Every now and then a project rears it’s ugly head and bellows out to the world it’s total intentions and ambitions. Most of the time we ditch diggers simply re-bury our collective heads in the sand and let the bellowing and the project pass by us by like so much proverbial sludge in this metaphorical trough we sludge through.


NOT TODAY! Pull that head out and hear and see and feel what the people are projecting!


LITTLE HOLLYWOOD is here.


It’s a package. It’s a smooth project with plenty of edge and enough real life elbow grease to move a mountain.


Little Hollywood is a television show you will identify with from behind your bottle, from behind that desk, and definitely from behind that stack of could of would of should of. But don’t listen to this energy drink fueled hack instead indulge yourself in the playful insights of the one and only Bathroom Philosopher.


We tried hard to nail this guy down and wrangle an answer out of him but not even Los Angeles’ own Stardum Entertainment could get this wild man to hold still.


You asked for and now you’ve got it-Little Hollywood and The Lost Interview.


Part One: How did you get involved with Little Hollywood?


Well, high Nick! I am so awful goddamn slow sometimes when it comes to answerin’ somebody’s questions which they has put to me, and I guess this is one of them times. As I recollect, ye asked me how I got involved in this here Little Hollywood, and I do not believe I told you at all, or if I did, I have forgotten what sorta lie I mighta foisted upon ye unless I somehow got accidentally messed up and laid facts on ye instead. Well, here’s what really happened, and this is just like in the show itself in which I play myself because this is the honest truth about how I met up with Condon: I have been off and on drinkin’ at Barney’s Beanery since the summer of 1968 when I first ventured into the confines and freedoms of the golden state of California. In them days I lived up past Topanga…beyond the old Buffalo Springfield house ‘n’ all…sometimes in the back utility body of a 1948 6volt 6cylinder Dodge truck I had purchased from a plumber for $200 and a couple of jarsof pure sweet Kentucky corn which had accompanied me from wherever it was that I come from before I discovered the wilds of Topanga, and they was “wilds” back then. I knew a sweet dancer I sometimes stayed with there at her cabin in the woods. Oh, Nicholas, she was a beauty, and kind, and beautiful, and she’d let me bed down at her place…and she didn’t care a whit if I got drunk or came up to see her with another li’l ol’ gal…and did I mention, Nick, that she was a dancer? With the two most amazingly beautiful breasts that she had to partially camouflage with stuck-on pieces of sparkly-ass paper kinda-things when she danced. Oh Nick, she was a goddess, a high-tone New Jersey gone to LA sweet, sweet princess of a woman. And you know what? That house of her’n had a big ol’ pit toilet in it, and it did not stink not even a little. That was Topanga then, as I recollect. And Elysian Fields and all such like that then. Well, ennyways, I sometimes stayed over to Argyle ’cause the rent was cheap. So I’d drive to the beanery and drink some…and meet gorgeous movie star ladies I shall not name because they wasn’t real famous yet, and to tell you the truth Nick, if I actually COULD remember their names you could probly pry ‘em outta me if ye was to stand me to a little bit of godly elixir…


Part 2: Ok, could you possibly elaborate on your participation in Little Hollywood?


Well, ennyways, like I said Mick, I ain’t that good with names over the course of disappearing chunks of time and place, so’s mebbe I do and maybe I don’t remember them movie gals’ names, but I wouldn’t tell you nor no-one else either what they was under any conditions whatsofuckinever! And there you have it! There useta hang a sign backa th’ bar what said “No fagots” and I sure as hell weren’t no faggot with them pretty young actresses, no sir Rick, but I ain’t gonna fuck and tell. No sir, brother. Not for nothin’! But if you was to set me up for a good barroom sit-down, I could be tempted to give you some hints. But these goddamn lips are sealed, Nick, and I do not give a good goddamn what you offer…I ain’t talkin’ to you nor no other goddamn reporter nohow. And that is goddamn final. I hope I ain’t pissin’ you off or nothin, Mick. I kinda think of you as a younger version of myself only not near so sophisticated and elegant as me. I got class, Mick…and don’t you goddamn forget that either…Now where in the hell was I………so I’m back in LA again and back at the beanery and sittin’ in a private room tryin’ to unload nine or eight high lifes and a coupla street-bought burritos when I hears Sid Condon talkin’ to some other feller about God and Elvis and Nashville and all like that, and I convince him to write a tv show about himself and Hollywood and Nashville, Tennessee ‘n’ all like that…and the rest is history. I pretty much made up the whole tv show for him and told him how to write it…and to include me…and not use my real name at all and just call me The Bathroom Philosopher…and that is exactly what Steve Condon has done. He stole my idea, and now he’s gettin’ rich and famous from Little Hollywood, and here I sits askin’ you for drinkin’ cash. It is goddamn pathetic, Vic, and I don’t have to goddamn stand for it. Maybe you could loan me some cash, and we’ll hire us a lawyer and sue Condon for everything he has stole from me. Damn, Nick, whyn’t I think of that before?…..


And there you have it folks, the Bathroom Philosopher and all the insight you may ever need into all things related to….Well you get the point, Little Hollywood kicks ass.


Written, Reported and Interpreted by Nick Sinn-White for all things Stardum.