Look at the box office gross rankings (boxofficemojo.com). No zombie movies. Two flicks dedicated to the blissfully unenlightened (way to possibly piss off half the people you're pleading to).
"Main Event of the Dead," will not change this landscape, sadly, but it at least offers you an escape. And with this escape, you can feel as accomplished as that one guy in that Stephen King novel who "crawled through a river of shit and came out clean."
I hope you automatically assumed that was Morgan Freeman saying that statement. If you keep that voice in your head, surely you'll be convinced to help out with the production of this film (like any of you have a Discover or AMEX card to argue otherwise).
Right now, I'm not looking for finance, just support to bring my zombie with simple gimmicks versus pro wrestlers comedy to life. Any suggestions will be appreciated and you can ask for a treatment at russthebus07@gmail.com, or if you can come up with a cool poster to at least have something for the Kickstarter, you will be compensated. Celebrity endorsements would be nice (fuck Rip Rogers's teeth, I've at least bought some merch [just some feedback from the treatment please...thankssss]).
The undead status of this project is forcing me to turn, and my anti-gun stance will only allow the infection to take me. You'd do it for Randolph Scott.
And if you have been keeping up on my blogs, then you know I'm running out of ideas on how to repeat this message, so I need your help more than ever.
July 26, 2014
Time never crawls for me. I am usually clever enough with a time card to prevent that. It just keeps moving forward, and I haven't been able to catch up. Perhaps that's why my life is just a constant experiment in futility.
Rationalization 58: Some of them want (need?) to be abused.
Screw helping out with my movie (sarcasm), isn't there a girl out there who can start using me again (Sarcasm). It would at least blind me of the seemingly pointless pursuit of turning my screenplay into a film and trying to get involved with wrestling cards that actually mean something. I can at least know my pro wrestling career status (Funk-time wrestler, unless the hotel job starts to suck...thank god the vocally conservative night audit girl was all talk about her beliefs).
If you need a list of girls who have broken me down to an overly obedient puppy like state, just send me a request (SARCASM). Bi-annual shag and I'm yours (SARCASM...unless I start believing the status of half of those who unconditionally love me).
On the topic of puppies and small animals that can't defend themselves (that's why cats are awesome, only an asshole who cannot take the occasional scratch can render them helpless), I might as well get into the topic I have been discussing for the past two post.
Actually, this may have to wait till the next post. I'm typing this on my lap top as I wait to head out to the Brody Dalle concert, so I can't tell if this introduction will take up too much space.
Read the rest of this blog and other stories at Main Event of the Dead.com and determine if this thought process can be translated into a B-movie comedy about pro-wrestling zombies.
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