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LUDIC LOG

11.19.2002

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes. I've talked to my people about it."

"You mean your stuffed animals?"

"I don't like to call them that. It's degrading. They're my people."

"Okay."

"I trust them."

"And you don't want more time to think about it?"

"I told you, money isn't an issue. The white devil Mottola is settling out of court, and I'm selling The White Album to Hostess. They're coming out with a Wild Honey Pie and a Savoy Truffle Cake."

"No, no. I didn't mean the money. It's just..."

"What?"

"Michael, it's going to look terrible."

"It's not going to look terrible."

"It is. It's going to make that nose collapse look like a minor skin rash by comparison."

"Do people say she looks terrible?"

"No, but..."

"What do they say about her?"

"Michael, you're missing the point."

"They call her the most elegant woman in the world."

"But, well, she was...you can't make a..."

"Silk purse out of a sow's ear?"

"I wasn't going to say that."

"What then?"

"Well, Liz has the advantage of having always been Liz. She was born that way."

"It's a process of becoming, Wally. Like a butterfly."

"What about your fans? What are they going to think? People are talking."

"People always talk. They said I was bleaching my skin when all along it was a skin disease."

"It wasn't a skin disease. You were bleaching your skin. The PR guys came up with the skin disease thing."

"That's ridiculous. If I had been bleaching, my skin would be white. It's not white. I'm a black man. A black man who's been held down by the Man."

"Actually, it's more gray than anything."

"Are you going to do it or not, Wally? Because if you aren't, there are a lot of guys who will be happy to take your place."

"Look, Michael, we've always had a warm professional relationship. I don't want to jeopardize that. I just wonder if you've fully thought this out."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, why do you want to look like Liz Taylor does now? Why not a young Liz Taylor?"

"I'm not doing this because I'm vain, Wally. This is a commitment."

"Yeah, but -- well, I mean, most people have fat removed instead of injected. And I can give you the jowls no problem -- it'll be a lot easier than wearing those Heavy Hands on your cheeks -- but I don't really see the point."

"Are you saying you cant do it?"

"Well, I think the arthritis simulator might be beyond me."

"Fine."

"I really think you'll thank me for this."

"Fine."

"In the long run."

"All right. I'm going. But before I do, can you do me one favor?"

"Anything, Michael. You're a friend."

"What's that guy Morty's number?"

"Morty?"

"You know. The one who did Jocelyn Wildenstein."

"All right. All right. How's Tuesday for you?"

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QUOTE OF THE DAY: "The writer is committed when he plunges to the very depths of himself with the intent to disclose, not his individuality, but his person in the complex society that conditions and supports him." (Jean-Paul Sartre)