February 22, 2002 -- I woke up this morning feeling on the cusp of history. I wondered: how did Archimedes look back on that fateful bath, sinking into the bubbly warmth right before he discovered relativity and ran naked through the streets of Syracuse, his cries of "eureka!" echoing as far as Buffalo? He probably remembered himself as on the cusp of history. How did John Holmes look back on his first really productive spank session, before it occurred to him, "shit, I could make a career out of this!"? He probably remembered himself as on the cusp of something. History, maybe.

And as I and Hoffman look forth to the production of "Ultrachrist!", shooting in about week (holy fuck!), I realize that we are, as were once Archimedes, and Holmes, and 3 of the 4 Monkees, on the cusp of history.

FLASHBACK: September 2001. Civilization has just been attacked by the barbarians. The world needs a bracing shot of Christianity and it needs it pronto. Fortunately, my script for "Ultrachrist!" is already in the development pipeline. Hoffman and I double and redouble our script-writing efforts. We add more sex. "Ultrachrist!" is just what the world needs, we're sure of it.

Auditioning dominatrices is a touchy business. If they don't get the part, you don't call them to tell them, you just change your phone number and try to keep off the streets. Fortunately, this mistress (pictured above with Hoffman. She's the one not trembling in fear) was good enough to hire, otherwise we would have to leave town for a few years.
FLASHBACK: January 2002. Casting. Our casting office is located in the headquarters of a non-profit foundation promoting research and awareness of a major degenerative nerve disease. Good karma for us. One terrific actor after another arrives. And also some jerks -- a guy auditioning for the role of Dracula takes one look at his sides, declares "I just finished shooting a movie for Miramax. I certainly shan't be auditioning for a comedy!" and marches out (yeah, um, read the fucking ad before you respond to it, dickwad). The weekend progresses, and despite the fact that we're asking about 4 dozen young actresses to simulate orgasm, boredom eventually sets in.

But ultimately, what a haul! Jonathan Green, Celia Montgomery, Samuel Bruce Campbell, Marty Grillo, Don Creech, Dara Shindler, Danielle Langlois, Samantha Dark . . . Wonderful actors all, and they want to work with us (read about them here)! Suddenly it hits us: with actors like these, the movie could actually be good! (In a panic, we churn out another draft of the script. We fix numerous grammatical mistakes and add more sex.)

FLASHBACK: A week ago. After being committed to the project for months, one of our leads punks out right before a costume fitting, leaving us scrambling for a replacement. We briefly discuss suing his skinny ass, but decide we're too freaking busy right now. Within two days we have a replacement who's much better. We wonder why we ever cast that first loser to begin with.

FLASHBACK: A couple days ago. The recording of the love theme. A chance to reflect: why exactly is the love theme of a movie about Jesus comprised of Appalachian banjo music? But whatever. The song sounds great, the musicians, singers, and engineers are all wonderful, and in the end we've produced something tangible for the production. It's starting to feel like a real damn movie finally.