Original subtitles

Okay, everybody. Calm down, please.

There's two sides to every story.

Now, Myra, you heard the people from the Humane Society.

They're... they're calling it cruelty to animals.

What do you have to say?

Well, if you ask me, I think Coco likes it.

Sometimes when we're in the middle of it,

I can almost see a smile

on his little scaly face.

I just can't put the two of them together.

I can't understand how it could be a match.

Nobody says we gotta understand, so long as they do.

And we'll be right back

with people who really love their pets.

Do you remember when you started this show?

Huh? It wasn't gonna be like all the others.

You were gonna deal with real issues, with the arts and culture.

We do culture. Really? When?

Tomorrow. Oh! Oh.

"Porn stars read their poetry." What?

Hey, I'll have you know they've done some very sensitive work.

Oh, really? I'm sure.

Eddie, Eddie,

you are so much better than this.

Oh, come on, man, give me a break.

It's sweeps month.

I gotta get the ratings.

It's my job.

Yeah, yeah.

I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Charles,

but I just wanted to tell you

how much I enjoyed the show.

It was informative

and yet somehow strangely moving.

Like a lovesick buffalo.

I was wondering if I might have your autograph?

"To Ginger, with love."

You're right.

I don't know how I live with myself.

[indistinct chattering

Where you been? What... I took a long lunch.

What the hell's going on? Well, it's happened.

The company's been sold to those Australian guys.

While I was at lunch? The new management's already moved in.

Dubin's gone. Klinger's gone.

Valerie Knox was thrown out

on her surgically improved behind.

All this happened while I was at lunch?

Editors are drinking, secretaries are vomiting in the ladies' room.

It's like an office party.

In Berlin, before the war.

What do you want me to do? Panic?

Martin? What?

Did you hear? Cindy got the ax.

No. Uh-huh.

Word is, Crocodile Dundee's calling us in

one at a time to run down our projects.

If we don't have anything good enough,

he's tossing our shrimp on the barbie.

Oh, well... well,

I've got that World War II book about the teenage girl.

I mean, that... that... that's a great story.

What? The sensitive one?

Please! He wants best sellers.

What are we gonna do? Commit suicide?

Linnea's in there with him now.

Ah! We're dead. Martin, we're dead.

Well, let's not rush to any conclusions.

Oh, come on! Cindy was good.

We're just a bunch of hacks!

Martin, I can't become a waiter again!

I can't do that! Let go of my shirt!

Get a grip on yourself! It was horrible.

I go in there,

and before I could even sit down,

he just says, "Okay, toots, what do you got?"

So I told him about the new Rubin novel

and about the bird book and about the Lincoln biography.

And he just keeps saying, "What else? What else? What else?"

Finally, all I've got left is the children's book. So, I tell him the story.

You know, the one about the family of bears that goes on the adventure?

The bears book. That's a good book. Right, right, sure.

So, I guess... I guess I panicked,

because I just started babbling on and on, and I told him the entire plot,

and then I started making things up that aren't even in the book!

Like something about an old man who lives in a teacup!

Linnea.

What? Stop it!

No. No. It's okay.

He fired me right on the spot.

Fuck me.

And I was wearing my lucky hat too.

Martin Tupper's office, for now.

Maybe it won't be so bad.

Maybe they're just gonna fire the girls.

Oh!

Nice. Okay.

That was his office.

You have an appointment tomorrow.

Four o'clock. Oh, Christ.

I have to have a best seller by four o'clock tomorrow?

You don't have to.

Wha... what? What's this? Your r

I xeroxed it this morning before the lines got too long.

Don't ever say I never did anything for you.

Let the tournament begin.

Okay, Libby. Come on.

Give me your best shot.

Marty, the book is called

Lillian's Children Hate Her for No Good Reason.

Uh-huh.

It's about this woman, Lillian,

whose children hate her.

For no good reason.

Exactly!

So, chapter one,

"Betsy Moves to El Salvador."

We are doomed, aren't we?

And that's when I go into the John Hinckley

Lee Harvey Oswald connection.

The connection?

Fact, Lee Harvey Oswald was killed

by a man named Jack Ruby.

Fact, John Hinckley's

third grade teacher's name

was Helen.

But everybody called her Ruby!

Stupid writer.

I see it as a contemporary retelling

of Moby Dick.

It's just called Dick.

Ten to four!

The life you had is over. Finished forever.

Listen, I wasn't gonna bring this up,

but I've been working on an idea for a book.

You? Hey, I can type.

Now, I'm still working out some of the details,

but it's about this guy, right?

And he goes to, like, this place.

Maybe there's a girl.

And this thing happens,

and he's got to make a decision about his life.

What? What's the decision?

I don't know! I told you I didn't have everything worked out!

Jesus! I'm sorry.

Anyways, if you want it, it's yours.

Thank you.

Come!

Is there a particular poem

that you'd like to share with us today?

Well, I did bring some things, um,

I can read for you.

That would be great.

"Porno Star" by Candy Melon.

"Nipples, nipples, nipples."

In a bathtub, on a hilltop.

Nipples, nipples, nipples.

People watching, wanting, eating.

Nipples, penis, nipples.

Porno or no?

"You tell me."

Wow! Wow!

That's strong stuff.

Isn't she bloody marvelous?

So, Marty, sit.

Thank you.

I've been having a look at some of the books

you've edited in your years here at Whitestone.

You don't seem too concerned with quality, do you?

Well, I, uh...

No, no. I like that.

Oh. Okay.

Now, if you're gonna work for me, Marty, and I'm not saying you are.

Oh, sure. Sure. There are some things you're gonna have to learn.

Like, for instance,

the difference between books and literature.

You know what literature is, don't you, Marty?

You've obviously given this more thought than I have,

so why don't you tell me?

Literature is what you didn't read in college.

Now, a book,

a book is something you can take with you on the bus.

A book is something you can leave on the bus

and not worry about it too much because it's just a book.

Uh-huh.

Hate him.

You might say to me, "Gibby,

you're playing to the lowest common denominator."

Well, not to your face.

Well, I'd say, "Marty, you're wrong.

I'm playing lower."

Like to mash his face.

I wanna publish books that everyone will read.

I wanna publish the kind of books

that stupid people, who can't even read,

will feel compelled to buy for their slightly less moronic friends

to read to them.

Well, you certainly have a vision.

So, Marty.

What do you got for me?

Okay.

I've got kind of a crazy,

offbeat novel about a female impersonator.

I'm not some wasted wench

with a creeping tropical disease, darling.

Kinky. Any buggering in it?

Uh, well, it's...

it's about what happens when he moves to a small cottage

in Vermont to... to take care of his dying mother.

Right. Too depressing.

What else have you got?

Uh...

How about a circus story?

Oh, lurid goings-on under the big top, eh?

Midgets making it with tattooed ladies? That sort of thing?

Well, actually, it's a...

it's a metaphor for the human condition.

Right.

Hate metaphors. Hate the human condition.

What else have you got? I've got a fishing manual.

Take it easy! Take it easy!

Any buggering in it?

No. No.

What else?

Something about a cat named Pooky.

No!

What else, Marty? What else?

Where's the big-money book?

Where's the book that's gonna get me hard?

Geez. Let me think.

You know... I'm... I'm...

I know I'm forgetting something, I just...

I see.

Well...

Speak up! Wait!

Why?

Why?

Well, because... because...

because I'm saving the best for last!

Well, go ahead, Marty. I'm one giant ear here.

How would you like a...

a...

Have you seen it?

Um, no. I don't think I have.

Uh, maybe you'd like to tell us about one.

Candy Does Candy Lane.

A tell-all, no-holds-barred autobiography

of Eddie Charles!

Marty, if I were more secure in my sexuality,

I'd kiss you on the lips.

I never really understood poetry until today.

It's like you've given me this wonderful gift.

Oh!

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you

how much the show meant to me.

Well, I'm glad you came by again.

And remember, anytime you wanna see the show,

just ask Carolyn for tickets.

Gosh, I will. Thanks.

You! So, bud, you still have a job?

Looks that way. Well, all right!

Let me get out of this makeup, and we'll go out and celebrate.

Yeah. Yeah.

I caught some of your show today.

Oh, God. Here it comes.

No. No.

No, no, no.

I really...

really liked it.

Oh, now we're beginning to show our true colors, aren't we?

You're kidding.

No.

I thought it was...

Trash.

Probing.

And I think the porno footage...

informed the poetry.

I don't understand you.

Frankly, I...

I was impressed.

I don't understand how you can live with yourself.

Well, thanks, bud.

Coming from you, that means a lot.

Ah, you picked a dirty job. Now do it.

So, listen, I have this nutty idea for a book.

But if you don't wanna do it, I understand completely,

and I'll never bring it up again.

The Eddie Charles Story.

Yeah!

Nah. Nah?

What "nah"? Come on, bud.

There are millions of people out there who love you.

Nine million, three. Right.

But... but they just know Eddie Charles,

the incredible TV personality, you know?

All they know is the guy with the great looks and the charisma,

but they don't know Eddie Charles, the man.

That's true.

But... But?

But? Wha... what? What's the "but"?

Well, I figured...

I figured if I wrote a book,

it would be with one of those

bigger publishing houses.

Okay.

You can go that way.

But I should warn you, just as a friend,

you could get lost in the shuffle.

I mean, you know, Eddie Charles, it's just another title,

just another piece of meat.

On the other hand, if you do go with a smaller

boutique house, like Whitestone,

you'd be our big spring book, not to mention the fact

that your best friend of over 30 years

would be overseeing the project.

Okay.

You can let go of my dick now. I'll do the book.

We... we need to open with some compelling incident.

You know, some story that'll really grab them.

Grab them.

Got it.

The day I graduated from NYU.

Remember how excited my folks were?

First man in the family to graduate from college.

Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

That was a big day. Yeah.

Although, I was thinking we could start

with something like that great story about you

and the three Dutch girls in the hot tub.

Wait? You wanna open my book with a foursome in a hot tub?

Easy. Easy.

It was just a thought.

I mean, come on, we're just spit-balling ideas here.

All right. All right, all right.

How about the night I won the Emmy?

Or how about the party afterwards,

where you got drunk and sang "Danke Schoen" on the buffet?

Or...

the time I interviewed the Queen Mother?

Or how about the time

with the Dairy Queen girl and the chocolate dip?

Martin, my mother is gonna read this book.

Jesus! Is this how you see me?

What?

Hello.

Don't get up.

Just wanted to meet the man himself.

Gibby Fiske, Eddie Charles. Eddie Charles, Gibby Fiske.

A pleasure to meet you, Eddie.

I can't tell you how excited I am about this book. Great.

I especially love that hot tub story with the Dutch girls.

The hot tub story.

If that don't have them coming in their hats,

I don't know what will.

Well, I'll let you get back to it then.

Sorry to interrupt. Good day.

Is he one colorful character, huh?

You know...

I could have expected this from anyone but you.

Eddie, Eddie, where are you going?

I got a show to do.

You're not gonna let him get away, are you?

Eddie, think about it.

That's the book that'll sell a million copies.

And it's the book you promised your boss!

Is that so terrible? Hey, you wanna keep it down?

Some people are trying to work here.

You are such a hypocrite!

After all the shit you give me about my show!

That's different. Oh?

That's television. This is... literature.

Literature? I thought we weren't doing literature anymore.

Don't you ever take a sick day?

Excuse me. It was in the memo.

Eddie, Eddie, come on.

I, uh... Good day.

There is no comparison between what you do...

All right. You want me to say it, I'll say it.

I'm just as shallow and cheap and smarmy as you are.

Oh, that makes me feel much better.

Eddie, help me out here. You've gotta do this book.

Easy. You're groveling on my shirt.

My job is on the line. Forget it!

What kind of a friend are you anyway?

What kind of friend am I?

You're the one who's using me, pal.

What? Using you?

I'm using you? Yes.

And this from the man who stole

my eighth grade English notes.

Oh, I knew you would throw that in my face someday.

Boy, you think you know somebody. Let me tell you something.

I used to think you were the best friend I ever had.

I am the best friend you ever had!

Who lent you money when you smashed your dad's car?

And you're also the one who got me stoned,

so that I smashed it up in the first place.

What a wonderful memory you have.

And remember when you went through

that picture window, huh?

Who held your hand until the doctor came?

Yeah, and for the rest of junior high,

everyone thought we were gay.

Can't you ever forget nothing?

No! Nothing! Never!

Al right. All right.

You wanna know what kind of friend I am?

Yeah, I wanna know. Tell me. You really wanna know?

Just tell me!

When you were 11 years old, and you went to camp,

your dog, Tippy, died.

What?

You lie! You lie!

Tippy didn't die.

Yes, he did.

He was hit by a car on Pinehurst Road.

And I made your mother drive all over Westchester

until we found a dog that looked exactly like Tippy.

And I spent all summer training him,

so when you came home from camp, you would never know.

That's what kind of friend I am.

That is the most horrible thing

I have ever heard in my entire life.

Martin! How could you not have told me?

All those years, I was loving this...

this impostor dog.

Martin, wait, wait.

That was my best best-friend story.

You're missing the point.

Oh, I got the point.

The point is that all this time, this... this fake Tippy

was laughing at me behind my back.

No wonder he lived to be 26.

Christ.

I feel like such a fool.

You know what?

I hope...

I hope you get canceled!

Maybe I ought to take that back.

Martin!

Deep inside, don't you ever feel you're wrong?

Fuck you.

Come on! Let's go!

Hey, Pepe! Come on!

Come on!

And I don't like you.

Yes, you do. No.

The truth?

Hey.

Hey.

So, how was the show?

Nothing special.

Transvestite nuns.

Right.

Listen, I...

I've been kind of an asshole.

Nah, it's... it's okay, man. You do what you have to.

Let's face it, we're two nice guys

in really smarmy jobs.

Yeah, yeah.

I guess we are.

When they talk about the dignity of labor,

they mean guys like Eddie and me.

Look, about the stuff I tried to put in the book.

Yeah?

I'm sorry if it sounded like I think you're just some,

you know, womanizing sleaze.

Eddie, I'm using your towel, okay?

Maybe I ought to take that back.

Oh, hi.

Jesus! Excuse me.

I think you're standing on my bra.

Thanks.

Oh, keep talking. Just pretend I'm not here.

What... what were the...

The book.

Right, just... just forget about it.

No, man. I don't want you to get fired.

No, no, no.

No, no. I'll be okay. No. Come on.

We'll figure out a way to do it.

Really?

What are friends for?

We'll be brothers.

You do books?

Yeah, I do books. I'm an editor.

I'm writing a book.

Oh, really? Yeah.

It's called Starfucker.

In the last four years,

I've slept with 162 celebrities.

162?

And is she happy?

Yep.

And in my book, I talk about

my experience with each one.

Eddie's going into the chapter about Black talk show hosts.

We're a whole chapter?

Uh, tell me more.

It's Ginger, right?

Right.

Well, I evaluate each one numerically

in several different categories.

Performance, style, grooming...

Whoa! Wait a minute. What about my book? We'll get back to it.

Uh, tell me, Ginger,

this... this book isn't under option yet?

Oh, no. I'm still typing.

Oh!

Thank you.

Hi. Can you make it to Bob?

Bob? Uh-huh.

From Ginger, with love.

Thanks.

Is this bloody marvelous?

Sure, the woman sleeps with a battalion

and gets a six-figure advance.

It makes me proud to be alive today.

Marty, you're a genius.

So, what else you got for me, huh?

Uh...

Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about this.

I have this sensitive novel

about a teenage girl coming of age during World War II.

Oh, yeah? Does she get raped by German storm troopers, eh?

She entertain the boys back home in imaginative ways?

Uh, nope.

It's just about her spiritual growth as a woman.

Huh, sounds an awful lot like literature to me.

Yeah. It definitely is.

But the way I see it,

for every one of these,

I should get to do one that I wanna do.

I think there are a lot of publishers around town

who would agree with me.

Oh, all right, all right.

I just hope there aren't a lot of pages in it, eh?

What?

Will you look at this?

A seven!

She gave me a seven!

Mickey Rooney got a nine!

Can you imagine, after all these years?