This is so cool. Being a fan of Angelina I went to Vanity Fair’s website and checked out her slide show for July issue. Click here.
Saw Wanted. I loved it. The technology finally caught up with the story line. Great use of all the special effects and Angie’s character ‘Fox’ was cool, calm and bad ass. It was entertaining all the way through, and it received a big applause with the audience I was with. I love the last line, “And what are you doing with your life?” Transformational.
~
I was inspired by Angie’s tattoo, and I’ve been wanting another-so in tribute to the film I got it the same day the movie came out.
After an especially harried day chasing two toddlers, I was looking forward to a night out. But, this wasn’t any ordinary night. I was invited to go to see Susanna Brisk perform a one woman show called ‘Mamafied’. Susanna is a beautiful funny woman who has two toddler boys, whom I was introduced to by my husband. I’ve been to her son’s birthday parties, and she was always the smiling, sweet mom anyone could ever ask for. I would go support any mom doing anything other than changing diapers and chasing kids; because I know what that takes just to leave the house. So, I arrived at the Edgemar Center for the Arts in Santa Monica, Ca at 8:00.
The set was bright and cheerful with a kitchen, bedroom, and changing room with kids toys and a stroller. I settled into my seat. This is going to be good I thought. I have five children, ranging from 16 years to 2 years; one boy and the rest girls. The two youngest (4 and 2) keep my running all day long, except when they are in day care so I can work.
Susanna came out strong and performed one hour and 15 minutes with no intermission. Her delivery was well rehearsed, and planned out dripping with authenticity. However, that was just her stage presence. From the moment she began, the stories of medication, depression, postpartum, babies, pregnancies and penises I was already hooked. She did not leave one stone unturned, and every deep seeded, dark story, feeling, and discoveries were open for the world to laugh at. My face and stomach literally hurt after I left from laughing so hard, and I must say it has been a while since I have done that. Stories of her husband, her mother, the grocery boy, and the nannies were played out with the outmost care and included accents from various parts of the world. There was so many characters that she played; one flowing perfectly into the next with only a chance to catch your breath in between. Her humor is full of satire and sarcasm and in the end I felt validated and heard as a woman and mother.
I felt she had read my mind and played out juicy reenactments of her everyday life, well-my everyday life. I did not feel alone after this show. I felt that all my crazy moments, my best moments and everything in between in raising my family was portrayed expertly. I was only wishing my husband had come with me to see a side of me he may never get a chance to see. He would understand my behavior, and why I do and say the things I do. I know it would give him an insight into the life of his wife, that he will never see me the same again. But, he was at home watching the kids. He promised he will go soon.
Just when I thought she had pushed the limits talking of Kegal exercises, and psychiatry she delves deep into the thoughts of suicide and running away.There was no corner not explored and in moments when I began to think there was no turning back, redemption! She always found her way threw the circumstance or relationship tackling it head on. I saw Susanna Brisk up there on stage; a woman, charming and bright with her sweet and saucy side, all the way to her melodramatic side. Then I saw her as mother second. And truly that is the way I know I want to be seen. I am a woman first and a person, and now a mother. But a woman I will always be. Bravo to her, I hope to see her shows expanding and expanding. This show is for everyone, except children considering the topics.
Her website is below and also show times and ticket prices.
Over the years, I have received some negative feedback at times from people who do not understand what self marketing is. They are offended by it. Those people are always people who don’t self market. Also, I have an opinion too about the haters…
…and like what my daughter says: “Love your haters, they are your biggest fans”
“This is the true joy in life, the being recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.
I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live. I rejoice in life for it’s own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got a hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.”
-George Bernard Shaw
Excerpt from ‘The Last Word On Power’ by Tracy Goss
Aug 2003 I was on my way to Veracruz, Mexico to be apart of an expedition on two teams of women on a reality TV show I had auditioned for and got. Four women in each team Red Team, and Blue Team. I had no idea what to expect,
and I certainly had no idea I would come home within inches of my life.
We had been cast by Valerie McCaffrey Casting and went to Sunset Studios in Glendale, California on July 20th to do our title shoot-which I thought came out really hot. We all signed our contracts and we were ready to go.
They were flying us coach to an undisclosed location in Veracruz. We were composed of athletes, and professional cheerleaders, ex-cops (me), bike racers, and tri-athletes. Chris Corabi, one of the producers, the legal eagle on the team sat next to me on the plane and away we flew after handing over our cell phones to him.
The show was an off shoot of Survivor and was one of the earliest and only show of it’s kind at the time. Two teams of women (total of eight) were told we were going to be dropped off on this remote island and take boat, and truck into the boonies of the jungles of Mexico, by Veracruz. We were to happen upon two ‘survivalist’ men. One was a young decorated American Navy Seal, Pentathlon winner, Scott Helvenston, and the other was smuggled in from a European country, Milo. However he was a ‘live off the land’ type of guy, and was rugged.
These men thought they were on an expedition and having a competition amongst themselves. So, when we show up they were shocked. They were then told we will be joining them on the competition and they will be coaching us; not participating, so immediately there was already tension and slight confusion. Us women were in on it, so we thought it was pretty humorous. Since the official show’s title was called: Extreme Expeditions: Models Behavior, we were supposed to embody the ideal ‘bimbo-model’ type women. So being sexy was a requirement and attitudes a must.
see promotional trailer
After walking off the truck and boat from a long two or three hour trip into the jungle, we started to see ‘tree people’ as we called them, because they lived at the foot of the trees. We were far from town. It was hot and steamy and very humid. We arrive in mini skirts, and high heels with our hair and nails done to perfection. So, here was the twist: we were supposed to rough it on the jungle floor in cheap Kmart pop-up tents, and thin nylon sleeping bags. We had plastic bags as toilets, and a couple cans of tuna and peanut butter to get us started (with no can opener) and we were supposed to endure extreme heat and humidity and compete…and win.
As soon as the Host, Jerry Penicoli (Extra Host) ? introduced us to the two men who were already there, who became our team Captains, we were put into groups (Red & Blue). I was grouped with Scott Helvenston, the Blue Team. It took me about 2 seconds to know I got the wrong guy with the expression on his face. First I towered over him, at my height of 5’10’ (6 ft in heels) and he was about 5’7 I think. He gave a wrinkled up nose to me, but I did not care-I was not there to make friends, but to win.
The cast was: Bobbi Miller-Moro (ex-cop and single mother of three), Anita Marks (ESPN reporter,The Anita Marks Show, and Female Quarterback forThe Miami Fury), Levis Francis (Sentinel cheerleader), Krista (beauty queen-professional singer, and motor cross rider), Jes (a tall Latina model), Melissa (beautiful, sweet blonde girl from the south that wouldn’t hurt a flea) and Destiney Moore (Rock of Love); that I don’t really remember….and others that are on the promo piece.
Bobbi Miller-Moro
The competitions were mixed with treasure hunts (with skills that included a dollar compass, make a foot stint, and rapid, quick coordination) which included rappelling across water, scaling down cliffs, white water rafting races in thunderstorms into caves with bats, riding donkey’s, and racing Hummers to name a few. The intention was to break us down mentally, physically, and emotionally. With very little food, and amenities that included being eaten up every night with dime-size mosquitoes, and spiders that went thru any type of mesh, showers that were a thin hose, pump and a bag…tempers were high very soon, especially mine.
With the blazing heat, and arduous events we were in survivor mode within a few days. I somehow had the role of the ‘bad girl-Shannon Dougherty-type’, and I was teamed up with Melissa, the beautiful, sweet blonde girl from the south that wouldn’t hurt a flea, and Krista, the tom-boy, beauty queen-professional singer, and motor cross rider, and a professional dancer. I got along with only the dancer and was enemies with Scott and his fans which were Krista and Melissa.
Anita Marks
He spoke very rude to us women, including saying things like: ‘Shut your pie-hole’, which had me in his face in about a second. We were yelling at each other for ten minutes with about 13 camera’s on us and the entire camera crew watching.
I was more than a little aggravated with many things. The lack of safety and non-union type hardships that were totally out of control; like when I got attacked by jelly fish and was laying at the foot of the medic trailer, outside in the rain with only B-12 shots to keep me alive-they refused to send me home. They thought I was trying to jump ship after winning 6 out of 6 competitions. I was covered with insect bites of every kind, from head to toe and I had cuts, scrapes, bruises, burns, rope burns, dehydration and anaphylactic shock from the jelly fish stings.
Chris Corabi was our liaison, or friend-the guy we can go to for everything; just to hear: “What part of Extreme don’t you understand?” followed by an outburst of laughter.
Tony was one of the camera guys, or editor from the Survivor shows, and a handful of other professional camera guys and girls from Survivor show as well. My personal favorite, and later friend was one of the Field Producers and co-creators Denise (Miami Ink). She had the best sense of humor and I feel did the best interviews.
The crew was about 500, with most of them coming from Mexico. There were mud slides, injuries, and moments were we were not sure if we would ever make it home. After two weeks with this 5 million dollar project, from the creator Sean Donegan; we were finally allowed to leave messages for loved ones who wanted to make sure we were alive after signing away our life in a 23 page release form. We were supposed to have our weekly pay which was $1,000 directly deposited into our account. My roommate was counting on having that many coming in while I was in the boonies so she can pay rent and utilities. It came three weeks after we got home. I heard a lot of girls suffered financially for that set back. I was given an eviction notice and utilities were going to be shut off, and my mom thankfully covered the fees until I got back.
We had opportunities to go into town to see how the natives lived and we were able to sneak snacks (real food). We were given 100 pesos a day for food if we wanted to buy, but it was rare that we were in town. One of the little breaks we got is going to a hotel were we all showered and slept on white sheets. We all loved it so much, we begged for more of that. But, to torment us more, they would the next day put us back in the mud to sleep on our sweaty cots and be bitten all night.
I made some friends with the girls, but more enemies because of how extreme my character was. So I played it up. They wanted drama-I gave them drama. They encouraged me to play full-out and go nuts. So, I did. I went to the bathroom in the bushes and the ocean after we ran out of plastic bags. I did yoga on the top of a cliff as the sun rose by myself. I jumped into a river off of a 15 ft embankment and my top flew off, I fought with other members of my team, and saw all the camera people sleeping on my cots one day and I tore down the entire tent and threw all of the cots over the edge of the cliff. I cursed like a sailor. I was told in confidence before the show started that I was the show’s lead. That the girls think the competitions were going to be filmed and that’s it-but not that we will be filmed 24/7 round the clock. I knew this in advance.
Scott and I hated each other. I see in the promo piece him yelling, and complaining-that was to me. I was cursing-that was to him. I thought he was demeaning to women, and he thought I was just a bitch. Before our next competition he would train the girls on our team how to do all the activities, but he wouldn’t train me (which was weird since I was on his team), so I taught myself and ended winning all the competitions I was in anyway. The director Rod Spence and producers Dave Thorton and others pulled me aside and asked me to allow the other team to win so that it would be more interesting. Hell no, why? So they started rigging my games (wrong cordinences, etc) But, I won anyway.
On the day of the fight with Scott, he started to yell, “It’s either me or Bobbi!” He was threatening to leave if I wasn’t thrown off the show. He was calling me a lesbian, and dyke (which I am not) and he really hated me. He was the trainer for Demi Moore in G.I Jane (loved that movie) and has done a number of reality shows. I thought he was full of himself. More than I was.
The production team huddled and decided that he has to go. I never saw a man pack so fast. He packed all his things together and left in a huff. He walked down the hill and walked miles to the nearest town to hail a taxi. The camera crew followed him. So, now we had no team leader for the Blue team. Krista and I were vying for position. We were both tough as nails and both not wanting to give in to eachother.
The prize we were all fighting for was $8,000, then it changed to $18,000, then I believe $80,000 after the show was over. The smaller prizes for each competition was a chance to get treated like a queen by the other exhausted, sweaty team and gloat while they served you. Then you get a photo shoot all glammed up on top of 35 ft water falls in next-to-nothing bathing suits, and the like. We were supposed to be able to keep all of those photo’s, to which I haven’t seen a single thing. That was what all the competition was about.
One warm afternoon, we took a break and swam in the most beautiful aqua-lavender Gulf of Mexico. I floated for two hours under the dark grey skies, and unbeknownst to me was getting bit by small jelly fish.
Within four hours, I knew something was wrong because I started to stiffen up. My joints started to hurt and I was starting to be consumed with how I was feeling. My first thought was because I played like a monster for the 6 episodes out of the 10, but this was different. I started to cry. I hung onto Rod the director’s arm as he walked me back to base camp. He said, “Oh, c’mon-your fine.” But, after the 15 min walk and me sobbing, he was silent. The medic laid me down and gave me B-12 shots. No one took me serious, and I knew something was very wrong. I balked, I complained, I whined, I begged to go home. We changed locations and I was walking around aimlessly looking for a solution, or a way out. I knew I had to leave Mexico, and go home.
I immediately called home from the producer’s room in the new accommodations, which was a hotel. They let me rest there while everyone was unpacking. I called my new boyfriend Luis Moro, (now husband) and told him quickly and quietly what was happening. I felt as if I was held against my will. He wrote down the hotel information and phone numbers and I devised a game plan. I was going to call for a taxi myself. The night before I tried to get the front desk to call the police at 2am in Spanish but they said it would be worse for me, so I went back to my room. No one knew what was wrong with me, or cared, and I knew this was life or death as I was starting to run a fever.
The producers finally came in and told me I could go, and gave me my cell phone back-but only if I walked off the show on tape, like if I was quitting. I had to put my back pack on and walk off after a fake altercation with the host and say that I was leaving. They filmed three takes on the beach with me walking away. ‘How much more of this hell do I need to endure?’ It started to become a nightmare that I could not wake up from.
Back at the hotel, a taxi was waiting. I crawled in with swollen purple ankles, infected wounds, sandy, sweaty, pale and in shock. The driver looked at me strange and said something about the airport and I started to cry. Then I passed out. He woke me up at the airport and I walked like a zombie to the plane. As I sat on my way to my connecting flight in Mexico City, I had to count the entire way to keep myself from totally passing out. I did not think I was going to wake up. I had to have my swollen legs out stretched out in front of me in order to sit, because they could hardly bend from the pain.
Once in Mexico City, I departed the plane and walked with determined purpose. I kept telling myself, I have to make because of my three babies. I cannot go down here in the middle of nowhere. I have to make it home. I kept repeating, and repeating phrases in my head to stay conscience. I arrived at LAX, and my dear, sweet boyfriend was waiting for me. He knew a little of what to expect but not what he saw. I looked at him and smiled weakly as he walked me to his car quietly I sat and started to shake. I went home and got in the tub and soaked as I reviewed my injuries. I still wasn’t sure what was wrong with me, but I was not myself. My jaw started to tighten up that night, and I thought maybe I was just overly sore. I was so stiff. I was thinking strange thoughts, like deliriously as I continued to itch more than ever in the warm water.
My boyfriend came in and saw me covered with tiny red bumps and immediately went on line and discovered it was Jelly Fish poisoning. The scratching was re-infecting or re-stinging myself as I was scratching. He started to pour pineapple juice on me to break down the enzymes and nothing was working. I started to burn up that night, in the morning Luis was working and I drove myself to the Emergency Room exactly on the third day from returning from Mexico. They admitted me and while on the examining table, as I was telling them what happened I passed out. I woke up 8 hours later and they had saved my life. They told me I was suffering from anaphylactic shock, and considering how many bites I had that I could have died. They had given me an I.V steroid flush and sent me home.
Days and weeks later, I would get phone calls from the girls (I called my friends boyfriend to say she was ok) as they would come home. They told me of the field of wheat that had just been cut down that they slept in the night I had left and the spiders where out of control and no one slept. They told me of the girls that got dry rot on their feet, and one went to the emergency room for dysentery. I believe four days after I left; two cast and four crew got a stomach virus and was sent to the hospital. I heard two flew home early. I also found out that from the producers down to the cast, they had said I had ‘quit’, that I ‘abandoned my team’, and all sorts of vicious rumors. Even after calls to the director Rod later, I don’t think he even believed me. I heard that Destiney Moore replaced me. Then I moved on with my life, got married to Luis and had two more babies. Then I got an email from Denise.
Scott, my ex-team leader was one of the four American soldiers killed in Iraq. Here’s the report:
‘On (March 31st, 2004) Wednesday, the 38 year-old man was among four U.S. civilian military contractors burned to death, hanged and mutilated in Fallujah, Iraq by Iraqi beasts. An angry mob dragged his body and three others through the streets of downtown Fallujah. Two of the victims were strung on the side of a bridge.’
I realized then, that no matter what happened on the show, that Scott was a tremendously great man that left behind children. I included his bio and some information about him below.
After speaking with Denise, and Rod I discovered the show was ‘shelved’. That the footage was beautiful, the show was dramatic and would have been a hit. No one knows why the show cannot sell, and in speaking with Chris Corabi last year, it was a mess and he has moved on. It is hard for me to let go of the amazing, trepidations, expedition that I was on in Veracruz, Mexico. I hope someday the show will be picked up, especially since it was in the can, and totally ready to air. To give tribute to Scott and let his memory live on.
31 March2004, near Fallujah, Iraq. (gunshot wounds)
Mini Biography
Scott Helvenston was born in 1965 in Ocala, Florida and raised in Leesburg, Florida. In 1982, he received special permission to join the U.S. Navy and, at 17, he became the youngest Navy SEAL in U.S. history. After graduating BUD/S, he deployed with SEAL Team Four, served for 2 years, and later moved to San Diego, California, where he deployed with SEAL Team One. Since his early years, Scott always excelled at physical fitness and athletics. As a result, he applied and became an instructor at BUD/S, leading PT (Physical Training) every morning for 4 years. With a fond memory for his airborne training, Scott later became an AFF (Accelerated Freefall) Instructor for 4 years until he was medically discharged from the Navy in 1994 for back, wrist, and ankle injuries due to a partially collapsed canopy malfunction.
With high aspirations, Scott recovered, resumed his fitness regimen, and became an actor and stuntman in Hollywood. His many credits include “Face-Off” and “G.I. Jane.” Scott was the man who got Demi Moore into that incredible physical shape for the film. In 1997, Scott founded Amphibian Athletics, a Navy SEAL Training and fitness company with the goal of teaching people the skills to excel in outdoor activities, and life, in general. His Navy SEAL Training Camps became quite popular and frequently were spotlighted on television and in the newspaper. Due to the success of the training camps, Scott drew from his PT background and designed a video workout series, allowing greater access to his fitness education. With 11 videos to his credit, Scott became quite well known in the fitness world. In 2003, after the United States led a coalition to remove Saddam Hussein from power, Paul Bremer was named the head of the Provisional Coalition Authority. With a demand for experienced operators in Iraq, Scott was asked to join the security team tasked with protecting Ambassador Bremer. After heading back East to sharpen all his combat skills, Scott deployed to Iraq. Then, on March 31, 2004, the news returned to the States that Scott was one of four American contactors who were ambushed, brutally murdered, and set aflame in Fallujah, Iraq, while an angry Iraqi mob cheered on live TV. Scott left behind two young children. In a short amount of time, Scott Helvenston accomplished many goals that we can all admire. In addition to his success as a Navy SEAL, he was a two-time, gold medal-winner in the pentathlon, and to this day, Scott remains the only human contestant on the popular TV program “Man against the Beast” to win, racing against three different chimpanzees on an obstacle course. Scott also represented the Navy SEAL Teams on the television program “Combat Missions.” He always seemed to be the last man standing.
Scott Helvenston on the cover of the Navy SEALs 1992 Calendar photo courtesy of Kathryn Helvenston-Wettengel
First and foremost, Scott Helvenston was a father, son, grandson, brother, fiance and friend. He was the youngest-ever graduate of the Navy SEALs, a fitness buff and an actor. He was a world-champion pentathlon winner. He had worked with Demi Moore and John Seitz on the 1997 film G.I. Jane as Moore’s training instructor both on and off the set. He also served as a stunt man for the movie Face/Off. Other actors he worked with included Anne Bancroft, Hidalgo and Lord of the Rings’ Viggo Mortensen and Lucinda Jenney. Most recently, he was a principal star of the USA Television reality series Combat Missions and Man vs. Beast. On Wednesday, the 38 year-old man was among four U.S. civilian military contractors burned to death, hanged and mutilated in Fallujah, Iraq by Iraqi beasts. An angry mob dragged his body and three others through the streets of downtown Fallujah. Two of the victims were strung on the side of a bridge. Helvenston was working as a contract guard for Blackwater Security Consulting outside Fallujah when his convoy was hit with rockets and grenades. Blackwater provides security, training and guard services around the world. Blackwater President, Gary Jackson and two other company leaders are former SEALs. At the age of 17, Helvenston graduated from the Navy SEALs’ BUD/S program. Between 1982-1994, he was deployed by the SEALs four times, and served both in the elite special forces, and as a Free Fall instructor for four years. Scott Helvenston was excited about his contracting job in Iraq and considered the stint a new beginning in his life. Helvenston went to Iraq to earn $60,000 in three months and to get a taste of combat that he had never seen in his 12 years in the Navy, friend Mark Divine said. “Scott had a warrior mind-set,” said Divine, 40, a Navy SEAL reservist who was trained by Helvenston in 1991. “When you’re not in the game, you feel a little bit like a caged animal. Like training your whole life to be a pro football player and not getting to suit up for the game.” “This was a last hooray for Scott,” said Divine, who lives in Encinitas, a beach town north of San Diego. “It was his last opportunity to get back in the arena.” He didn’t worry about the dangers, said Divine, who talked with Helvenston two days before he left for Iraq. “His feeling was, ‘If your time is up, there’s going to be a bullet out there with your name on it.’ ” Even though Helvenston-Wettengel didn’t support the war in Iraq, she said her son believed in what the United States was doing. The savage attack in Iraq was not unusual, but a mob dragging bodies through the streets, even hanging two from a bridge, was a shock, even for those Iraqis who despise Americans. In Iraq, Brig. Gen. Mark Kimmitt, deputy operations director for the occupation forces, said, “We will respond. It’s going to be deliberate, it will be precise and it will be overwhelming.” Helvenston leaves behind his mother, Katy Helvenson-Wettengel of Leesburg, Florida, his younger brother, Jason, 32, his grandmother, Helen Helvenston of Ocala, Florida, his fiance, Kelly Kasun (who he was supposed to marry in Tahiti in June of 2004), his ex-wife, Patricia Irby, 40, and their two children, Kyle, 14, and Kelsey, 12 who live in Oceanside, California. Helvenston’s father, Stephen Helvenston, a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Florida, was killed in a car crash when Scott was 7. Scott’s ex-wife, Tricia told The Orlando Sentinel “I want everyone to know he died a hero, and what he was doing was very heroic and courageous. He was a wonderful father and a wonderful person. He will be missed by many.” His brother Jason, who was only 1 when their father died, said about Scott, “He was a hero all his life. He was my hero all my life. And he was probably the best father I have ever known.” While his twelve years in the Navy made him tough, his family will always remember Scott’s gentle side. “Scott could command the respect of an entire Navy Seal squadron, and then he could pour his heart out to you and tell you he loves you,” said Jason Helvenston. Upon learning of his death, his family released the following statement about Scott: “He prided himself on strength, agility, speed, flexibility, balance, determination and toughness,” the statement said. “Scott never quit anything in his life. After he broke his legs in a parachute jump, he tried to walk away from the scene.” Scott Helvenston, who managed getting his kids off to school every day, was known for often taking them camping and surfing. This is one of the ways his friends in his home town of San Diego, California will remember him. “He was always really taking care of people, which is what he was doing there” in Iraq, said a family friend, Alice W. Brown, 51, of Del Mar. “Taking care of people — that was Scott.” Brown described him as a giver, and a man of dignity and morals. When she and her family would meet him to go rock climbing, she recalled “He would have a whole pile of children. I used to tell him, ‘Scott, you ought to be teaching high school PE.’ Because he was like the Pied Piper’…. He just gave and gave and gave.” His ex-wife said Scott had a great sense of humor, was fun-loving and loved the outdoors. He inspired others to lead health-conscious, athletic, adventuresome lives. Through his Oceanside, California fitness consulting firm, Amphibian Athletics, he offered a SEAL-style workout for his customers. He had the perfect Hollywood image of a soldier which led to his success as a stuntman and as a trainer for movie and television actors. Unfortunately, the images we saw this week were no stunts. In a message he left for his mom on Tuesday morning at 6 am, the day before he died he said, “Mom, I love you and miss you. Don’t worry. I’m OK. I’m safe. I’ll be home in June. We’re going to have our quality time. I’m going to spoil you.” Scott Helventon’s Mom, Katy with a Photo of Her Son photo credit: Stephen M. Dowell, Orlando Sentinel It is hard to erase the horrible picture portrayed on the front page of The New York Times, The San Francisco Chronicle and most major publications around the world earlier this week. But the image that should be remembered is the one his mother shared with the Orlando Sentinel of a healthy, adventuresome, buffed sportsman who lived life and lived life well. Scott’s immediate family will be joining his mother and grandmother in Florida for a memorial service in his honor. A memorial with full military honors will be held at the National Cemetery in Bushnell. America shares your pain, Katy, Jason, Helen, Kyle, Kelsey, Kelly and Tricia. We also celebrate and honor the person Stephen “Scott” Helvenston was, and the hero he will always be. ~Jennifer King
In 1971, a courageous group of veterans exposed the criminal nature of the Vietnam War in an event called Winter Soldier. This March, members of Iraq Veterans Against the War will give first-person accounts of what is really happening day in and day out, on the ground.
“Can the United States be any more Communistic?” barks the burly man rockin’ a Rutgers cap outside a Hollywood post office. This is independent filmmaker Luis Moro. He’s been called everything from a fucking bastard Communist to a global hero and he is crazy angry. Moro shot a feature film in Cuba without Castro’s approval, without U.S government approval, and he just learned he can’t mail his Cuban cousin a package of socks. “I finally did what no one else has done, what no one could do. And the government, well they’re stumped. In Hollywood they say ‘you did what?’”
Look on IMDB and you’ll find any narrative feature made in Cuba is a co-production with another country, approved by Instituto Cubano del Arte e Industrias Cinematográficos. Not Moro’s “Love and Suicide” which screened in Miami and Los Angeles. The flick, which eluded critical acclaim, remains an introspective look at how Americans are regarded in Castro’s Cuba. In it Moro plays the roll of a cabbie who befriends-and makes money off- a suicidal American visitor.
After pulling off his cinematic coupe Moro has been called on the carpet by the Feds for violating trade sanctions but citing his constitutional right to return to his birthplace, he’s not folding. “Oliver Stone- hypocrite! He paid them. He got the same letter I did,
but I’m not bending over like him” says the street wise producer who learned his trade organizing shows at the old New York Coliseum. “I got things done, dealing with Teamsters (and the mob) and I make things happen.”
Reacting to a recent Charlize Theron production that boasts having been shot in Cuba, Moro says “they had the full support of the Cuban Government! What’s the big deal? “I can make five of them with the footage I have from Cuba.”
Moro’s hope is now in Obama. He introduced himself at a Crenshaw Los Angeles appearance and pitched his cause to the candidate. “I told Obama I know how you can win Florida. If Cuba was white there would be no embargo. I was born in Cuba and the majority of the people in Florida want the embargo to end. “That got his attention and I know he took it to heart.”
Moro followed up, visiting Washington D.C in June, not to settle with the US Treasury Department (the federal branch with jurisdiction over the trade embargo) but to meet the Latin American Workers Group and to bring Congressional whip Charles Rangel on board. While there Moro swung by Obama’s senate office dropping a pile of “Love and Suicide” DVDs. ” A couple months later Obama came out against the embargo.
He dismisses Michael Moore’s documentary as grandstanding. “That representation of Cuba is bullshit” says Moro. His uncle languished in a Cuban hospital-not the Havana hospital Moore touts-and he shot video showing the almost medieval conditions in which he died of stomach cancer. Moro cools down and shooting a broad Hollywood smile tells ANIMAL “they love my movie in Cuba, you know? Now how has anyone there screened Love and Suicide? Moro sent five hundred DVDs to Cuba “But I sent them through France.”
No Underwear, Soup Packages to Cuba
In government documents shown to ANIMAL, Luis Moro is served in a civil action, with the state department demanding penalties for his travel to Cuba.
An internal Post office memo shown to ANIMAL alerts USPS employees to question customers attempting to send mail to Iran, Sudan and Cuba. In the Cuban enclaves of Miami Florida and Union City, New Jersey, Cuban Americans have routinely sent care packages to struggling relatives in Cuba (The number one item shipped? Knorr Chicken Bouillon). Now the piecemeal stream of socks, underwear and oodles of noodles now been cut off, and it remains unclear exactly why. “Basically you can only send letters to Cuba” Molly Millerwise, a spokeswoman for the United States Department of the Treasury told ANIMAL. The two postal authorities, US and Cuba- have agreed to mail envelopes; letters can be mailed no problem. “Packages, there are prohibitions on but its nothing new. We don’t allow Cuban goods in and we maintain economic sanctions against Cuba” explained Millerwise. “Treasury hasn’t changed the policy, the USPS has changed” a Treasury agent told ANIMAL “its been on the books for decades, they’ve only started to enforce it.”
Anyone who is looking for an exception can appeal to the Office of Foreign Asset Control for a license or special permission but we haven’t heard of anyone whose gotten an exemption. So if you’re trying to send socks to your uncle, let us know.
Sitting outside our back yard looking out at the horizon, I watch the sun disappear over the canyon. With it another beautiful day in Southern California gone with the events of an active family of seven and I think back to all the days and years I have shared with my husband, Luis Moro and raising our brood. I came into his life with three children, a somewhat budding reality TV show career, and a fierce attitude…well, for an LA girl anyway. “La-LA” girl he calls me, and that is where my character was born on the stage of his stand-up shows.
They say they come tough, and if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere….from the Big Apple that is. Well, he came tough, and he made it there…the question is can he survive here in LA? The funniest part of it is, most people really don’t know what to think of the City of Angeles. Being that I was born in Hollywood, Ca and raised in all parts of LA (north, east, west, south and yes, the valley), of coarse this is all I knew. Then I started to travel around the world, and I discovered there really is no place else like Los Angeles. A place where dreams are made, and broken, and a place that you love to hate. Hate the traffic, but love the weather. Hate the people, but love the outdoors. Hate the apartment, but love the homes.Where fickle fancies live, and immigrants from around the world wouldn’t dream of living anywhere else. More people from New York, than you can shake a stick at, and sexual orientation (yes, gay people) live in open harmony. Sure, there is gangs and violence…but what’s new. This is the Mecca of all things Entertainment, where Hollywood glamour and homeless live side by side. This is the land where it all happens. This is LA-LA land.
What does this have to do with my husband? Plenty. See, here he came 6 years ago, very tough from playing College Football at Rutgers University (Strong Safety) in New Jersey, had escaped from Communist Cuba, had been on his own since Middle School, going to Studio 54 at 13 years old (gasp). He tackled the Real Estate market in Jersey and New York, and put his own TV Show on the air, Real Estate America. He conquered huge events, like putting on the Hispanic World Fair at The Javet’s Center at 22 years old. He married twice, trained and rescued his Rottweiler’s (that weren’t very nice.) He even tackled felon teens at Youth at Risk camps, and became a Seminar Leader in an arduous Seminar leading program for Landmark Education. He made the move to LA, after opening a talent and management agency in New York, and he knew he wanted to play the Hollywood game at a bigger level.
He started acting and did numerous roles and commercials including playing Denzel Washington’s decoy in The Siege, plus a number of other films. He even began making films and started his own film production company in his 30’s, Luis Moro Productions. He was just starting his festival tour from his first big Independent film, Anne B Real, that won him the John Cassaveties Award at the Independent Film Festival, and a couple more nominations. I was celebrating the birthday of a photographer friend at Mel Gorham’s shabby chic Hollywood home one balmy night. I was talking make-up with a make-up artist, and there he was, leaning against the wall. He found out I was single after listening to the guys at the party, he knew I did not come with anyone. As I turned to look at this strapping 6 ft 1 dark skinned, black Latin guy wearing all black…I looked down and he had sandals! Not just any sandals, the Cuban kind. I was very mesmerized. We danced Salsa, he played hard to get, we read our palms, and we talked until 3 am. I never left his side. Five years and two more babies later, Luis and I have an independent film production company with five children.
With four more films back to back we filmed Love & Suicide, directed by Lisa France, shot in Havana, Cuba and made history. The drama film, The Unseen, directed by Lisa France and the comedy yet-to-be-released Venus & Vegas, directed by Damien Lichtenstein. We did not stop there, we turned around two other production-for hire films. All the while, we had babies, and we raised five, active smart kids. But, there was a hidden secret he did not tell me. He was a stand-up comedian. He mentioned that he had stopped going on stage at the time he met me to concentrate on putting these films out there into the world. I had no idea how serious he was until I became his material. The kids became his material, his life became his material. There was nothing sacred, nothing left out. Nothing was off limits. What had I done?
As he contemplates what hehas done on stage by marrying me, an ex-cop, great niece of Hedda Hopper, adventurer of life, west coast lover, bad ass, writer, artist, working out, ‘nuevo ghetto’ in-your-face- Latina and Danish, 5 ft 9, tom boy with four daughters and a boy later…I contemplate what have I done marrying this black Cuban with a lightening quick tongue and mind with no boundaries….did I just meet my nemesis or my partner in crime? I opened a blog for “Support for Stand-Up Comic Wives.”There is no topic untouched, and no comment or statement by me not addressed in our day to day life by him. I had to up my game, but he is still on my territory. Wait a minute. My ancestors came across the Oregon Trail after founding Princeton. I came from a long line of patriarchal and judicial kinfolk that settled here in California. Took up residence in Hollywood, and Burbank, was even first women Disney Animators on Bambi for Christ sake. This is my town, and he needs to learn my ways. Beach, yoga, laid back, slightly cocky, with a drrrry sense of humor only Angelino’s get (We have our own language), and plenty of flakiness to go around, with a tad of charitability and a heaping mountain full of creativity. I get my own kind, but he’s the transplant, from clear across the continent no less. So the debate began. Who will conform to whom?
All his tough-guy, East coast antics met his match with me. He gathered many years of material. He was ready to go back on stage after four years. Armed with an arsenal of one-liners, wicked stories and enough sarcasm, Soprano- style (That’s his nick name I call him privately-“Hey Soprano”.) to choke a horse; this Moro self made man was ready for the stage again. So grass roots style, I called everyone we knew and put the word out, and sent out mass emails. The night came, and flashes of him running jokes on me at 7 am, fifty million DVD’s later of other stand-up comics that I sometimes obligingly watched with him all came together.I was relieved to finally be able to see what material he was going to use. Was he going to talk about gays, or racism, politics, or how ‘ghetto’ I am, as he so affectionately calls me. His ‘Ghetto La-La girl’.Nice.
Needless to say, he killed it. Killing it in the comedy world means he ‘nailed it’. He did an easy one hour and 15 minutes and could have kept on going. We were all exhausted from laughing as we poured into the lobby of the Ha-HA Café in NoHo. Jack Assadorian, his old time friend, was pleased and I was relieved I got to finally hear it all. I discovered later, I rested too soon on that notion. Luis told me that he had much more of where that came from, and he did not even use all of the material he had. More on me and the kids, our life, of coarse. Oh God, I felt that sinking feeling in my gut again. Where’s my support blog for Stand-up Comic Wives when I need it, and sighing to myself I thought, Not Another Stand-up Comic!
If curiosity’s got you, and you just got to get your hands on a copy of this special night, this DVD will be available soon. To pre-order, go to www.LouieMoro.com and as soon it is hot off the presses, you’ll get a chance to cry with me. With Luis Moro, he’s not here to make you laugh, he is here to make you cry.
I have not studied, and spent hours of relentless research on this subject. I have not spent hours digging deep to understand what Oprah is doing. All I know is that from what I have seen so far, it is in line with where I sense the world is heading to, with the consciousness that people are bringing to it.
Religion is included, races are included, all economic statuses are included…everyone is included. The result: a world that works for everyone. Where everyone is expressed, and enjoying, helping, giving, loving, and creating a world that works for everyone. Where no one is left out.
This is possible. And if it takes Oprah to shake the proverbial tree and shake off the ones who don’t get it, to make room for the ones that do…then go ahead, and let us lead the new world into a future that is worth living into. Then so be it. Oprah, hats off to you.
by 
He dismisses Michael Moore’s documentary as grandstanding. “That representation of Cuba is bullshit” says Moro. His uncle languished in a Cuban hospital-not the Havana hospital Moore touts-and he shot video showing the almost medieval conditions in which he died of stomach cancer. Moro cools down and shooting a broad Hollywood smile tells ANIMAL “they love my movie in Cuba, you know? Now how has anyone there screened Love and Suicide? Moro sent five hundred DVDs to Cuba “But I sent them through France.”
