SEAN PENN'S REVELATIONS

Here's an interview with Sean Penn, about his recently published  novel, "BOB HONEY WHO JUST DO STUFF."

Interviewer, Nate Hopper, asked: "The main character of your book is a mercenary who opposes a Trumpian figure. Do you share Bob Honey's point of view?''

Penn said: "I wrote this book to get myself away from my own world views. That doesn't mean they are not expressed in this book. It's up to the reader to decide."

Interviewer: "In this book, he (Bob Honey) drafts a letter to the Trumpian character, saying "We are a nation in need of an assassin.  Are you worried that will be read as you advocating for the assassination of President Trump?"

Penn: "I'm not worried about that. If anybody believes by reading this that I am advocating for something like that, then they are  not really getting that this is a satire. ..." (later referring to Trump) "His indulgence in his own flamboyance and minor brain is cheapening the air we breathe. I used the book to keep myself from [falling into] the worse thoughts that Bob expressed. When it comes to Sean Penn talking for Sean Penn these days, I even feel that I want to use less flamboyant language than I have, and I am not a politician."

"Bob targets the elderly.  Do you fear getting old?"

"No, I am in a hurry to get old. I've always that it in my head that I'm 77 years old. Now I don't know if I'll make it to that. I've done a little too much smoking. But I do feel more at ease with the world the older I get despite the fact that the world itself is becoming increasingly challenging."  (Sean Penn's actually 58.) 

(He was a handsome 35 or 36 when we lived in Malibu. I often had a Starbucks coffee outside at one of the tables. I noticed Sean Penn at another table. He was staring at me. Staring back for a moment, wondering was he flirting--should I smile, say anything--I looked away--any trivial remark might seem as if I were a gushy fan flirting back. My husband, John Cullum, had actor-pals who occasionally sent flirty eye messages that it's best to ignore, so I quickly finished my coffee and hurried out.)  

Interviewer Nate, referred to a lawsuit Penn recently settled, that insinuated in his twenties he was abusive with his wife, Madonna: "Has that experience affected your impression of "me too?"

"Yeah. I want it to win," Penn said, explaining that he hoped 'me-too' would take baby steps and not become media legislation of free speech. "The greater issue is that there are very serious changes that society needs to make to improve life for women, for homosexuals, for immigrants. Skepticism is more necessary and valuable than any blind belief anybody has about anything. No matter what issue we're talking about, I believe every black person can have a point of view on a white person that is legitimate to express. Every man who has a point of view on women's issues, it is legitimate to express, and vice versa. We've got to be a 'we' at some point. Once good intentions start forcing everybody into camps, the strategy is off. Then things get worse. If people take some kind of high ground. like only Danish princes can play Hamlet, they we've lost the joy of life."

I say Sean Penn IS "Bob Honey Who Just Do Stuff." You'll see Sean Penn just do stuff in this fascinating video that's turned me into a sincerely admiring SEAN PENN FAN.

(VIDEO) WHAT SHOW WOULD BE FUN TO DO AGAIN

John Cullum and wife Emily Frankel wonder if it would be fun to revive one of the musicals he starred in on Broadway--maybe "Shenandoah."

Kicking around pros and cons, they find themselves humming and singing a little. It inspires John to sing out phrases from some of his favorite songs from the show.

WHAT I FEAR

What do I fear?

That aliens are already here? Sure, it's in the worry corner of my mind, along with suicidal terrorists, bus drivers mowing down pedestrians, nuts with guns -- along with  wicked weird weather, over population, running out of breathable air, food and water -- yes, I worry, but what can I do about any of these things?

The Monk, Martin Luther, in the sixteenth century, said, "Pray, and let God worry."

While trying to pray, I'm shivering. What I fear more than anything is the MONEY MEN.

This book, written 15 years ago, and lots of other books have warned us. They've explained why we need to beware of the super rich, kingpins, CEOS, who can afford to buy, create, or find new ways to control the world, use the world's resources -- the land, air, clouds --  the stock market, wars, elections, oil, coal.... (Add to this list whatever is on your mind. Behind the scenes, the MONEY MEN control wages, immigration, guns, education, fashion, cosmetics, art, pop music, movies, sports -- name anything that you want, like, need -- the MONEY MEN control it.)

Can we stop them?

No. They're big beyond "big" and complexly interconnected. Masons, Illuminati, Koch Brothers -- famous names, and the names behind the famous names -- these guys with their legal teams created super SuperPacs that are already working on the next election, and have found legal ways to spend as much money as they want on getting what they want.

Who are they?  They're on Forbes' list, CNN, and New York Times lists -- you'll bump into  Gates, Bezos, Zuckerberg, Page, Buffet -- ten, twenty names you recognize who are affecting everything.

A long time ago I saw a film, "The Naked Jungle," starring Charleston Heston and Eleanor Parker.  He was running a plantation that got overrun by ants -- the "marabunta."

THE MONEY MEN are marabunta. They are eating up everything.

Whoa! They can't eat up me or you, if you hold onto what you believe in. Your thoughts drown the marabunta MONEY MEN, and flush them away like debris.

The only way to stop them is to think for yourself. Think yes or no, right or wrong, good or bad, I want  or don't want, I like, dislike, I believe, disbelieve. Don't trust ads, movies, news, facts, percentages, pronouncements -- keep track of, DON'T BUDGE -- stick to your own thoughts. 

BIKING IN NEW YORK CITY

Back in the days when John Cullum, my husband, was job hunting and I was taking over as artistic director of my dance company, John and I biked everywhere. Quite often on weekends, we went on excursions to areas of New York City that we'd never visited before.

It was an autumn thing to do. I loved the wind in my hair, and the exercise -- using my legs, my straight-backed posture -- tut-tut observing John, who rides his bike hunched over. I wanted my ex-tennis-champ husband to have a dancer’s posture -- he wanted me to bike like a biker, and stop worrying about how I looked.

Golly, I still remember when I was a little girl, what a big deal it was to learn how to ride a bike. Harder, even more important than learning to tie the laces on my shoes, riding a bike was a way of becoming a grownup who could head for the park where grownup, bigger kids were jumping rope and playing baseball.

Well, I did it -- learned, and it grew me up, like learning to drive a car did, when I was older. I had to learn to drive in order to be able to tour and earn a living from performing on college campuses.

After John landed a role in Shakespeare in the Park, on our bikes, we visited all sorts of wonderful Central Park nooks and crannies. When John, who was understudying two leading roles in “Henry V" went on for the Chorus, and did the famous “Oh for a muse of fire” speech, he was discovered by Alan Lerner’s assistant.

While John was playing Sir Dinadan in Lerner and Lowe's “Camelot," on his day off we rode our bikes up and down all the streets -- 41st to 50th street, stopping and studying the exteriors and backstage entrances of famous theaters, not realizing that John would be working on the stage in most of them someday.

Sometime around then, my second-hand pink bike (I’d painted it) was stolen. We’d been parking our bikes in the hallway of our building, where the main entrance door wasn't locked. We'd rented and transformed the 4th floor loft into a spacious home and dance studio, but back then, we didn't have a buzzer that allowed us to unlock it for mail and package deliveries.

John’s blue bike (I’d painted it) was stolen when he was standing-by for Richard Burton in "Camelot," when Richard was off to Rome to co-star with Elizabeth Taylor in “Cleopatra” -- big event that changed their lives, as well as ours.

John’s rising income enabled us to install a buzzer system and buy a smallish Honda motorcycle from an actor pal, who was in “1776," when John was singing “Molasses to Rum.”

Though traffic and potholes scared me, while John auditioned for Lerner, over and over for a new show, working on the Viennese accent Lerner wanted the leading man to have, I started learning to ride “Harry” the Honda.  (That's what I called the Honda.)

Nevertheless, I usually sat behind John on Harry, clutching him as we explored NYC's downtown Jewish shopping district (open on Sundays) where I was shopping for fabric for 16 costumes for my performances at Lincoln Center.  Suddenly, “helmets” had to be worn. Golly, I hated the way my head sweated, when I wore a hard hat. John said, "stop worrying -- you look fine," but my hair looked lousy for hours, after a trip on Harry.

Also, Harry stalled sometimes, and there were skids -- a nasty skid hurt my collarbone, so Harry temporarily lived in the hallway. With John’s “On a Clear Day” earnings, we bought our building, also new bicycles, and baby furniture --  parenting was part of our growing up -- our little one, John David Cullum, was arriving.

As JD grew, we employed housekeeper-baby-sitters, and there were more jobs on Broadway for Dad, more prestigious bookings for Mom. We ventured out as a trio on Harry but it was nerve-racking, not safe -- city streets were getting to be very crowded. We gave Harry to John's understudy. JC, while playing Laertes in Burton’s “Hamlet,” bought a tricycle for JD.

On Sundays, the three of us biked around a nearby huge empty parking lot -- us on two new bikes, JD on his first two wheeler, then, a full-size bike -- wow, he was growing up fast.

When JC starred in “Deathtrap,” like rich folks, we commuted to a rented summer home in the Hamptons, exploring, on rented bikes, possible fabulous homes to buy. It was a fun game -- we weren’t rich, but a lot of things were in the offing -- meetings with Hal Prince about “On the 20th Century,” talk about John starring in a TV show, a tour for my adaptation of “Cyrano,” with John playing the part. All that, while I was on my way to London for a British Arts Council tour and JC was starring in “Shenandoah,” with JD playing a small role. No doubt about it -- the Cullums were in the busiest time, the prime of life. John bought a scooter but his producers objected, so he and JD traveled to the theater in the limo they provided.

Today, in NYC, there are 750 Citi Bikes stations in the five boroughs. Cost: $3 for 30 minute trip, $12 for 24 hours, 3 day passs $24.00; annual membership $169.00 per year.

I read recently that around 800,000 cars crawl into lower Manhattan each weekday;, and  20,000 New Yorkers commute to work by bike. T'aint a friendly city these days -- car-guys hate bikers, bikers hate car-guys, pedestrians hate the cyclists whizzing the wrong way on one-way streets -- last year about 800 people were injured by bikes, but Citi Bikes say fewer are being injured nowadays.

Anyway, JD’s a working actor in LA now, driving a fancy sports car, and our dusty new (old) bikes belong to a neighbor who has two rambunctious kids. Hey, if you want to ascend to a ripe and active old age, you live less dangerously. On weekends, if we’re not busy puttering and fixing worn-out things, JC’s on our treadmill in our studio, and I, being concerned with staying in shape, do my barre every day in my studio and practice standing tall.

Yes, now is a great time for biking -- yes, our biking days are over -- but I stand very tall, and so does John Cullum, when we go on one of our long, long, lovely long walks.