Cheating Cheaters And Coldplay

 

Fallout Continues From Affair Exposed During Coldplay Concert; Man Refuses To Accept Responsibility

Boston (AP) Weeks after a Coldplay concert launched a thousand memes, the aftermath continues to resonate. Former Astronomer CEO Andy Byron and his HR side piece Kristin Cabot were caught cuddling on a jumbotron at a concert by the band in Boston, despite both being in other relationships. Both have lost their jobs, their relationships, and their dignity. 

It started with the pair reacting badly to realizing that they were on a jumbotron having an intimate interlude, and reacting by trying to hide. This was followed by Chris Martin, the band's lead singer, joking that they must be having an affair.

Their spouses have declared war, hired lawyers, and in short order have taken steps to end the marriages. Byron was swiftly removed from his position, with Cabot following shortly after, both humiliated by the storm of memes that followed. And there were many, inspired by their ludicrous reactions to being caught on screen. Many have said that if they hadn't reacted the way they did, no one would be wiser to it.

Byron has been criticized for public statements that appear to show him being out of touch and refusing to take responsibility for his own failings. He has lashed out at the band for putting him in that situation, and has mused about suing them for distress. Lawyers have said a collective "good luck" to that.

As noted, memes have been launched, with the world finding the entire matter amusing. Re-enactments on jumbotron screens with unlikely pairings and exaggerated overplay of their behaviour have been the rule of the day. Coldplay themselves welcome the attention being sent their way. Now even Hollywood is getting in on the action. A project was announced this week through the Hallmark Channel. Alison Bennett, part of the creative team for the network, released this statement on the company website. "We are entering production for a new film inspired by the moment. Our heroine is a wronged wife who takes her ex-husband to the cleaners and wipes him out financially after he and his mistress are caught in their affair during a concert. She decides to go back to her home town, where she meets the local sheriff, who's a gruff charmer, and she spends the rest of the film falling in love with him, saving her dad's bakery, and learning the value of a more quiet life."

Isn't that the plot of every Hallmark movie? And with pretty much the same rotating list of actors?

And the bigger studios are getting in on the action too. Michael Bay, the director of such explosion prone films like Armageddon and Pearl Harbor, is rushing into production a thriller inspired by the story. "It's kind of based on the whole story, but really takes things in its own direction," Bay said in a Zoom meeting with reporters. "My villain is a disgraced former CEO of a tech company who got caught cheating on his wife with someone in his company, and who loses everything. His job, his home, his money, his reputation, everything. And he decides to take it out on the band who he blames for it, and goes after Aerosmith at a concert, with bombs. And only one smart aleck bomb disposal expert with the New York Police Department can save the day. Sounds great, huh?"

There's even another version being brought forward by the studios. Paramount has greenlit a romantic comedy, switching out names of the key players and having a bit more dramatic license than the real events. Richard Gere has already signed up as the disgraced CEO, with Julianne Moore as his lover and HR specialist. Julia Roberts will be cast as the wronged wife, who enlists the aid of a laid back lawyer to even the score and take her ex to the cleaners. He'll be played by George Clooney, winking at the camera and wooing his client while representing her. The film already has a working title: Coldplayed. 

The choice of director for the film is an unusual one, as he's mostly been known for character dramas, and more recently for insightful documentaries. Werner Herzog, director of Grizzly Man and Cave Of Forgotten Dreams, agreed to the film without reservation. "I've never done a comedy, and to be honest, when I first heard this story, I fell about laughing. So why not poke the bear and go ahead and do it?"

Time will tell about all three projects. In the meantime, humiliation remains the order of the day for the unlucky couple, who aren't saying much of anything. They're too busy doing damage control- and in the case of Byron, doing it badly.

The Remake That No One Wanted

 

Director Announces New Spin On Old Story; Reporters Sigh In Dismay, Jack and Rose Fans Outraged

Los Angeles (AP) It is a truth universally acknowledged that an egomaniac director is in want of attention. So is the case once again this week when reporters were called to the production facilities of Digital Domain, one of the perpetual playgrounds of the director behind explosion prone spectacles like Armageddon, Pearl Harbor, and the Transformers franchise.

The one and only legend in his own mind, Michael Bay.

This reporter was sent to be part of the party (editor: yeah, sorry, but the readers love to read your gripes), which included some real reporters and a horde of entertainment reporters. The latter had not one brain cell circulating among them as they gathered in an auditorium at Digital Domain. A podium had been set up on stage, with a large standing mirror beside it. The entertainment reporters were buzzing. A spokeswoman came out on stage, calling for everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, let me present the greatest cinematic genius of our time, Mr. Michael Bay!!!!"

The entertainment reporters broke out into rapturous applause. The real reporters sighed and shook their heads. Out onto the stage strode Michael Bay, looking his usual self. The three days of stubble. The dishevelled hair. The casual look. He grinned like an idiot- his default setting- and walked towards the podium. He paused, winked at his reflection, and smiled some more (editor: he really is full of himself).

Finally he faced the audience. "Hi there! Great to see you. I know you're all wondering what I've called you here for, so let's not waste any time. I've been meaning to get back and do something by the way of historical drama. With explosions. So I am here to announce my next blockbuster film, which we're calling Curse Of The Titanic!"

A gasp went up from the real reporters, but was drowned out by the entertainment reporters. First, Titanic had been pretty much definitively done by director James Cameron, winning Oscars and unleashing a torrent of memes, particularly as time has gone on and one of its stars has shown an inability to date his own age (editor: Leonardo DiCaprio, we're looking at you). Second, who would entrust Michael Bay with the subject.

Bay carried on. "Now I know what you're thinking. This has been done before, and that's true. Which is why I'm not going to have the sinking of the ship be the heart and soul of this story. I'm going to feature it, yes, but early on, because that's not the story I want to tell."

This reporter checked his watch, wondering how long this nonsense might take. Bay continued. "No, it's been done. What I want to play around with is the idea of... what if the ship sank for other reasons? And what if the one person who should have stayed on board, if only for the sake of his own reputation, would be forever haunted. By the real reason for the sinking."

"What on earth is your angle?" this reporter asked (editor: is he on drugs?). 

"My angle is simple. That iceberg was sent to collide with the ship. Sent by a ship that was cursed to sail the seas until the end of time. A ship we all know as the Flying Dutchman."

The legend is an old one, a ghost story set at sea involving a cursed crew doomed to sail the seas forever. But of all the stories about Titanic, nowhere is there mention of a ghostly ship. 

"Are you out of your mind?" another reporter asked.

Bay shook his head. "No, why do people keep saying that? Now look, all I'm saying is that maybe, just maybe, a ship that was only seen by one person sent that iceberg into a collision course. And that one person spent the rest of his life haunted. So, ladies and gentlemen, playing my protagonist, Mr. Bruce Ismay, is the one and only Nicolas Cage!"

Cage came out on stage, looking plastered, carrying a half empty bottle of Scotch. "Hey there!" he called out, staggering his way over join Bay.

"Your protagonist is Bruce Ismay? The chairman of White Star? Forever after considered a coward for getting off Titanic? That Bruce Ismay?" this reporter challenged.

"Yes, but this is what happens to him afterwards," Bay reasoned. "This is the story of the man who glimpses the Dutchman, realizes that somehow it caused the sinking, and kind of loses his senses and goes into a lifeboat to escape. And spends the rest of his life haunted by that choice. Literally. Because did I mention this is also a horror movie?" This reporter sighed (editor: horror movie is being subjected to this nonsense).

Bay continued on. "And our boy Bruce is haunted. He spends the years after Titanic trying to rationalize one dumb decision without saying why he made that decision, being seen as a coward... and literally being haunted by that night. Because whether it's when he's asleep or when he's awake, he's not only haunted by the ghosts of the Titanic, he's also haunted by images of that cursed sailing ship. Until he has to come to terms with it once and for all. Which will, of course, involve explosions."

"What is it with you and explosions?" another reporter asked. "Is it some kind of kink for you?"

"Yes, but that's not important," Bay stated. "What is important is that people love my films, they love the story of the Titanic, they love ghost stories, and they're going to love this film. Coming soon to a theatre near you! As soon as I get all the other stuff I'm working on done. Because I've got a lot on my plate. Bye!"

With that, he departed, to the applause of the entertainment reporters, and to middle fingers from the real reporters (editor: he is an insufferable egomaniac). This reporter can't agree more with that.

Cataclysms And Shattered Hearts

Narcissistic Director Announces Latest Disaster Movie; Real Reporters Roll Eyes In Dismay

Los Angeles (AP). It is a truth universally acknowledged that a two bit director, in search of an explosion, must be in want of attention. So Jane Austen might put it in this day and age. This past week, at the home of Digital Domain, reporters were gathered for an announcement by a film auteur- in his own mind, that is. Real reporters were outnumbered by entertainment reporters, who are bereft of brains and too given to applaud anything. 

This reporter was among them, primarily as his editor loves sending him to these things for the sarcastic value (editor: the readers love it too). And so it was that this reporter found himself in an auditorium, waiting on the latest announcement from the dreadful director, Michael Bay.

A spokeswoman came out on stage, where a podium had been set up with a full length mirror alongside it. "Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for the greatest filmmaker of our generation, Michael Baaaaaaaaayyyyy!" 

The applause was rapturous from the entertainment reporters. Real reporters rolled their eyes, sighed in dismay and shook their heads, wondering when the nonsense would wrap up (editor: and it is nonsense). Bay came out on stage, waving and grinning like the idiot he is, looking as you'd expect- the days of stubble, the dishevelled hair, the casual clothing. He walked up to the podium, winked and smiled at his reflection, and began to speak.

"Hello! It's wonderful to see you. I love all of you, as much as you love me." (editor: he hates himself, huh?) Bay nodded. "You know, I'm a busy man. Always have projects on the go, things that I'm planning on making in my quest to win Oscars. I don't know why I haven't won one yet. But that's not important. What is important is I'm a busy man. You know me. I'm a guy who loves explosions. And Aerosmith songs and hot babes waxing cars. And explosions. So I've been thinking. What kind of movie do I want to make next? And how many explosions can I get away with in it?"

Bay smiled and nodded again. "I've been thinking about disaster movies. Disasters are always in the news. But what's one kind of disaster that I haven't covered in a film? Then it hit me. Like a puck to the head. The Toronto Maple Leafs."

This caused a stir. The Canadian hockey team is well known for choking when it counts and breaking the hearts of their devoted and deranged fan base every year. Yes, that qualifies as a disaster. But what would that have to do with the usual Bay style of explosions in a film (editor: good question).

Bay carried on. "I remembered some years ago some die hard Leafs fans decided to kidnap the Stanley Cup and hold it for ransom, wanting the Leafs to be designated the champions. Or something like that. Anyway, it gave me an idea for a Michael Bay blockbuster spectacular. Take that as a starting point, but instead of it being fans stealing the Cup, make it a mad bomber who's also a Maple Leafs fan threatening to blow up the city if his Leafs don't win the Cup. Is that an idea or is that an idea?"

The entertainment reporters broke out into applause. The real reporters sighed (editor: me too). Bay grinned like the jackass that he is, basking in the applause and oblivious to the contempt from reporters with a working brain. "You've got to be kidding," this reporter stated (editor: I wish).

"Why do people say that to me?" Bay asked with a shrug. "That doesn't matter. What matters is my cast. And they love attention just as much as me. Now I'm going to be enlisting NHL players to essentially be playing themselves in this thing, because it's too hard to get actors to look like professional hockey players. But that's okay, because the players aren't the main characters. And this way, it's as close as the real Maple Leafs are going to get to the Cup anytime soon. But they'll be there, on the ice and in the thick of the action. But the story is about the bomber. And the heroic cop who's coming to save the day. But can he? Ladies and gentlemen, without further do, playing the mad bomber in this film, one of my favourite actors and one of yours.... Mr. Shia LaBeouf!" 

LaBeouf came out on stage, smiling like an idiot as usual, and waved. "Hello there! It is nice to see you! Shia is pleased that you have come to see Shia!" This reporter sighed again (editor: he's still doing the talking in the third person thing?). LaBeouf came over to join Bay.

Bay carried on. "And playing the heroic veteran cop, member of the bomb squad about to retire, my guy, Nicolas Caaaaaagggge!"

At this point Nicolas Cage staggered out, carrying a bottle of half-empty Scotch, looking the worse for wear, which is saying something. He waved to the crowd, smiling and grinning (editor: how drunk was he?). "Hey there!"

Bay grinned. "And lastly, playing an unusual role for her, but one of my favourite actresses around. She's the hostage negotiator working for the police and racing against time. Give it up for Megan Fox!!!!"

Fox came out on stage, bowing and showing off her assets, so to speak. She joined Bay, Cage, and LaBeouf. "Ladies and gentlemen, the cast of Sudden Death, a hockey action thriller coming soon to a theatre near you. Thanks for coming out!"

With that, the group left the stage to rapturous applause from the entertainment reporters, ignoring the eye rolls from the real reporters (editor: how dumb are they?). This reporter departed, wondering how long the film would take to make, given Bay's huge backlog of projects, and how many Leafs would be traded away in the duration.

The last word belongs to the beleaguered fans of the team itself. Leafs Nation, as they are sometimes known, continue to be devoted to their guys, no matter how many times their hearts are shattered. "You know what, it's an honour," one fan told reporters in Toronto. "I mean, I'm one of the guys who actually held the Cup for ransom back a few years ago, and ****, yeah, I'm still kind of on probation because of it. But me and Harry and Jack, we did it all for a good cause. And to find out now that they're kind of sort of honouring our plot, well, with some Hollywood extras, because we weren't threatening to bomb anyone.... anyway, it's ****in' great, eh? Anyway, all I want to say is... Go Leafs go!!!" (editor: god help us all) 

Not Exactly Your Usual Romantic Comedy

 

Overwrought Director Plans New Film; Reporters Sigh In Dismay

Los Angeles (AP). It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a narcissistic director shall be in want of attention. At least that's how Jane Austen might put it these days. This reporter, fresh off a stint at the Super Bowl, and personally seeing a few protestors outside demanding that Taylor Swift be executed for treason, was diverted to L.A. by his editor (editor: yeah, sorry, but the readers love it when you attend these things).

It was to the headquarters of Digital Domain, one of the stomping grounds of the most ego driven person in Hollywood, and there are a lot of those (editor: are there ever).

Michael Bay.

This reporter joined a handful of real reporters and a horde of entertainment reporters in the auditorium. A podium was set up on stage with the requisite full length mirror. The entertainment reporters, being very stupid (editor: oh, they are), were abuzz about what might be announced. At length, a staff member came out and called for attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I may?" she prompted. "Give it up for the greatest film auteur in the history of the cinema... Michael Bay!!!!"

The entertainment reporters broke out into rapturous applause. The real reporters shook their heads and sighed in dismay.

Bay strode out on stage, smiling his usual idiot grin, pointing at the crowd. He was dressed in his usual casual way, with dishevelled hair and a few days of stubble. He walked up towards the podium and winked at his reflection. When the applause from the entertainment reporters died down, Bay began to speak. "Thank you! It's nice to see you all here today! It's a great day to be here, isn't it? Of course it is." Bay laughed in that awkward, not unlike an unhinged serial killer way of his.

"Now then, I'm a busy man. Got lots of projects on the go. But I called you here because I've got another project on the go that I want to talk to you about," Bay blathered on (editor: emphasis on blathered).

Bay carried on. "So then, for a long while, there was another director out there who liked doing films with holiday titles in them. Romantic comedies, really. Meet cute moments and all that dreck. Well, you know I'm not one for that. I'd rather just have explosions and hot babes waxing cars to an Aerosmith song and more explosions. But that's not the point. The point is doing a Michael Bay film with a holiday in the title. And so my next project in the pipeline is going to be Valentine's Day."

Entertainment reporters broke out into cheers and applause. Real reporters shook their heads. "You have got to be kidding," this reporter told Bay (editor: tell me he's kidding).

"No, I'm not kidding," Bay insisted. "But I'm not one for romantic comedies either, so I'm not making a romantic comedy. Instead it's going to be a period drama. With explosions. It's gonna be about the St. Valentine's Day Massacre of 1929. Al Capone, with explosions."

"Is this a joke?" another reporter asked. 

"Why do you not take me seriously?" Bay asked back. "Look, that's not important right now. What's important is my cast for the film. Starting off with the guy I want playing Bugs Moran... Mr. Nicolas Cage!"

Cage came out on stage to much applause from the entertainment reporters. He was looking his usual dishevelled and crazy self, stumbling about in a drunken stupor, carrying a bottle of scotch. "Hello!" he called out. "It's good to see you!" He shook hands with Bay and took a swallow of the liquor.

"And playing tenacious police sergeant Mick "Waldo" Shaughnessy, another of my favourite actors, Shia LaBeouf!" Bay announced, and the reporters broke out into more applause.

LaBeouf came out on stage, waved to the crowd, and walked over to Bay and Cage. "Shia is here! Shia knows all and sees all! Shia wants to know why the producers kept him out of the last Indiana Jones movie!" (editor: he's still doing the talking in third person thing?)

Bay nodded. "They should have let me direct that. And give it up one more time for our leading lady. She'll be playing Francesca Moran, the niece of our Bugs and the paramour of our police sergeant, caught between two worlds. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Megan Fox!!!!"

Fox came out on stage, wearing a typical low cut dress. She gave the entertainment reporters an eyeful by leaning over. This reporter wondered how much plastic surgery had thus far been applied on stage (editor: I imagine a lot).

Bay grinned. "Ladies and gentlemen, my leading cast..."

"So who's playing Al Capone?" this reporter asked. 

"I haven't decided yet," Bay acknowledged. "I wanted Buscemi, but he told me to go **** myself for some reason. But I'm still on the lookout."

"So you're making a film about a small group of mobsters getting lined up against a wall and... just getting shot?" another reporter asked.

"Well, and what happens afterwards," Bay answered. "And what'll happen afterwards is explosions and tough choices and lots of drama and lots more explosions. Because I know my audience. And they love explosions. The more the better. And I give 'em what they want. And I expect the Academy to give me what I want. Every Oscar in every category, including for foreign language films, since half the film is going to have Italian dialogue, what with this being being about Italian-American mobsters and explosions. But that's for down the line. Because for now, our film has to get made, and we gotta get busy. Ladies and gentlemen, thanks for coming out, it's been a pleasure."

The entertainment reporters broke out into applause as the foursome disappeared back stage. The real reporters wondered why studios kept backing Michael Bay (editor: they've run completely out of ideas if you ask me.) This reporter took his leave, personally thankful that he was not a film critic and thus obliged to attend screenings of dreck like this (editor: you're being too kind).

The Pumpkin Spice Latte Blockbuster

Egomaniac Director Announces Latest Film Project; Millions Of Latte Drinkers Guzzle Fake Drink

Los Angeles (AP) It is a rite of the fall- for the last fifteen or so years. The time when white girls in leggings stir and go out in search of pumpkin spice lattes in every coffee shop they can find. Even if there's no pumpkin in the lattes. It's become a trend that has caught on, and will seemingly never go away, with millions drinking the vile brew as long as the drink stays in stock (editor: it's a mystery).

And in a year where we've had a Mattel toy turn into a blockbuster, it was just a matter of time before someone decided to do the same with other consumer products. Like a drink. 

Reporters were summoned this week to the headquarters of Platinum Dunes for an announcement from the explosion happy, self absorbed director Michael Bay (editor: he's such a buffoon).

Real reporters were outnumbered in the auditorium by entertainment reporters. The latter group were gushing about what might be announced, and the odds of Bay winning an Oscar (editor: the chances are a snowball's chance in hell). A staff member came out and called for attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I may? Put your hands together and welcome the greatest cinematic visionary of all time... Mr. Michael Bay!!!!!!"

She left stage, and on came Bay himself, grinning like a buffoon, laughing and waving to the entertainment reporters, who were applauding and cheering. He was oblivious to the scorn of the real reporters, who were shaking their heads, rolling their eyes, and checking their watches. Bay strode up to the podium, where a full length mirror had been set up, and winked at himself (editor: this is why he's not married. He's in love with himself).

"Hello there!" Bay called out as the applause of the entertainment reporters began to die down. "Welcome! Great of you to come out and see a genius at work. You know, it's been said that I tend to make films for a male teenage audience. And I suppose that's fair. I mean, the explosions, the hot women waxing cars, the explosions, the rock underscore. But that's not all that's out there. This summer has seen a big blockbuster come out that seems to speak to women and girls. I went and saw it, and I was, well, confused. Didn't really get it. I mean, there weren't any explosions. It was Barbie. But hey, I figured, maybe I'm not supposed to get it. But I thought to myself, I've been ignoring a whole element of the population by making films for the niche market I make them for."

Michael Bay? Capable of personal growth? This reporter doubted it. Bay carried on. "Anyway, what I came to decide was that I could look to other things to focus on, and tell stories about. And I've noticed in the last couple of weeks that these pumpkin spice lattes were being out there again and being drunk. And lots of white women drinking them. This confuses me, because, well, I don't actually like Starbucks, and I never had one. But I thought about it. And hey, let's face it, if you can make a blockbuster movie about a Mattel doll, why not about a drink?"

Entertainment reporters broke out into applause. The real reporters sighed (editor: he can't be serious). Bay nodded. "So that's why the next film project in the pipeline is going to focus on a career minded woman, a member of the NYPD. A bomb disposal expert who likes her pumpkin spice lattes but doesn't want anyone to know about it, because she figures she won't be taken seriously. And it's about a mad bomber who plants a bomb in one Starbucks pumpkin spice latte dispenser in New York City on opening day of pumpkin spice latte season."

The real reporters shook their heads. The entertainment reporters cheered and roared. "Now, for my leading lady, one of my favourite actresses and one of yours... Megan Fox!!!!!!" Bay announced.

Fox came out on stage, wearing her usual low cut attire, smiling vacantly, and strode up to join Bay. "Hey there! Good to be playing this role. I'm proud to represent all the pumpkin spice latte drinkers out there in this pivotal role that's going to get me the Oscar."

Bay nodded. "And playing the villain, the mad bomber.... my old pal, Nicolas Cage!"

Cage stumbled out on stage, smoking a Havana cigar and holding a bottle of Scotch. He staggered over to Bay and Fox, and waved a bit. "Hello! Good to be back working with my favourite people." (editor: how drunk is he?)

Bay nodded. "And there you have it. Proof that I can make films for women about things they love, like pumpkin spice latte. And I can make a mint on it. Because when you mix together pumpkin spice latte and explosions and Aerosmith doing the theme song and more explosions, what's not to like?"

"Is Starbucks going to sue you?" one reporter asked. 

Bay shrugged. "Not planning on actually saying their name out loud in the movie, so what for?"

Bay carried on. "Now we'll have to figure out a title for this genius idea of a movie of mine. Because Pumpkin Spice Latte, as much as it moves drinks, isn't a good movie title. But we'll come to that when we come to it. For now, the important part is that this movie is going to happen, it's going to be big, and it's going to win us Oscars. Thanks, folks, you've been a blast. Thanks for coming out!" With that, Bay departed off stage with his two stars. Real reporters shook their heads with dismay. Entertainment reporters were too busy gushing with excitement (editor: they really are dumb).

Time goes on. Bay will make his film. Or not. There's an awful lot of films in the pipeline for him, and they don't seem to be getting made. In the interim, white girls will continue to buy pumpkin spice latte as if their very identity counts on it. And they will continue to believe there's pumpkin somewhere in that mix. But there's not. 

But for one egomaniac director, that doesn't matter. All that matters is the explosion.

Blowing Up History, Yet Again

Egotistical Director Plans To Mangle British History; Reporters Irritated

Los Angeles (AP) If Jane Austen were around today, she might start a book with the following: "It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that an egomaniac is in want of a mirror." It applied earlier this week for this reporter, along with a number of real reporters, who were summoned to the headquarters of Platinum Dunes, one of the production companies that serves as home to the world's most self absorbed director. No, not Quentin Tarantino, but he comes close (editor: good one, that guy is a jackass). To make things worse, there was a horde of entertainment reporters, that vapid lot of stupid twits who work for such poorly esteemed outlets like Entertainment Tonight.

Gathered together with that pack of idiots in an auditorium, the real reporters were wondering what dreck the egomaniac would be announcing this time. After all, there was a serious backlog of his projects still in the pipeline, and time was moving along. At length, a staff member came up to the podium and called out, "Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, please welcome the greatest gift to cinema in the history of forever... Michael! Bay!!!!!"

The entertainment reporter broke out into rapturous applause. The real reporters sighed and checked their watches or phones for the time. Bay came out on stage, grinning as usual like an idiot, his hair dishevelled as always, with a couple of day's worth of stubble, and dressed relatively casually. He pointed to some of the entertainment reporters cheering him, laughed, and made his way to the podium. A full length mirror had been set up beside it, where he winked at his reflection (editor: he really is in love with himself).

"Hello!" Bay called, still grinning. "Thanks for coming! But of course you had to come. Everyone loves knowing what I'm doing and what I'm filming and how I'm going to win the Oscars. You know, an idea came to mind for me a few months back. Everyone loved my film Pearl Harbor." (editor: no, they didn't.) "My attention to detail of a major historical event. So why not do the same, but go further back in time? Now the problem with this story would be that well, I can't really go with the barely dressed babes waxing cars angle that I like for my movies... because for the story I wanna tell, everyone was overdressed, and cars hadn't been invented yet."

Bay paused before continuing. "Everyone who knows me knows how much I love explosions. Pyrotechnics on film are a big thing for me. I'm happy doing it this way, because if I wasn't in film, I probably would have ended up a bomber, because that's how much I love explosions. At least this way it's legal. But I'm getting off track. Because the story I want to tell is one of an explosion that didn't actually happen- but put in a twist by having the whole second act of the film being a dream sequence of what would have happened if the explosion had actually happened. Which is why I'm doing prep work for a major bio-pic historical drama, Guy Fawkes."

Guy Fawkes, whose name is still used today in Britain as part of Bonfire Night. The Catholic conspirator who failed to set off an explosion that would have wiped out Parliament. The so called Gunpowder Plot. That Guy Fawkes, whose face today is used by random anarchists who don't see the irony and never learned their history. That Guy Fawkes (editor: he's got to be out of his mind. The British will never let him hear the end of this one).

"You have got to be joking," this reporter stated.

"Why do people say that?" Bay asked. "Ladies and gentlemen, for the central role of this film, playing Guy Fawkes, the central member of the conspiracy, I give you one of my favourite actors, Nicolas Cage!!!"

Cage stumbled out on stage, carrying a half empty bottle of scotch in one hand. "Hey there!" He walked over and shook hands with Bay. "It's gonna be a blast playing this guy Fawkes. Or Fox. Who really cares? The point is we're gonna blow a lot up before the film's done. It'll be epic. It'll be tragic. It'll get me an Oscar. Right, Mike?"

"Right! And me too!" Bay exclaimed. "Now this being a period drama, we can't really go with my stand by Aerosmith doing the main theme, but that's not going to stop us from doing something for the end credits with the band. Maybe with the word gunpowder in the title." (editor: is Aerosmith still even together? Are they still alive?)

"You do realize you're stomping on actual history, right?" another reporter asked.

"That's what they said about Pearl Harbor and my angle of a Japanese attack getting in the way of a love triangle," Bay answered. "But that's not the point. The point is Fawkes envisioning the plot succeeding, and us seeing it all through his eyes. The point is Fawkes getting to see Parliament blown up- explosions and all- but then to wake up and realize that he was just dreaming. I get it, I can't change history. Can't go back there and help Fawkes blow the place up. But the second best thing is to portray what might have happened on screen before re-entering history as it happened."

"You do realize that most historians don't tend to play the what if game, right?" this reporter asked. 

"Do I look like I care what historians think?" Bay countered. "Look, all that really matters here is giving the audience what they want. And what they want is explosions. And wrecking shit. And more explosions. Lots of explosions. I know this, because I know my audience. And they love the same things I love. And I really love explosions."

"And does it matter to you that you might alienate the British?" another reporter inquired.

Bay shrugged. "Not really, no."

The real reporters collectively sighed in dismay, but it was drowned out by the applause of the entertainment reporters. Bay and Cage smiled and waved, and headed off stage. This reporter shook his head and took his leave of the place- all the while wondering a few things. What would Guy Fawkes think about having his name dragged through the mud by a hack director (editor: good point)? And what would he think of being portrayed by Nicolas Cage. After all, Cage is a drunkard with expensive spending habits and a ridiculous hairline (editor: beyond ridiculous).

Whatever was going to come of all this, a film by Bay would only end ugly. And with too many explosions.