California’s film and TV industry is in crisis. What can be done to fix it?
This is the maudlin headline alert from the L.A. Times (to which I no longer subscribe, but from whom I still get headline alerts) that popped up on my phone yesterday afternoon.
“Oh wow,” I thought to myself. “I can’t believe they’re actually acknowledging it’s over.”
For the past twenty-two years, I was a member of the throng of guest workers who had relocated to Los Angeles, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and hungry for a piece of real estate, with a freshly printed resume in one hand, and a college degree in the other, to justify my cutting to the front of the line over the less fortunate working class locals.
Ever seen that silly movie starring Christina Aguilera and Cher entitled, Burlesque? Kudos to you if you haven’t, but if you have, then you might remember the scene in which a hopeful starlet-to-be, played by Xtina, cheerfully purchases a one-way ticket to Hollywood because not becoming a star is simply not an option.
Much like the Dirrty girl herself, I believed that I was talented, hardworking and inventive enough to defy statistics, and achieve my dream of a successful career in Hollywood. However, unlike her character, my dream was decidedly more behind-the-scenes, but no less seemingly unattainable: I yearned to be a TV comedy writer.
More specifically, I wanted to be a showrunner of my own hit comedy series on a major network. Crazy thing is, I do believe that after I had acquired my ten thousand hours of working in assistant positions, taking endless writing classes, tearing through script after script, performing improv live for audiences on a weekly basis, I probably had reached a point where, damn, I guess I had actually become overqualified for the job.
But what I naively hadn’t realized for two whole decades was that literally none of my qualifications mattered. In fact, being overqualified, talented and in possession of way too much confidence and self-worth, I had all but guaranteed that I wouldn’t get picked.
Because the truth about Hollywood, I learned finally and unequivocally in a very abbreviated amount of time post-October 7th of 2023, was that vampire rules applied.
You must be invited inside, or you simply may not cross the threshold.
They also really want you to do stuff that you don’t want to do. The entertainment industry has such a boner for nonconsensual nonsense, even for the lowest of stakes. It all takes place on a spectrum, of course. It’s not all Harvey Weinstein obvious shenanigans I’m referencing.
In fact, I managed to obliviously stay pretty clear of all but some pretty tame misbehavior and abuse for most of my career. Nobody escapes trauma-free, of course, but I did get away quite unscathed compared to most of my peers.
So, it’s here, from my safe vantage point of my family’s home far-far away where I have oh-so-recently relocated that I’m writing with a mix of both morbid curiosity and deep nostalgia about the only writing subject that has ever afforded me a living in Hollywood:
Celebrity Gossip
You see, prior to my “finally getting serious about my TV writing career” in the past decade and change, I had an entirely different career altogether. For about a decade or so (on and off for several years there, like any guilty pleasure relationship), I earned a living by writing for an entertainment gossip blog called: A Socialite’s Life (which was eventually branded to SocialiteLife.com because: brevity.)
A lovely man named Michael Prieve—still the gentlest, kindest, fairest boss I have ever had—started the website from his home in the chilly Midwest. He created the character of Miu von Fuerstenberg (a fictional distant relative of Diane’s) who was fond of LBDs and dirty martinis. He started posting photos of celebrities and snarky commentary, and the site quickly grew in followers and ad revenue.
By the time I found the ad Michael had placed on Craigslist, looking for a boots-on-the-ground writer in Los Angeles to help him scale back on writing duties to focus on managing the growing site, his readership had started to rival that of a modest grocery store rack gossip magazine. We hit it off immediately over my phone interview, and I would proceed to work with Michael in some way, shape or form over the span of about ten years.
So, imagine my delight when I realized that the form of writing that I had elevated above my comedic muckraking (which was writing for TV and movies, because, let’s be honest, I also wanted to write those too, with an eye on directing, but I digress) was nothing more than Zionist propaganda intended to keep the world distracted with cheerful clowns and seductive sirens while WWIII rages on in multiple locations around the world in the form of genocide, mass enslavement and brainwashing.
And so, here we both find ourselves.
I can all but guarantee you’re here now because you’ve enjoyed my tongue-in-cheek Instagram reel celebrity voiceovers, which means that you know that I’m a big fan of one Ms. Jennifer Lopez AKA JLo AKA Jenny from the Block AKA “I don’t know her.”
The Latin Explosion
As a woman of a certain age and ethnic heritage, I remember all-too-well the era in the late 90s and early 00s when Jennifer Lopez exploded onto the pop music scene, along with several other pop stars, in a wave of Latin artists known collectively as “The Latin Explosion.”
While managing to sound like my personal experience of eating seafood at a Mexican flea market in downtown Los Angeles in the summer in my early twenties, that spicy wave helped Jennifer surf onto the radio and music video charts, cresting with her win at the 2000 Grammy Awards.
Did you think I meant that she won a Grammy? Oh, absolutely not. That would be ridiculous. She was nominated, but I’m talking about how she won big with the now iconic, green Versace dress she wore with the sheer fabric and plunging neckline.
And who was it she had on her arm at the event? None other than her now ex-fiancé Sean “Diddy” Combs in a signature all-white suit, just like he would sport at his many white parties at sea in international waters with a star-studded list of international celebrities.
I think I remember once reading a gossip item that Star Jones was rumored to have ruined a white couch at one such party by accidentally smearing it with her heavy makeup. Or maybe it was just a random white couch at a random celebrity party. In any case, there seemed to be miles of white fabric being used all throughout the early 2000s and beyond just to keep the many famous guests in attendance clothed in their signature pristine white outfits.
While many of those on social media platforms may be too young to remember firsthand these events play out on our television sets and choppy web browsers, not only do I remember it all—I often had to write about it.
In a case of Happily Never After, JLo and Diddy ended their engagement a year after her splashy Grammy appearance in the green dress, and Jennifer hasn’t been nominated for another Grammy ever since.
Since their relationship, she seems to have gone from one high-profile relationship to another, perhaps hoping to distract herself and the public at large from the fact that at one point, she and Diddy were ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED.
Considering his recent arrest and the horrifying video footage that you’ve surely already seen of Combs abusing his long-time ex, Cassie, in a hotel hallway, it’s no wonder that I assumed that JLo would be currently sweating bullets now that she no longer has the shield of a stoic-looking Ben Affleck on her arm.
I remember the first time around those guys were an item, and I’m only now realizing that it seems pretty convenient that she got herself attached so quickly to Ben Affleck after her split from Diddy. Ben managed to radiate the kind of “aw shucks” regular American guy movie star quality that JLo seemed to so desperately need by her side.
Why would she so desperately need him? Well, a fact that is only now seeming to become more important to the general public is that both JLo and Diddy were both arrested in 1999 as a result of a shooting at a club in NYC earlier that year that heavily involved the high-profile couple.
While it’s unclear to me if the original articles published about the incident are still available online, social media and podcasts are keeping the oral tradition of gossip alive by allowing industry insiders like Jaguar Wright, Suge Knight and Katt Williams to spread their gospel to the general public about what sort of nefarious dealings they allege some of your faves have been engaged in for decades, including—but not limited to—Jennifer Lopez.
So, dearest commenters who have been asking me in the comments of my Instagram posts for context when I’m dropping my very cryptic industry references, here is where you will find it. I can already tell I’m going to have fun getting back into the longform/blog post version of what I love doing already pretty much every day on my Instagram account.
If you’re interested in delving into the depths of all this ridiculousness with me, while also being open to some pretty fringe ideas of what is going on behind the scenes in Hollywood, and how it can help you to understand the logic behind the controlled chaos in which we are currently living—politics, war, celebrity worship, and espionage—you should definitely subscribe. Come, let’s unravel this awful mess together.
XOXOYour Gossip Girl
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