He who shall not be named, the director of the Traverse City Film Festival
Sigh. I seem to suffer from short-term memory loss when it comes to Traverse.
Whenever I hit the city limits I am struck with a thought. Recession? What recession?
Porches, Beemers, etc. And guys wearing khaki shorts with polo collars up walking yappy little dogs trailing perfect trophy wives. What state are we in again? You drive 10 miles out of town and see Farmer Brown selling tomatoes to get by. But we don’t care, do we. Hey, I’m hangin’ on the beach…then Muffy is gonna want to fly down to Palm Springs for the winter. Hey, I pay taxes.
TC does do a few things right. The “Cherry Fest.” What few cherryies there are and freakin’ Loverboy.
Ick. But one thing TC does right is the film festival.
Ok, here I’m gonna post a disclaimer for my, er, conservative friends. Whenever I get a little, er, political, I’m gonna say “kiss my butt”. Just to give you thoughtful folks a minute away.
Let’s try it. “Kiss my butt”. Kewl. That went well. But there is only a select few that I would want to, er, kiss my butt. And you ain’t one of them.
But I regress. Like him or hate him,and there is no shortage of folks who do both “kiss my butt”… Personally, I think he is pretty funny and mostly on the money “kiss my butt.”
But ya know what? That guy saved the old State Theater and brought actual evil Hollywood $$$ to northern MI. Even the Republicans like that. “Kiss my butt”.
So, ah, err, was there an umm, point?
So, in Traverse City they drive porches?