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‘Cause He’s Got Heist Hopes…He’s Got Heist Hopes August 21, 2006

Posted by doctorolove in Movies, Pop Culture Rants, TV.
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If TV shows are the litmus test for what Americans want to be, then apparently, in 2006, most of America wants to be criminal masterminds.

There are 7241 shows on the fall schedule that involve actors who peaked in the nineties playing criminal ringleaders. (Please note, that number is an estimate. We at EARWACS have not yet tested its’ validity and it has a plus/minus accuracy of 7238) You’ve got Ray Liotta, still searching for that big follow-up to Goodfellas, playing Mr. Smith. You’ve got Donal Logue, still searching for his follow-up to anything, playing a crook in Knights of Prosperity. And even the cop shows are giving their best and juiciest roles to actors playing crooks and thieves. (There are however over 18,000 different variations of Law and Order – that fact has been confirmed.) Even movies are learning our country’s penchant for crime and are mandating that every other film involve a long scene in which somebody breaks into a heavily guarded compound (bank, vault, casino, VFW hall, Fotohut) using a complex, hastily assembled group of stock characters (Suave Guy, Jewish old man, leprosy ridden cheerleader).

I am sad to admit that I am one of these Americans. I have decided that from this day forward I am going to devote my existence to a life of crime. But I will not be taking the easy way out by just simple purse snatching, insider trading or sprinting my way through a mattress store and ripping off every tag I see. No, I have watched enough of these criminal how-to’s pumped out by Hollywood to realize that I must plan, form a gang and pick my mark wisely. But I’m not going to keep this grand info to myself. Today, I’m going to share what I’ve learned. Consider this a primer to creating a successful crime syndicate, at least by Hollywood standards. And considering the amount of theft they’ve been pumping out lately (I, as well as others, willingly shelled out ten bucks a pop to sit through Step Up…which is Save the Last Dance without “soul”) then it must work.

First up, I need a home base. Research has shown me that I need a large warehouse, preferably on the outskirts of town and hidden from the view of the road. It needs to be large enough to house an aircraft carrier or several hundred unusable Econoline vans. And with all these space, will I surround myself with tools and computers and apparatuses? No, I will only buy a cheap folding table that can double as a beer pong surface in my cousin’s frat house, a blackboard smeared to all hell with chalk marks, and several of those big spotlight lamps you see on dirty porn movie sets. If there’s cash left over in the “design” account, I’ll make sure there is a dog roaming around, just so he can eat something important at a critical moment.

With my gigantic, sparsely furnished, warehouse finally operational, I need to begin assembling my crew. I have already begun loitering around Matlock marathons and Prune festivals to find my old man. As you can see by my amazing template design, I am not a computer whiz, so I’ll need one of those. The sexy vixen girl in my crew may be tougher to find since I’m married and have lost all ability to talk to women without arguing or shoving my sneakers deep into my throat. Being married has also ruined my chances to be the suave guy, but I have been Tivoing every episode of Queer Eye that I can in hopes of giving myself a makeover. And while I will need a big, scary biker type to be my muscle, I figure I can get away with using the bouncer at the bar I work at, provided I can get his shifts covered on the nights we do “recon,” whatever that is.

So, assembling my crack staff may take some time, but that hasn’t stopped me from my next assignment: picking my target. The bank where I do my banking isn’t well guarded, with just one guard who seems more apt to watching the butts of the women in line than in doing any actual protection duties. Only problem is, the payoff doesn’t seem that large. I’ve looked into stealing famous art from one of the many museums in the NYC area, but don’t think any of them can match up to the lovely art now adorning my walls (A print of “The Scream” and several blurry photos of me trying to drunkenly recreate Greg Louganis’ dives at the 1988 Olympics). A casino would be a great idea, but I live near Atlantic City and not Las Vegas, meaning all I’d be stealing is the pension of most elderly Long Islanders and the pocket money of Wall Streeters who decided they were gods of the poker world after watching Rounders hopped up on a few beers. So, I’ve decided to case a check cashing store. Not only will I get away with tons of money, but everybody needs phone cards, pens with chains attached to them and gumball machines that haven’t been cleaned or changed since the Reagan administration.

With my target in place, my team assembled and my warehouse at full tilt, the day will come soon enough. I figure I have to make the plan as elaborate as possible. It can never be as simple as walking into a store, guns blazing, and taking whatever you can grab. I have timed the response time of New York’s finest, and while it is on par with Dom Deluise’s time in the hundred-yard dash, the smash and grab technique never seems to result in success. So I will burrow my way into the store, using a little known sewer drain. I will make sure the sexy vixen is roaming in front of the store, distracting passers-by with her tongue-in-cheek, double entendre baby-doll T-shirt. The old man will play the role of a confused patron, trying desperately to cash the eight dollar check he got in the mail as an advertisement for a free year of Field and Stream. The computer nerd will be hacking into the company’s records, rearranging facts and figures as well as changing everybody’s fonts to Helvetica Bold. I think I may have the muscle drive the getaway van, but will stipulate that he keep the radio tuned to classic rock, just so, in case there’s a police chase, we have the possibility of doing it to Steppenwolf’s Born to Be Wild. With my suave, lightning moves, I will make off with the cash while my ruses distract the underpaid employees. And once the mission is complete, we will all gather back at the warehouse where we will celebrate in slow motion, hopefully to classical music or bad early nineties techno.

With a plan this foolproof, how could I fail? I know there may be tiny slip-ups along the way, so it is important that I have my team be at tip-top shape. We will train hours on end, watching Ocean’s Twelve (No Catherine Zeta Jones in the first one…Me-Ouch!). But I must never let them see me sweat. Because the crime syndicate needs a strong leader. One who can meet challenges and succeed in the face of adversity. After all, this is America and all of our leaders possess those qualities.

So, when you notice my sudden generosity to those less fortunate and my new frivolous purchases, like gold plated Ipods or health care, you will know it is because my heist succeeded. That or HollyComeLately finished second in the third race at Pimlico. Either way, my life of crime has begun and it can only lead to bigger and better things. Like politics.

So, watch closely this fall season, America, because being a criminal syndicate mastermind is at your fingertips. If, however, this isn’t for you and you’d prefer to be a shapeless lump who does things just for attention, the reality shows will be on any network at anytime.

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Comments»

1. Mikey - August 21, 2006

Did you see it? For years people have debated the death of Tupac. There was the whole Makaveli name change thing (he stretched his poetic license). That has got to mean something. He has been sighted post-mortum about as many times as Elvis (who is not dead). Finally last night we had an answer, Tupac is dead, but channels himself through Kevin Federline. If anyone ever exemplified “Thug Life” it was surely K. Fed. Only a true gangsta drives around in a ferrari purchased by his ‘ubber talented’ wife. Suge Night better sign him soon, oh that’s right he can’t from jail. If you did not see it you are a lesser person for having missed it.

2. doctorolove - August 22, 2006

I was too busy ogling my Teen Beat photos of Lance Bass to notice anything K-Fed related, though that man’s well on his way to being a Trivial Pursuit answer someday


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