Who Stole the Funny? : A Novel of Hollywood Read Online Free PDF Page B

eBay
    (whoa—fill-in-the-blank baggage).
    Oh—and J.T. was indeed a College Professor (priggish baggage).
    The job of director was the Holy Grail of Hollywood film suc-
    cess, but television didn’t suit J.T.’s personality. A perfectionist in television is bad math: the sum of this equation is borderline insanity.
    J.T.’s earnest goal was to do it all: create worthwhile televi-
    sion, care for his colleagues, nurture his actors, respect the craft of filmmaking, and not show contempt for the viewing public. Doing it all was in direct contradiction to the networks’ standards and practices, because it cost too much. The industry tolerated J.T.
    when the shows he directed pulled in big Nielsen ratings and were considered hits. But when the numbers dropped and ended J.T’s
    lucky streak, the director’s devotion to his ideals became the stuff of mockery behind his back.
    J.T.’s downfalls were always his own doing. His baggage-laden
    crusades took a heavy toll on him physically, causing him stomach ulcers and daily migraines. J.T. was ridiculously naïve for an artistic veteran, a lummox when it came to diplomacy and politicking, and alarmingly proficient in the art of self-destruction. He persisted in wearing his quixotic, utopian work ethic as a badge of honor.
    The standards J. T. Baker imposed on himself were a direct
    product of working with adults his entire childhood. Somewhere
    along the way, his personal growth had been stunted and actually come to a screeching halt. He would forever be stuck with the mores of an idealistic teenager. Things were either right or they were wrong . He was a self-made man-child, programmed to be a pro, to give his all, and believe that even his best wasn’t good enough.
    The project was always more important than the players. Selfish-R o b b y
    B e n s o n
    3 1

    ness would never be tolerated. And J.T. understood that he must always surround himself with people smarter than himself, and
    always gave them full credit.
    While digging in deeper and deeper and becoming more and
    more rigid in his self-proclaimed war on mediocrity, J.T. never took a step back to analyze the scaffolding he’d erected in order to be and stay J.T. Baker. He never allowed himself a moment to realize the extreme conformity it took to be a nonconformist.
    To protect his freedom of creativity he became a slave to self-
    preservation. He no longer knew what he was fighting for, and
    he was exhausted.
    J.T.’s standards and expectations of himself were so high that
    one notorious day, in the middle of directing a sitcom, he lost direction and began to shake. He had a meltdown that immediately became part of showbiz lore and was still legendary.
    In clinical terms, J.T. suffered a nervous breakdown. What ac-
    tually happened was that he’d matured within the space of a single moment. With sudden clarity, J.T. understood that he could not
    continue believing it was his job on the planet to make everything perfect.
    With that epiphany, he no longer had purpose. And the part of
    him that was genetically programmed to find the funny in everything triggered a laughing fit as he stood, unresponsive to others, pathetically shaking in the center of a sitcom living room set. He stood on the same spot, laughing, for over an hour until his wife Natasha could be contacted and made it to the soundstage.
    Natasha was the only person J.T. responded to on that fateful,
    fit-full day. J.T. continued to laugh at the inane, schmaltzy world he now recognized as his life. He not only had a nervous breakdown, but also found the nervous breakdown to be ironically
    funny. Always funny.
    Natasha gently walked him to her car and drove him off the
    studio lot and went directly to the Santa Monica Hospital.
    3 2
    W H O S T O L E T H E F U N N Y ?
    As they rode up the elevator in the hospital, J.T. looked at his savior and whispered, “Are you committing me?”
    “You’re already committed, J.T.,” Natasha said with shrewd
    wisdom