maxistentialist: Kevin Smith: This is George Carlin as Cardinal Glick during the DOGMA shoot in Pittsburgh, circa 1998. The first time I met George Carlin was May of 1997 at the Conan O’Brien show, back when they used to shoot it in New York City. I was there to promote CHASING AMY and when I found out Carlin was gonna be on the same show, I nearly shit myself. He’d always been a hero and a role model to me, so I brought a DOGMA script along in hopes of asking Curious George to play Cardinal Glick - the marketing maven behind the Buddy Christ. But shortly before the show, Brenda - George’s wife of 36 years - lost her battle with liver caner. Ever the professional, George kept his Conan booking, but you could tell he was heartbroken. I didn’t bug him with DOGMA that night. I’d meet the master again a month later at the Four Seasons in Los Angeles. He’d already read DOGMA and we were grabbing lunch to talk about whether or not he wanted to be in it. He said he was into it but had one request. George asked if Cardinal Glick could have a bandage on his finger, which would hide George Carlin’s wedding band. Because, he said, he wasn’t ready to take it off just yet. I miss his mind.
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maxistentialist:

Kevin Smith:

This is George Carlin as Cardinal Glick during the DOGMA shoot in Pittsburgh, circa 1998.

The first time I met George Carlin was May of 1997 at the Conan O’Brien show, back when they used to shoot it in New York City. I was there to promote CHASING AMY and when I found out Carlin was gonna be on the same show, I nearly shit myself. He’d always been a hero and a role model to me, so I brought a DOGMA script along in hopes of asking Curious George to play Cardinal Glick - the marketing maven behind the Buddy Christ.

But shortly before the show, Brenda - George’s wife of 36 years - lost her battle with liver caner. Ever the professional, George kept his Conan booking, but you could tell he was heartbroken. I didn’t bug him with DOGMA that night.

I’d meet the master again a month later at the Four Seasons in Los Angeles. He’d already read DOGMA and we were grabbing lunch to talk about whether or not he wanted to be in it. He said he was into it but had one request.

George asked if Cardinal Glick could have a bandage on his finger, which would hide George Carlin’s wedding band. Because, he said, he wasn’t ready to take it off just yet.

I miss his mind.

thedailywhat: Heartwarming Tearjerker of the Day: “It’s not the right thing to do, but I did it. If I were younger, maybe I’d be spending time in the hoosegow.” So says Hyman Strachman, a 92-year-old, 5-foot-5 World War II vet who has spent the past eight years sending bootlegged copies of first-run movies to American soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq. Known to soldiers as Big Hy, he has copied the movies — more than 300,000 — in his small Long Island apartment, then sent them overseas free of charge, and at a personal cost of about $30,000. “It was pretty big stuff — it’s reconnecting you to everything you miss,” said Jenna Gordon, a specialist in the Army Reserve. “We’d tell people to take a bunch and pass them on.” Now, with the wars waning and soldiers returning home, Strachman’s shameless violation of domestic copyright laws is winding down, as his chance of being prosecuted. In fact, Howard Gantman, with the Motion Picture Association of America, hinted that Strachman might never have been on Hollywood’s radar at all: “We are grateful that the entertainment we produce can bring some enjoyment to them while they are away from home.” [nyt]
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thedailywhat:

Heartwarming Tearjerker of the Day: “It’s not the right thing to do, but I did it. If I were younger, maybe I’d be spending time in the hoosegow.”

So says Hyman Strachman, a 92-year-old, 5-foot-5 World War II vet who has spent the past eight years sending bootlegged copies of first-run movies to American soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq. Known to soldiers as Big Hy, he has copied the movies — more than 300,000 — in his small Long Island apartment, then sent them overseas free of charge, and at a personal cost of about $30,000.

“It was pretty big stuff — it’s reconnecting you to everything you miss,” said Jenna Gordon, a specialist in the Army Reserve. “We’d tell people to take a bunch and pass them on.”

Now, with the wars waning and soldiers returning home, Strachman’s shameless violation of domestic copyright laws is winding down, as his chance of being prosecuted. In fact, Howard Gantman, with the Motion Picture Association of America, hinted that Strachman might never have been on Hollywood’s radar at all: “We are grateful that the entertainment we produce can bring some enjoyment to them while they are away from home.”

[nyt]