The credits roll, the camera pans, and in the mist our hero stands, he starts to speak then folds his hands in prayer. an awkward pause, then "what's my line? there's nothing left to say this time - and what do you say to a bad guy who's not there?" in terms of roman numerals he's iv league with roman polanski, he'd win an oscar everytime if he was only given a chance. he started on the broadway stage, the product of another age, an offer and a pilot drew him west. the series bombed, commericals came, and though nobody knew his name, they all recognized the potential he possessed. deoderants and dental floss, and how much does that new car cost? his acting was methodical in "you don't need a medical". he's branded like a racing car, he's like a movie star without movies. the week of independence day, the casting agent called to say - "your smile could save the movie and the world." Buy, buy, buy, buy, sell, sell, sell. how well you learn to not discern who's foe and who is friend, we'll own them all in the end. It goes like this, we have no choice. the minerets, the wailing voice, and vaguely celtic music fills the air. we choose a forgenier to hate, the new iraq gets more irate, we really know nothing about them and no one cares. aladdin and the forty theives enhanced by brand new special effects. saddam and his cow disease spiced up with some gratutious sex. a movie's made, a war is won, a low speed chase, a smoking gun, distract us while the actor takes the stand. Buy, buy, buy, buy, sell, sell, sell. how well you learn to not discern who's foe and who is friend, we'll own them all in the end.