Cinderella Story · 15 January 2002
Last night, at one-hour intervals, I was visited by Bill Murray characters.
The first was Carl, the groundskeeper from Caddyshack. It was the night before the big tournament between Rodney Dangerfield and Ted Baxter, and he still had that bottle of Almaden in his hand, the one he with which traded swigs with Fletch but not Lacey Underall. He advised me repeatedly to follow through.
After that it was the network exec from Scrooged, but it was just the Richard Burton impersonation to the winos bit, again and again. The epiphany and singing and long confession to the cameras were a long way off.
Later I heard ice clinking in a glass, and I knew it would be the beautiful crumbling businessman from Rushmore, and as he stood there, just like the kid I asked him if he was in Vietnam, and he said that yes, he was in Vietnam; then I asked if he was in the shit, and he said that yes, he was in the shit. The teacher was there too, and I said, “hey, you were in The Sixth Sense.”
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