The latest tattoo.

I was talking with two female art students here at the museum about tattoos. One said, “I want to get a bar code on the back of my neck.”
The other piped up with, “Don’t do that, a binary code is the latest thing.”
Knowing all tattoos become outdated I said, “I wouldn’t do either. My grandfather is still pissed off he got the Dewey Decimal System on his arm.”

They didn’t think it was funny.

Does pretty sell books?

I was once a model, a kid with long, wavy red hair and freckles and as with anyone’s look, it got me jobs and took them away. I auditioned for the movie “Pretty Baby” with Brooke Shields. The character’s name was “Red Top. When I had to look Italian, no one called. It was then I learned my look was important.
As a teenager I was in a Popeye’s Fried Chicken commercial. It was August, outside in New Orleans but the setting was winter in Pittsburgh, so everyone wore overcoats. It was extremely hot and uncomfortable. The director, with a feminine voice and lots of large hand gestures, kept telling everyone, “More teeth please, I need more teeth. This is TV. You have to look pretty, people.” It was then I learned it is better to look good than to feel good.
In college, a girlfriend who was an art student, asked me to model for her class. I was flattered. I thought finally I might be considered good looking. The art class drew what was below my waist. I was thrilled I got to keep my shirt on.
Sitting on a table, leaning backward with my open legs dangling, I knew one day I’ll laugh at this. It ended up looking like most I guess. No one called.
I’m a glutton for punishment. In my chosen profession I have to fight with pretty. Something I, and many struggle with. I’m old and a lot less cute.
It is true, Danny Devito is a major star but he’s an actor. I’m screaming, commercials, modeling, hosting, news anchor, and damn sure the music industry. I remember a voice teacher in 1978 at my performance arts high school told us about something new called a music video. I thought, “Aw crap, not something else you have to look good for.” It ended up ruining the careers of very talented musicians and creating many with nothing but a pretty face. All singers do have nice teeth or at least get them when their career kicks in.
To be an anchor at Fox News is the holy grail of being told you’re hot for television and these 9 and 10’s must be backing it up, they’re the number one news network. I thought the show Ugly Betty was a nice comment, looking into the heart and soul of a young woman as beautiful people surrounded her.
I have my picture on this blog. For me it’s shameless self-promotion. Some use drawings or cartoon characters to remain anonymous and I would think some use someone else’s picture. It’s a mystery and I’m OK with that. I follow because I like your work.
From an early age I was made to worry about the “look.” It was a little easier when I was in radio.
Does being pretty actually sell more books? I would like to agonize over a back cover. I am a glutton for punishment.

Hanging at the bottom of the food chain.

I’m going to gloat, so here is thy alert.
I jumped into a summer musical, “Return To The Forbidden Planet.” The role of the mad scientist, a combination of Shakespeare, Star Trek and Spaceballs was started by a local celebrity, an entertainer, one time national spokesman for Chevrolet, and a writer of a staple Cajun Christmas song that sells every year. He wasn’t ready with a week before opening. He was sorry. Most were, but understood. It was a tough part and I was asked to fill in.
I did a telethon with this gentleman years ago and he kept calling me Larry Wyatt. I said after the third time, “It’s Larry Hyatt buddy, but at least we now know who is a bigger star.”
The best way to get me to do something is to compliment me first. That’s what the director did, possibly since we don’t do this for the money and it being community theatre it’s about entertaining you. I know the mission. It’s what I live for, being an overweight starving artist. I pulled it off and now the gloating is over.
What troubles me is a couple of the younger cast members.
In our town, as in plenty of community theatre’s summer shows, the cast is made up of theatre and music students who have gone to New York or L.A. to study, come back to perform, not remembering this is community theater, the idiots, and when the show doesn’t go exactly as planned, they meltdown.
My thought, “Boy I hope they become stars, because one day they’re going to kill themselves.” This backstage drama was going on for weeks, and understandably upsetting the cast members, creating an atmosphere that shoots the shit out of the whole reason to do this.
At first I thought this frustration was because of the embarrassment of appearing with amateurs, who do this for the love of theater, the chance for community, and the excitement of appearing on stage. Then I thought maybe, they’re getting their ass kicked in New York and they realize up there they have to hang with the cannibals, now doubting their ability.
Life’s a bitch and hanging at the bottom of the food chain should be rewarding.
I was once an entertainment director and performer in a club called Illusions. I was basically an impersonator. Not a female or Elvis impersonator, there I drew the line.
I would white my hair and sing Frank Sinatra, put on glitz and be Elton John, black my skin and become James Brown, or invent characters, all to entertain the crowd. I called it theatre in bar. It’s so original. It was once called vaudeville.
I surrounded myself with actors and actresses, dancers and comedians. I called up everyone I worked with to put on a show, the show, and my show.
I met with a few I worked with from the theatre department at Nicholls State, the local college. Most of them snubbed me. They were the elite theater people who didn’t think my stupid little barroom act was anything they wanted to get involved in. I was second rate until they realized performing is learning and not every theatre dream happens when you reach twenty-two years of age and graduate from college with a (say it through your teeth) theatre degree.
When those ass hole students did speak to me and realized that at least I had a gig, they asked to join. You know what I told them? I told them, the elite “theatre people,” I would be honored to have you join us. I can certainly use someone with your talent.” I’m not crazy. The show must go on.
I didn’t say to them that humility is a bitch but I hoped they got it. Young people don’t realize that many before them had the dream and that many before them were going to set the world on fire.
One of my favorite quotes is, “I’m not gonna stay here. I’m going to make a name for myself, I’m going to be somebody.” I hoped they did, knowing their drive. Three years later they put an ad in the paper for theatre lessons. I hope she instills humility in her students.

Downtown, in a coastal city of Louisiana.

My wife of 24 years died in a car wreck two months ago. I was devastated.
I lost my computer job last month when they outsourced to Mumbai.
I got evicted six days ago I couldn’t pay my rent.
My son lives in Minnesota. We haven’t talked in a decade.

I was staying at a friend’s house, but all I could do was cry.
So I drank, too much, and got in an argument.
It’s hot outside, but cooler under this bridge.
I didn’t know grass couldn't grow here.

I’m so overwhelmed; I don’t know what to do.
I read the front page and it gave me some news.
There’s been oil in the gulf for 60 days, and things are extremely bad.


Fuck that. I want my wife back.



Here’s the end of the wallet story.


Two days later, I asked the girl at the counter, “Did a guy come in and get a wallet.” She looked uneasy.
“Um, yea, they come and got it, a while ago. Well, um, somebody come and got it for him. It’s your wallet?”
“No, I’m the one who returned it.”
“Whew, I thought someone took ya’ wallet.”
“Did it have the money it?”
She was offended.

You think you have nothing to say.

I didn’t have a post this weekend because I was finishing a play I wrote for The Houma Terrebonne Le Petit Theater’s, One Act Play Writing Competition. It’s due next week but wanted a few people to tell me what they thought. I thought about posting some of the dialogue, but I thought it would be taken out of context, so I figured I’d miss a week, but just when I didn’t have anything to say….

On the way to the office this morning, I stopped at my usual convenience store to get a cup of coffee and noticed on the ground, a man’s wallet. I picked it up, looked around the parking lot and I saw a guy getting in his car, jumping into the driver’s seat. I held the wallet up for him to see. He gave a weird expression and I took that to mean it wasn’t his.
It was a black, nylon, threefold wallet, and I had an 80’s flashback when I ripped open the Velcro to see if there was any money was in it. (It could have been empty and I would have tossed it.)
It had money, plenty of money. I saw 20’s that looked a half-inch thick. I closed it, brought it inside and asked for a manager, thinking, “Boy, I would really love this money.” What amazed me was from the time it took me to see the money and close the wallet, no more than two second, I imagined, stuffing it in my pocket, paying my rent, buying my wife a gift and getting a hair cut, but that’s as far as I got. I had to at least give it to the store in case he comes back, and who knows, someone other than the driver could have seen me.
I asked for a manager and it took awhile, so as I waited, I looked into the wallet for an ID. I saw all that money again and a Louisiana Food Stamp card. I read the name and closed it.
“Damn, someone else who is broke.”
The manager still wasn’t there so I looked to the back of the store, I saw the owner and told her. She said bring it to the front.
On the way back to the front of the store, a possible reward entered my mind. “Yea, that’s it.” The manager was now at the check out and I explained what happen. I told her the person’s name that I read on the card, and she said she didn’t know him by name, but could know his face. I thought about giving them my business card and let the person who lost it know who the good Samaritan was. I didn’t. I sure could have used that money.
Driving away from the store, I thought, if they don’t ever come back, the store gets the money, and they’ll likely spilt it between them. They know me from going in there each morning. I’m sure I’ll find out what happens. Now, all I’m hoping for is Karma.

LCN-TV Summer Line Up

I work in Louisiana producing television shows for LCN-TV, “The Louisiana Superstation,” a network that airs on cable systems throughout the state. Our niche is Louisiana’s music, cuisine, politics, outdoors, sports, documentaries, entertainment, etc. You can catch us worldwide, at zapmytv.com. Here’s our new summer programs.

“Barataria” Bay Watch - The opening has extremely beautiful women in bikinis, running in slow motion, on the beaches of Louisiana. I know it’s been done, but our cast will be covered in baby oil. This is television, and the sludge that is now on our coastline wouldn’t look good, but the metaphor might hit home. Since no one is on the beach because of the crude oil, for one hour, each week, the characters will just keep applying baby oil.

American Idle- This would be a political show with BP executives and the federal government, sitting at a table, discussing feverously, about what Louisiana is facing. The conflict would be exceptional, finger pointing, pundits from both sides, democrats, republicans, all fighting, talking at the same time, no one will hear a thing, and nothing gets resolved. It could be a great cliffhanger for the next episode. Again, where nothing gets done.

Dancing in the Bars, “Not”- This is a music/dance show featuring Louisiana musicians in the nightclubs along the Gulf Coast. The bands play a great show, each week, but the club owners can’t pay them because “not” one person is dancing. We’ll eliminate a bar each week when they go out of business.

Buffy the Oil Industry Slayer- A young environmentalist named Buffy, along with her BFF tree hugger named Muffy, and their male friend, hot, young, withdrawn, and disheveled, Scruffy, takes on the oil industry and it’s plot to take over America. As added conflict, Scruffy has carnal thoughts of Buffy, but Buffy is to driven to notice. Scruffy, confides in Muffy, who is secretly in love with Scruffy, but her dog is also named Scruffy and she can’t get past that.

Cooking with Earl- This is a cooking show out of New Orleans and a take on how my father, a New Orleanian, would say the word “oil.” When used in a sentence, he would say, “For Christ’s sake, Larry, you didn’t buy any cooking “earl” to fry the fish.” With that said. The host of the show, a guy named Earl, (for the people who don’t get the joke) will go to the Gulf of Mexico, skim the surface of the water, heat it, and cook the food in the oil and residue. He’ll give you tips such as, “for added flavor, “burr-al” the crabs along with a brick,” and basic tips on how not to kill yourself or at least, how not to get the runs.

The Deadliest Catch- This is a fishing show. That one’s self-explanatory.

Cost- This is a drama that follows a three-generation, Louisiana fishing family on welfare. The older generation will reminisce about the good ole’ days and the middle aged will talk about the present hardships while trying to keep the family together. The younger generation will want to give up, sell the business, and move way up north, to Shreveport.

Jeers- This is a political show where the residence of Louisiana, get to voice their opinion on how the spill is being handled. It will be produced at different location in the state and as the show progresses everyone becomes hoarse from constantly screaming. Then in the last five seconds of each episode, when everyone can’t speak a word, we’ll show a clip of an official saying. “We’re doing all we can.”

ESPN-BP- This will be a sports show where BP keeps the ball rolling back and forth from taking the blame and blaming it on everybody else. In an “I’m gonna sue you and be a millionaire” segment, you’ll have a chance to call a friend and ask, WTF.

And finally,

A Charlie Brown/Melancon Christmas- This is an animated cartoon, holiday special for the end of the year, a tearjerker that will make everyone cry for our coastline, just like State Representative Charlie Melancon did on national television, and captured everyone in the state of Louisiana’s feelings.

God bless the families of those lost in the explosion.

www.lcntv.com

A Man With "Rep"

Growing up a short, funny, redhead dude, in desegregated schools, I now and then got my butt kicked. It taught me how not to treat people. It molded me into a mild mannered adult who is a bit cautious. So, as an adult, when only for two weeks, being known as a bad ass was a cool feeling. All the less empowered should have it, at least once.
I was working in a night club as an MC/Entertainer, when the owner and one a the bouncers, who everyone said was a “real bad-ass,” came into the office while I was filling out winner’s sheets for a Hawaiian Tropic Beauty Contest. When I heard them enter, I was standing by the desk. (Steve is the owner, Joe, the bad ass and it’s not their real names.)
“Look, Joe. I don’t care. It’s no ones fault.”
“But Steve, It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it. I was just trying to help.”
“It doesn’t matter, Joe. Things like that happen, but your job is fine."
“But Steve, I didn’t do anything. I was trying to help.”
“It’s OK, Joe.”
It was getting heated and making me uncomfortable. I was now pretending to ignore the commotion, looking down at the desk and writing.
“Steve, I didn’t do it!”
“It’s OK. Joe. I have too much to do right now and it doesn’t really matter.”
“I didn’t do anything, that’s bullshit, Steve!”
The next thing I know, Steve and Joe have each other by the throat, pushing each other around the room and into walls. Things in the office are being knocked around and falling to the floor, so I drop my pen and try to calm the situation. Before I could, Steve punches Joe in the face, and Joe storms out with a big whelp on his eye.
Steve and I, who are very good friends, start to wonder, “how the hell did that just that happen.” I finish the winner’s sheets, take the stage, announce the winners, and a lovely lady in a bikini gets a trip to Hawaii to be a beauty queen.
When I left the stage, this is the story that got back to me.
Joe, after being punched in the face, went toward the front door and ran into another bouncer. He said, “Steve and Larry are assholes, they just jumped me in the office.”
“Larry?”
“Yea, Steve and Larry.”
“Larry Hyatt?”
“Yea, Larry Hyatt.”
“No shit? Larry Hyatt?"
“Yea”
Joe then went to the doorman. “Steve and Larry just jumped me in the office.”
“No shit, Larry?”
“Yea.”
“Larry Hyatt?”
“Yea.”
Joe then went to the parking lot and told the head valet, “Steve just jumped me in the office,” that, the valet believed.
I was now a bad ass in the eyes of my peers, but wait there’s more. The next weekend I was off of work and a bunch of the employees went to another club in the next town. It was the first time I didn’t have a show in months, so I was having a great time watching other people on stage.
I was standing in the audience listening to the live music when Steve leans over and asks if I have a problem with the Thibodaux Police. Screaming over the music I say, “Not in Thibodaux, but I am wanted in ten states for unnatural sex acts.” Steve laughs and says, “OK, but there’s a cop staring at you.” I turn around and the police officer leans into me and says. “Excuse me, can you please step outside a moment?” I was confused.
I follow the cop toward the door, checking my pockets for something illegal someone might have put in there, and my friends all go along, wondering what the hell did Larry do now. Outside, the cop says, “I’m really sorry, but we’ve been told you people from “Illusions” are known to carry guns. Do you have a weapon on you?” My jaw drops and the group cracks up laughing. The cop, thinks me, the actor/entertainer, who couldn’t beat himself out of a wet paper bag, carries a gun. I said, “No man, I don’t have a gun,” and I went back inside, a few inches taller, being one badass mother. For two weeks after that, I brandished a banana that I carried in my sport coat. I had a “rep” and it felt good.
Until you’ve been beat, bad, because of the color of your skin or the way you talk, you cooked dinner with too much salt, you found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, you’re a child, or any number of reasons people get hit, you might not understand the allure of being a bad ass. For the real bad asses in the world, be careful, you may run into a guy who’ll brandish his banana.