REASON #111407

LETTERS TO HOLLYWOOD

Dear Hollywood,

I turned 35 yesterday, Hollywood, and I promise you that as soon as this whole strike thing is resolved, I'm going to make a real commitment to getting totally freaked out about that. I was already too old when I entered this business 3 years ago (FACT: My manager told me to tell producers I was in my late 20's), and now...Jesus. I'm almost 40. Not that I'll make it to 40, of course. At any given moment, I have 27 different kinds of cancer, as well as a variety of other diseases ranging from early onset Parkinson's to Avian Flu. I'm probably dead right now as I'm writing this. Let me just check my pulse...Yeah. I think I have an arrhythmia. Add that to the list.

Don't worry, Hollywood. I'm fine. Probably.

The good news is that I had a fine birthday yesterday, complete with a CELEBRITY GUEST APPEARANCE! That's right, Hollywood. Let me set the scene: We're standing in front of Fox Plaza, entreating cars to honk. Because every time a horn honks, an angel writer gets a new media residual. Atta boy, Clarence!

What's that? "How might I know Fox Plaza," you wonder aloud? Oh, it's nothing special really. Just another studio building, you know, nothing special I guess...

OH, RIGHT! IT'S NAKATOMI PLAZA, BEYOTCHES!

Might I add it looks GREAT for having been blown up 251 different ways. They should get the guys who rebuilt it to go postal on Ground Zero.

So there we were, standing as still as humanly possible while still attempting to look like we were doing something, when off in the distance, a guy approached. But not just any guy. A guy who shaped all of our childhoods. A man who starred in some of the finest movies of the 1980's. A man who, in fact, was ACTUALLY IN DIE HARD, and ACTUALLY ACTED in front of the ACTUAL BUILDING we were picketing.

Ladies and gentlemen, that man was, and is, this man:

READ 'EM AND WEEP, CHUMPS! IT WAS WILLIAM ATHERTON!

Oh, William Atherton. How many classic D-bags did you play back in the dizzy? The D-bag EPA agent in "Ghostbusters," the D-bag professor in "Real Genius, and of course, the D-bag reporter in "Die Hard 1 and 2." Jeffrey Jones WISHES he played this many classic 80's D-bags. And that he hadn't been caught with all of that illegal pornography. Tough break, Rooney.

Now a cynic might say that the Ath-Man chose Nakatomi Plaza to picket in the hopes of some quick and easy photo ops. If this was the case, it didn't go so well. Our picket line is a black hole of media attention, which, naturally, is why I'm there. As many of you know, I'm in the witness protection program.

But honestly, I think Atherton just wanted to do his part, and maybe he sought out our dinky little picket so there wouldn't be a big to-do about him joining the throng. Either way, he was perfectly lovely, jovial, and everything you want a former 80's D-bag to be. He put on no airs, gamely listened to every single one of our "This man has no d--k" jokes, told us stories of how he was tear-gassed protesting the Vietnam war, and how Sally Kirkland threw the best parties in the 1970's.

(I suspect if I were to press him, that last thing would roughly translate into "She had pillowcases of cocaine stacked so high, you could climb them all the way to Heaven, do a few bumps with God, and still have time to get your lapels widened before you went to Studio 54 for a nightcap and poppers." But I could be off base here. I'm certainly not suggesting he did drugs. Sally Kirkland on the other hand? I'm pretty sure she may have dabbled. Yeah, I went there. Take THAT, Sally Kirkland.)

After about an hour of this, Atherton decided it was time for some action. He enlisted one of my buddies to storm Nakatomi, so that they might really bring their something to the something. I'm not going to lie, it wasn't a really well thought out plan. As they marched up the steps, my buddy reported that the following conversation took place:

HIM: Hey, you know, maybe if the guards give us a hard time, you can pull out some of your classic 80's tough talk.

ATHERTON: Yeah, maybe.

GUARDS: You can't be here.

ATHERTON: Okay.

Scene.

His plans thwarted, but his job done, Atherton bid us good-day, and retreated into our collective D-bag memories. Now Hollywood, I don't use the word "Hero" more than five or six times a day, but if anyone was deserving of the title, it would be Mr. William Atherton. If for no other reason than the fact that he laughed at one of my jokes, and that's pretty much all one has to do for me to deem them a hero.

My wife? A hero. A patient, patient hero. The barrista at the Hustler Store who stared at me dead-eyed when I asked for a Capporncino? Not a hero.

As for me, I celebrated my birthday with a kung-fu/vampire movie at the New Beverly, and then drank myself goofy at the Silver Spoon Restaurant. All in all it was a fantastic birthday, which I would have deeply enjoyed if I wasn't suffering from restless legs syndrome, scurvy, and feline leukemia. What a drag it is getting old, indeed.

D-baggily yours,

Josh A. Cagan