Milestones

1975: Bludney Pludd is born. He didn't make a big deal about it at the time and we're certainly not going to change that tradition now.

Now Hiring

Knife-Thrower. Should be capable of agile manipulation of melee weapons for entertaining stage spectacle, including throwing blades at volunteer Bludney Pludd. No references required, but we will insist on counting fingers.

Before. There's always a before. Before the breakthrough role in Crush of the Wheel. Before the 1976 Best Supporting Actor Oscar nomination for Daddy's Favorite. Before the attempted murder charge and consequent complete acquittal on the charges. There's always a before. Here's my before.

It may not be common knowledge, but it's not a secret either: I wasn't always Pete Durmondo. I was born Jimmy Durmondo, on the lower east side of New York City, and changed my name to Pete Durmondo on the advice of an agent because it "had more snap." That agent wasn't my agent, he was about to become my agent when he committed suicide, but he did help shape my career. He told me I had more talent in one finger than most people have in their whole bodies, and that if I could get that same level of talent through the rest of my body I'd be the most famous actor Hollywood had ever seen.

Before that, I was content to be an off-off-Broadway actor. My first play was a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream where we all wore giant prophylactics onstage, part of the director's vision of saying how the audience is separated from the actor by the distance, and in this case giant rubbers. I played Oberon.

Before that, there was acting class. I was the premiere student of Jovan Braile, the lower east side's renowned acting coach who later left "the biz" to pursue a successful career in butchering. Braile, of course, became disillusioned with the business like so many untalented teachers inevitably do; but when I knew him he was vibrant and full of life, and if I can say so modestly it probably was all my doing. Braile said he had never known an actor who could capture a moment so well. He was talking at the time of my ability to take pictures at the acting workshop's picnic lunch, but I'm sure much of that was his insight into my—whatever you might call it. Spirit. Aura. Innergy.

Before that, my mother was the first to recognize that same quality. My mother was the son of British immigrants, and had only a vague understanding of the language, but I remember specifically her sitting in her tree house one day when she refused to come down. She looked out the window, bright-eyed and bushy-haired, and pointed to me and said, "Kid… you have something." The psychiatrists took the statements out of context, believing my mother was saying she had given me a strain of CIA superflu she had been secretly infected with through public drinking water. I like to think it was mom spotting in me what so many later identified, and the Oscar voters were completely oblivious to.

Before that, my mother had to conceive me. It was a starry night, and the air was full of promise, and my parents full of Thunderbird. It was hard times in those days, my mother poor and constantly in need of attention and affection, my father always in need of inexpensive wine to get women to sleep with him. He was a charming man, very funny, very handsome, and I'm sure I would like him if I got the chance to meet him. Mom says she was completely swept off her feet by his smile and crane-style kung fu.

Before that… well, there had to be a God or something. If you believe things happen for a reason, then it was probably Him, that classy deity, that set the wheels all in motion so that some day he could drop so much talent in one human vessel. So you see, I have no hang-ups about celebrating my talent, proclaiming with pride everything I've accomplished, because I owe it all to one omnipotent, all-powerful being who created me to bask in his brilliance. And he did an incredible job of it all.