Christian Bale

Christian Bale is the biggest asshole I have ever seen.

The Two Jokers

Scene:

Numerous cast and crew members scatter the interior of an abandoned warehouse.  Centered among the production staff and fleet of digital cameras stands HEATH LEDGER, dressed in a purple overcoat and wearing Joker make-up.  An artist is currently padding extra touch-up to his brow, when director CHRIS NOLAN enters the inner circle.

CHRIS NOLAN

Right, right, right. What's all this then, eh?

MAKE-UP ARTIST

Just adding a touch more to the face, Mr. Nolan, before I start with the neck and hands.

CHRIS NOLAN

What the bloody hell for? It's the Joker, not the bleeding Blue Man Group. When his hands aren't smattered up in someone else's blood, he's smearing cake on his gob. That's it, love. Get off the bloody set.

MAKE-UP ARTIST exits, muttering something distasteful about working with the British.

CHRIS NOLAN

Stupid bloody cow. It's not as if the Joker is suffering from an itching chemical reaction. He's a certifiable psychopath. Am I right, Heathy?

HEATH LEDGER

Well, actually, Chris, I don't know if you used to read any of the comics, but while researching "The Killing Joke" . . .

CHRIS NOLAN

All right, back to one, everybody! We're doing this without a rehearsal! Anyone seen Christian? I want him to see this.

PRODUCTION ASSISTANT

He went to study some more martial arts lessons before visiting his mother and sister tonight.

CHRIS NOLAN

Bloody swell. Can we at least get his stand-in here?

Enter JACK NICHOLSON.

JACK NICHOLSON

Hope I'm not late. My chauffeur got lost on the way back from the liquor store.

CHRIS NOLAN

Well, isn't this quite the honor? Look who it is, everyone, the one who flew over the cuckoo's nest. The greatest actor of our time!

JACK NICHOLSON

Step aside, sonny. And, incidentally, I hate pretentious introductions. I want to purvey some wisdom into this young man's game plan.

HEATH LEDGER

Mr. Nicholson, it is indeed an honor to accept acting guidance from a patriot such as yourself.

JACK NICHOLSON

Can the pleasantries, Australia. Right now, I can think of at least ten things I hate about you. And don't get me started about the film you did about the fag cowboys.

HEATH LEDGER

We were sheep-herders.

JACK NICHOLSON

Shut up and listen to my terms of endearment. A few good men have played the Joker in the past: Cesar Romero, Mark Hamill, me . . . but if you are going to break through in this role, you know, really scare the shining ghost shit out of the people, well, something's gotta give, and let's all hope it's not your nerve. Now let me hear you laugh.

HEATH LEDGER

Well, I was going for something low key. Hee hee, ho, ha ha, hee hee, ho ho, ha.

JACK just blinks at him and waits for it to register.

JACK NICHOLSON

Is that as good as it gets?

HEATH LEDGER

Not scary enough?

JACK NICHOLSON

You're a monster, kid. So have a ball with it. Let me hear you roar. Your character is a lunatic, a wolf, in need of anger management. So quit clowning around and try and act like it.

HEATH coughs uneasily, checks the camera distance, and belts out a thunderous hyena laugh that dances through the air like a wounded sparrow.

CHRIS NOLAN

That's lunch, everybody. SAG actors get one hour. Everyone else, be back in ten.

All production staff exit, except for JACK and HEATH. JACK takes a swig out of something in a flask from his jacket pocket. HEATH swallows something out of a folded plastic wrapper hidden beneath his watchband.

JACK NICHOLSON

You've got talent, Australia, but your ass is on the edge unless you can broadcast the news that you're goin' south of the border. And your viewing public is the crossing guard. Now, one last detail, how is your heartburn?

HEATH LEDGER

My what?

JACK NICHOLSON

Your ticker, your didjeridu, your own portable drum kit. "How is your health?" is what I'm asking.

HEATH LEDGER

Well, I'm as healthy as a blade of grass on brokeback mountain, mate.

JACK NICHOLSON

Watch the powder then, ironweed. Or else, you'll end up as one of the departed. And when it comes to accepting Oscars, you won't be there.

Harry Potter and the Pending Lawsuit over Copyright Infringement

An UNOFFICIAL Satire

Vander Ark gasped: he could not help himself.  The large dungeon he had entered was indeed horribly familiar.  For its dark confines and terrible echoes, the courtroom appeared just as he had imagined the Department of Mysteries for the last nine or ten years.

For that was the period of time the former school librarian had spent on researching the details of the incredibly dangerous series of "Harry Potter" novels.  Since his intention was to publish a historical lexicon for fellow fans of these books, he had to quit his job at the school in order to direct his full attention towards this project.

However, it was well known that these stories had magical and hideous powers that threatened to crush those interested in publishing a companion guide by their vicious power of Attorney.

Attorney had become a very menacing threat in the publishing world among writers these days.  In order to combat against these black forces, members of the publishing community were forced to hire their own representatives from the Fair Use Project of Stanford Law School's Center for Internet and Society.

The dungeon walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches.  The benches were filled with hard glares and whimsical reporters whispering journalistic jargon into each other's ears.

"If he breaks down, I'm flagging it in my nutgraph."

"Hey, that my idea!  Is my name in your byline?"

"This will teach that son of a bitch to go up against Warner Brothers."

Through all of these harsh words, a cold voice from the benches overtook them and created an intimidating silence.

"You're late."

"I'm sorry," said Vander Ark nervously.  "I was contemplating suicide."

"This is not the Oprah Winfrey show," responded the voice.  "There are no sympathizers.  Take your seat."

  Vander Ark dropped his gaze to a chair covered in chains.  His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked across the stone floor.  The sound of metal clinking rose from the chair as he sat.   Feeling rather emotional, he looked up at the litigators seated in front of him.  There were about fifty of them, as far as he could see, wearing plum-colored robes and stern expressions.

"Very well," said one of the judges in the center.  "The accused being present, let us begin.  Are you ready?" he called down the row.

"My attorney isn't here yet.  RDR Books said they were going to send . . ."

"What makes you think you can steal from Time Warner and damage the professional integrity of the most honorable J.K. Rowling?"

Snarls and howls indicating primordial anger erupted from a dark corner of the dungeon courtroom.  In between his shifting glances, Vander Ark thought he spied actual venom spilling from one of the benches.

"Silence!" cried the judge in the center.  "The representatives from the Warner Brothers company will not disturb the integrity of this sentencing!"

Sentencing?  Vander Ark gulped terribly at this news.

"Excuse me, but I thought there had to be a conviction before we get into the sentencing bit."

"EAT HIM!" screamed a distorted voice from the shadows.  A collection of incoherent grumbles seemed to agree.  More and more, Vander Ark wished the attorney from RDR would appear.

"By order of the law of the land, the accused is held responsible for misappropriating members of Ms. Rowling's fictional universe in violation of the Copyright Act, the Lanham Act, as well as New York state law.  As a result of such thievery, the publishing market has been affected enormously."

"In what way?" asked an assertive yet diminutive voice from the blackness above.

A wave of gasps swept across the dungeon from one dark corner to the next.  Most audible perhaps was the gasp from Vander Ark himself, wondering who in the room could possibly be on his side.

It was then that a spotted, ring-tailed lemur swung from the unseen rafters in the dungeon by a quick prehensile tail.  In animated movement, he danced from the hardwood benches to the stone floor, back to the benches, and finally to the chained arm of Vander Ark's courtroom chair.

The lemur's reflective eyes blinked madly at the host of interrogators in the courtroom, as he wiggled his brown-whiskered nose.  He was also wearing a pin-striped suit where dangled a miniature Blackberry from his hip pocket.

"I dare ask, your host of Honors, in what way do you consider the literature of Mr. Vander Ark's work as dangerous?"

The judges collectively pounded their gavels in complete unison.  Vander Ark thought that more than a few of them resembled gnawed carcass bones.

"The intruder will present himself, or else be held in contempt of this sentencing," said the judge in the center.

"My name is Phunkenblow.   I come from the Fair Use Project of Stanford Law School.  And this isn't a sentencing.  It's a non-jury trial proceeding."

"Do you represent the defendant?"

"I do, but more importantly, I represent Mr. Vander Ark's publishing company, RDR Books, which has the right to publish a faithful companion guide under the fair use doctrine, which safeguards the use of copyrighted material so long as it is used transformatively and does not damage the market value of the original work."

At this the dark shadow holding the members of the Warner Brothers rebuked with deafening cries of hysteria.  Pools of saliva began to spill out into what little light remained in the courtroom.

"What Ms. Rowling and the Warner Brothers are asserting is preposterous," spoke the lemur.  "The right to create literary reference guides like my client's lexicon has existed for hundreds of years.  The defense cites the works of Jude Watson as well as Robert Foster's 'Complete Guide to Middle-Earth'."

Suddenly, a dark and cloaked figure cleared its throat with alacrity and rose with unrestrained hostility.

"You dare to bring Tolkien to my lawsuit?!" she screamed.  And it became obvious who donned the shadowy cloak.

The judge in the center handled his bony gavel once again with commanding force and cried:   "The defense will yield the floor to Ms. Rowling."

A heavily manicured hand lifted to the foreboding cloak and released it back with practiced grace.  From the hood's shadow emerged a hostile face, emblazoned with expensive make-up and golden highlights.

"Ahem, ahem," coughed Rowling.  Vander Ark appeared puzzled at the sight of his literary idol.  The pleasant cough ironically reminded him of someone very particular in the fabled Harry Potter universe.

"Mr. Phunkenblow, I don't know what marsupial cave in which you have been spending your piteous evenings, but let me assure you, my career as a creative writer has been savagely jeopardized by your client's sloppy sense of verbative plagiarism."

At this, the reporters in the front benches scrambled to get every word correct.  One reporter asked another if he spelled "plagiarism" correctly.

Before going on, Rowling coughed lightly again into her jeweled hand, and strode among the judges.

"Mr. Vander Ark's lexicon is not only a sloppy and lazy bit of work that steals from my masterpiece at wholesale, it has decimated my creative work over the last month!" spoke Rowling to the room of fans, reporters, and hidden Warner Brothers monsters.  At the mere mention of the Rowling's inconvenience, a collective murmur of sadness hushed the scene, thereby making the crowd of fans and reporters resemble a sit-com audience.

"Furthermore, if this book is allowed to be published, I am not sure I could find the strength to continue my work in the Harry Potter universe.  For you see, dear friends, it was my intention to publish a Harry Potter lexicon of my own creation."

A truly hideous roar of outrage nearly split open the ceiling of the dark courtroom.  Howls and gurgles abounded among the judges, fans, reporters, and the Rowling creature herself.

At the very sight of this debauchery, Vander Ark began to weep pathetically.  How could it have come to this?  Were literary icons known to attack their less-than-successful contemporaries like this?  What about all of those reference guides he saw in the bookstores?  Would Homer have sued Virgil?  Would Virgil have sued Dante?

"Come now, Mr. Vander Ark," eased the lemur.  "You can't let them do a James Frey on you."

"Who?"

But before Phunkenblow could answer, he whipped his enormous eyelashes frenetically at Rowling.

"Ms. Rowling, is it not the truth that you are indeed the richest person in all of the United Kingdom?"

"Yes, that's the bloody truth all right, squirrel.  And what of it?"

"And yet your concern is that Mr. Vander Ark's book will damage the market value of your original work?"

"Well, why should I have to compete with my own creativity?  That's not the bloody point, you foul, little rodent!"

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court," began Phunkenblow, "the Harry Potter books have collectively sold more than 400 million copies worldwide, and produced a film franchise that has earned over four and a half billion dollars for the Warner Brothers."

Another snarl, followed by a muttered lament about how decreased DVD royalties resulted from the writer's strike, echoed from the dark corner.

"Make your point, hamster," spoke the bone-gaveling judge in the center.

"The point here is obvious.  This is not a case of copyright infringement since it appears impossible to confuse my client's text from that of Ms. Rowling's, given her reputation and stature.  This is a case of pure and simple greed.  Ms. Rowling is clearly obsessed with privatizing her successful creations away from anyone else."

"Again," said Rowling.  "It's very hard to describe to someone who is not engaged in creative writing, but you lose the threads and then you worry if you will be able to pick them up again in exactly the same way."

The crowd of fans began to respond emphatically, and then seemed to struggle with some of the Rowling's reasoning, and then decided to sympathize wholeheartedly anyway. Phunkenblow took notice of the hesitation, and decided to pull his final Ace.

"Ms. Rowling, isn't it true that you yourself were once a fan of Mr. Vander Ark's Lexicon website before he considered publishing a text based on your works?"

"I don't bloody remember.  If you haven't noticed, I'm extremely busy!" yelled the Rowling.

"But isn't it true that you in fact awarded his website with a Fan Site Award in 2004, calling it such a great website that you admitted to using it yourself to research facts while writing at Internet cafes?"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do when I'm not working from home?  Go into a filthy Borders and buy a copy of my own book?  That's absurd!"

"So, if you supported him when he presented this information on-line, complete with recipes, timelines, maps, and analyses, why are you standing in the way of this publication?"

"Because now we're talking about money!"

The courtroom appeared instantly confused.  Fans searched the faces of reporters.  Reporters searched for signs from the judges.  Vander Ark ceased his weeping.  The lemur decided to use the moment to check his Blackberry, which turned out to be an actual blackberry twig tied around his slim, furry waist.

"Just making sure this is all about money and not integrity, your Honors.  I'm still not sure how any of this could have damaged J.K. Rowlings' ability to further write.  My client's text is exactly the kind of literature that copyright law should encourage, not suppress."

The panel of judges struggled with this information for a considerable time.  Reporters checked facts with other reporters.  Fans tried to reach the spit puddles of the Rowling's rants with protruding fingers.

"It is the decision of this courtroom," began the judge.  "That Mr. Vander Ark be permitted to release his lexicon as long as he adds his own interpretations and creative style"

The reporters all gaped wide-eyed at the courtroom bench.  Can this be?  Justice in the courtroom?

"The lemur however shall be divided evenly and fed to the Warner Brothers."