<p>Go ahead, pendejo. Kick my ass.</p>
<p><span style="font-size:14.6667px">Between May and June 1968, Pier Paolo Pasolini wrote the outline for a screenplay on the life of Paul of Tarsus.</span></p>
This is the story of being turned down by John Waters. Three years ago, my comedy writing partner Casey van Heel and I finished our pilot, season one outline, and pitch packet for a project we’d been working on for over a year. A project called Porn ...
<p>This is a good look for you. You’re maybe only the world’s second-biggest homo. </p>
<p>"Human beings now inhabit that world inside the screen." Examining Jim Jarmusch's gushing open letter to John Cassavetes. </p>
<p>Oh no. Oh no. I pinched a loaf in my big boy pa-- </p>
<p>WHAT!?</p>
<p>I know a dude wants to sell his. He just goes camping with it -- but a mobile meth lab’d be the bomb.</p>
<p style="margin-right: 0px;">This shit is art. Cooking is art. The shit I cook is the bomb, so don’t be telling me! </p>
<p>Walt peers in cabinets high and low, pulls out FLASKS, BEAKERS, TUBING, STANDS and BURNERS. He gathers all this up, loads it in a cardboard box. </p>
<p>Damned if I know. I described it as a “mid-century objet d’art.”</p>
<p>I was curious. Honestly, I never expected you to amount to much. Methamphetamine, though. I didn’t picture that. Lotta money in it, huh?</p>
<p>As it creeps away, Walt notes the license plate: “THE CAPN.” </p>
<p>Deep in thought. Considering something carefully. He rises, picks up the phone and dials. Keeps his voice low. </p>
<p>AND WIPE DOWN THIS!</p>
<p>Walt nods, overwhelmed and hiding it. Skyler doesn’t know about his doctor’s appointment. </p>
<p>On the pristine white of his lapel, there’s a spot of yellow MUSTARD. </p>
<p>Guess I should’ve had breakfast this morning.</p>
<p>Nobel honoree working at a car wash passes out as he stares longingly at a <em>very distant</em> beautiful woman.</p>
<p>Thanks be to Jesus for eBay!</p>
<p>Walt, just say the word and I’ll take you on a ride-along. You can watch us knock down a meth lab. ‘Less that’s too much excitement for you. </p>
<p>Close, you stupid glove compartment!</p>
<p>Walt -- master’s degree, Inland Empire Science Educator of the Year for ‘92, ‘95, and ‘01 -- is towel-drying cars alongside the teenage vatos. </p>
<p>Bogdon, no. We talked about this.</p>
<p>It’s a lonesome tableau.</p>
<p>Chemistry? No. </p>
<p>Walt climbs out from behind the wheel, checks his watch. He’s late.</p>
<p>This smells like Band-Aids</p>
<p>Walt stands tall in his underpants, not flinching. Off him, ready to shoot the first cop he sees... </p>
<h1><em>The learning principle is to plunge into the detailed mystery of the micro in order to understand what makes the macro tick.</em></h1>