Fooz Gold (1993)


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 Fooz Gold (1993), US Copyright TXu 565-684 (4/23/1993), 43 chapters, 503pp

A flawed stab, JRL's 1st novel, extant now only in paper ms., contains some of his most refulgent flashes of brilliance.

With his fecund imagination and experience as a skilled brief writer in the law, Lucas dreamed he could write a best-selling novel in a year and hit fame and fortune overnight.  Joyce Carol Oates, the #MeToo man-hating prima donna of the literary vaginati of America, says men who write fiction, must be masochists, and, boy, did she have Lucas pegged!  The problems with Fooz were structural, the story jumbled as his own back story, his real-life struggle to survive in the American wilderness.  Lucas never took a college creative writing class, never attended a snob writers' workshop.  He scouted the frontier alone, bold, stubborn, unafraid, supported only by his devoted hotel maid wife who believed in him.  The back story reads like something like a Joseph Conrad Lord Jim in Las Vegas, America.  Lucas, the outlaw, who eschewed convention and taunted death, learned his craft the hard way.  His son, the artist, calls him Autodidact the Dear.  It took Goethe (1749-1832) 18 years to write Faust.

 Twenty-six years later, Lucas rewrought the flawed gesso into an 11pp synopsis, a story suitable for novel, motion picture, and maybe more, a counter-terrorism comic-epic that rollicks between David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest, Goethe's Faust, Mel Brooks' Blazing Saddles, and Monty Python and the Holy Grail. 


 1993 Synopsis.  (Skip to 2019 Synopsis below)

Fooz, a pimp, hosts a partouze for wheels, whoring his wife or girl, Sheena.  Meanwhile, Coy Worth, Hollywood producer, stages the biggest action-trauma movie in history, with special effects matching the biggest faux earthquake ever faked, when an actual earthquake rattles the whole Mojave Basin, San Diego to Las Vegas.  Pro-Life Land, the tallest casino in Las Vegas topples to the ground, the biggest disaster in US history.  Through a case of mistaken identity in the ensuing chaos, Fooz ends up in a surgery bay where he undergoes a sex change operation scheduled for the hero in Worth's action thriller.  The surgeon castrates Fooz in error.  Simultaneously a regiment of Rong commandos from Tarumshar land at Wadi Springs, with orders to reclaim the giant dinosaur from the Sentoy Casino, owned by Arab sheiks, which was copped from Tarumshar before the New Dawn Revolution.  Despite the earthquake and collapse of Pro-Life Land, the dinosaur skeleton remains standing.  Eager to rectify his errant castration, Dr. Foozmius Bandersnatch quickly schedules and performs the first penis transplant in the world. 

About 20% of the ms. will have to be stripped and re-written, but the residue is ripe for re-make into the biggest, most spectacular story, show, opera, and razzle-dazzle money-maker in world show business history.

2019 Fooz Logline

Producer Coy Worth plans the most stupendous film in history, The Shaux Rong Candidate, with special effects of toppling buildings and an 8.0 earthquake.  Shihu, leader of Norong, sends commandos to the US to retrieve Sore Bones, dinosaur skeleton from Pro-Life Land Casino in Las Vegas.  A ruse to throw off YpluribUS Security Intelligence Services Systems (SISS; the Y is silent) hides the real mission--code name, Romeo y Juliet--to bring Xila, the most gorgeous odalisque in the Brothel of Time back to the Temple of Norongdu.  Meanwhile, SISS, whiff of something in the wind, dispatches Rauncho, a Ranchurian sniper, to spoil the game.

Work-in-Progress: 1/ 28/2019

 JRL LI Post:

The Poet Whirs,The Steich Stick Stirs, The Country Snores in Stupid Morgue-Slab Grogginess, Snare-Tied in Skein-Ret Crypto-Fetters of Lies and Fetters./ The Country Dies, the Nation Dies--

Sorry, folks.  This Ore is too valuable to give away for free on Social Media.  The Capitalists think we writers, poets, dancers, artists, and musicians are suckers, fools, and chumps who can't sell our intellectual property for clickety-clique robbery on Wall Street.  Go to Cyber Bard Ink of Nevada to adulate work-in-progress.

 I grow old, I grow old, I see the best minds of my homeland turn to crooks./ The etiology of corrupt politicians in Washington, D.C., makes me sick./ Widespread across the country, the E.D. in the poltroons' penises is thick,/ Of epidemic proportions. the righteous people in the prairies and the hicks in dells and brooks are dulled stupid on opioids,,/ Too clotpolled stoned to think;/ They can't figure out a sordid labyrinth of greed and cybertech harnessed to the C-floor cartel execs-- 

 Raven sounds like Ravin.  Edgar Allen Poe had a morbid hunger for fame and death in the Writers' Fane of Fame.  Hold my Cawfield, said my Catcher in the Wry.  Four and 22 Catch-22s baked in a Greek letter Pi.  Lucas stuck in his thumb and the whole bakery of LinkedIn began to cry.  Lick it, Lucas said.  Nevermore, the whole Network of Linkies cried and flew away into the Las Vegas Palazzonian sky.  1/29/2019 

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