How to become a star in Richmond - not

Mood: chatty
Occasionally this Tres Riches guy runs into someone who wants TRG to get them into show biz. This is because they suspect that TRG knows someone in show biz, and they believe that who you know will get you into show biz. First of all, the only reality-based connection to show biz that Mr. TRG has is this: a hairstylist in the building I used to live in claimed he was a friend of Clint Eastwood.

Everything else is rhetorical arm candy, speculation, and hearsay, followed by a truckload of plausible deniability that would keep the CIA supplied into the next century. Hugh Thomas in "The Spanish Civil War" discovered that much of what George Orwell wrote in "Homage to Catalonia" while figuratively true, wasn't literally true - it was compressed or confabulation. There are people who believe every word Hunter Thompson or Carlos Castenada put down on paper was transcribed directly from reality. They probably also believe that Paul Bunyan had a blue ox and that Daniel Boone wrestled a bear.

Even so, let's suppose I did know somebody in show bidness. Suppose I even knew someone who knows Mr. Show. It is also entirely possible this person is attracted to me precisely because I have nothing to do with show biz. And the minute that I start shopping actors, scripts, and projects to them that other people ask me to, I become less attractive. At this point the feral part of my brain kicks in and snarls, "Smeagol don't want to lose his precious. Smeagol says screw other people."

So like George Bush in Iraq, let's move on to plan B. If you want to become an big-time actor, comedian, musician, writer, artist, or model, do what so many other people have done, from Marlon Brando to Dustin Hoffman, from William Styron to Tom Wolfe: move to New York City. Conveniently enough, there is a bus that leaves from 106 West Broad Street for NYC every day of the week at 1 a.m. If you're the bridge-burning risk-taker I suspect you are, a one-way ticket is only $40. Good luck.