Major controversy, Jazz Fans! This is Jimmy Rudolph, back in the chilly bosom of my hometown, NYC, trying to explain to my special lady (a certain female candidate for Mayor who shall remain nameless), and the IRS, that I did indeed go to Vegas on business this week. As I mentioned in my Twitter feed, Chad Clinton Freeman and the sick pups at the Pollygrind Film Festival plied us with booze, blow and whores, so that we would host the Zombiepalooza night. Well, we lived up to our part of the bargain. We were consummate professionals, working our way through a series of heart-breaking zombie documentaries that tugged at our heartstrings and our gorges. Fighting back the bile, we interviewed the demented filmmakers who had survived their ordeals to be present that night.
And at the end of it all, we took pictures.
Mr. Freeman! Where are the pictures?!
Sure, we have a picture or two. Just look to the right, and you’ll see me, standing behind J-bo, with the great (and late) Bari “Bomber” Lewis and some homeless guy with a lanyard. But Chad isn’t in the picture. I know we took pictures with Chad, but he hasn’t posted them on his Facebook page!
My receipts are all gobbed upon, the results of a messy after-event party at the Stratosphere, the homeless guy isn’t answering his e-mail, Bari “Bomber” Lewis has left us, and J-Bo isn’t answering her phone– probably the worse for wear after fourteen bottles of tequila and a so-called “homicide” investigation. Those pictures with Chad are my only confirmation.
Mr. Freeman, I’m begging you! Post the pictures. You don’t have to post all of them… leave out the nude ones. Just the five of us, standing together in what could only be Las Vegas– that picture would satisfy the federal government, and ease the suspicions of Carolyn– or whoever it is that I’m dating. Please. Time is of the essence.
You’ve posted the Beverly Lynne pictures. You’ve posted all manner of pictures. Why do you hide your association with Zombie Radio Show? Was it the body count at the theatre7? Not our fault, and J-Bo cleaned it all up. Was it the unpaid tab at the Stratosphere? I had to go to the bathroom. Honest. I was going to pay. Whatever it was, we can make it right. Just please, Mr. Freeman… Chad… Sweet-ums… PLEASE!