The Other Drummer

When inspiration hits, it hits hard.

I want to write a musical about Nigerian e-mail scammers.

OPTION 1: A young scammer who never had a chance sets off to the big city with the dream of making it in the daunting world of spamming. John Williams will write a stirring soundtrack and the whole thing will be choreographed by the guy who did CATS.

OPTION 2: An equal rights spin – a young girl knows she can scam the stupid Westerners just as well as the men, so she dresses up like a guy to work hard and prove her point. This would have a gritty, urban feel. We could even tie in an AIDS subplot somewhere in there.

OPTION 3: A rural Nigerian village with only one computer. The villagers have to ride a bicycle to generate electricity and it’s about how they band together to make it work. (Think Remember the Titans meets The Gods Must Be Crazy – but on stage.) Possible plot twist: they only have dial-up.

OPTION 4: A young man is told by his Evil Uncle that his father died at the hands of the white man…but it was a lie. Driven by fire in his belly and vengeance in his heart, he works night and day (for free) in his uncle’s spam shop. Of course, the kid finds out about the lie and gets ticked off because he’s never been able to save enough for a dowry to marry the beautiful, rich businessman’s daughter. (They have a lovely duet in act two. You’ll cry. Seriously.) Revenge will be his.

During a dramatic fight scene in the third act the uncle dies from some related-but-unintentional act, like tripping over a ledge where he hangs on, dangling precariously above a pit of lions. The nephew reaches down but the uncle can’t hold on because their hands are sweaty (because it’s Nigeria and it’s hot there) and Evil Uncle falls into the pit of lions. (I picture using live lions on stage. I think it would really add to the emotional impact of the scene.)

The happy ending – the nephew inherits the family business, earning the respect of the businessman who permits the marriage to take place. The closing scene shows them walking along with a stroller, so it’s left open for a sequel.

I think I have four really solid ideas here. I’m picturing Don Cheadle as the lead. I don’t know if he can sing or not, but I’m sure we can fake it if he can’t.

The reason I mention all this, is I’d like you to tell me what you think such a musical should be named. My wife lamented that Spamalot has already been taken, as it would have been a perfect name.

Let me know what you think in the comments.

I’m also looking for funding. Shoot me an e-mail if you’re interested in getting in on the ground floor of something big. Really big.

It seems life continues to become increasingly complicated. Our attention is being vied for from more and more sources and it can become overwhelming.

About a month ago I started a new blog called LivSimpl. The goal is to provide daily tips on how to simplify life, eliminate distractions and enjoy the simple things that we might overlook in the rush of the daily grind.

I’ve already built up about 25 tips, so please take a second or two to check it out and subscribe via RSS. Or, if you prefer, you can subscribe to a daily e-mail tip.

Eventually I’d like to get to the point where I have enough readership to have contests, giveaways, etc. So if you know anyone who might be interested, please let them know about LivSimpl.com!

I’m watching clips of an interview JK Rowling gave where someone asked her who, 19 years down the road, the headmaster of Hogwarts is. She said it wouldn’t be McGonagal because she’s getting on in age so it would have to be someone new.

Personally, I think George Weasley would make a perfect headmaster. Just think about it. Jo, you’ve got my number. Call me.

In addition to not understanding the fascination with social networks such as MySpace, I also realize I’m old because I remember getting letters in the mail.

“Who doesn’t remember getting letters?” most of the people reading this are probably thinking.

I’ve been using e-mail as my primary form of communication for about a decade. The MySpace crowd was in diapers then.

Think about it. Most of the 12-15 year-olds who are using MySpace have probably never run out to the mailbox, hopes high for a letter from a friend, relative or pen-pal. Heaven knows our kids won’t.

That makes me a bit sad.

Correspondence used to be more meaningful, but less frequent. Nowadays, good or bad, communication is made in short, nearly constant bursts: e-mail, text messaging, Twitter, etc. I daresay that while communication/correspondence has become more convenient, it has also become less significant.

There you have it. More proof that I’m getting old, or at least a bit nostalgic. It’s strange to think about the future and what it will hold for our children. One thing is for certain, an era has ended and a new one has begun.

Albin Schram passed away two years ago in the UK. Recently, an auctioneer from Christie’s was summoned to his home where she was lead to a filing cabinet in Albin’s laundry room. Inside she found, “A history in miniature of the last 500 years of western civilization and is the most remarkable collection [of letters]…for a generation or more.”

Mr. Schram had quietly amassed a collection of letters that rivaled those in museums:

…a love letter by Napoleon; a diplomatic note to the king of France in the hand of Elizabeth I; a letter of condolence by John Donne; a tragic account written in 1545 by John Calvin, the theologian of the Reformation, about the suicide of a friend; and a withering letter by Charlotte Brontë on male shortcomings.

There was a letter by Beethoven, one by Albert Einstein, by Isaac Newton, Hemingway, Frederick the Great, Darwin, Voltaire, Lewis Carroll, Pushkin, Monet, Churchill, Gandhi, Defoe, Tchaikovsky and Dostoevsky.

The entire collection is said to be worth an estimated $3.9 million.

While there’s much to be said about the find (the unique choice of storage, the value, the historical significance, etc.), the thing that struck me the most about it was the fact that these were hand written letters. At some point Napoleon sat down with that piece of paper and a quill and used his hand to pour his heart out to Josephine.

There is something inherently enchanting about handwritten communication, whether it be in a journal, letter or poem. There is so much more of the author in something that is written by their own hand rather than systematically pecked out into pixels.

I don’t think the correspondence be worth as much, monetarily or otherwise, if they’d had e-mail back then.

I find it disheartening that the chances of someone down the road finding handwritten letters (let alone a whole filing cabinet full of them) from anyone in the early 21st Century is practically nil.

I propose that we take a little more time in how we communicate with others. Write a letter instead of dashing off a quick e-mail to a loved one. Sit down and write (not type) it out. Sure, it might take a little more time. But what is the purpose of writing in the first place, if not to infuse part of you into that which you write? Create something you, or your recipient, will cherish.

See the full story here.