Enter, Stage Left

Like a tadpole croaking into adulthood before giggling vivisectionists draped in neatly pressed lab coats, I find myself nervously excited as I debut my blog to a captive audience.

Or as FOX News calls it, a focus group.

The contract negotiations with  were sapping, but the four figure stipend was well worth the wait. Not just any old four figure, but one usually reserved for the slovenly garbed, yet impeccably made up  in a cinematic adaptation of a John Grisham novel: the last four of her all important FIVE FIVE FIVE callback number.

Once the preliminaries were dispensed with, the floodgates of creativity opened.  Then just like that, I froze.  As it turns out, I have an irrational fear of expressing myself.

Was I to author a DIY manual of how to toy with the emotions of a complete stranger?

Was I to wax lyrical about my new hobby?

Or was I simply to, while splitting an infinitive, lay down the proper etiquette for ordering a skinny vanilla latte from a confused teller in a community bank?

Perhaps I could express myself through the majesty of a ballad:

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

When I visited a factory,

I saw a horse turn into glue

I visualized that being played by an Idol crooner, perhaps one partial to country music.  But then the image of that cranky judge--no not that one, this one--whining “kinda pitchy, dude!” came up and I froze again. OK, so I am not cut out to be a lyricist. I am not, and never will be Max Walters the III*.   Big deal.

As I waited to deposit my massive signing bonus at the local oil change and caviar boutique, it finally hit me. A movie script! Not just any old script, but one that tastefully blends critical acclaim with the success of a box office smash. Kinda like having your vodka martini shaken and stirred! Listening to Hootie and Blowfish! Having your cake and ... well, you get the picture.

The script is a stunningly simple concept (most good things in life are really simple) that I developed during that agonizing wait. Like every good script, mine has a clever working title: Batman - The Notary Public. I am not married to it though, so if you have a better title for me to steal, suggest it in the comments.

The plot?  Fiendishly simple!

Batman, beaten up by the daily grind, Andrew Bynum, and a crushing recession, takes on a low-stress job at a community bank, where he still helps people. By notarizing important documents. I won't reveal any more tantalizing details, but ***SPOILER ALERT*** in a grand finale, he also foils a middle-aged bank robber who does not realize that Batman works there. And, like every action hero, he needs a punch line.

Think "I'll be baak!", or "Do you feel lucky, punk?"

That too was easy, and I did not even have to think all that hard.

Ready?

YOU HAVE BEEN NOTARIZED!

See, aren't you kicking yourself already for not thinking of it first?

Casting could begin soon. Note to Shia Lebouf, Jeremy Pivens, Andrew Bynum, Joey Buttafuoco, and that Jon from Jon+Kate+Prop 8: don't even think of auditioning!

Whew! Feels good to hit a home run right off the bat. I can now concentrate on more serious topics. Like my beef with Akira Kurosawa, or the ethics of torture. Indicate if you have a preference, and I’ll try my best to...hold on, my fax’s ringing...it’s a crank call from Hollywood, gotta take it!

Talk to you folks in a bit. In the meantime, watch this commercial.

*If you do not know who Max Walters the III is, relax, neither do I.