Fritz The Cat
Outside of lions I’m generally pretty good with the feline species. With that said I happened to run into Fritz The Cat at the West Side Bossa Nova Restaurant on Pico Boulevard one fine evening. Fritz is basically still Fritz. I’ve run into this narasistic pseudo intellectual styled prick numerous times so trust me seeing him that night was no big deal. I take that back I love running into Fritz. If I was going to get an earful of nonstop un-remorseful barbs then it might as well be from this guy.
Remembering my large frame from a previous meeting he offered me a seat at his table so I sat my round ass down, ordered about ten plates of food, and began to chew the fat for a bit. I was a bit wasted already. I had partaken in an extremely long pub crawl right before stepping foot in Bossa Nova. I had about four kegs worth of beer in my belly while Fritz on the other hand wasted no time in telling me he was both stoned and drunk at the same time. I told him to tell me something I didn’t know.
He’s a little up in age now but still sporting his tweed blazer and still trying to screw anything moving. His first film aptly titled after himself is the epitome of the rap term- “started with a spark but then it got garbage”. I asked him about the film the last time I ran into him which was at The Pantry in downtown LA. He ran the same splish-splash that he’s regurgitated numerous times on rote memory. He said that Ralph Bakshi and Robert Crumb didn’t see eye to eye. Crumb really never signed on to the project. It was Ralph's first film.. blah blah blah. “Remember he had Mighty Mouse snorting coke on camera on a Saturday morning kids cartoon”, he said in a matter of fact type tone. “And don’t get it twisted, Mighty Mouse still hasn’t recovered from that one fucking episode for Chr*st sakes. He can't even land a background role for a Everest College commercial. You should see him. He’s fat as fuck with thirty four kids. His cape is all torn up. He’s running around town trying to order drinks with an EBT card… But that Sponge Bob stick is all Mighty Mouse”. “But ya know what fuck him he’s a rat. Yeah he’s a rat literally. That mouse shit was just so he could get work. The only true mouse in Hollywood was Jerry from Tom & Jerry and that little piece of shit that worked with your buddy Dumbo in that Disney flick”.
He said he ran into Tom(from Tom & Jerry) not to long ago and gave him hell for the way they let Jerry run all over his ass in the cartoons. "We're still cats at the end of the day, Garfield the Gawd would tell me this every time I ran into him."- Fritz
.. But he was really getting on my bad side with by bringing up Dumbo and he knew it. It was retaliation for me questioning his first film which actually did incredibly well at the box office. See Fritz has really mastered the art of getting under people’s skin in the worst way possible. He sat there right across from me giving the waitress and the manager on duty a bad time telling them that Bossa Nova isn’t Brazilian food. -Its Italian under the guise of Brazilian. He went on and on about numerous topics while sipping on a bottle of craft beer. One was how he’s voting for Mitt Romney not because he’s Republican or his proposals on taxes, fixing the budget, and creating jobs but get this, he’s voting for Romney simply because he’s a Mormon and he hopes one day he passes a law in favor of polygamy before his term is up. “Who wants to fuck the same girl every single day? I sure as hell don’t. Blacks better wake the fuck and smell the coffee before its too late. They like looking at those fat asses but Obama’s a Muslim, every female, no matter the species, will be covered from head to toe wearing a burka before his second term is up, mark my words”, he said that with confidence as if he were Nostradamus.
Actually he’s not a bad guy. He’s rather entertaining to be truthful. I actually was glad I ran into him. I’m a sucker for a good bullshiter as long as he or she doesn't enter the realm of obnoxiousness. There was a method to his madness. Plus he’s not a bitter Hollywood type. Working or not working he’s gonna talk shit and do his thing regardless. We polished off our plates of pasta, downed the remaining drops of ale, and paid the bill and left. He told me to follow him to his car to finish the last of this killer joint he had rolled up before he left the house. I quickly obliged. Killer stories, killer beer, and killer weed- that’s the perfect night if you ask me. After blazing the final puffs of the zig zag I said, "Where to next Fritz?" "Starz strip club in Gardena, It's amateur night!", he yelled out. Ahh what a great night this turned out to be.
Hollywood Elephant
