From Anthony Robinson (who is a bad, bad man):

1)Really…what inspired the flaming four foot phallus?

Damned if I know. I wrote the majority of The Right People on the bus to and from Nissan, and, while we did rumble past the strip club on Century and Aviation (the one with GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS on the marquee), there wasn’t anything on the route that really inspired any weirdness. Chalk it up to the old comedic formula of Outrageously Oversized Object + Fire + Penises = Comedy Gold.

2)Do you let your wife read your stuff, and does it ever scare her that she’s married to the brain that came up with that?

Anne’s always the first person to read my stuff, even before I submit something for critique. She’s as much of a dork as me, if not more; she took college classes in science fiction literature, and she grew up watching Doctor Who on the Beeb. She’s a good sounding board; if something isn’t working for her, it needs work.

So far, she hasn’t been scared, but, then again, she hasn’t read the edited version of TRP, the one that has the oryzaphilia and sandwich fucking. So there’s still hope.

3)Quien es Mas Macho: Boy George O Barbara Bush?

Babs, hands down. That’s not your mother, it’s a man, baby!

4)You get to upgrade your Gray Matter to include any five cybernetic devices you want. What are they?

1. The Astigmaprism, which will take whatever crappy signals it gets from my eyes and turns them into lovely, sharp images.
2. The Object-Find-O-Matic, which will keep me from losing my keys.
3. The Sommelier Sensor, which will take all taste bud data and give me the perfect wine pairing.
4. The Introductron, which will keep from awkward greetings with people I’ve met before, but, dammit, their name is right on the tip of my tongue…
5. The Boobs-A-Lot. The name speaks for itself.

5)If Plan 9 From Outer Space is the *worst* movie ever made (let’s not mention Ishtar, shall we?), then what is the *best* movie ever made–not Snakes on A Plane–?

Singin’ in the Rain. It’s got comedy, romance, history, tension, drama, show-stopping spectacle, pathos, joy, and that dance with Gene Kelly, Cyd Charisse and the giant scarf. If that isn’t the sexiest thing without nudity, then I’ll eat my hat.