I would like many things. I would like a large, four-bedroom ranch home to fall on Jon and Kate. I would like my life to be more like a buddy-cop film. I wish my car’s dashboard could talk.
These things are not going to happen. Sure, I could spend this entry and the next listing all the things I desire but am not going to get: a self-charging Blackberry; a dog with a knowledge of fine wine. Somebody stop me.
But there’s one thing I’ve got plenty of: festival acceptances. Thirty, to be exact, thanks to the Chicago United Film Festival. I’m ghetto rich when it comes to that department.
If only these acceptances weren’t as worthless as Disney Dollars. I’d be like Bernie Madoff, without the shrill wife and consecutive sentences. Yeah, if only…
