Everybody Curses, I Swear!

by Carrie Keagan

  As my Philosophy of Scatological Behavior professor would say, “It turned out to be a teachable moment.” From that day forth, we instituted our own “Rules of Engagement.” A growing set of guidelines that would help define our format and identity. Our goal was to create something positive and fun, not filthy and fucked up. There’s a fine line between hitting up McDonald’s for a Big Mac and fries, where they love to see you smile, versus finding yourself at “CrackDonalds,” where Big Mac is the guy in the corner handing out glass dicks and the last thing you want to do is see anyone smile. We would obey these rules as if they were gospel. RULE #1: Carrie’s feet never go up in the air.

  RULE #2, aka “The Johnson Dilemma,” landed like the infamous rope on Monica Lewinsky’s dress after my interview with a legendary band. The band had seven or eight members who were all going to be in the interview. Just getting them set up in a semi-workable manner for shooting the interview was complicated, so we ended up having a couple of members on each side of me and the remainder behind me. It was a pretty fun and lively interview right from the start. The band had a huge horn section so I decided to get cute and ask them who was the horn-iest in the band and who was the sax addict (get it?). Well, unbeknownst to me, while I was distracted with this circus of an interview, one of the guys in the back had taken the lid off the pickle jar, removed his flesh trombone from its case, and gently rested it on my shoulder. In other words, he put his dick on me! Yeah … that happened.

  I guess I must have been in the zone because I didn’t even notice his micro-toy at first. I mean, can you fuckin’ imagine this shitwaffle? What nerve! Interestingly enough, when I finally saw it, I didn’t freak out. I wasn’t going to give this wank stain the satisfaction. I just, very casually, moved forward to get it off me. I’m very proud of the fact that I didn’t play into this guy’s bullshit. It caught all of us by surprise, and within seconds, Kourosh gave me the signal to end the interview, which was only maybe six or seven minutes in. Funnily enough, the abrupt ending caught penis-boy in the middle of what can best be described as his “cumshot vulnerability period” (that thirty-second window where there is no possibility that you could act fast enough so that a roommate opening the door would not catch you in the act of masturbation) and he didn’t have time to put his schmeckle away. There he was with his dick in the breeze to the horror of his bandmates. Then came the shit-storm. We were all disgusted with what had taken place, and Kourosh was beside himself and furious with the guy and the band. To their credit, the other members of the band and the entourage were mortified, but we were way beyond apologies. They were all asked to leave, and we banned them from ever being a part of anything we ever did. They went too far, and there are some lines you can never cross.

  Thus was born RULE #2: No yogurt slinger shall be placed on the host at any time. So sayeth the shepherd, so sayeth the flock.

  Kourosh and I had long-term goals, and me being perceived as a whore wasn’t part of that master plan. It was important that I came across as carefree and fun-loving, that I was one of the guys and I could keep up with anybody. But I was not a blow-up doll. We were creating an environment where I was in control, I made the rules, and I set the boundaries. This was my world and my guests were living in it. There would be more rules to learn along the way and we had plenty more shit to figure out. But we were getting better and more confident as we churned away interview after interview, festival after festival, and month after month. We were having fun, but not one part of this was easy and every single moment was a stretch for us. Luckily, we had the foresight to know that everything was a continually evolving process, and as long as we were always moving forward, growing, and learning, that that would ultimately define our success.

  We were amassing interviews and content at a frantic pace. We were building relationships while creating a bit of a name for ourselves. We were going at it so hard that there were days where it felt like we were at all places at all times. We hadn’t stopped to think about how it was all supposed to come together or how this was ultimately going to be its own network. It took a strange encounter with unlikely company to push us to our creative limits and compel us to create the big picture. The greater purpose: the uncensored network that would ultimately define us.

  Having made some waves in the investment banking community, we were sought out by a major media company with distribution deals with all the big players like DirecTV, Time Warner Cable, DISH, etc. to possibly partner with them on a project. It seemed too good to be true and in some ways it was. You see, this particular company had made their name as a distributor of pay-per-view porn on TV. They didn’t produce pornography, but they sure made a mint from selling it. Of course, this was a problem for us because we wanted to have nothing to do with the porn industry. It just wasn’t where we saw ourselves. But we were a small company and couldn’t afford not to explore every opportunity. So we agreed to meet with them to hear what they had to say.

  When you think about meeting with a company in the porn industry, my guess is you’re imagining a sunken living room, a circular bed, naked bodies on swings, and a centrally located bucket of “Anal Eaze” lube. Okay, so maybe you didn’t imagine the circular bed but you get the point. Not this company. This place was about as porno as an IRS auditor’s office. They were all business. They had made a lot of money, had impeccable relationships with the distributors, and they wanted to grow by diversifying their programming and wanted to distribute something other than hardcore XXX. They needed a partner with a big idea and the content to back it up. That’s where we came in. Their plan was to use their distribution relationships to launch a new mainstream channel. So they asked us to show them what we were up to and what our concept was.

  That was music to our ears, and the second we realized that they wanted to move away from porn, we were raring to go. So Kourosh pitched them the idea we’d been developing of a mainstream entertainment channel geared toward adults. Sort of an E! meets MTV but with the gloves off. The channel would be populated with original uncensored programs, unfiltered interviews with huge bands, and director’s cuts of music videos from the biggest artists in the world. Remember, this was before you could go on Vevo and see the unrated version of music videos. It was unlike anything else that had come before, and we had a huge content library to support it.

  Sure enough, they loved it! He showed them a few of our interviews and some of those racy music videos, and they said, “Put it all together, and if it works, we’ll be your partners.” We were beside ourselves with glee, but as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. They asked us to create a forty-five-minute sizzle reel for a fully fleshed-out twenty-four-hour uncensored entertainment network with our original programming and our own unique branding. We thought: Great! No problem. Kourosh had the whole idea floating around in his head, and we could have it all figured out within a couple of months. They gave us fourteen days to put the whole thing together—soup to nuts. Holy mother of God! Shit fucker hell!

  The task before us was biblical and nothing short of a miracle would be needed to complete it on time. We were a small company with limited resources and a production capacity that would be best described as having half an ass. But in the end, it took only four friends with dedicated minds, killer instincts, and a penchant for masochism to get the job done. It was fourteen days of 24/7 self-flagellation that would have made a Roman Catholic proud. But there was no stopping us; we were on a mission to change the world, and we didn’t care if we almost died in the process. Besides, as Ken would say, “Death is overrated.” Yeah, I’m not quite sure what that meant.

  We dove in right away and without thinking, which was a good thing because if we had really thought through what we had promised to deliver, the end result would have been more of a ritualistic suicide video than a promo tape. It was safe to say “thought” was definitely the enemy of this project. Anyway, after Kourosh, Ken, and I were done mapping out the arc of the reel, we determined that Ken and I were go
ing to do all the editing and Kourosh was going to conceive, write, and produce. We immediately ran into two problems: 1) we needed a graphics guy on the team to help us package it, and 2) Ken and I didn’t really know how to edit! Well, we solved problem one by recruiting our buddy Amul Patel, who was an absolute motherfucker in graphics and visual design. Looking like a sexy Indian Jeff Goldblum all decked out in techno gear, he had an eye for the sublime and the skills of a hacker wizard king. Problem two could only be solved by good old-fashioned on-the-job training. They say necessity is the mother of invention, and we were about to turn this mother out!!

  Without much choice, we ignited an idea factory and churned out product. There was something insanely brilliant about how fast and furiously we’d take the nugget of an idea and bring it to life. Kourosh would come to the table with an idea for a program, a name, and a tagline. We’d all brainstorm, then Ken and I would hit the content to find the footage to support the show and start cutting while he and Amul created the graphics package that we would later integrate. We were up all hours, burning the candle on both ends, and battling the elements.

  One of the dumbest things we had to deal with was air-conditioning. We were in a typical high-rise at the time, so the AC in our building would shut off at 6 P.M. We didn’t have any windows, so there was no ventilation and it quickly turned into a stenchful steam room. Of course, we had no choice but to work through the night and couldn’t shut down ’til 8 A.M. when it came back on. Naked editing wasn’t an option, so Kourosh went out and bought two portable air-conditioner units that we affectionately called R2 and D2. The first night we used them, everything was fine for about two hours, then we shorted out the power on our floor. We found the fuse box to reboot, but it became clear that we were running so many machines in order to do all this editing, rendering, and graphics that there would be no way to have AC without constantly shorting out our entire floor. Quite a fucking nightmare. So Ken and I ran out and bought a couple of hundred-foot extension cords. Then Kourosh literally Spider-Man’d his way up the building, crawled in the fire exits on the floors above and below, and plugged the units in. It worked! It got us through the nights, and I think we only blew out the other floors a handful of times. Of course, the building never knew why.

  The days melted into nights, and the work engulfed us in an overwhelming sense of delirium. There were times when we were so frazzled that Ken and I would take five-minute breaks and literally run out into the street to get fresh air and scream, “We’re balancing.” We were giving 150 percent of ourselves 100 percent of the time and found ourselves in an “Ecstasy-laced Adderall frenzy.” But this lucid dream was not without its intense moments. You see, Kourosh and I work fast and rely on our gut; Ken and Amul loved to re-engineer. Amul, a Picasso in his own right, was the epitome of the struggling artist seeking perfection who overthought everything and questioned the very nature of existence during font selection. Ken was a video Banksy. His work had darkness, humor, subtlety, and depth, but unlike Banksy, he worked at the speed of a snail. We were all after perfection, but our paths were very disparate. Fortunately, Kourosh’s brand of insanity came with precision. He knew exactly where we needed to go and made sure our short bus got there on time.

  We literally finished the promo reel the morning of the presentation. It was a bold statement both incendiary in its vision and exquisite in its execution, at least that’s what my mom said. Our baby was beautiful and we were all so proud. Dead to the world and ready to kill ourselves, but damn proud! What we had put together was the dirtiest, foulest, funniest programming you could ever imagine. We mined all of our raunchiest, most uncensored content and jam-packed it into these incredibly well-packaged shows all under a cohesive brand. It was quite the accomplishment for a bunch of misfit neophytes. We had created our own Last Tango in Paris except it was called First Torque-Fest in Fucktown. And we’re talking UNCENSORED!!! The biggest music artists talking shit like you’ve never imagined, full-frontal bush, swinging dicks, cocksucker and motherfucker cursing off the charts, and hip-hop orgies. You name it, we had it!! We had done it. We had created the network. There was no stopping us now.

  It was time to blow their socks off!! Kourosh, who literally hadn’t slept in two weeks, splashed water on his face and dashed off to the meeting. Upon showing the reel to the executives, there was no applause, backslapping, or champagne toasts. It was crickets.

  “Jesus Christ, we can’t show that to DirecTV!” one suit said, exasperated. “They’ll throw us out of the building! What the hell, Kourosh?”

  “This is what it needs to be!” Kourosh screamed. “There is no compromise; this is who we are! Fuck you guys!” Then he stormed out (cue cape flourish). Kourosh had a flare for the dramatic on par with the Count’s passion for numbers on Sesame Street.

  “She went right up to the cunt!”

  —David Koechner

  Our beautiful baby was so sensational it was unsellable. We got so delirious and desensitized during the process of making it that we lost track of how far off the reservation we’d gone. Like a bunch of horny German businessmen in Thailand, we were trying to fuck everything. The content was all punch line and no joke, all peak and no valley. We never set anything up and we never once thought, Oh, we should temper this. Sitting in a room of our own farts for two weeks had anesthetized our brains, and we just did what made us laugh. And what makes you laugh at 4 A.M. after seventy-two hours of no sleep is probably not fit for human consumption. So after a day of rest, we revisited some of our more questionable choices and agreed that they were definitely questionable. To quote Dinah Washington, “What a difference a day makes.…”

  Ultimately, we made a couple of iterations to our pageantry of perversion and created a more balanced and sellable product. The suits saw the error in their ways, started to acknowledge the enormous potential it had, and made us an offer to become partners. But as we got to know them better, we realized that they weren’t the best fit for where we wanted to go. As much as we wanted to do it, sometimes you have to walk away. We believed we had a great idea, and the wrong partner would be the kiss of death. Kind of like how Ilya Salkind ultimately walked away from casting Neil Diamond as Superman in favor of Christopher Reeve. Getting into business with a porn distribution company had no future for us. We wanted to expand into the mainstream, and we didn’t think they could ever really make the transition, and ultimately the deal fell apart. It was a blessing in disguise.

  When we finished the reel, some people at the company, including Kourosh’s archnemesis, were not happy with the uncensored direction we were heading. He saw no future in it, but then again, I saw him as a guy who still thought Betamax recorders were going to make a comeback. So while we were working day and night, he quietly convinced his friend and our angel investor that we were heading down the wrong path and to force us out of the company. Our funding was cut off and we were unable to pay the rent or any bills. We came to our office one day and the doors were chained shut. We’d been evicted. We were a whore with no house. We suddenly found ourselves adrift in open water and the sharks were circling.

  Desperate but refusing to give up, we called everyone we knew for help. I reached out to one of my closest composer friends, Harry Gregson-Williams, the brilliant mind behind the scores of countless hits including all the Shrek movies and 2015’s The Martian, and quite miraculously, he had a solution. He had just purchased a building near the beach and was renovating it for six months and offered us the space to move into for next to nothing. He saved us. He saved our business. With our nemesis temporarily foiled and a new office literally on the beach, just like that we were alive again and stronger than ever. The three musketeers felt invincible.

  The process of courting this company had pushed us to create the vision of our own network, its programming, and the overall aesthetic of rapid-fire editing and graphics. When we came out of it, we were different people and now saw a bigger picture and our place in it. The company was fractured, and we
knew we had to find a permanent solution to our internal issues. But one thing was for certain: It was time to say good-bye to Netgroupie. The next phase was at hand.

  NGTV was invented that day.

  7

  PRISON RULES

  Never laugh at live dragons.

  —The Hobbit, J. R. R. Tolkien

  What good is an idea if not born of torture? Years of painful sacrifice in pursuit of a vision based on nothing more tangible than your instincts. What good is an idea if not an exercise in self-mutilation and humility? Years of tearing away at your own flesh, mining for the material to create your masterpiece in full view of the critical savagery of a subjective world. What good is an idea if not the harbinger of the future and the catalyst for progress? Years of pushing boundaries in pursuit of a future that you hope to usher in. And yet, in spite of the sadistic and masochistic nature of the entertainment business, such beauty emerges. The idea that is No Good TV was created for the people. And after years of development, we stood on the edge of the precipice that separated us from our destiny, ready to take that final leap of faith. And if you happen to agree with Karl Marx and believe that religion “is the opium of the people,” then the idea of No Good TV is, without a doubt, the people’s intellectualized, underground porno!

  I was born on the Fourth of July. It’s probably why I have such a fiercely independent spirit. My mother practically delivered me while watching the fireworks show. So you could say I was born to bang! I’m a dreamer and I like to dream big. My journey, to this day, has never been anything short of extraordinary in its highs, its lows, and everything in between. One of the most important things I’ve learned is that it’s not about what you think you know; it’s about knowing what you don’t know. It can be the difference between living your dream or dying in someone else’s. I have learned a lot and have a closet full of experiences and memories that I take out and wear when I need inspiration. They all have a special place in my heart, but some will live forever.