Hot Commercial Property

Never let it be said Clarissa Coleman lets a defeat get to her, 'cause I'll kick the guy who says it in the balls.
Case in point, the disappointing showing of my new UPN sitcom Archipelago Law. I had a shot at the big small time, the 6th network, and it didn't hit. The executives were pricks and had it in for us since day one, but I'm not bitter about the missed chance screwed up on purpose by those gargantuan dildos. No, I pick up the pieces and move on, looking for some Elmer's glue.

That means moving back to the world of commercials. No doubt I would rather be doing movies, car show appearances, or the penultimate acting experience, television, but if those avenues are drying up in this nasty recession, I can still turn my attention to commercials. Commercials are more popular than ever. Commercials are on TV, in movie theaters, on radio, on big signs by the side of the road, in front of urinals when you pee (I hear), on the sides of buses, and constantly popping up your ass on the Internet. Sounds like ripe material for me to exploit.

Sure, I can get all pissy about it like Cher when she sunk so low she had to do that infomercial, but I'm a survivor, like that fat naked gay guy. You can rub my face in a big pile of crap, what do I do? I shrug, tell you to get me a Kleenex, and come running back for more. Well, not for more of the crap, but… never mind. The analogy is about to make me throw up.

The point is, I can do commercials. I even make an art out of it. A lot of actors say they could never do commercials, because they're so gaudy. Hello! You'll show up to the Oscars with your ass hanging out and resting on a trolley cart because some fashion designer says it's cool—you're already a tool, at least get paid for it. Some actors say they can't do a commercial if they don't believe in the product. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't have a problem acting with a puppet who's supposed to be an outer space alien who eats cat, but the minute he brings up the subject of cheap long distance your credibility is stretched to the breaking point? Shut-up and tell them the number, collect your check, and hit the road, Pacino.

I make an art out of commercials. Really, I work at it, like a method actor. I even put up mirrors in weird places at my apartment, then forget about them. That way I open a cabinet looking for the peanut butter, see my face and get surprised—now I know what it looks like to be surprised by how good that peanut butter is. When I act surprised, by golly I can make it convincing. I sort of retrieve that emotional memory of seeing a lady's head in the pantry with my peanut butter. I could write a book about it, really, if books weren't so goddamned boring.

You may remember that commercial I did back in 1996, when I'm cleaning my face with the zit cream and smile real big, saying, "Pimples can't do shit against Extra-Strength Oxy!" They cut out my line and just showed my surprised expression when the zit cream worked, but my face said the same line better than my voice did. I knocked that bastard out of the park. I bet if I called up Oxy tonight and told them I was doing commercials again they would jump at the chance to shoot a sequel. I could be like that Orbit gum girl, a recurring commercial character.

For anyone who says commercials aren't creative—get over yourself. It's not like Gunsmoke on Gilligan's Island was a great idea either. At least UPN can't cancel me if I'm selling a beer to minors.

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
I hope everybody enjoyed the premiere of Archipelago Law on Thursday. It was the culmination of this year's work for me, as well as a promising new moment in television. What's that? You didn't see it? You didn't even know it was on? No shit.... (4/28/03)

Fight the Power
So apparently there's a war of some sort going on. I mean, I knew about it, just like in high school. I knew it was going on, even if I couldn't tell you where it is or who all is involved. Who knew it was going to affect me at any point in time? ... (4/14/03)

Dad on the Run
So it's no surprise, everybody's been talking about the same thing for two weeks now: My dad broke out of jail. It's high time I gave everybody the facts to stop these vicious rumors. Okay, for one, yes, he broke out, but my mom had already... (3/31/03)

Papa Was a Violent Stone-Thrower
My parents are having a trial separation right now. I think that's the word—what's it called when your dad wallops your mom in the head with a brick and they lock him up? That's what's going on anyhow. It's nothing new for the Coleman clan, but I... (3/17/03)