Working in the Salt Industry is like trying to do a crossword puzzle on a Tilt-a-Whirl. There are a multitude of twists, bumps, dips, and turns to deal with while trying to maintain a strong focus on the goal, not to mention ensuring that the whole thing is comprehensible to everyone else.

We all know Flo. Flo’s really into insurance, and people are really into Flo. (I personally prefer Esurance Erin, that saucy Pinkhead who dresses like Emma Peel and does high kicks, but that doesn’t apply here.) The Redhead’s Dad LOVES Flo. My Dad hates her with passion. However, they both consistently say one thing about her: “Why can’t [The Redhead] do commercials like Flo?” It’s difficult trying to explain a point from two sides to parents that only want happiness and security for their children. Yes, she could do commercials like Flo, but Flo will more than likely never do anything else in her acting career. She’ll also make a bazillion dollars. It’s a tough call and an easy one at the same time, from both sides. How do you explain that it’s not really what you want, but you wouldn’t exactly turn it down either? So goes a career in the Salt Industry. 

Years ago, Actors in Los Angeles would pick a direction and try to maintain the focus. They would say, “I don’t do commercials.” Marlon Brando famously refused to do television appearances (though he never explained how the Michael Jackson MUSIC VIDEO for “You Rock My World” didn’t fit in that category). Actors were “TV Actors,” or “Film Actors.” Not no more, Billy. Not when George Clooney does the voice overs for Budweiser commercials. Not when James Franco decides to do a Soap Opera. The lines are completely blurred and the only thing that shines through is recognition. Flo gets recognized now, and owes a personal thank you to the folks at Bumpit. The “smaller” stuff, the stuff that Actors could sink their teeth into and try to make a splash in are being handed back to the established gentry. It sucks, Internet.

(“Man, you suck, Billy.”)

It’s hard for us to tell our parents that we’re not specifically looking for something that would financially secure us for life. It’s hard for us to realize that, too. Most of the Salt Industry is like Las Vegas: We’re all here to strike it rich, but the losers rarely leave the table. In fact, we’re not really losing. It’s more like we’re on pause. People in the rest of the world have bought houses and are having kids and signing 50 year mortgages on their youth and freedom, but we’re waiting in the lobby. Hell, I’ll take a mortgage on my freedom at this point if it means I don’t have to worry about where the rent is coming from for a one bedroom apartment every month.

And then we’re back to it. How long does this ride last? Why the hell aren’t we trying to do a quick cash in? Flo may be forever Flo on TV, but I bet she rips it up in Dinner Theatre, finding satisfaction in her performance because she didn’t have to skip a 4 hour shift at Arby’s in order to perform. Would that make us happy if we had a bunch of money? I know money doesn’t buy happiness, but it buys and pays for a lot of other stuff, which not being able to pay for can cause non-happiness. So money buys non-unhappiness, which is good by me.

I guess it’s all this “magic” we’re supposed to be making here. It makes it a little more difficult to see reality. We’re all building an “image.” There’s a lot of statues and thank yous and tribute dinners that may come later, so people start thinking they don’t want to have to explain that hemorrhoid commercial for the rest of their lives. I guarantee people still call Rob Reiner, “Meathead.” So… who cares? I also guarantee Rob Reiner thinks about the guy who yelled, “Hey, Meathead!” at the gas station when he’s sitting in his private beach, taking a money bath. I know I think about him.

So why don’t we go for the big score? Oh, yeah. It’s not up to us. Like everything else, you still have to be cast. While more people show up in town, Bruce Willis is going to audition against you. What a business. Frankly, I don’t care. Back when I humored myself about being an actor, I sent a headshot and resume in to play Superman. It was around the time that Ashton Kutcher passed on the part because he didn’t want to be “typecast.” I remember thinking, “I will be typecast as fucking Superman for the rest of my life with a smile on my face. I’ll open new Carwashes in the cape and go on Hollywood Squares. Who the hell wouldn’t want to be called “Superman” forever? I could hang out with Mark Hamill. We could do a tour! ‘Luke and Kal-El: Walking the Sky!’” I didn’t get the part.

Maybe Flo likes being Flo. It seems like fun, and nice work if you can get it. It’s just really, really, hard to get. The Redhead is working towards a goal, but we can’t look for one door of opportunity and miss five other open ones. We know that. So bear with us, parents. We’re trying. Oh yeah, and The Salt Mill? Yeah, that’s over.

(The Redhead gave a powerful performance in her last Play, and there should be some satisfaction in that.)

The next stage is coming soon. We’re either being tested by the Universe before the great reward, or being bludgeoned over the head by the fact that we’re in the wrong business entirely. Whichever the case, we’re staying at the table.

End of line.