THE TV PILOTS YOU WANT TO SEE !!

I love television.

But any unique and exciting NEW programs seem to be in rare form this year. So, with my creative juices gushing, I picked up some paint to huff at Ace Hardware and wrote some brand new tv pilots and movies for 2010 !!

Since my creativity quickly hits a wall, I leave the comment space below for YOU DEAR READER to add your own pilot synopsis to the bunch !

By gum, We'll storm Hollywood and demand some quality entertainment !

Gimme your tv pilot ideas below !!

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1)

"REINCARNATED UNDERCOVER"

Its Homeward Bound, meets THE SHIELD...

(I've already copy written this one and its on its way to DISNEY* FAT DISNEY CASH SHUCKAHZ!)

Dennis Miller , Corey Feldman, Natasha Lyonne and Bettie White (Golden Girls)
star as three undercover cops all shot down in the line of duty, when betrayed to coke smugglers from within a corrupt police station in downtown Detroit. But, fate steps in and the three cops are reincarnated as a Dog (Miller), a pig (Feldman), and a cat (Lyonne), and adopted by a senile old woman (Bettie White). Now, with a new "leash" on life, they renew their vow to protect and serve. These three aren't "paw-sing" for a moment, they're here to take a bite out of crime.

2)

SMALL WONDER 3000

( Its Terminator meets Ally McBeal ?)

The year is 2999, in this futuristic legal thriller.
Vicki (the little robot girl from Small Wonder ) is all grown up and now a highly advanced lawyer bot, posing as single human girl about town. The underground sales of state of the art "f*ck-bots" and "Super thinking Vibrators" is on the rise. Vicki is hell bent on finding a decent man in Neo York and taking down abusive machine owners. NOW, Because no one else can....... she fights for machine rights with her robot fists by night and in the courtroom by day in this sassy futuristic legal drama !!

3)

"PSYCHO SCHOOL"

(Its Dangerous Minds meets Silence of the Lambs)


While on the run after escaping a high-security mental hospital, the deranged cannibal psycho killer, James 'the CANNIBAL' Crawford (Steve Buchemi), hides from the authorities in an inner city New York high school. After eating the newest teacher on campus, on the first day of school, James is mistaken for the teacher himself, and soon finds himself teaching the unruly high school slackers a thing or two about life. Every week he inspires them to "murder their insecurities, and devour their shortcomings" Thought provoking, uplifting, heartwarming, and bloodier than Hostel, SAW, and Audition! This show will tug at your heart, than tear it out and eat it with spaghettios.

4)

SIX GHOSTS, TWO CHICKS AND a ABORTION CLINIC

(I have no idea.)

Meet Melissa, she's young, pretty, single and pregnant. Her lover Leeroy, just ran to Philly with his new husband Rupert.

Melissa and her lesbian roommate Sanda (who's semi-secretly in love with her.) are flat broke due to the decline in business. Why? Because Melissa works at a haunted abortion clinic. Six wise cracking aborted baby souls now roam the halls, constantly ruining Melissa's day and her abortion procedures with thier shanangans! Wackiness ensues.

5)

"SPECIAL AGENT DOWNES "


(Its LIFE GOES ON, meets ... 24 )


When Kirby Downes, a mentally retarded man, steps in front of a sniper's bullet. The bullet ricochets off his ginormous melon, saving the President of the United States. With that brave act, Kirby is given a purple heart, and hired to be the Head Chief of the United States Department of Homeland Security.
But, Saving the President was only the beginning. Now Kirby's neck deep in terrorist attacks, assassination attempts, a sexy new partner and learning to change his own diapers.

6)

"PIRATE DICK "

(its umm.... got Pirates? People like Pirates.)


In order to escape a lifetime of eternal torment in hell, 17th century pirate BLACK BEARDED DICK must save one rape victim for every one person he's raped. Left to haunt a Caribbean fortress until the present day, he teams up with a on-the-run Wall Street con artist, his quadrapalegic alcoholic brother on the run from his/their own demons. Together they must use their wits, guile, and a high tech speedboat to save 100 rape victims -and in the process, their very souls !

7)

"Sin-cerely Yours"

(Its Moonlighting meets... Se7en ?)

Tony is a big fan of a girl he met online. Too big of a fan some might say! After stumbling on her entertaining blogs and fubar web page, Tony abducts Jennifer one night, keeping her in his dank basement crawlspace to blog, muse and entertain him forever. But, just like the bonds he's tied from her ankle to a moldy old mattress, the bonds of affection have tightened.

Will the FBI close in on thier budding romance? Will Jennifer fall for him? Can Tony win her heart after tossing her in a van with a sack over her head? Its romanic drama at it best.

Love me right

You toss those promises into the wind
You try to love me again and again
I'm out of breath chasing you
I can't live another day with you

I'm so tired of your voice
So hurt by your choice
to refuse to hold me tight
to refuse to love me right


I stand here waiting all night
I lay here crying all night
for you to just love me right


Why can't you love me right?
Why don't you love me right?


Why am I not enough for you?
Why can't I complete you?
Am I not holding you tight?
Am I not loving you right?


I'm dying in your arms
with tears between our lips
Why cant you love me right?
Why don't you love me right?


This is not a life
This isn't right
I don't want to be loved like this
I don't want another kiss
If you don't love me right
If you can't love me right

Long ago there was a boy, who loved a girl.

Together they were each others world.

But like a harsh wind, trouble came.

Her Mother longed to see the girl in pain.

Nothing would hurt the girl so much,

than to be far from the young man's touch.

So the evil Mother, brought horse and cart,

to take her away, to break her heart.

But, the stories not over, it does not end there.

Though a world away, the boy still cared.

He found their tracks, and a crumpled note.

'In three days, we leave by boat.'

'Through fields, or hills, or even sea,

I'll love you still, when you find me'

With sword at side, and note in hand,

he trekked across the barren land.

He ran three days, but missed her boat.

Shaken not, he held to hope.

He boarded a ship, a sailor to be.

Months went by, as he crossed the sea.

In the worst conditions, he held to his plan.

Always with the note close at hand.

'Through fields, or hills, or even sea,

I'll love you still, when you find me'

The Ocean was cruel, he bore the scars.

He dreamt of her, and wished on stars.

He crossed the Sea, and came to a city.

Where he asked of a girl, with stunning beauty.

Out of funds, in the woods he would sleep.

Where still her words, would haunt his sleep.

Far from the boy, locked in a cabin,

the worst of the girls nightmares, did happened.

The Old mother slipped one night, and fell to the floor.

Her wrinkled head broken, her evil no more.

Instead of tears, the girl screamed instead.

As a Dragon crawled from the old womans head.

"Disguised as a beggar, who needed a bed,

I was mocked by your mother, and ate her instead."

Now often these Dragons, collect beautiful tokens.

She was flown to his cave, without a word spoken.

Across the land, the sad story did travel.

But none were brave enough to do battle.

Two years past slowly, and the Dragon had grew,

the towns people were frightened knowing not what to do.

They hired a traveler, without a care in the world,

to slay the great Dragon and save the poor girl.

"If this girl, be beautiful, as you villagers say,

I'll kill this Dragon, to end these dark days."

That was all he said, as he climbed high to the cave,

some thinking him crazy, some thinking him brave.

The traveler crawled through the cave dark as night,

til' he came to the maiden with hands bound tight.

He threw off his cowl, and cut through her ropes.

She clutched his hand in the dark, and silently spoke.

"Through fields, or hills, and even sea,

I love you still.....I knew you'd find me."

The furious Dragon sprung, roaring from the depths of the dark.

Intent on feasting on their once broken hearts.

But the Traveler was faster, taking both sword and knife.

Driving both deep in the creature, taking its life.

They held each other close, as the beast roared its last.

Joyous they found, each other at last.

Together, the two could never be happier.

With one another, they lived happily ever after....

Conan - an insomniac's best friend

Conan O'Brien.

Conan debuted on September 13, 1993, as host of the Late show when Jay Leno took over The Tonight Show from Johnny Carson.

Tom Shales, wrote in the Washington Post: "O'Brien is a living collage of annoying nervous habits. He giggles and titters, jiggles about and fiddles with his cuffs. He had dark, beady little eyes like a rabbit. He's one of the whitest white men ever. O'Brien is a switch on the guest who won't leave: he's the host who should never have come. Let the Late show with Conan O'Brien become the late, Late Show and may the host return to Conan O'Blivion whence he came."

But, Conan didn't come from oblivion, he had toiled for years writing comedy for television. In January 1988, Saturday Night Live's executive producer Lorne Micheals hired O'Brien as a writer where he stayed for three years. From 1991 – 1993, O'Brien was a writer and producer for The Simpsons ( he wrote such memorable episodes as "Marge Vs. the Monorail" and "Whacking Day."), and was an active producer and consultant during seasons 4 and 5 when the show really hit its comedic stride.

His first years on the Late Show were critically attacked, and NBC often left his show on the chopping block with week and week of "maybes" and "we'll sees". But, before long, Conan, his trusty side kick Andy Richter and the show had found their groove and left the bumpy beginnings behind them.

As an insomniac, one of the worst traits is the boredom. Late night TV isn't kind to our species. For years, we'd sit though anything, just because it was on. Night Court, Mash, Fast Lane reruns... (Ok, I dug Fast Lane. Shuttup.) ect, ect ect.
But, it was Conan and crew who were heads above not only the earlier Tonight Show with his active and spontaneous comedy, but anything else any network was airing.
His show stretched into a wider demographic bringing in a younger crowd, which he seemed to enjoy. With the internet, personally ,came the joys of sending clips from previous nights Conan episodes to friends. I recall racing through red lights after a horrible day of work at Wal-Mart when I was younger, eager to race into my folks basement and catch his opening monologues. My mother would open the basement door, and toss laundry down at me with a muffled, "Your watching that weirdo, aren't you? Quit laughing, some of us are sleeping !!"

It'd be impossible to collect his funniest moments in a 4 - 5 minute video. Triumph the Insult comic dog and the Star Wars geeks? The Pale Force cartoons? The masturbating bear? The Chuck Norris lever? Coked-up Were Wolf? Conan teasing Max Wienburg about his hundred of illegitimate children? Joel Godard the announcer and his soul-crushing skits? Conan in Finland? Conan / Andy stare-downs? Pimp-Bot 5000 ? The immortal Abe Vigoda? The Civil-War era Baseball reenactment? Theres simply too many.
If his guest was shy, tame, or boring he simply picked up the slack and spun anything awkward into sheer hilarity.
When the writers strike came, he defended his writers, paid the salaries of more than 80 non-writers to keep the show going, and still entertained fans with "Script-less" episodes were he carried the show himself with hours of impromptu geeky mayhem. Thats just class.

For years, he would honesty state how he would love to inherit the tonight show that his hero Johnny Carson had once hosted. Than he got the chance.
You could see how proud he was when he took over The Tonight Show, even from his very first sketch in which he runs across the U.S. from New York to L.A., right up to the Tonight Show door and realizes he forgot the keys. Than promptly drives a bulldozer though a wall to get in.
For Conan fans, it was great to see him achieve his life long dream eight months ago. In those short months, he amassed some extremely classic moments you can find online.

This past week, as he was exiting the show he worked so hard to host, he remained classy and did what he does best.
Milk the situation for the biggest laughs.

Wherever he ends up, he'll surely conquer. Because that is what talent does, and that is what Conan is.
Now, it seems he'll be off the air for a bit.
Seven months without Conan is going to suck, but when he comes back, rest assured, I'll be watching, and laughing.

Longer Roads - by the ghost of Johnny Cash and myself

So, its 4 in the morning, and the ghost of Johnny Cash is drinking out of my Jack bottle in the kitchen of my quaint little apartment. I open my bedroom door, turn on the light and there he is. Black shirt, pants, just checking the fridge, guitar slung over his back.

I'm all, "Hey Johnny, uh... hows it going, you want a sandwich or something? He shakes the bottle, and replies, " No thanks Zachary, but your plum outta Mr. Daniels. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but where your going, your going to need to stock up, son" Confused and wiping sleep from my eyes I replied, "I don't think I follow, I'm doing well.... I'm in good health, young, and life's been good lately." He smiles, and says a matter a fact, "Some folks got longer roads than others, and some folks got mighty big trials. But, the good lord won't put anything in your path that he knows you can't muster the strength to climb. The Jack Daniels will just to wet yer whistle while you climb. It aint yer fuel, so don't rely on it like a lame mule. Thats from my personal experience. Nice, Spider man boxers by the way... Now, quit gawking at me like my damn heads on fire and get yerself a paper and pen."

So I did...

..and this is what we wrote.


Longer Roads

- by the ghost of Johnny Cash and myself



When it even hurts to dream

I've drank too much

to pass thoughts of you

such a broken crutch

The road gets longer

it all still hurts

dust and blood

all over my shirt

Another road

with my broken crutch

the lies she tells

make me drink too much

I keep to the road

to shake her curse

but I see through her smile

and the storms get worse

Leaving me

won't hurt her much

so I find a seat at the bar

and I take my shots straight up

Another road

with my broken crutch

the lies she tells

make me drink too much

I'll dream of her

and it'll scorch like fire

as I walk on to find

another beautiful lier.

One Cold Betrayal

The bathroom towels were cheap. The linens were cheap. The soap was cheap. Hell, the TV was cheap.

But none of that bothered me at the moment, because the carpet was cheap. Thin, I could feel the cold concrete floor below it, and it was rough against my cheek and tinged with the smell of mildew.

I tried to move, but was paralyzed with pain every time the thought so much as crossed my mind. First things first, ignoring the pain. It was only nine millimeters of lead. So small, ignore it.
The hole in my gut, might as well have been an ten ton anchor pinning me to the shady Chicago motel floor.
It felt like an iron spike through my body. I picture myself as a human shish kabob.
Yeah, now... while bleeding to death, now was clearly the time for jokes.

One little bullet, and here I was, wading in an ocean of red pain.
I let the tears flow for the first time in decades, giving thanks when they trickled down over my rug burnt cheeks. I must have hit the floor harder than I thought.

I twist my head towards the door, careful not to use any lead torn stomach muscles as I did.

No. It was just someone passing by the window. She wasn't coming back. She got what she came for.

How could I have trusted her? I muttered aloud, with the warm coppery taste of blood on my lips. The words hung in the cool air, waiting for an answer.
Easy, it was so easy to trust her. She was blindingly beguilingly beautiful.

Not just beautiful, but altogether agonizingly so.
I'd look at her, and the thought of her not being mine, was near maddening. Soul twisting.
To look at her, was to want her. The shyest soul would man up to buy this woman a drink.
She was worth any tongue lashing, she was worth the biggest bruiser boyfriend bouncing your head off the pavement out back.
She was worth it. You could taste it. She was worth it.

Well, I could be wrong.

She had left in such a hurry, the cold Chicago breeze snaked in the door, under the first bed and held my face in its icy hands. She had slammed the door too hard, it was open a good three inches.
In a matter of minutes, screaming for help would likely drift me off to a final sleep from exhaustion.

To my left - the hideous beige bedside table. The phone. Yes. If she wasn't so rushed to grab the twenty large and run, she would have cut the cord like a pro. She was no pro. She may have lied like one, but she was not a pro. Just a woman.
I bite my lip and begin to turn my body, the spike in my gut begins to twist. I nearly bite a piece of my lip clean off before gasping in more cool air.
I have a friend or two in the area, I use the term loosely but they could take me somewhere. To someone.
The hospital was out of the question. By now my face was plastered across town, like a dozen lost dogs.
I gripped my crimson stained nails into that cheap carpet and began to pull.
Three yards to the table. Three measly yards.

She sat, drink in hand, surrounded by every ass grabbing Tom, Dick and Harry, every Friday night downtown, gently brushing them off one after another. From the evening I laid my eyes on her, I couldn't help but watch her. She was like quicksand. It was only a matter of time, before I was the next fool.I kept still and sank slowly.
Every time her deep kind eyes ran over the crowd and simply passed mine, I sank deeper. In retrospect, I suppose I'd been dying for months.

The first time she spoke to me, she simply asked for a light. Right than, I might as well have just turned into a giant cartoon sucker, or at least a rabbit and ran. If there was one moment that tapped this bloody domino effect, it was that night. Not the night she kissed me with her perfect lips, but that night. She simply smiled and talked to me.

Before that moment, She was a unreachable dream, through that thick smoke. If only that smoke was thicker, maybe I wouldn't have stayed and seen her. I wouldn't be on deaths door.

Finally progress, I'm a yard closer. I reach out taking the cold steel leg of the bed into my palm and pulled again. I pushed the rumpled bed sheet laying on the floor, out of my way.
Hard to imagine nine hours prior, the two of us were wrapped in them. Together. Warm. Naked. Safe.
As I inch closer to the table, I wish that she, and the last three months together were a dream.

But dreams don't kill, not even the worst ones. You wake from them, and forget them.
But I couldn't forget her if I tried. The weeks were a blur, racing to see her face again.
A gorgeous face an angel would gladly kill for, and a body with the kinda curves that could take her anywhere in this lonely life.
But no, she had to tear through mine.

Concentrate, fight the urge to think of her now, or of last night. Thoughts of her would only jump my heart rate, thinking of her would pump my blood faster and faster...

...blood I couldn't afford to lose at this particular moment.

I stretch touching the cord. Almost.
It was time to make a choice.
Am I a lover or a fighter ?
She took the loot and ran, so I must not be much of a lover.

Apparently, I'm a fighter. I've bled this much and I'm still alive.

I grabbed the tan phone cord beside the table between the beds and pulled on it, once....twice, until the receiver fell to the rough thin mildew carpet.

She should have loved the lover, cause the fighter isn't going to be gentle, when he gets his hands on her.

Bound to Lie - a noir story

(contains strong language*)


Ow.

I baled hay one summer at some out the way farm, completely against my will, mind you.

My old man said it would build character. It didn't pay for shit and fuck knows if it built character. All I can remember is my hands, in pain. I only bring that up, because of the rope. The ropes tying me to this chair. Its that same kind of rope, fucking baling twine. Tears the flesh off your hands.

..or in my current case, wrists.

I kick myself for just wearing a t-shirt and not my jacket. Perhaps, something with long sleeves even.

Beside me, Sammy continued a likely painful attempt to pry his hands free of his own cords.
I quit watching, and looked around the dimly lit room. His grunts echo around us.

"Fuckin' dump smells like an ass packed with dead fish." He winced between his teeth.

"Relax, just close yer flappin' head. Let me do the talking."

He won't listen. Who does? If I had my way I'd go back and tell myself three days ago, some crucial information - Next time you knock over a truck, owned by the Shanghai Diamond Exchange, make sure that particular establishment isn't in the pocket of the San Fransisco branch of the Chinese Triad. Because they use rough fucking baling twine.

Who knows if I'd have listened.

I crane my neck, but can't see behind myself, the hall we've been left in the middle of is quite large. A few dim lamps hanging overhead. Concrete floors, doors on both ends and defiantly smells of fish and smoke.
Boats in the distance? Small boats? Fishing boats I'm assuming.
If we weren't forced to pay Frisco's mob so much of our grab, I'd have thought about getting a boat this year.

"Who you think talked?" Sammy finally stops squirming.

"Whoever talked is most likely dead. We'll worry about that later, I need to think of what we're gonna tell these guys, when they come back."

See Sammy had that kinda face that did not endear him to people quickly. His jet black hair, combed a bit too slick, that and his head kind of resembled a snakes hood, and his eyes - a bit beady. I didn't need him pissing off our captors before I got a chance to talk.

"This aint china, don't these cunts know who we work for? John Woodrell isn't gonna take this from these yellow pricks. Just watch." Sammys voice hangs in the long concrete hall.

I close my eyes, willing some common sense into his skull, "We paid Woodrell his cut already, he might just claim he doesn't know us, that we aren't worth the effort to get back and by tomorrow you and I will be in six to eight garbage bags at the bottom of the bay. He's a fan of our work,... but only up to a point"

He gives me a look between sour and disbelief, "No way, we're his top smash and gr - "

Footsteps.

The side door opens with a horror film creak. Two well dressed Asian fellows and a third in one of those obnoxiously shiny silver club shirts walk towards us, with a gait that clearly states this chat could most likely go either way. Fast.

I get my first and only breathe of clean air, before the door creaks shut behind them. The taller suit, stops in front of us, the others behind him. Their annoyed footsteps finally stop echoing, I smile politely.

"Where are the Diamonds." The taller snaps.

"They are...around, we can find them."
I nod my head, trying to keep the conversation short, hoping to leave with all my fingers. Shorter suit seems to ignore my words, and looks about like he's never been there before.

The temperature of my blood begins to drop as I hear Sammy open his mouth, "How much are they worth? Like, in case we can't get them.... how much in cash?"

"The diamonds, and only the diamonds." Taller says.

I shake my head 'no' as Sammy continues, his voice growing defiant.
"Everything moves fast in this city, Christ man. That ice could be all over the glorious U. S. of A by now. We are just one part of a bigger operation, that you don't wanna fuck with, my friend."

Taller nods to Club shirt, who pulls out what looks like a 5.8mm Chinese QSZ-92 pistol. I think. I'm initially surprised he doesn't have a gun that's chromed out like his silly ass shirt. I go ahead and flinch anyway. What the hell.
Club shirt steps closer to Sammy and puts the barrel to side of his head, right in his greasy hair.

"Maybe you no hear so good." Taller smiles at Sammy.

"Maybe you can suck my fat Irish cock, you fu - "

I close my eyes, and think of my boat. Blue? Maybe a blue stripe across the side, or ....

My ear drums explode, causing my entire body to shutter so hard I don't immediately feel the warm blood and skull matter spraying the right side of my face and shoulder. The gun shot reverberates off the concrete leaving a painfully shrill ring still piercing my skull thirty seconds after.
If they say something to me, I don't hear it.

"GOD.... DAMMIT !!" I bellow, checking for my hearing to return.

I take a frantic fishy breathe and check if the bullet tore through Sammy's head and into me. No, I'm alive. I glance over just as a wad of red and grey mess leaks out of his still head onto his slumped shoulder. I take another deep breathe, and look away.

"The diamonds?" Taller says.

"I can get them."
I lie. Sammy was right, they're long gone. But, I don't feel like joining him.
"Let me go and I can find them, gimme three days. Three days, ok?" I feel some thing on my wrists. Its warm, too much to be my own blood. Some of Sam's blood and who knows what else, drips down my forearm.

Taller stares into my eyes. I don't blink. Even as something wet drips off my eyebrow.

Club shirt steps forward and presses the still scalding hot barrel of the gun to my temple.

"Ahhhhh...Ffffuck, three days...and I'll walk through that door, and hand them to you. Hand to God. Buddha, who the fuck ever.."

Fairly sure I can now hear my skin sizzling under the barrel like a pale Irish burger on a grill.

Taller stuffs his hands into the pockets of this black slacks, "We ask our employer if this is acceptable." He turns and short suit and Club shirt follow him back towards the door.

I exhale into a slump as they leave, I can't take the chance they simply waltz back in and put one through my eye.
I begin to frantically pull and claw at the ropes, hoping the splattered blood will help me slip free.
It still hurts. Like a bitch.

Ow.

Fucking baling twine.