Just in case any of you were wondering how something like a Joey Buttafuoco/Amy Fisher reality show ever gets to concept, here is an e-mail I received from Joe Hollywood himself — producer David Krieff — the man behind this seedy curtain, after last week's column.
Subject: Krieff here
In response, I'd like to admit that I am not perfect. The Grrr column has made its share of regrettable points, but I do stand by them, even the weak ones. We can't win them all.
But this isn't one of those times.
And seriously, David, I work in TV news, one of the most vicious and two-faced industries on the planet. Trust me, if your e-mail was meant to hurt, you're way too kind. I've heard worse about me from most of my so-called "friends" in the business.
That written, as Napoleon Bonaparte said, "Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake."
David, I'm sure you're a nice guy, but no matter how many "successful projects" you may have been a part of (IMDBpro has one listed for you, "Ice Angel" — congrats), this one reeks of desperation and seems to me exploitative for the quick buck, or to use your words, "CASHING IN."
The fact that the New York Post ran exclusive photos Monday in Andrea Peyser's column of Joey vacationing with his current wife only proves my point that the Fisher-Buttafuoco "reunion" is a made-for-TV sham.
Note to you, sir: When trying to manipulate the public and the media for your own greedy ambition, make sure your cohort is on the same page.
If I were Joey or Amy (that sound of running water is me taking a shower), I'd take the high road here for once and pull out of this baby, because success for you with this project only means more heartache for those two unfortunate creatures.
Come on, David, haven't we had enough of this kind of schlock television?
Surely, a producer of your status and experience (having worked with the "biggest stars in the world") can admit that while there is a place for Joey and Amy, it isn't on television.
If they really want to reconcile and reunite, they should want to do it in private, where it actually might mean something. But again, I refer you and anyone else who might be buying into this shame to Peyser's column.
You may have fooled your pals at "The Insider," who have been all too happy to air your "exclusive" access to Joey and Amy, but not anyone else.
Besides, what is this, "The Truman Show?" "To Die For?"
Are we seriously at a point in pop culture where we truly are nobody unless we're on television? Paris Hilton thought that way and she's going to jail.
Honestly, I'm sad for Hilton. Perhaps a sentence to 45 days in a convent reflecting on her life would better serve her, but my point is, she lives her life for the cameras and with so many cameras following her, it's no wonder she was caught in her indiscretions and finds herself facing prison. But I digress.
To your points, David, I can assure you that my income, my short stature (5 feet, 8 inches with lifts!) and my fat behind (love those Krispy Kremes) have nothing to do with how I choose to make my living.
And honestly, if I relied on the number of page views I received on my last column, I'd go broke. I hate to break it to you, but the words "Joey Buttafuoco" and "Amy Fisher" in the headline didn't inspire too many clicks, which doesn't bode well for your prospects of success with your "SH-T."
At least we agree on something.
And, oh, I do remember the Challenger. But there have been several trips to outer space since that space shuttle "BLEW UP," as you so eloquently put it.
I think you were referring to Columbia, which exploded in 2003 upon re-entry into Earth's atmosphere. All seven crew members perished, and I wrote about them in my column back then.
If you read it, you'll see that those deaths meant more to me than simply putting the kibosh on your "PEPSI"-sponsored, "WILLIAM MORRIS" packaged and "MTV/NBC" planned project.
I'm sure all of the above will be thrilled to read how you're dropping their names to help defend your Joey Buttafuoco reality show.
Let me guess, you also had planned a reality show with the FDNY's Engine Company 40, Ladder 35, but those darn Twin Towers came down on them and spoiled your payday.