UNTITLED CHAD DARNELL PROJECT

Joseph's TripAdvisor review of "The Inn of Bethlehem"

JOSEPH

Lives in: Nazareth

Marital Status: Engaged

ZERO STARS

I stayed at the "Inn of Bethlehem," and this place sucks donkey butt.  Made a reservation months ago.  Had to travel all the way from Galilee for tax season (thanks, Caesar August!) with my pregnant fiance. (No, the child isn't mine.  Long story.)

When we got there, there was no room.  No room at the inn.  And when I asked the innkeeper where am I supposed to stay, he said, "I have a barn out back."  BUT I BOOKED A DELUXE KING AND YOU'RE GIVING ME A BARN!

The barn sucked.  Small room.  Animals everywhere.  No electricity.  No heat.  And then to top it all off... my pregnant virgin (that's right, I said it...) fiance goes into labor.

No hospital or doctors.  She just plopped out the baby right there.  So you would think at this point the innkeeper would find us like a sofa in the lobby at least, right?  Nope.  Nothing.  We're up to our knees in afterbirth and the jerk couldn't be bothered.

I asked for a crib.  "I think there's a manger around here somewhere."  Because of his accent, I thought he kept saying, "I think there's a MANAGER around here" and we kept waiting for someone to show up with a crib.  He literally meant a MANGER.  A food trough.  Like what pigs eat out of.

No blankets.  We had to wrap the baby in old rags.

And this is where it gets weird.  Just as we're finally about to get some sleep, these freaking shepherds show up, claiming angels told them to come find us.  Telling them, "follow a star and look for a baby in swaddling clothes."  Right.  One of them was this kid with a drum.   "I don't have any other gift" he kept saying and I was all, "we just had a baby, Travis Barker!  Knock it off!"  Don't have a gift?  How about making a lamb entree and bringing it up in here cause THIS PLACE DOESN'T EVEN HAVE ROOM SERVICE!

In closing, I would not recommend the Inn of Bethlehem to anyone.  I can't believe how disrespected we were.  And my kid is going to be a king one day, yo.

Great location.  Terrible service.  Valet is $40 a day (for a donkey!). No breakfast included.  No coffee pot in room.  No pool.

Help Me Give the Gift of Water

All I need you to do is donate $20.  That's the cost of a movie and popcorn.  Or a few lattes.  Or a drink at the Abbey with tip.

The Thirst Project is a group of young people helping build wells, giving fresh water to people around the world.  Check out their site HERE.

Almost a MILLION people don't have access to clean drinking water and a new well only costs $5,000.  So if 250 people donate just $20 (or more!), the Thirst Project can build a well in Uganda.  Or give whatever you can.  $1.  $5.  Whatever.

Watch the PSA that Pauley did below, CLICK HERE to donate (click on the "Donate Today" - which takes you to Paypal), and then leave a "comment," saying you donated and I'll update our list below as they come in.  

Please retweet this to your friends, repost, and let's get 250 people together to do something amazing.

 

People Who Have Donated:

1. Chad Darnell - $20

2. She Who Shall Not Be Named - $40

3. Bonnie Jacobs - $20

12 of 12 (Year 6): December 2011

THIS IS IT!!  The final 12 of 12!

Thank you to everyone who has participated in 12 of 12 over the past 6 years.  When I started 12 of 12, I wanted to remember and document one day a month for a year.  And then decided to do it for a second year.  And so on.

Not long after I started it, several other websites and blogs took my same concept and started doing 12 of 12.  I was naturally a touch angry when I realized that my idea I started had spawned entire other websites, but I realized in hindsight, it's not about credit.

Several people have offered to take the hosting duties and I apologize for not responding yet.  As you've noticed, I haven't even had time to do my own 12 of 12 this past year because my life has been too busy.  So if you are interested in taking on the host duties, post in the comments and I'll touch base with you and then you can check back here in a few weeks and I'll tell you who will be the new host.

Again, thank you for being a part of my little experiment over the years.  Over the past six years, my photos have followed me from casting to prepping my first feature as a director.  I hope you look back over you past years and remember what you were doing on this date.  And you are able to see how you have changed and how you have grown.

1) Click on "Click Here to Enter"

2) Under "Link Title or Blog Title" enter exactly like this:

Your name (Your City, Your State or Country)

3) Under "Link" enter the permalink to your 12 of 12 page.

 

Thanks!

Click HERE for the Entire 12 of 12 archive

 

I Hate Christmas Music (the movie)

 

Why I Hate Christmas Music

This is what I performed today as part of Hollywood United Methodist's ONCE UPON A CHRISTMAS

 

I hate Christmas music.  I hate the sound of children singing more, but I really hate Christmas music. 

Statistically speaking, the rate of depression goes up astronomically during the holiday season and I think we can all blame Christmas music.  It’s forced upon us, whether we’re in the grocery store, the car, or flipping through channels on television.  And almost every single Christmas song is about people being alone or dead grandparents or some maniacal old man in a red suit who stalks and preys upon small children.

And Gene Autry is public enemy number one.

His “Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer” is nothing more than a horrifying little ditty about a gang of reindeer who bully someone because they are different.  Because he has a red nose.  They would laugh and call him names and wouldn’t let him join in their reindeer games until Santa was all, “hey, I got a job for you,” and then what happened?  THEN all the reindeer loved him.  Like THAT was his big “it gets better” moment. 

“Frosty the Snowman” is a song about a ball of ice with two eyes made out of coal (traditionally a gift given to bad children) that becomes possessed when it acquires a hat and a pipe.  He taunts children and before he melts, he says, “don’t you cry, I’ll be back again some day.”  I prefer to think of the song as being about rejection and alienation, rather than idle threats of revenge. 

“Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”  This song scared the living crap out of me growing up.  There’s not a single line in the song that’s cute:  “You better watch out.  You better not cry.  You better not pout, I’m telling you why.  Santa Claus is coming to town.”  “He sees you when you’re sleeping.  He knows when you’re awake.  He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.”  Here, Autry portrays Santa as a sociopathic stalker who, apparently, will end your life if you’re naughty.  Go back and look at photos of yourself as a child, screaming your head off while sitting in his lap at the mall.  NOW you’ll remember why.  You blocked it.  Collectively, we all have Mall Santa Stockholm Syndrome.

And if “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” was a warning shot, the next song on the radio is usually  “HERE Comes Santa Claus!” telling you, too late!  Here he comes, you can’t run.  You can’t hide.  Instead the lyrics inform children to “jump in bed and cover your head.” 

There are songs about children walking in on their parents’ infidelity, like, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”  What’s cute about that?!  It’s basically a song about a homewrecker.  Wouldn’t be so cute if it was I saw daddy kissing Santa Claus.

Or Wham’s “Last Christmas,” in which George Michael “gave his heart” to whom I can only imagine was Andrew Ridgeley and what did Andy do?  The very next day, he gave it away.  Nice.  There’s a word for that, but I can’t use it in church.  So George continues, “this year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special.”   And apparently he found someone in a park in Beverly Hills. 

There’s Dan Fogelberg’s “Same Old Lang Syne” about two former lovers who bump into each other on Christmas Eve, have a good laugh, catch up, realize how much their lives suck and leave.  And as they do, the snow turns to rain. 

“Winter Wonderland” has been recorded by over a hundred and fifty recording artists and stars.  And I’ve never understood why the couple building a snowman, pretend he’s a preacher who says, “are you married?” THAT’S this talking snowman’s first question?  Not even a “Merry Christmas, everyone.”  “Are you married?”  And you have to admit, that’s creepy when little kids are singing it and respond, “no, man.  But you can do the job when you’re in town.”

I’m not even going to get into the passive aggressive songs to slit your wrists by like, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” (if only in my dreams).  “I’ll Have a Blue Christmas” (without you) and “Please Come Home for Christmas.”  Those are all pretty self explanatory.  They suck.  Cry me a river.

Like Joni Mitchell’s “Wish I Had a River I Could Skate Away On” where she sings about cutting down trees (a lot) and how someone loved her, but she didn’t love him, so she wants to skate away.  Huh?

“It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” has a single lyric that has stumped me all my years.  “There’ll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting and carolers out in the snow… THERE”LL BE SCARY GHOST STORIES…”  Who tells GHOST STORIES at Christmas!?  I write horror movies and I’ve never once said, “you know what this office party could use?  A ghost story.  Let’s all gather down by the fireplace and let me tell you about the headless elf who wanders the Super Walmart looking for children’s souls.”  Never happened.  But IS the subject of my upcoming movie, “Stumpy the Elf and the Massacre on Aisle Five.”

“The 12 Days of Christmas” sounds like a good idea, until you start to look at the list of presents this idiot gave his true love.  Partridge in a pear tree?  Cute.  Two turtle doves?  Okay, they don’t live very long.  Three French hens?  Well there’s dinner on Christmas Eve.  But eight maids “a-milking?”  Nine ladies waiting?  It’s pretty much the worst drinking song of all time.

If you actually listen to the lyrics of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” you’ll realize there’s nothing depressing about the song at all.  It’s just the slow, melodic, depressing pace of the song that makes you want to stick your head in an over full of gingerbread men.  It’s the “Old Yeller” of Christmas songs.  Close runner-ups are “White Christmas” and “Silver Bells.”

“Do They Know It’s Christmas” was written for famine relief.  I can’t decide if it’s  more insulting to the people in Ethiopia or the person listening to the song.  “Exhausted from all your shopping and parties?  There are people who don’t even know it’s Christmas and don’t have food to eat.  Happy Holidays, you bourgeois pig.”

And dare we not forget the pinnacle of awful Christmas music, the Newsong classic, “The Christmas Shoes.”  A song about a boy who just wants to buy his dying mother a pair of shoes.  Or as Lifetime calls it, "Sunday Movie Night."

Which brings me to “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.”  Highly unlikely.  The lyrics tell us, “grandma got run over by a reindeer, WALKING HOME FROM OUR PLACE CHRISTMAS EVE.”  First off, everyone knows Santa parks his sleigh on the roof.   So he was nowhere near the street.  Secondly, who let’s their grandmother walk home?   The lyrics tell us she had had too much egg nog and they “begged” her not to go, but she’d left her medication at home so she stumbled out into the snow.  NO OLD WOMAN should be walking out in the snow, alone, especially when she’s drunk.

So obviously grandpa would be distraught, right?  Catatonic, his wife of many years was mowed down by a “reindeer?”  No. The next day, Grandpa’s in the living room watching football, drinking beer and playing cards with cousin Belle.  Because that’s normal.

I don’t claim to be a crime scene expert, but I’m guessing if the police checked in grandpa’s garage, they’re going to find little grandma pieces in the grill of grandpa’s Cadillac.  It’s like the song was written by the Notorious B.I.G.  Imagine that interrogation.  “It was a reindeer… she was just walking home and…”

I’m not a big Santa Claus fan, but clearly he was framed for murder.

I mean, not all Christmas music is bad.  There are a few songs that come on the radio that are fun and happy, upbeat songs like “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.”  “Jingle Bell Rock.”  “All I Want for Christmas is You” and of course, “The Chipmunk Song.”

“Away in a Manger.”  “Oh, Holy Night.”  “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful.”  That’s my flavor.  They never talk about missing people or rushing to buy Christmas presents.    There’s no fear of a snowman nipping your nose off or a fat man breaking into your house in the middle of the night or some brat that claims all he wants for Christmas is his two front teeth.

I want my Christmas music to be about Jesus and his birthday!  I imagine if Mary were to visit Hollywood and Highland today and heard people singing carols, she’d be all, “I was a virgin, who went into labor during tax season and gave birth to the Messiah in a cold barn without lights, electricity, heat or a doctor and had to put my baby in food trough.  You’re sad your loved one won’t be with you at Christmas?  Ooooh.  My son was crucified on a cross for your sins!  Man up, Elvis!  Grow a set!”

Merry Christmas!  And scene.

An Open Letter To Mike Beaudet and Fox 25

Public high school teacher starred in porno movies released last year: MyFoxBOSTON.com

 

Dear Mike Beaudet and Mike Beaudet's Bosses at Fox 25:

I, like most of America, have caught your witch hunt you call "undercover journalism" regarding teacher, Kevin Hogan.  And I, like most of America, have relished watching with an insatiable glee as you have been trashed over all forms of social media.

His students have come out to support him, saying he was "the best thing that happened to my crew team."  "Single handedly destroyed a man's life."  And my personal favorite: "My English teacher is a porn star. #nbd" (No Big Deal.)

You, however, have been noticeably radio silent on your own Twitter page.  Since your story broke.  Where'd you go, girl?

In case you are not aware: there is not one single, not a single solitary tweet in ALL of the big whale of the Twitterverse or a single comment on the Fox25 website in support of you.  Nothing.  Nada.  Trust me, I've spent three days looking for them.  Not a single person even gave you a "LOL.  Cool story."  Nope.  Nothing.

We all agree:  you're an asshole.

I'm sure your story about outing a high school teacher as a former porn star seemed like a good idea at the time.  Unfortunately, that time was 1985 and not 2011.  If your news station ran stories about every teacher, politician, doctor, lawyer, or cupcake maker who had made a home sex video, emailed photos of their junk to someone else or yes, had filmed porno, it would have a data bank of stories bigger than Facebook.

Where is the fantastical town that you live in where teachers are saints?  What color is the sky in that world?

What did you think was going to happen with this story?  What were you expecting?  When you pitched it to the producers who stupidly gave you a greenlight, watched as you investigated, shot and edited your piece, did you think you were getting a Peabody?  THIS is journalism?

Now, I'm sure there are people that would be horrified that their children were being taught by an individual who participated in sex acts on film, but statistics show us that 80% of those students are already sexually active.  It's not like he had sexual relations WITH his students.  It's not like they rushed out, found Mr. Hogan's films and were overcome with a feeling of, "my body... I suddenly have these strange sensations... I must HAVE SEX NOW!"  Like THIS was a new thing?

And since no one knew about his film work before your "investigation," you're presentation did nothing more than send an entire school to their iPads and do a Google search.  So, Brava.  You just made a few porn companies a lot of extra cash.

When I was in the sixth grade, back in the ancient days of 1985, my English teacher was outed by a bunch of obnoxious students for having appeared in Playboy.  There we were in class one day and she pulled down the map, and low and behold, there was her Miss July centerfold.  She didn't stop being my teacher.  She didn't stop being my favorite teacher.  She just got cooler in my eyes.  (And oddly enough, didn't feel the urge to bang the cheerleader sitting next to me.  Crazy, I know.)

They got detention.  She was embarrassed.  Somehow we all survived.  But she didn't lose her job.  And that was 1985.  AND IT WAS GEORGIA.

As William WoIfrum pointed out on Twitter, if a teacher loses all credibility because they had sexual relations on camera in a film you can't get at Blockbuster, should we allow military personnel who have returned home to the States to teach?  After all, some of them have murdered people.  Killed, protecting our country.  Too strong to say a veteran defending our country and a porn star are two totally different things?  What about a Catholic priest?  After all, we know that all Catholic Priests are child molesters, right?  No?  Is that a sweeping generalization?

What about wiccans?  Maybe we shouldn't allow them to teach because of their beliefs.  And while we're at it, atheists don't believe in God, which is a part of the Pledge of Allegiance.  Or Muslims, since we know all of them are terrorists.  Why haven't you run someone down with the name of "Mohammed" with photographs of 9/11 and asked them "what do you have to say for yourself?"

No.  Let's go after the guy who teaches teenager and makes crappy pay doing it.  And let's do it on camera!

WHAT DOES THIS MAN, WHO APPEARED IN A PORN FILM FOR THE MONEY, HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING!?  He didn't show his students the film.  Wasn't like he said, "today we'll be discussing HAMLET and I brought a film you might enjoy called JUST GONE GAY 8,"  In fact, you would really have to dig to find his films.

Which leads to the question:  HOW DID YOU find out about his films?  Me think the lady doth protest too much.  That's Shakespeare.  Learned that from my sixth grade Playboy bunny English teacher.  It means, "girl, I thinks you got something to hide.  Mmm-hmmmm."

Your smug, je ne sai quois manner on tape is laughable.  You seemed so proud of yourself, catching the porn star off guard.  "You've starred in some pretty interesting movies," while thrusting black and white stills in his face.

BUT - the one thing that did come out of your story was that we witnessed an entire school of students rise up and support their teacher.  Seriously.  It was like a Morgan Freeman movie, only the teacher was a hot white guy.  Tweets like "#thekidsarealright" showed us, holy crap, there actually IS hope for the next generation.  

What this all comes down to is you are a bully.

Have you learned NOTHING over the past year about bullying?  Nothing at all?

This was a gay thing.  If this man had been a male porn star in a straight porn, you would have asked the guy out for a beer and asked him what it was like to shoot with Jenna Jameson and gone home to your box of kleenex and lotion.  The fact that this was a man appearing in gay porn is what drove your investigation.

And even if it wasn't, that's the perception.  And as a screenwriter, whatever the perception is, IS the truth.  That is how the audience absorbed it.

I know Fox is "fair and (ahem) balanced" but where was the side that supported Mr. Hogan in your reporting?  Where was that?

There's an entire Facebook page with over 3,000 members dedicated to getting you fired.  AND I'M A MEMBER.

Here is my advice.  You can take it for what it is worth and seeing as how you have about as much credibility as Kim Kardashian at a David's Bridal boutique, I would suggest you take it:

APOLOGIZE.  Say you're sorry.  Say you're an idiot and you just didn't realize the magnitude of the story.  I'm willing to bet if you knew then what you knew now, you never would have gone with the story, so apologize.  You ask Kevin Hogan out for a sit-down coffee in a public park and you apologize.  You shed a few tears.  And you ask for his forgiveness.

EDUCATE YOURSELF.  The times are changing.  It blows my mind that not a single, solitary Fox News fan came to your aid and support you.  NO ONE.  Not a single, "well, I don't want my kid bein' ed-u-macated by no homo."  You didn't even get a bigot to support you.  Dude.  That's rough.  I mean, seriously, I feel bad for you.  (A little.)

Call it a sign of the times, but porn performers are everywhere.  In my town of West Hollywood, you can't swing a bat without hitting three of them.  (Trust me, I've tried.)  They're like glitter:  they're everywhere and they're not going away.  Whether it's a professionally shot porn film or something you can download amateur style on the internet, the times have changed.  You can't even Google MY NAME without finding nude pictures.

I don't mean to make this a "Glory, Glory Hallelujah" moment with me standing on soap box, wearing a Harvey Milk t-shirt, a NOH8 button and a Trevor Project hat, but dude, WAKE UP!  I know your station is a Fox affiliate, but you can't go after the gays like that.  You could in 1985.  Hell, you could in 2005, but not today.  Fox even has a show called GLEE!  Even Fox knows you don't go after the gays anymore!

GET INVOLVED, MIKE.  You are so painfully unaware of what is going on.  Get involved in a suicide hotline or attend a PFLAG meeting or just sponsor a Pride event.  Do something.  Do something that gives back and shows you're trying to get with it.  Fake it if you have to.  And never use the word "tranny."

The kids are going to be alright.  And thanks to your story, we witnessed that first hand. 

The Bible tells us, "Judge ye not, lest ye be judged."  And dare we all forget, Jesus hung out with prostitutes.  He didn't shun people.  He didn't grab a camera crew to say, "look at the hooker!  What do you have to say for yourself!?"  

Your report was about exposing a man and judging him for his past.  Not on his works as a teacher.  Not on the admiration he had from his students.  It was about retribution.

You have the opportunity to turn this around.  You can make this better for yourself.  

Even if you don't agree with me, you have no fans.  NONE of your fans have come out publicly to support you.

Do the right thing.  Show people that when you decide to be a bully, you can make it right.

And Mike, it gets better.

Love, 

Chad