Yes, that typewriter is from the Barton Fink poster, a movie I like a lot. No, it's not Lebowski. It's not Miller's Crossing. But watching John Goodman, shotgun in hand, walk down that hotel corridor with flames engulfing the walls behind him, that's goddamn great film.
Winners are: Ted Baker, a guy who just turned a year older last week. Ted is a fellow Coen Bros. fan, a film editor/producer, and a great lover of documentaries. I know, because every year he and I do the Full Frame Film Festival and watch docs for four days, morning to night. Last year we were standing in the coffee line and started up a conversation with two nice women, just to pass the time, be friendly, or get a possible tip on a dark horse doc we might otherwise overlook. They asked if we were going to see a lot of films and I replied that every year we watch movies until our asses are flat.
The two looked as if they'd been struck with an ax handle. They blanched and scurried away as soon as they'd copped their mocha java half caf decaf frappaccinos. Ah well.
So here's to Ted. See you in April, buddy.
And Ray Knucklebuster Banks, a boy who writes noir so well you wouldn't know he had such a soft, generous heart. Looking forward to seeing your new home, Ray.
Thanks to everyone who called, wrote, and posted best wishes here and elsewhere. I did have a Happy Birthday.