Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Where Am I Going?

When I was in the Army, I thrived on two things: disinformation and chaos. It wasn't that I liked not knowing what was going on or what was going to happen, it's just that I was very good at handling it. Take it in quickly, adjust necessarily, move on. Did that for almost seven years.

Of course, like all things, I got very tired of it, and wanted something new. I think I got my wanderlust from my father... I'm incapable of staying in one place or doing one thing for very long. In fact, the very act of returning to a place I've already lived constitutes a failure for me. I'm supposed to be moving forward, not in a circle. And, unfortunately, in a circle I presently am.

What's worse is that I'm caught in a flurry of disinformation and chaos. Only now I don't know how to deal with it. A plan nine years in the making was recently destroyed by a person I used to care a great deal for. Used to, mind you... used to. Still, it was the motivational equivalent of getting hit by a truck. Slammed, spun around, and legs broken. In other words: not going anywhere.

I'm incapable of writing seriously, I hardly sleep at night, I can't even commit much time to my job hunt. Why? Well, my mind is caught up planning other things... things I'd rather not publish here.

So? Where am I going? According to the now defunct plan, I was supposed to going to Hollywood, adding money and resume to my quest of becoming a screenwriter and producer. I was supposed to have well over $10,000 to support myself in the initial months. I was supposed to be living with two or three roommates in a small house with a fenced backyard for my dogs. Basically, I was supposed to be happy. This year, more than any other year, was to be the best year of my life.

Unfortunately, my career and life are going nowhere. I'm stuck, screwed, and scratching my way back, not to the top, but just to the standing position. And the only thing I can think seriously about is not even moving forward, but taking care of the person who so efficiently and spitefully took care of me.

Where am I going? Well... where else is a soldier to go?

To war.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Hollywood Stars and Hollywood Stars

I'm going to fill you in on some things that annoy the hell out of me. It's my blog, you're reading it, so I feel thoroughly entitled to do so.

how the press labels everyone who is famous, and is not an athlete, a "Hollywood star."

Okay, this is simply not the case. While I've always noticed this little purposeful faux pas, it really hit me when Lance Bass came out of the closet. All the trades, all the newspapers, and all the television magazines kept calling Mr. Bass and his "where's Tom Cruise" glory a "Hollywood star."

Let's set the record straight here: Lance Bass is a music star. He sings, he dances, he plays with his Mission: Impossible dolls. A music star does not a Hollywood star make. Hollywood, need I remind everyone, is the haven and heaven of FILM AND TELEVISION. Actors, directors, writers, etc. Not musicians. Yes, there's an Academy Award for "Best Original Song," but so what? Documentarians get Academy Awards, and they're hardly considered "Hollywood" in the public's eye.

I'm not going to harp on this, because I have more to complain about, but I implore the sensationalist press: please quit referring to everyone who happens to be a celebrity as a Hollywood star. Hollywood deserves its place among the lights, so let's leave it with some dignity, shall we?

Mel Gibson's vilification.

Dudes, the guy was drunk. And while several of you adhere to the philosophy that "people say (and do) what they mean" when they're drunk, this is simply not the case. I've seen one of my best friends try to kiss one of the ugliest women I've ever seen while drunk. Do I think for a second that he wanted to do this? No... but I'm sure that Jim Beam and Wild Turkey sure as hell did.

The man admitted a mistake, he's attempting (although not as strongly as he should be, I'll grant you) to make amends.

Oh, and I'm sick of hearing about all the crap of how "he's an actor, he can lie about it." I've worked with actors quite a bit, and anybody who has can tell you that there is a VERY THICK LINE between acting and lying. Actors are not necessarily good liars, despite the cliché, and vice versa. Take me for instance... I can be a great liar, but I can't act worth a damn.

Umm... forget that last thing I said, will you?

articles concerning Hollywood stars referring to said person as "the (insert film title here) star."

I read a lot of trades (this much should be obvious), and I am so sick and tired of reading about a person who everybody knows about being referred to as "the War of the Worlds star" or as "the Mean Girls star." Um... people who subscribe to the trades probably know who all of these people are, so we probably don't need to be reminded of said person's most recent or most popular film. I admit that this last annoyance isnt coming off as clearly as I'd like, but I'm still not in a proper writer's mood yet. To find out what I'm talking about, check out the IMDb's daily news sections and you'll soon be as annoyed as I am.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

The Great American Reluctant Job Search

Not sure how much back story is needed here, but most of you know that my budding film career has been reluctantly put on hold. As I try to recover $14,000 from a certain spiteful person (and that's just what's actually owed, never mind the peripheral costs of not having that money), I've been forced to forgo Southern California and attempt to rebuild my bank accounts by, ugh, working.

Funny thing, though... call it an epiphany of sorts... as I began perusing,, and the local newspapers for job openings, I started to realize that I don't qualify for anything. I mean, since high school I've done nothing but the military and college. That might sound like a basis for something, but as I'm a firm believer in doing something in the Army that you can't do anywhere else, I've cornered myself in a job market that has little use for a demolitions expert that jumps out of airplanes. And, quite naturally, my college career was rather meticulously designed to support a career in filmmaking. And, quite unfortunately, the filmmaking industry is rather hard to break in to if not in Los Angeles or a few other select locations in the United States.

So, here I am, a guy with two bachelor degrees, an unrelated associate degree, and nine years military experience applying to be an "admin assistant" or a stockboy at a grocery store. And, so far, to no avail. I guess my resume sucks.

The moral of this story? Get qualified in a real job (like accounting or information technology) before trying to follow your dream. And when you do finally decide to give your dream a whirl, make sure insane self-absorbed pieces of shit don't have access to your assets.

And don't give up. Ever.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Grammar War III: Wh Th?

More correctional training for you illiterate idiots:

1) Everybody's favorite: the difference between "who" and "whom" - WHO and WHOM are both pronouns used to reference a specific person. The difference in use lies solely in intent. WHOM is used when the "who" follows a direct object or a preposition. I realize that those of you who don't already know the difference probably also don't know what a direct object or a preposition is, so I'm guessing that I'm wasting my time here.

2) The difference between "where," "wear," "were," and "we're" - WHERE is a multi-function word referring a specific place. Examples: WHERE are we going and I know WHERE he's at. WEAR is a multifunction word indicating the act of bearing or having on object on your person or the act of deterioration. Examples: I am going to WEAR a jacket today or the rocky road causes a lot of WEAR on my tires. WERE is a past form of "be." Example: They WERE here (instead of they "are" here). WE'RE is a contraction representing the words WE and ARE. Examples: WE'RE so stupid and WE'RE incapable of proper grammar. Keep in mind that WHERE and WEAR sound alike in speech, while WERE and WE'RE sound entirely different.

3) The difference between "then" and "than" - THEN is a multi-function word indicating time. Examples: Back THEN, people thought you were smart, but THEN you grew up. THAN is a multi-function word indicating an order of preference or a comparison. Examples: I'd rather date a brunette THAN a blonde or I'm definitely smarter THAN you.

More words you probably didn't know:

sommelier -
a waiter in a restaurant who has charge of wines and their service

bifurcate -
to cause to divide into two branches or parts

solipsism -
a theory holding that the self can know nothing but its own modifications and that the self is the only existent thing

Sunday, August 20, 2006

It Only Gets Worse


What a word to start a blog with, eh? Ugh? Well, it's quite fitting, I assure you.

Remember that muse-brunette I've been hinting at recently? Yeah, well, I think she's utterly terrified of me now. It's a long story, but the moral of it is guys, don't try to hit on anyone when you're in a rut. Seriously, no matter how good you think your set-up is, if you're depressed, beaten, down, or otherwise not your typical upbeat self, keep yourself to yourself. Really. It'll save much heartache.

The sad part is that I'd be laughing all-Hell uncontrollably if this wasn't me I'm talking about. Honestly and objectively, I'm probably the funniest person in the world to watch as of late. I can't do anything right. I've even broken the pinky toe on my left foot... twice. And you wonder why I don't dance.

And I still can't write. Maybe things would be a bit better if I could knock out something worthwhile, but it seems that all I'm capable of are these stupid, boring, "oh-no-not-again" woe-is-me blog entries. And who the fuck wants to read those?

Certainly no gorgeous brunettes I know, that's for sure.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Four Things That Could Cheer Me Up

Life, I must say, is a bit of a wreck for me at the moment. Now, it's certainly not as bad nor as confusing as life is for many people that I know, but... it's still a damn wreck.

You see, I was supposed to finally and permanently move to Los Angeles this upcoming week. Unfortunately, thanks to a fucked up and vindictive maneuver on a certain someone that used to be important to me (I must stress used to be), Los Angeles is no longer anywhere in the near future for me... at least as far as I'm able to manipulate. I had a nice career waiting... family and other nepotistic hookups with people quite capable of giving me fairly lucrative work (at least as far as a work resume goes)... an "in" at Creative Artists Agency, the very place I'm trying to get an agent at... and long-lost and new-found friends laboring and networking in all of the places that I needed to labor and network in. Even better, a friend of mine was working on contacting the actors Sunny Mabry and Ethan Embry in order for me to convince them to star in a different friend's directorial debut, which would've resulted in me getting put into a nice little position with which to start my Hollywood career.

But, thanks to that person who is no longer important to me... all of that has fallen apart. NINE years of being patient, learning my trade, and saving money... down the shit-tube... all because I trusted the wrong person.

Needless to say, I'm in the process of salvaging what can be salvaged and rebuilding what needs rebuilt. Unfortunately, it's going to take a few miracles and a year or two to get me back on track... and by then I'll be 30. Over-the-hill and futile, as they say, in Hollywood. But, fuck it. I'm going to give it a whirl anyway.

Anyway, on to the point. Since some of my closest friends read this, I'm going to list, as the title so eloquently points out, four things that could cheer me up. So, if any of you reading this are in any type of position to help with any of these four things, please do so.

1. A certain so-and-so getting run over by a car and bleeding slowly to death for all the world to see. Okay, maybe not... but I'd still like to see life fall apart for this certain so-and-so. Yeah, yeah, that's not very nice, not very Christian, not very "Buddha," but hey... I'm pissed off and will probably remain so for all eternity.

2. Getting my $14,000 back. The $14,000 that my ex-girlfriend so kindly forced from my possession. She once swore that she'd pay me back no matter what... whether we were together or not... whether we were friends or not. Apparently swears mean nothing to her. Well, how's this for reciprocation? "Hey, babe. I swear I love you."

3. Somehow moving to the Los Angeles area. Seriously, people... nobody knows ANYBODY that wants to move to Los Angeles? Most of you are trying to be filmmakers... what the fuck is wrong with you? I need two roommates for a decent pad in Burbank or North Hollywood. I have three dogs and three cats who are never around. Come on... this should be a no-brainer. Then again... anyone who'd stick around Wilmington hoping that the industry picks up again probably isn't capable of a no-brainer. Um... just kidding... really.

4. Receiving a phone call from an enigmatic brunette in North Carolina. A gorgeous, intelligent, joyous person who can only be described as a living muse. This may sound sappy or even contradictory, depending on what you know, but I would like to hear from her again.

And there you have it... my cry for help.

It sucks being pathetic.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

A Clearing, A Garden, Some Flowers: Three Reviews

Well, as I'm still incapable of writing anything significant, or even significantly well, I'm going to continue to bore you with film reviews of films I've viewed recently.

Today, I'm going to talk about The Clearing, Garden State, and Broken Flowers.

First up is, let's work backwards through the title, Broken Flowers, Jim Jarmusch's more-normal-than-usual entry (watch his Dead Man and Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai and you'll see what I mean) into what I'm going to start calling the "human insight" genre. It stars Bill Murray and, like Lost in Translation, is a great peek into the human condition (that's why I named the genre... clever, aren't I?). Murray is fantastic as Don Johnston, and Jeffrey Wright, as his mystery-obsessed neighbor, gives what is quite possibly the funniest performance I've ever seen.

The plot is simple (the most effective plots usually are): Murray receives an anonymous letter from a former lover informing him that he has a son. Murray at first tries to ignore it, but his aforementioned mystery-obsessed neighbor plans him a trip to find out who the mother might be.

Broken Flowers
is a very, very good movie. I hesitate to call it great, because the ending, while appropriately Jarmusch, wasn't very appropriate for Murray's character. Then again, who am I to judge?

Garden State
, a film written by, directed by, and starring Zach Braff, is EXCELLENT. In fact, of the films I've seen this last year, it's my favorite. Rent it. Natalie Portman is in it. Go see it.

The Clearing
is another very, very good movie. It stars Robert Redford and Willem Dafoe, two of our greats, and the ever-sexy-even-though-she's-old Helen Mirren. Yes... I just said Helen Mirren is still sexy. And she is. So what? She's sexy.

Anyway, Willem Dafoe plays a down-on-his-luck man who decides to kidnap Redford, a wealthy entrepreneur. Great tension, great acting, and a fucked-up yet somehow almost-happy ending make this one a must-see. So why is it only very, very good and not great? Well, Redford and Mirren, who play a married couple, have two adult children in the film. One gets the idea that the children were added to the script to give the audience someone more readily identifiable with, but the characters don't really work. The daughter is underused and the son... well, not a very good performance... and I didn't really care about him anyway. I'd have preferred a film with just Redford, Dafoe, and Mirren. The tension could've been much more taut and much less cliché. But definitely go see it.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Writer's Mood

I'm a writer. Well, I'm trying to be a writer. My ability and output are nowhere near the levels they need to be in order for me to pay the bills with writing, but I write nonetheless. So I guess I'm an amateur writer.

Over the years, I've learned both through my own experience as well as being taught that there is no such thing as writer's block. A writer can write regardless. It might be crap, but a writer writes anyway. However, over the years, I've also learned that there is such thing as a writer's mood. And a writer's mood is an odd thing. Pervasive and evasive at the same time, it requires some sort of a balance to be fully implemented. Not a delicate balance, mind you, but a balance.

As most of you can tell by the hack writing of the previous two paragraphs, I am currently NOT in a writer's mood. And here's a list why:

1. I'm pissed off. A writer's mood doesn't require one to be happy. In fact, a writer can be a little pissed off and be writing. Only a writer just can't be as pissed off as I am. Those of you that know me best know exactly why I'm pissed off, so I'll save everyone else the trouble of reading something so trivially stupid.

2. I'm stressed out. Now, I'm not talking about the good "eustress," I'm talking about the oh-so-in-your-face fuck-all stress known as "distress." I'm distressed. Writers actually need to be distressed a bit in order to be effective, but in my case... thanks to the same reason that I'm pissed off... I'm extremely distressed.

3. I'm bored. What? Wait, I'm a writer. I should just be able to write while I'm bored, thereby alleviating the boredom. Yeah, well, that'd be nice, but it doesn't fucking work that way.

4. I'm single. I need a muse, ladies. Any takers? The nearest woman who I know absolutely 100% fits the muse bill is in North Carolina, and that's just a bit far away from California (I'm actually in Nevada at the moment, but that's beside the point).

5. One of my cats died. This is, surprisingly, unrelated to my being pissed and distressed. Arthur, my beautiful, all-grey (with a small patch of white on his chest) domestic short-hair went somewhere to die. He had been sick for a while, and by the time I found out which cat was leaving the messes, Arthur had run away somewhere to die alone, in peace. I hate that cats do that. Okay, now it's a reason that I'm distressed.

Anyway, there is much more that belongs on this list, but I'm going to sleep on it. In the meantime, I hope you don't enjoy this blog entry, because I know it sucks.

I'd like to say "thank you" to everyone I know that kicks ass and provides good times and conversations. I'd also like to say "fuck you" to everyone I know that sucks ass and is too stupid to provide a good time or conversation. And yes, both of each type of person can be found on my friend's list. Why? Well, because I like to have a reference photo when I'm making fun of those people.

I'm sure my friend's list will disappear by the end of the week now... and I really don't care. Maybe the irony will put me in a writer's mood.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Cecili's MySpace Etiquette

A lot of you know that I am an obsessive San Diego Chargers fan. And a lot of you know that, with that, comes an obsession with the San Diego Charger Girls. Anyway, one thing led to another and the next thing I know, I've found the MySpace page of my favorite Charger Girl of all-time.

No... I'm not stalking her, so leave the jokes at home, please.

What I found is not only the MySpace page of an ultra-beautiful former cheerleader and apparent current dancing queen, but a blog full of poignant wisdom and subtle humor, to boot. Her most recent blog is so spot-on, I had to ask her if I could repost it. And so, without further ado... here are Cecili's rules of MySpace etiquette:

"For those with delicate egos, proceed with caution. This is for your own good.

Disclaimer: I too have violated some of these myspace directives. Nobody is perfect, but we can always be better. This list is by no means exhaustive. I hope upon reading it you will have your own grievances and or suggestions to add to the list.

1. Comments should be comments. (If you are confused: There is a function on myspace that allows you to send a message).
2. Don't post millions of pictures of your face all over your page--all the vanity and imagery is nauseating.
3. Only post a bulletin if you have something important to report on.
4. Bulletins should be reserved for general information only. If your "friends" want to know the answers to a survey you took, write it in a blog and they can read it at their leisure. Sadly, not everyone cares who your last crush is or what you think about jesus.
5. Try to refrain from commenting on someones page twice in a row--its aesthetically unpleasant.
6. Comments should be thought out and grammar should be observed.
7. Don't tell people to comment on your pictures--if people like you and/or they are in one of your photos, they will make a comment.
8. There is no need to list EVERY single book/movie/hero you have ever read/watched/loved. People get bored after reading the first three or four entries. You are better off sticking to your favorites--and if this is disconcerting, you can always change your entries every so often depending on your mood. Which reminds me: update your page every now and again. You log on every day.
9. When commenting on a blog: stay on topic.
10. No Blind friend requests... Ever.
11. Comment approval takes the fun out of posting comments.
12. Avoid reading blogs from people who make lame lists like this one and call it news.

General note:

Blog: This function allows you to write about whatever you want and post it on your page so that people--this is the most important part--who are interested can read it. FYI: It is not to be used to post more photos of your face unless they are pertinent to the blog itself. While tempting, try to only write a blog if you have something interesting, funny, or thoughtful to say. And last but not least, if you're in college, don't post your book reports online--most likely, we havent read the book you are citing and we have no reason to read your blog. Cultural critiques, movie reviews, and current events are always good topics. Book suggestions are also good and should be placed in general information under the sub-heading: Books.

Works cited: An example of a good blog can be found on Irreverent Primates page--also, see Natalie's page; she writes some funny blogs with pictures included. She also posts amusing captions by the photos, the layout is clean, and most importantly: the pictures are related to the blog itself.

Please feel free to add to the list."

Tuesday, August 8, 2006


The Merriam-Webster online dictionary defines a friend as: "one attached to another by affection or esteem."

I, however, have a slightly different definition: "one that's there when needed or wanted."

Now, I may not be the best friend ever, but nobody can claim that I don't try. If someone needs a favor, I'll do what I can... if someone needs money, Ill lend it (or even give it) if I have some... if someone needs someone to lean on, I'm leaned on.

But... not everybody I know feels that way, and while I realize that this is purely subjective, that really pisses me off. I hear all the excuses all the time... "Im too busy" seems to be the popular one. BULL SHIT.

NOBODY is ever THAT busy. Sorry, just doesn't happen. As someone who worked on two separate degrees while working part-time AND getting ready to deploy to a foreign country, I am positive that being "too busy" doesn't happen. Yes, there are undoubtedly times in our lives in which we are overwhelmed, but they don't last... even when the entire world was fighting a war in the 40s, people had time for each other... and you expect me to believe that YOU'RE TOO FUCKING BUSY? Fuck you...

When someone you haven't seen in years is in town, you MAKE TIME. When a friend of yours needs some help, you MAKE TIME. When a hot, could-be-a model-actress walks into your bedroom and takes off her clothes, you MAKE TIME. Um... disregard that last one.

Another thing... when you say you're going to do something for someone, be it a favor, or a job, or even something trivial, DO IT. Don't delay, procrastinate, make excuses... just FUCKING DO IT. Or, at the very least, if you can't, TELL THEM "I CAN'T." Telling a friend "no" is much better than leading a friend on for days, weeks, years.


"John, can you contact Mary and get her to endorse this for me? It would really help me out."


And everybody fucking hates "fake friends."

Well, whatever... even I know that I'm no longer making any kind of sense, so I'll just shut up now. But those who know, know what I'm talking about.

"Okay, thanks anyway."

Even though that sucks, its much better than:

"John, can you contact Mary and get her to endorse this for me? It would really help me out."



"John, did you get a hold of Mary?"

"Not yet, I've been busy."

"John, I need that endorsed or I'll lose my promotion."

"I'll get on it."


"John... Mary?"

"Why the fuck cant you talk about something else?"

Don't laugh... that's actually happened to me...

...Several times...

Anyway, my point is that friends are only friends when they're LOYAL to each other. A lot of people hide behind the concepts of loyalty, but they're anything but. Hell, I've even got a "friend" on MySpace that pretends to preach loyalty, but won't give you the time of day unless in need of something from you... The irony is even furthered by the fact that this person has NEVER been loyal in a relationship. This is representative of a phenomenon more commonly known as "fake friends."

Saturday, August 5, 2006

Translation & Terminal: Two Reviews

Yesterday I watched Sofia Coppola's Lost in Translation. Today I watched Steven Spielberg's The Terminal. And now I'm going to bore you with what I think about both films...

First up, Lost in Translation. I don't say this often, but this a movie that had me smiling from beginning to end. Yeah, opening a film with a shot of Scarlett Johansson's butt is always a good idea, but that's really not why I liked it. Actually, I don't really know why I liked it. It was just a beautiful, beautiful movie. There were some stereotypical missteps, but overall, it was just an excellent insight into the human condition. Not surprising from the director of The Virgin Suicides. And, it made me want to learn Japanese.

Interestingly enough, my mother told me that she hated it. Of course, as she speaks Japanese (and is Japanese), the "fish out of water" stuff was apparently lost on her.

Next up is uber-director Spielberg's The Terminal. Kind-hearted and well-intentioned, it wasn't overly bad... it just wasn't overly good, either. In fact, it was overly pointless. But I still (sort of) enjoyed it.

However, this, along with Ron Howard's The Da Vinci Code, marks two movies in a row that Tom Hanks was completely miscast in. I just never bought him as Mr. Navorski... probably because, well, it's Tom Hanks. Catherine Zeta-Jones would've been great in her role, but it was so painfully underdeveloped, I didn't really give a shit (can I say that? Shit? Of course I can... it's my blog). In fact, EVERY primary plot in the film was painfully underdeveloped. I mean, the movie waited until forever to reveal the point behind Navorski's visit to the United States and just sort of skipped around dealing with the subplots of Navorki's three friends. So... I guess that means I didn't really give a whole lot of shits.

Of course, I have to give the movie props for the January 3rd reference... heh.

Anyway, Lost in Translation is a must-see, so rent it if you haven't already. The Terminal? Well... save that for a rainy day when you're bored and have the time.

Tuesday, August 1, 2006

A Penny Gets You Two Cents

Well, people, they're at it again... a bunch of lazy, money-wasting morons want to get rid of our beloved penny for good. "Nobody wants to carry them around," they claim. "They can't buy anything," they say.

Alas, while I'm inclined to agree, I also recognize the institution known as TRADITION, and we should always have a small copper coin with good ol' Abe Lincoln resting on it in nice relief. I mean, what the Hell are we going to do Wednesday nights at the local bar? Have "Nickel Night?" Fuck that... Penny Night or nothing, I say.

Wait, wait... before you go taking advantage of that "nothing," I have a proposition. One so simple, it's sickening nobody thought of it first.

Print "Two Cents" on the back of the penny instead of "One Cent."

I mean, shit, there's a two-dollar bill, isn't there? Why not a two-cent coin? That makes multiple dead birds with only one small stone.

Think about it... the value of copper is increasing, and the estimated cost of making a penny will be about 1.23 cents. That's the first time in history the cost of the penny exceeds its value, which is why the movement for getting rid of it is gaining a shitload of momentum (it's bad when the Treasury Department and various Mints support the idea now... what's odd is that the nickel costs more than five cents to make, too... but there's no talk of getting rid of that). So, "TWO CENTS" underneath the Lincoln Memorial makes a ton of, well, sense.

  1. It solves the cost/value problem
  2. For a small (read: cheap) modification to the existing moldings, the Mints can effectively increase their output by 100% (or something like that)
  3. There's no more idiotic controversy wasting people's time and money
  4. There's more incentive to use them, since, shit, they're worth more
Interestingly enough, the man responsible for the legislation that is trying to kill the penny, Representative Jim Kolbe of Arizona (who also tried to kill the penny in 2001), wants to increase the production of the two-dollar bill (as well as the one-dollar coin).

So I pose this question to him: What better way to kick off the number two than by making a two-cent penny?