I’ve been interested in the case of the West Memphis Three for a couple of years. I won’t go into the details here, (there are more details in the link) but I think a grave injustice has been done, and it needs to be corrected.
The WM3 are really up against it now, and I’ve donated an autographed copy of Dancing Barefoot to be auctioned on eBay. 100% of the final bid will be donated to their legal defense (defence, for you non-Americans) fund.
The last auction of Barefoot hit around $150, for St. Jude’s, and I think that rocks pretty damn hard. Every single bit helps, so if you’re looking for a Barefoot of your own, and you want to help out what I think is a very good cause, you know what to do.

A few weeks ago, I wrote:
Dude! This is too cool!
Tomorrow, I have an audition to do voicework for Twisted Metal: World Tour!
I’ve played so much Twisted Metal over the years that if I hear Rob Zombie in the car, I have to change the station, or I may get a little . . . aggressive.
This would be like a Trekkie getting to work on TNG, or me getting to work on Family Guy or Futurama.
Apparently, a Video game news site ran a story which quoted the entry, but incorrectly asserted that I had been “cast” in the game. I sent them feedback and asked for a correction, but they never ran it, nor did they respond to my request.
And now, of course, I am in trouble, because people who are involved with the project think I claimed that I was cast in the project (except that I didn’t) that hasn’t been announced (except for the 2500 google search results, including a very cool movie of the game trailer.)
I have been asked to issue a retraction, which I don’t think is appropriate, since I never made the incorrect claim in the first place, but I love Sony’s games, and I especially love the entire Twisted Metal series, and since I don’t want to hurt them, and I especially don’t want to hurt my chances of ever working with them (provided it’s not already too late) I would like to issue the following clarification:

I completely respect Sony, and everyone involved with the production of all the Twisted Metal games. I wrote about my audition on my blog because I was so excited about the opportunity to audition for something that I love so much.
I understand the importance of not revealing any confidential or sensitive information, which is why I didn’t talk about the characters I read for, or discuss any storyline specifics. I’ve been a professional actor for over 25 years, and confidentiality is nothing new to me.
I deeply regret that I was misquoted by psp.ign.com, and I am very upset that they did not respond to my request to clarify their story. I hope this hasn’t caused any harm to Sony, or anyone involved with the production of Twisted Metal: World Tour, and I sincerely hope that I will get an opportunity to work with them in the future.
If nothing else, I can’t wait to get my hands on the wheel, and jump back into Calypso’s newest tournament, when the game is released.

I would like to add that I didn’t realize this was such a big deal, and I can’t understand, for the life of me, why any software publisher wouldn’t want the free and enthusiastic publicity that my post could have — no, SHOULD HAVE — generated. It’s not like the game is a big secret.
To ensure this doesn’t happen again, in the future, unless I am specifically given permission by the game’s publisher, I just won’t write about the specifics of my auditions.
This is perfect. I got excited about something, mentioned how excited I was, and now it looks like my video game voicing career is over before it even got started.
Hooray.

Continuing the “Dreams Come True” theme from the last entry . . .
I have been invited to play on the World Poker Tour’s second Hollywood Home Game this Friday!
I am so excited! I haven’t sat at a table and played NL Hold’Em (other than a few home games) since February, so I think I’ll be studying my Sklansky, Jones, Caro and Brunson this week. If I get some time, I’ll head out to the Bike, or Commerce, and see how I do down there.
I’m sure that I will have to sign a waiver that says I won’t talk about the details of the game, but I’ll keep notes, and once it airs, I’ll write up “Lying in Hollywood.”
I got the invite in large part because of WWdN, which wouldn’t exist without WWdN’s readers. So, again . . . thank you 🙂

This must be the Month of Dreams Coming True.
Last Tuesday, I did three voices for EverQuest 2, and this Thursday, I get to record a lead voice in a game called “Stonewall” that will be out in the fall.
I also had an audition last week for “Knights of the Old Republic 2: Electric Boogaloo*, and I think I managed to keep my geek under control long enough to not suck while I recorded an audition for a character that’s described as “The Next Han Solo.” (!)
Check this out: when I arrived at my agency for the audition, I didn’t know I’d be reading for KotR2:EB*. I was there for a Nickelodeon cartoon, and a commercial (it’s very common to go there for one thing, and end up reading for two or three other jobs.)
So I was in the waiting room, and my VO agent handed me the copy.
“Do you know what this game is?” She said.
“Jabba wah nichiko, Solo, ha ha ha ha ha.” I said. “Kresko, klinto kweecho coo . . . la orka!”
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,'” she said.
“I’m a little bit of a Star Wars nerd,” I said.
“That’s ‘a little bit’?”
I giggled.
“Knights of the Old Republic is better than Episode 1, and I’m told it’s better than Episode 2, which I refuse to see.”
“Why do you refuse to see it?”
“Fool me once, and all that,” I said.
She laughed. “Okay, well, look it over and let me know when you’re ready.”
I spent about ten minutes looking over the material. “When I was playing with my Star Wars figures on the kitchen floor twenty years ago — holy shit. Was it really twenty years ago? — I never thought I’d get a chance to be part of it . . . even if it’s just an audition.”
The material was very straightforward, so I came up with a couple of character ideas, tried a few voices, settled on the ones that I liked, and told her I was ready.
I steadied myself, did my audition, and felt really good about it.
“That was great,” she said. “Do you want to do it again?”
“No, I’m happy with that. But if you could let the clients know, as part of my interpretation of this character . . . Han shoots first.”
“Why do people keep saying that?” She said.
“It’s a nerd thing.”
*(It is, of course, not really called “Electric Boogaloo.”)

Where the hell is my $!#@%ing baseball glove?!”
I looked everywhere: in the closet, in the garage, under the dining room table, behind the couch, in the oven, on the patio . . . I finally stormed into my bedroom, where my wife was watching TV.
“Have you seen my baseball glove?”
“Why do you need your baseball glove at 10:30 on a Saturday night?”
Normally, the answer to this question would involve me making mildly to extremely inappropriate suggestions involving a trip to trashy lingerie and some Jack Daniels . . . but I was faced with a serious problem. I had a fever, and the only prescription was my baseball glove!
“I’m going to Dodger Stadium with my dad tomorrow morning for their Father’s Day ‘play catch with dad in the outfield’ event, and I need my glove!”
I started tearing through my dresser.
“You think your baseball glove is underneath your T-shirts?” She said.
“Well . . .” I realized how irrational I was being, and decided that I wouldn’t tell her about the washing machine, freezer, dishwasher, or down the street behind that bush that covers the hole in the fence. “It’s just really important to me.”
“When did you last see it?” She said.
“I let the kids use it for street hockey a couple days ago.”
“Did you look in the closet with the other baseball stuff?”
“Yes.”
“Garage?”
“Yes! I looked in all the places it should be!” I kicked the side of the bed and hurt my toes. “GodDAMMIT!”
I stormed out of our room, and picked up the kitchen phone to call my dad, and tell him I couldn’t go. When I put the receiver to my ear, it was beeping that I had a message. I automatically hit “9#” and typed in my password.
“You have . . . ONE . . . new message,” the friendly voice said.
I pushed the “1” key twice and listened.
“Hi, it’s dad. I just wanted to let you know that I talked with your brother, and he is going to come down and meet us at nine tomorrow morning! I am so excited to be spending my Father’s Day with all my children at Dodger Stadium! It’s going to be great! I love you, Wilbert. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“That was your last message. To save it, press 2. To erase it, press 3.”
I instinctively hit 3 and hung up.
“Oh crap. I bet I’m going to want that message back, someday.”
After another fifteen minutes or so of searching, I ended up back in my bedroom.
“Sorry about that,” I said to my wife, “It’s just really important to me that I get to go tomorrow.”
“It will turn up, Wil. Just relax.”
“I wonder if I put it in my backpack,” I said.
I keep my backpack between my bedside table, and the closet door. It’s not uncommon for a few T-shirts, or my running clothes to end up stacked on top of my backpack, as part of the “bachelor cleanup.” I looked down and saw a couple of magazines and a book sitting atop the laundry I’d folded (but failed to put away) a few days before; underneath it, was my backpack.
I reached down, past all that junk, and picked up my backpack. The first compartment was open and empty. The second compartment had an old Vanity Fair, a Clif bar, and about a pound of sand from the beach in it . . . but no glove.
I sighed. “This sucks so much,” I said. I picked up my clothes to replace my backpack, and saw my glove sitting on the floor.
“I found it! Yes!”
“Where was it?” Anne said.
“It must have been on top of my backpack. Thank god.”
“See? I told you it would turn up.” She smiled at me.
Even though I’ve had this glove for years, and it’s a broken in as it’s going to get, I put a baseball in the pocket, wrapped it up, and put it on the floor next to the bed . . . it seemed like the right thing to do.
Next time: Hey dad, want to have a catch?