- but hey, none of us could be a convincing dog on camera, and so it goes...
You and I worked at opposite ends of the Hollywood Sausage Machine, which is one reason I love your stories from the Writer's Room and the jungle above-the-line: a world I was forbidden to enter. But one thing seems to apply to every level of the Hollywood life -- it's crazy.
The book is coming -- I have a chat with the publisher scheduled for tomorrow -- so it might not be too far away, but some of the chapters have already been posted on my Substack, along with a lot of fun-but-not-good-enough outtakes.
Definitely a huge Lampoon fan back in the day - loved PJ, though more of a Michael O’Donoghue fan…. Speed-wise, at this point just being in the same room with a rock would probably make my heart explode into a thousand bloody chunks. But have definitely been there, and maybe that brain-fucked sense memory splatters out once in a while onto the page…
Appreciate you dropping a line, and will definitely start checking out your posts.
On the subject of once-famous dogs that disappeared into lives of desperation and horror, I’m still amazed that nobody, absolutely nobody, has noticed that we haven’t seen Spuds McKenzie since the first Bush inauguration in 1989. Did they dump his corpse out onto Pennsylvania Avenue after Roger Stone and Ed Meese were finished? Was he sealed off in a chamber underneath the East Wing next to the fallout shelter with John Sununu’s favorite chickens? Was he served at a state banquet with everyone commenting “I’ve had this taste in my mouth before…”? Or does his spirit haunt the White House to this day alongside the shades of Checkers and Socks? Time to get the documentary team assembled for that ghosthunting special for the History Channel, kids!
Doggin' it once again. Jerry does doggies proud! Thank god (or dog), no dog suicides on this end, just my childhood dog, Tramp ( he was a stray hobo dog), run over by a garbage truck. I still hate garbage trucks to this day. Fuck garbage trucks! Do I need help? Maybe.
I once had a cat named Gambit who had been abused. He was always scared of me except in the end when he was sick and cuddled because he needed the warmth. A few years into our relationship, he dragged a pigeon in through the window and killed it. And it definitely wasn't for me as he didn't want me to have it. I was so proud.
I now have two sister cats whom I name Charlotte and Emily. The only way I know that Charlotte likes me is that she gets within a foot of me when she's hungry and wants food. I still don't try to pet her because that would freak her out (I assume that she has been abused as well)
"Maybe there is a dog spelled backwards." Maybe the dogs ARE the dog spelled backwards, I don't know. I love how you go from Lola to all the other places you go in this piece and also love pictures of Lola. I don't cry over people much either but the idea of Lola in a suitcase kills me as much as photos of my Fae (who I did not name) on a Tijuana street corner where they found her looking like tiny crackhead with mangy black fur. Thanks for this piece.
And like a genuine crackhead, her first visit to a dentist involved getting 13 teeth pulled. And now she's got the nerve to say it's too fucking cold in NYC, send me to Mexico on vacation.
Ha! Another fever-dream ride down the white-water river in a leaky raft, this time with a dog. I saw many a dog on set during my Hollywood years, and most were pretty damned good. One the first commercials I worked on was for "Chuck Wagon Dog Food," during which we shot 37 takes of the dog running through a kitchen set in pursuit of ... nothing. This was light-years before the advent of CGI, so the little cartoon chuck wagon he was "chasing" would be added later. But still the director wasn't happy -- he wanted the dog to slip and slide as he rounded the kitchen table, so the prop man sprayed a liberal coating of WD-40 on the floor, and the 38th take was gold.
Then there was the "Bud Lite" spot we shot inside an airport hangar in Van Nuys, featuring Spuds McKenzie, who arrived on set driven by a chauffeur in a black stretch limo. I've no doubt Spuds made more than the entire crew's wages combined that day -- but hey, none of us could be a convincing dog on camera, and so it goes...
Un-fucking-believable!
That Chuck Wagon saga may be one of the greatest Hollywood stories I’ve ever heard! Right down to the WD-40.
And Spuds rolling up in a stretch limo… Just too good.
I want to read YOUR book!!!
You and I worked at opposite ends of the Hollywood Sausage Machine, which is one reason I love your stories from the Writer's Room and the jungle above-the-line: a world I was forbidden to enter. But one thing seems to apply to every level of the Hollywood life -- it's crazy.
The book is coming -- I have a chat with the publisher scheduled for tomorrow -- so it might not be too far away, but some of the chapters have already been posted on my Substack, along with a lot of fun-but-not-good-enough outtakes.
When the book happens, I'll get a copy to you.
Damn man, you channeling P.J. O'Rourke of early National Lampoon fame or did you discover that missing rock of meth you put aside in 1983?
Definitely a huge Lampoon fan back in the day - loved PJ, though more of a Michael O’Donoghue fan…. Speed-wise, at this point just being in the same room with a rock would probably make my heart explode into a thousand bloody chunks. But have definitely been there, and maybe that brain-fucked sense memory splatters out once in a while onto the page…
Appreciate you dropping a line, and will definitely start checking out your posts.
Those last bunch were urging my mom to die. For more upbeat fare look at my story titled Drop Down and Roll Over
On the subject of once-famous dogs that disappeared into lives of desperation and horror, I’m still amazed that nobody, absolutely nobody, has noticed that we haven’t seen Spuds McKenzie since the first Bush inauguration in 1989. Did they dump his corpse out onto Pennsylvania Avenue after Roger Stone and Ed Meese were finished? Was he sealed off in a chamber underneath the East Wing next to the fallout shelter with John Sununu’s favorite chickens? Was he served at a state banquet with everyone commenting “I’ve had this taste in my mouth before…”? Or does his spirit haunt the White House to this day alongside the shades of Checkers and Socks? Time to get the documentary team assembled for that ghosthunting special for the History Channel, kids!
My guess is Witness Protection.
God know the horrors that poor animal wished he could un-see. Fame takes a toll….
Wherever he is, on heaven or earth, I hope he’s getting plenty of treats.
Doggin' it once again. Jerry does doggies proud! Thank god (or dog), no dog suicides on this end, just my childhood dog, Tramp ( he was a stray hobo dog), run over by a garbage truck. I still hate garbage trucks to this day. Fuck garbage trucks! Do I need help? Maybe.
I could listen to you do dog all day.
Thanks - I think…
It’s a thanks, thing. I’m just weird at words. Keep going!
We’re all weird at words!
I really appreciate it. You never know with this shit….
But your weird is the weird Ive come to enjoy.
https://csi.fandom.com/wiki/Fur_and_Loathing.
Jerry, what does ipecac applied to a furry suit do? :D Will have to find this now.
I once had a cat named Gambit who had been abused. He was always scared of me except in the end when he was sick and cuddled because he needed the warmth. A few years into our relationship, he dragged a pigeon in through the window and killed it. And it definitely wasn't for me as he didn't want me to have it. I was so proud.
I now have two sister cats whom I name Charlotte and Emily. The only way I know that Charlotte likes me is that she gets within a foot of me when she's hungry and wants food. I still don't try to pet her because that would freak her out (I assume that she has been abused as well)
I can relate!
It sounds like you’ve had some five-star cats. (Or they’ve had you….)
"Maybe there is a dog spelled backwards." Maybe the dogs ARE the dog spelled backwards, I don't know. I love how you go from Lola to all the other places you go in this piece and also love pictures of Lola. I don't cry over people much either but the idea of Lola in a suitcase kills me as much as photos of my Fae (who I did not name) on a Tijuana street corner where they found her looking like tiny crackhead with mangy black fur. Thanks for this piece.
“A tiny crackhead with mangy black fur” - I love that. Fae sounds amazing!
And like a genuine crackhead, her first visit to a dentist involved getting 13 teeth pulled. And now she's got the nerve to say it's too fucking cold in NYC, send me to Mexico on vacation.
Ha! She sounds like my kind of dog.