“My Dad is Big in this Business”

I was approached a while back by a publishing company to write a book. This occurred at the same time that I announced to my manager and a few other industry insiders behind closed doors that I was leaving mainstream to pursue a porno odyssey. I was surprised as fuck to find out that the publisher was interested in signing me based on a smart-ass internal email I wrote about “shitty television” that got leaked to a few industry blogs at the time.

Unlike many of the “climbers” in this town, I don’t immediately spread my ass cheeks for anyone with a suite address and a business card. They were a successful publishing house, but I have always been leery of anyone who requested to meet me alone at a hotel without representation to discuss business. It just doesn’t work that way in mainstream. I figured he was on a mission to try and get me on the cheap or he wanted to blow me. I can’t get hard within a 25 mile radius of another guy being in the same room, so he would have been shit out of luck with a blow job. I don’t work for cheap either.

I decided to take a meeting with him because of the free lunch that accompanied it. I also wanted to see what kind of jew publishing razzmatazz they were going to blow up my ass. Come to find out, THE SON of the head of the company was the one who requested to meet me at the hotel in Studio City to give me the pitch. THE SON. If he knew anything about me, he would have already known that I don’t do business with the children of entertainment executives. To me, the child of a hollywood executive isn’t worth a shit. Your father did all the hard work breaking his back to become a success in this industry. YOU, were simply given a job to keep you out of trouble. Talent is not an ingredient in the load that gets shot into your mother. Talent is something that is God given and cultivated.

Within three words that came out of his Mystic Tanned mouth, I knew this kid was exactly like I thought. An empty suit with a silver spoon shoved firmly up his ass. I almost projected caesar salad all over the table when he started talking about the projects he’s creating. I thought to myself, this guy actually thinks he deserves to be doing what he does for a living. This got me thinking about all of the other t-shirt and sandals wearing legacy moguls who roam this town demanding special consideration because of who “Pop” is. That’s right, the little publishing monkey called his father “Pop”. Nothing is worse than watching these legacy mogul’s sit in Mel’s Diner at 2:30 AM coming up with reality show “ideas” then approaching women in the restaurant promising to make them the star of their pot aftermath brainstorming reality creation. The conversation always ends with the words, “I’m going to pitch it to my father in the morning”.

I ended up walking away from the meeting with my balls securely attached to my body. I went home and rubbed up against a girl that tried to sell me a $75 dollar t-shirt on Melrose. I don’t do business with children. Fuck you.