King of the Wild Frontier

Via three or four people on my flist:

The problem with LJ: We all think we are so close, but really we know nothing about one another. So I want you to ask me something you think you should know about me. Something that should be obvious, but you have no idea about. Ask away.

Then post this in your LJ and find out what people don't know about you.

David Bowie, Concert for New York City

Courtesy of Something*Positive:

( Slightly NSFW for language although the potty words are in smaller print )

The Onion AV Club has a regular feature called "Random Roles" where an actor, usually an experienced character actor, gives little behind the scenes anecdotes about this or that movie. Pleasant, usually funny, sometimes surprising.

And then there's Charles Napier.

Oh man oh man oh man.

I mean, he's one of those actors who just keep popping up--from his IMDB profile linked above, he seems not to have been out of work for forty years--but the stories he has to tell... just his experiences with Russ Meyer would itself make an incredible movie, only I don't think that even IMAX is big enough to hold it.

(Warning: although it's not exactly NSFW, there's a picture on the second AV Club page of Napier being strangled by Ron Jeremy's disembodied penis which may be Not Safe For Sanity.)

Wotta guy.

At that age, he wrote a letter to his future self; 35 years later, he writes back.

I've got your streetscape trompe-l'œil right here.

OK, so you're a Mafia hit man. You've whacked a couple of goombahs. You did a few years, but got out early because you cut a deal with the feds. You also went into the witness protection program so that you, yourself, would not get whacked.

If you found yourself in the above scenario, you probably would not go into a field of business that might connect you with your true ethnicity, such as, for example, opening an Italian restaurant. And if you did decide to open an Italian restaurant, probably the last thing that you would call it would be, say, Goombah's. And if, for some unfathomable reason, you opened an Italian restaurant named Goombah's, probably the very, very, very last thing that you would do would be to pistol-whip one of your customers because he complained about how his calzone was prepared.

You would not do that because you are not Joey Calco.