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FROM THE PHONE BOOTH: The Smallest Space in Hollywood
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FINEFROCK |
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Dial M for Mudder:
Fat Lady’s Baritone Tones
by Steve
Finefrock - Hollywood Forum [scriptwriter]
11/27/07
Baritone v. Tenors, plus a likely soprano – that’s how it lines up so far. And the capitalization is not accidental, for Hilary is a lightweight, politically speaking that is. We don’t want to insult the girl in this battle, eh?
A tide is turning, perhaps too late, but discernible, in the faltering campaign for Fred Thompson'’ FredHead effort. It remains a mystery how one joins the campaign – I’ve given up finding out how to do so, and some southern California friends have switched to Giuliani in their frustration to find the ‘real’ versus pretender campaign group for Fred. But he’s showing some moxie, and some ankle, and his baritone voice enriches the dialogue. He still can be “Your Local Sheriff” in the vein of James Garner’s “Support Your Local Sheriff” so many years ago.
Contributor
Steve
Finefrock
Founder of Hollywood Forum, a speaker-bureau and panel-discussion
vehicle to "Bring the Potomac to the Palisades" on issues
that overlap politics and culture with the Hollywood film-TV influence
on such national concerns. His scripts have addressed politics
[including a TV series pilot/bible package about state political
combat, called "A
State of the Union"], hazardous materials [from twelve years
in emergency management, including six years managing FEMA's Superfund
curriculum for hazmat], terrorism, equestrian reincarnation, serial
murderer killing journalists in the nation's capitol, and fantasy
about time-wasters. Finefrock is proprietor of PhoneBooth: The Smallest Space in Hollywood... [go to Finefrock index]
Finefrock 9/25/07 Speech to Heritage Foundation Here |
Garner’s visitor to a boom-town gold-center never flinched, never raised his voice, never showed a sweat bead to friend or foe. Townsfolks continually underestimated him, as did his outlaw opponents. In due time the confrontation was resolved and justice prevailed. Garner’s character is the template for Fred’s slogging as the mess of politics gets muddy.
A ‘mudder’ is a racehorse which shines when other steeds get bogged in a muddy track – they can run fast when the track is clear, unobstructed, with good footing provided by standard-issue sod. But when it gets nasty, the mudder takes the reins and reigns over the pampered thoroughbreds unused to unusual conditions.
This may be Fred’s strategery – just hold his position in the middle of the pack, confounding the pundits and irritating his top-tier ‘superiors’ until the picture gets muddy, the pathway blurred, the public frustrated. As Fred speaks out more often, they are forgetting his organizational problems and taking note of his courage of conviction, on social security and terror. He’s wowed Kudlow and confused Georgy Porgy Stephanopolous.
Could the mudder be ready to dial in his strategery? Will this actor, accustomed to prepared lines and pre-lit stage and set, grab his own reins, and rein in those who are raining on his parade? That rain may make the track muddy, but Fred still has the baritone voice that prevails over the tenors, and certainly the soprano [and sometimes falsetto] tones of Hilary.
The pleasing element of Fred’s voice is matched by his gee-whiz, Garner-like sheriff and leader: calm, steady, unruffled, ever certain even while broadcasting a contemplative manner. You can see the wheels turning, the mind racing, the pauses tell us he’s certain but not frozen in concrete. His a thinking conservative – and not stupid, though the dems will brand him so, should he be the nominee.
That’s this primary-race mudder, studying the track, staying in the pack, remaining a fact not to be yet discounted. He’s yet to find the mud to suit his plodding style – will others slip and slide off the track if that mud appears?
No Vegas Odds offered – Steve Wynn’s betting says “no bet” on who will win this race, something he revealed during the CNN debate last week. When Vegas won’t touch it, you know there could still be a muddy track ahead, and a mudder could take the lead.
Still yet some wag could write, “Dial ‘M’ for Mudder” in some waggish wiggle to explain why he/she and the rest dismissed ole Fred’s baritone voice in favor of the pod of tenors.
Watch the mudder – put a few ducats on the nose of Fred. It ain’t over until the Fat Lady Sings – and she may sing in a baritone voice, with mud on her running shoes. ExileStreet
copyright
2007 Steve Finefrock
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