A Star Dipwads Christmas
As this film does undeniably exist, I am forced to admit that we did indeed make it. The actual process was carried out in a sleep-deprived stupor, and I really recall almost none of it. You may blame this state of affairs for the fact that the script contains lines such as "...the Dipwads have blarged back to earth under their own smoon;" real words were simply eluding us. The events leading up to the film, are, however, burned deeply into memory. Because theyre really terribly stupid.
The notion of doing a Christmas special hosted from jail was suggested by Dave Merrill shortly after the completion of The Making of Star Dipwads, as an extension of the events in that film. These were the fact that the fictional creators of Dipwads, an obnoxious guy in a hat and dressed in black and a long-haired blond pothead with moments of clarity (bearing more than a slight resemblance to Jay and Silent Bob, merely with the speaking habits reversed,) shot several people and were being sought by the police (whose flashing blue lights outside the studio were explained away as indicating the arrival of Carl Maceks brother Skippy the Glow Man, in case anyone wonders where the hell that came from.) He (Dave, in case the preceding barrage of parentheticals has derailed your train of thought) actually managed to procure a holding cell for us to film in, so the film was Nike a go-go.
As we sat under a light by the entrance to a nearby building listening to the new Lard album and writing the outline for the film, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by eight policemen, including two with German Shepards, and the buildings security guard, who had apparently heard our scary punk rock music and called half the Gwinnett County police force to deal with the frightening twosome who would dare listen to loud music and write so close to their establishment. As we sat cuffed in the back of one of the squad cars, the policewoman who was to be our chauffer to the pokey started thumbing through our notebook and began reading aloud: "Scene one-us in jail." Kinda ironic, isnt it? she commented. We held our tongues and mused on the Bart Simpson "Dont have a cow, man!" sticker affixed to the plastic wall separating us from the front seat and well-deserved vengeance. She subsequently searched my car and found a model ray gun intended for our Men In Black film, which the cops proceeded to play with for the next ten minutes, and thus never got around to finishing the search of my car. For reasons I will not commit to public record, I'll just say that this was a very, very good thing. After a few hours in a holding cell decorated with graffitti to the tune of "You suck pig," "Polices here suck each other dicks," and the enigmatic "Kill Tidd the depty smitch" (all spelling errors replicated from the original source), we were kicked loose, but the script had gotten lost in the process somehow. So we let it lie and focused on finishing Men In Black instead.
Of course, a month before the second Project A-kon, we saw a flyer advertising the convention which listed such attractions as "the premiere of CPFs new Star Dipwads Christmas Special." So it transpired that on the last weekend before the con, starting at around 2:00 AM sunday morn, having finally finished Men In Black, we had to start and finish the Christmas Special, which was completed somewhere around 11:00 AM the same morning.
"Whew," we said, "were never doing that again." If we managed to articulate anything at all before nodding off, that was surely it, anyway.
We were, of course, totally wrong.
At any rate, thirteen years later, we remastered the film for DVD, and added in a three-and-a-half minute montage of footage from Making of Dipwads in order to bridge the continuity gap. That, dear reader, is as much of that film as will ever be seen again, and I daresay it still might be too much.
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