Despite an unhappy childhood and a hangover, Marvin’s in a terrific mood. It seems he spent most of last night at a "hookahs and satin pillows" party at the Viceroy, in the upper-floor suites of his "incognito offshore investors." Of course, tomorrow the cloud of anxiety and uncertainty will return, throwing its shadow over his Lexapro-soaked cerebellum (There will still be the unresolved issue of those lost diamonds). But today he's happy, tousled, bleary-eyed. So, why the uncharacteristic glow?
Because Congress just voted to restrict gambling on box office "futures." This means that, despite the efforts of certain entrepreneurs, there will be no legalized gambling on the success of newly released films. This is good news to those shadowy offshore investors and to “Investment Specialists to the Film Trade” such as Marvin.
And so, Marvin takes a momentary break from his troubles, lounging in sunglasses and fluffy bathrobe on his deck, overlooking houses that overlook the ocean. He smells of turmeric and hashish.
Marvin says, “If film futures were publicly traded, the accounting books would be thrown wide open to every beat reporter in town. And I’d go the way of the dodo bird!” I’m not sure what the dodo bird is or which way it went, and I have to confess I don’t miss it an awful lot…but this sounds like crisis averted.
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