"Sacrificial Lamb-erantz" (Cont'd)

Although this narrative has been split into two offerings for time reasons – both mine and yours – the action in reality, or in the reality of this fantasy, is continuous.

RECAP:   A man with the sunny personality of an insurance salesman named Jim has informed Earl that, in an effort to reverse the continuing downward spiral of the human condition, a panel of international notables has decided upon a radical solution:  Kill Earl Pomerantz and see if that helps. 

When we left off, Jim has just explained to Earl that his impending sacrifice is optional.  Earl does not have to agree to it if he doesn’t want to.  To which Earl has immediately replies,

Earl:  Pass.

Jim:  Earl, I would respectfully ask you to take your time.  This is a very important decision.

E:  You think? 

J:  I would also suggest that you cool down.  So your decision can be rational, but also – and Earl, I would never tell you how to write – but do you really want to be regarded as simply a “one-note” character?

EARL TAKES A DEEP, RELAXING BREATH, SO HE CAN THINK MORE RATIONALLY, AND TO PROVIDE “COLORS” TO HIS CHARACTERIZATION.

J:  That’s good.  Now, speaking calmly and collectedly, why are you opposed to this suggestion?

E:  Of surrendering my life for the betterment of humankind?

J:  Yes.

E:  Two reasons come to mind.  One, I’ll be dead.  And the second reason doesn’t matter because of the first reason.

J:  Earl, we’re just two guys talking here.  Tell me your second reason.

E:  Because it’s ridiculous.

J:  What do you mean by that?

E:  I would not dispute that the world is headed in a deteriorating direction.  I have written about it myself.  The movies are relentlessly unhopeful.  To me, that’s an important reflection of the way things are going; the filmmakers are feeling it, and they are communicating it in their work.  I know there are exceptions.  But there appears to be, like Jimmy Carter never said, an undeniable malaise.  It’s the times.  The government is watching us.  The terrorists are an ineradicable plague.  The planet’s natural resources, don’t pin me down on this, but I think something bad is happening there.  And except for the billionaires, people are uneasy about their prospects and about the future for their kids.

J:  Forgive me, Earl, but I think you just made my case for me.

E:  No, I didn’t.  We may well be on a downward trajectory, but it is insane to believe that things will change for the better if you kill me.

J:   To be honest, you can’t say that until we’ve tried it.

E:  No!

J:  Okay, I can see we’re not there yet…

E:  “He died for our sins.”  Who ever said that worked?

J:  Jesus.

E:  One guy!  And not everybody believes that! 

J:  A lot of people do.

E:  Hardly anyone I know.  And in that case, you are talking “Eternal Life”.  Nobody’s saying conditions are better down here.  If they were, you would not require a second sacrifice.

J:  Point taken.  Earl, can we try a little thought experiment?

E:  Fine.  But I am not changing my mind.

J:  Let us accept for the moment that the sacrifice of a single person could eventuate the betterment of all humankind, the loss of one person could improve the lives of six billion…

E:  Oh, please!

J:  … and that person is not you.

E:  (MOMENTARILY HESITATING)  I am entirely off the hook?

J:  Now be honest, Earl.  Hypothetically, how would you feel if the person to be sacrificed were somebody else?

E:  Better.

J:  So, theoretically, you are not opposed to the idea.

E:  No.  I mean, yes!  Jim, it is unimaginable that sacrificing anybody will change anything.

J:  But isn’t worth taking the chance?

E:  It’s crazy!

J:  But is it impossible?  Earl, think about it.  The life of one person.  To save billions.

AFTER A LONG BEAT.

E:  Could they be killed painlessly?

J:  So there’s a possibility.

   

E:  Hypothetically.

J:   It’s a step.  Now, factor this in.  Say it happens. 

E:  But not to me.

J:  To somebody.  And to everyone’s surprise and amazement and universal relief, it works.  Can you imagine how famous the person who gave up their life for the betterment of humankind would be?  There’ll of statues of them circling the planet, and their name would be remembered forever.  Not like the Kardashians, who are already fading.  They will be famous… for eternity.

E:  And if nothing changes?

J:  They will still be remembered, symbolizing the folly of a misguided experiment.  Either way, we are talking immortality, Earl.  And I know that appeals to you.  You wrote that post where you wrote your first story and declared immediately, “I’m immortal!”  Think about it, Earl.  Guaranteed immortality.      

AFTER A BEAT.

E:  Okay.

J:  Then you’ll do it?

E:  No.  I just said that to see how it felt.  It felt like I was throwing my life away.

J:  And that’s your final answer.  With future of all humankind hanging in the balance.

E:  Sorry.  I am not cut out to be a hero, a martyr or an idiot.

J:  Understood.  And I shall deliver my report.  In the meantime… Earl, I hesitate to say this because I know you have somewhat of a guilty temperament…

E:  You could say that.

J:  But from now on, you look in the paper, or at the news on TV, and things continue to get worse?  How are you going to feel about that?  How are you going to live, knowing there was a chance – an infinitesimal chance, perhaps, but a chance nonetheless – that by your actions, you could have made the world better, but you refused to answer the call?

E:  I am not sure I can feel guiltier.  I just know that between me, somebody else, and best of all, nobody, my preferences, in order, are Option Three, Option Two and, under no circumstances, One.  No matter how selfish that sounds.  What I will do, because it is reasonable and eminently doable, is my small but hopefully meaningful part in making the world a little better myself.  I’m sorry, but that’s as far as I can go.

J:  No problem, Earl.  The one little glitch in the operation is that my instructions were if I could not talk you into it, I would have to be sacrificed myself.

E:  Oh, no!  Really?

J:  Unlike you, I could not bear the responsibility of saying no.

E:  Can you tell ‘em you changed your mind?

J:  I’m okay with it, actually.  Maybe that’s why I didn't work harder persuading you.  (EXTENDING HIS HAND)  Earl, it was a pleasure to meet you.

E:  (SHAKING HIS HAND)  Jim, you’re a better man than I am.

EARL USHERS JIM TO THE DOOR.  JIM EXITS.

E:  (CLOSING THE DOOR)  Well… that was interesting.

EARL CONTINUES ON WITH HIS LIFE.  BUT NOT BEFORE MAKING A FEW NOTES.

"Sacrificial Lamb-erantz"

Lemme tell you where this came from.  One day, I am sitting in the dining hall at this fitness spa we go to in Mexico and out of the blue and seemingly  irrelevant to the conversation, I suddenly heard myself blurt, “Let’s kill Earl!”

I had no idea what it meant – besides the obvious – but I have been unable to extinguish it from my mind.  Today, I’ve decided to follow this line of imagining and see where it takes me.  It could be nowhere.  But I have a personal interest in finding out. 

THE SCENE: EARL’S LIVING ROOM.

THE TIME:  THE FANTASITICAL PRESENT.

HAVING ANSWERED THE DOOR, EARL USHERS IN A THIRTYISH, THOROUGHLY INGRATIATING STRANGER, WHO SAYS “CALL ME JIM” AND INFORMS EARL THAT HE HAS SOMETHING TO TALK TO HIM ABOUT THAT HE IS CERTAIN WILL BE OF INTEREST TO HIM.

EARL USHERS JIM OVER TO THE COUCH AND INVITES HIM TO SIT.  EARL SEATS HIMSELF IN A COMFORTABLE ROCKING CHAIR NEARBY.

THE CONVERSATION BEGINS.

JIM:  Earl, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to dispense with the “small talk” and get right to the point. 

EARL:  Okay. 

J:  I know you’ve been known to write blog posts about your unusual experiences.  No need to bore your audience with extraneous chitter-chatter. 

E:  I could edit it out.

J: But you usually don’t.

E:  You have read my blog.

J:  In preparation for this meeting.  I really enjoy it.  Although even this is getting a little extended.

EARL SMILES, “BUSTED”, BUT SIMULTENEOUSLY TICKLED. 

E:  Go on.

J:  Earl, I recently attended an international conference involving a panel of some of the greatest thinkers from around the world.  The participants came from all walks of life – politicians, business people, academics, professional artists of various types, religious leaders.  The subject of the conference was the indisputable sorry condition of our world – the agonizing poverty, the continual warfare, the internecine animosity… are you familiar with that word?

E:  “Internecine.”  That’s, like, between groups, isn’t it?

J:  On the money.  The conference was assembled to discuss what – if anything – could be done to improve things.  The participants were instructed not to censor themselves, so a whole spectrum of proposals were tossed around, some of them promising, some of them, frankly, entirely whack-a-doodle.  That last category – the certifiable whack-a-doodle proposals – is where the idea I am about to tell you about derived from.  It involves… Earl, let me just come out and say it, okay?

E:  Okay.

J:  A human sacrifice.

EARL ATTEMPTS TO SUPPRESS A CHUCKLE.

E:  A human sacrifice.

J:  As a desperate solution to get things back on track. 

E:  (HIS CHUCKLE ELEVATING INTO A GUFFAW)  A human sacrifice.

J:  The panel had rejected everything else by that time, and to be honest, there was alcohol involved.  The thing is – and the panel was unanimous about this – nothing we are currently attempting is working.  Hardline intransigence.  Unrestricted negotiation.  Whatever we’ve tried, the world is still going to hell in a hand-basket.  That’s when somebody proposed, perhaps as a joke, though they were instructed not to hold back… a human sacrifice.

E:  (BACK UNDER CONTROL)  I see.  And did they have anyone particular in mind?

J:  Earl, if I may be painfully blunt, that is the precisely the reason I’m here. 

E:  What do you mean?

J:  It was decided to kill you.

CONSIDER HOW LONG YOU WOULD PAUSE IF YOU HAD JUST BEEN INFORMED THAT PEOPLE YOU HAVE NEVER MET HAD ARBITRARILY DECIDED TO TERMINATE YOUR LIFE.  AND INSERT THE LENGTH OF THAT PAUSE… RIGHT HERE.

FINALLY:

E:  (EITHER WEAKLY OR ANGRILY, DEPENDING ON YOUR PERSONALITY, FOR ME, IT WOULD BE WEAKLY)  What?

J:  Understand, Earl.  Nobody has anything against you. 

E:  So it isn’t personal.

J:   Not at all.

E:  They just decided to kill me.

J:  Correct. 

ANOTHER PAUSE OF A PARALELLING DURATION.  FINALLY…

E:  How exactly was this determined?  I mean, why me?

J:  They drew your name out of a hat.

E:  They drew my name out of a hat.

J:  That’s right.

E:  Was it a big hat?

J:  I imagine it was a pretty big hat.  Though I am not certain why that matters.

E:  I don’t know.  Six billion people on the planet, you pull a name out of a hat of the person to be sacrificed and it’s me, it seems kind of natural to wonder how big that hat must have been to contain all those names on tiny slips of paper…was it tiny slips of paper?

J:  I believe it was.

E: … all those names on tiny slips of paper.  I mean, that’s got to be a pretty big hat, don’t you think?

J:  To be honest, Earl, I did not actually see the hat.  But if you’re really interested…

E:  Maybe it’s perverse, but I would kind of like to how lucky I am.  I mean, I am not an inherently lucky person – no “Lucky Draws” to my credit, no winner at an auction except for silent auctions where I ended up paying the most money, which would not necessarily make me lucky, it might make me a sucker.  Suddenly, my luck has changed.  One out of six billion and “Off with his head!”

J:  I can see you are not taking this well. 

E: Not taking this well?  A stranger comes to my house and informs me that a panel of experts has decided to kill me?   (GETTING UP)  I’m calling a policeman.  I would throw you out, but I want you to be here when they arrive.

J:  The authorities know about this, Earl.  In fact, there’s a patrol car sitting outside for protection.

E:  I don’t need any protection.

J:  I thought I might.  Look, Earl, I probably should have mentioned this earlier and I apologize for that.  But now that we’re entering “Two-Parter” territory, the introduction of new information makes it a natural as a cliffhanger. 

E:  The blog thanks you, but what are you talking about?

J:  Earl, the human sacrifice is entirely optional. 

E:  Optional? 

J:  Correct.  We will only kill you if you’re agreeable.

E:  Well then we don’t need a cliffhanger.  Pass.

J:  Okay, if that’s your answer.  But what say we give it another day?

TO BE CONTINUED…

(Not necessarily to find out if Earl changes his mind, but because the writer is curious about why he should consider it.)

"The World's Greatest Agent" - Redux

I found the story.  And I tightened it up.  If you have no already read it, enjoy.  And if you have, pretend that you can't remember that you did.  It will be good practice for when you're old.

Okay, ready?  Here we go.

I am having lunch with my agent.  At this point in my career, meeting with my agent is akin to a bald man frequenting a barbershop. 

Strictly for reminiscing.

Here comes the obligatory “boo-hoo” paragraph; I shall attempt to be brief.  Ever since the networks stopped hiring my contemporaries and me because their pursuit of a younger audience decreed, “No older writers”, some of the finest purveyors of classic television have been relegated permanently to the sidelines.  Though their strategy had been unsuccessful – younger audiences are not flocking to network programming – the networks continue to perpetuate it. What do you want them to do?  Make shows for an older audience who will actually watch?  That’s just “crazy talk.”

Anyway, back to my agent.

Over the quarter century he’s been representing me, Elliot got me the jobs I wanted and he has made me good money.  He has also told me the truth, whether I wanted to hear it or not.  For example, Elliot has pleaded with me to write more “edgy.”  This is realistic advice.  But it’s like asking a flamingo to moo.

There have been times when the things Elliot tells me emerge differently than he intended them to.  Once, during a fallow period in my career, Elliot took me to lunch to cheer me up. 

In a voice reflecting a serious intonation, he said,

“Earl, can I tell you something?”

How can I stop him if he’s paying for the lunch?

Now I can’t be certain about this, but I believe what he wanted to tell me was this:

“Earl, I respect you enormously and, no matter what, I am honored and proud to be your agent.” 

What came out, however, was this:

“Earl, you earn less money than any of my other clients.”

You see the comparison?  The subtle difffence in nuance?  Over the years, I have struggled with Elliot’s “bucking up” attempts, battlling, after his well-intentioned encouragments, to keep my head safely out of the oven.  I should have told him his pep talks were sending me into a dark and downward spiral, but I didn’t. You do not want to upset a man’s feelings.  Especially when your future is inescapably under his control.

My closest “That’s all I can stands” moment occcurred when this happened.

We were meeting with NBC about a show I was developing called Family Man, a variation of The Cosby Show, but with Jews.  The series would be modeled after my family and its, hopefully, humorous adventures.  (Later, Family Man would air briefly on ABC.)  

As the meeting was coming to a close, the network president got up, disappearing into a giant closet.  He emerged, carrying three very large beach towels with the network’s peacock logo emblazoned on them, and he handed them to me.  “For your kids,” he said.  He gave me three towels, because the show I was pitching featured three children, although, in reality, I only had two.  Sometimes, I embellish.

Coming out of the meeting, I had the powerful feeling that NBC was not buying the series.  I was, therefore, understandably distraught.  So too, I could see, was my agent.  I love empathy in an agent.  As it turned out, however, Elliot was upset for an entirely different reason.

“I can’t believe what just happened.  Three towels.  And he gave all of them to you!”

I could not believe what I was hearing.  “Inappropriate?”  The word was invented for precisely that situation.

What then followed by an extended tirade.  Incredulity has erased its precise contents from my memory, but I remember that it ended with  “…and he did not give me one frickin’ towel!”  Only he didn’t say “frickin’.”

I felt angry and confused.  I had suffered a substantial career reversal.  And my agent’s screaming about beach towels!  There was a powerful inmpulse to walk away.  But I couldn’t.  Elliot had driven us to the meeting.   So I stayed there.  And I listened.

And I started to understand. 

In the world of agentry, where behaviors, large and small, transmit unmistakable signals of where you stand, getting no towels from a network president was a reverberating

slap in the face.  This insult, Elliot believed, had awakened him to the Truth. 

The network did not respect him. 

“No towels”, he repeated, virtually in tears.  “How can I do business with these people?  How can I ever look them in the face again?”

At that point, to my surprise, I began slowly to feel better.  I started to wonder if  Elliot’s outburst was merely an elaborate act, an ingenious strategy to distract me from my disappointment by focusing entirely on him.

Nah.  It was inappropriate.

Still, the man seemed genuinely humiliated.. I had a compelling desire to take action.  Elliot had been there for me in the past.  I wanted to do something for him.  But what?

I handed Elliot two towels.

(Postscript:  On Elliot’s fiftieth birthday, I surrendered the third towel.)